Hanna Pope
Bio
Stories (1/0)
Buck's Row
Buck’s Row. I hate this street, my mother brings me here often, I’m not sure why, she always says “This is where mummy works, darling.” She never tells me what she does, only that she keeps people happy. She leaves me round the corner, out of sight, there’s a row of arched windows and I sit in the third closest to mummy. “Stay here, Georgiana, don’t move a muscle, mummy will be back by the by.” She says, tucking a blanket tightly around my shoulders. The arches provide a bit of privacy from passers-by while I lie there till morning. Sometimes I come in close neighborhood with frightening drunken men but mummy never leaves me without a whistle to call her with and she always comes to my rescue. “Why can’t I stay with Mr. Thomas, mummy?” I asked, pulling on her bonnet strings. Mummy had just gotten a new bonnet, it was dark colored with velvet round the edges, I thought it was awfully handsome. “Mr. Thomas can’t look after you, when he’s sleeping, now can he?” She kissed my forehead and turned round the corner. Mr. Thomas is mummy’s friend, we live in his flat, his hands are always black from smithing in his shop below and he turns my yellow curls black when he ruffles ‘em, Mummy says I look like a ragamuffin, I take that as a bit of an affront. Mummy says he isn’t my Papa, I don’t remember much of me real Papa, the only memory I have of him is when I was a little one, three years ago, only 5 years. He and Mummy were awfully vexed with each other, Mummy accused him of something terrible and he struck her across the cheek. She woke me that night and told me not to make a sound, she walked a long time with me wrapped around her waist, tucked inside her overcoat, it was nearly morning when we made it to Mr. Thomas’s shop, he had been kind to her and she felt safe with him. We haven’t left since.
By Hanna Pope3 years ago in Families