The Peeler

By: Will B
(© 2009-2010 by the author)
 

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Soon it was time for the guests to take their departure. Reverend Bredon hailed a hansom, so he could go to the school to take up Mrs. Bredon.  Tom was talking to John Williams.

Frederick and Edward were walking a little more slowly, talking about this and that. They had fallen behind the others, and suddenly Edward said, “Listen! I hear running footsteps.”

Out of the gloom the two men saw two figures running towards them.

Chapter 7

In the gathering twilight Frederick and Edward saw what appeared to be a tall girl wearing a flowing skirt and a small boy.

“Help! Help!” the taller figure called, in a voice that seemed a little deep for a girl.

As the figures drew closer the two men saw that the flowing skirt had slits so that the runner’s legs could be seen.

The two runners approached the two and the older figure spoke, “Please, good sirs, take this boy to a safe place. He was going to be sold into a place that provides boys and youths-- willing or unwilling-- to satisfy the lusts of older men. Please rescue him.”

Frederick could see that the speaker was a young man about the same age as Tom Rivers. He seemed to have make-up on his face and his lips were tinted a bright red. He had no shirt on, and his slim upper body was smooth and showed a little muscle tone. His ‘skirt’ was cut in such a way that his legs showed whenever he walked and one slit in the front allowed one to see the area below his waist, which was completely smooth-shaven! The hair (on his head) was ruddy brown and cut short.

The other boy was dressed in short pants and shoes, but little else. His eyes were blue, but his face was creased by lines of worry, as if to say ‘What’s going to happen to me now?’

Edward asked the two why they were running, and calling for help.

The older one responded by saying, “My name is Bill Allen, but I have been working as an ‘entertainer’ of sorts at the Two Rampant* Bulls. When I’m there I’m known as ‘Pecker.’ I am expected to be versatile, and give the customer what he wants, however he wants it. Jarvis, the owner of the club, even made me shave my….” Bill stopped in embarrassment.

“Do you enjoy this kind of work?” Frederick asked.

“Hell no, but what else can I do?  I’d really like to be a cook in a tavern, or chophouse, but I don’t have any training, even though I can read and write.”

“What about this young man,” Edward wanted to know.

“My name is Joe Blair,” the boy replied. “I’m nine-and-a half years old and my step-father took me to this place and said I would be treated like a prince, but I didn’t like some of the things they wanted me to do, or what they wanted to do to me. and ….”

“I was there when they brought him in, and I saw he was terrified, the poor lad, and I felt I had to get him away,” Bill said. “Please, sirs, can you help us?”

Just then a heavy set middleaged man, carrying a large stick came running up. He was over-weight, had very little hair on the top of his head. His chest and arms were covered with thick dark hair, and on his face he had a mole at the side of nose, with a hair sprouting out of it.

“There you are, you miserable bastard. Get back to the club before I lay my stick on your back,” the man said.

“Leave the boy—leave both the boys—alone,” said Frederick.

“Oh, yeah, and who might you be, you…”

“I am Sergeant Frederick Fitzwilliam, with Sir Robert Peel’s police force, and I’m telling you to leave these boys alone!”

“Oh, yers…, heh heh…, I suppose you want to have some fun with them yourselves. Why don’t you come to my club and I can show you….”

The man never finished his sentence because Edward punched him in the nose so hard he fell backwards onto the pavement.

“Get out of here,” Frederick said. I know where your club is, and if you ever come near either of these lads again, I will shut your place again. Now get away from here.”

The middle-aged man picked himself up, and walked down the street muttering to himself.

“Ooo-er! Mister. Thank you,” said Bill. “Where do you think we can go to be safe?”

“I have been thinking about that, young Bill. You see, I have a place of refuge, a school, for boys and young men like you who have no place to go.  Edward Kent is a teacher, and we want to teach boys to read and write and then help them find a decent job.

“Would you want to come to my School? And Joe, would you like to learn to read and write? I can promise you that you will be safe, warm, be given decent clothes, and delicious food.”

Both boys said yes immediately, and the four set off down the street to the School.

 

When they got there, Frederick took Bill into his office and told him to wait. He called to John Williams, “John, will you bring me a clean night shirt from my room?”

John brought it, and Frederick gave it to bill to put on. Then they went out to the main room where Jane as already making a great fuss over little Joe, and Nicholas and John were talking to him, making him feel welcome. Jane and the two boys soon had Joe feeling at ease, and the three ‘young uns’ were talking and laughing as if they had known each other for years.

Tom introduced Bill to the others, and explained that the School now had five students, of varying ages and abilities. Since Bill could already read and write and Tom was making good progress with his writing, Edward suggested that they spend some time with him each afternoon, discussing current events and the history of their great country.

Tom, who was hoping to become a doctor someday and would have to get used to smells, blood, and mess, was to help John bring the used chamber pots downstairs, empty them, clean them, and take them back upstairs.

Bill, who wanted to be a cook, some day, said he would help take firewood and kettles of hot water up to the bedrooms and then watch, learn from, and assist Jane in the kitchen.

As the weeks progressed, things settled into a smooth routine. On Sundays Frederick and Edward took the boys to St. Botolph’s-Without-Bishopsgate Church.

It was a single storied building of classical red brick and Portland Stone, in the classical style. Niches contained painted figures of charity children.**

Reverend Bredon always (well, almost always) preached an excellent sermon. On one Sunday he stood in the pulpit, clad in his clerical robes, and spoke in an authoritative voice, “I take my text from the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians… Though I speak with the tongue of men and angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass…”

The sermon was so beautiful, coming from the heart, that Fred and Edward were touched to the heart. The young boys could understand the importance of love because they had felt it ever since they had come to the school.

While the choir recessed during the closing hymn, Frederick heard how Nicholas and John’s voices blended with the choir, their treble voices soaring as high as the ceiling. Reverend Bredon heard their voices too as he followed the choir down the aisle and he gave a smile to the boys and to Frederick.

One damp rainy afternoon, there was a knock on the door, and John Williams went to see who it was. He came into Frederick’s office, and said, “There’s a Mr. Charles Dickens who would like to meet with you, sir.”

“Show him in right away, John,” said Frederick who jumped up from his desk and went to meet the visitor.

Charles Dickens was a young man, tall and slender. He wore his hair longer than did Frederick, and he constantly had to brush it back off his face. He had a pleasant smile, and he appeared to be the same age as Frederick. Later the two men would discover they had both been born in 1812.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam, we have a mutual friend, Richard Lane. He’s told me something of your work here and I wanted to meet you. I’m very concerned with the plight of the poor and disadvantaged.”

“Mr. Dickens, sir, I have read some of your reports of parliamentary debates and some of the works of Boz, and I have enjoyed them very much…but before we continue, please, I hope you will call me Frederick, or Fred, and…can I offer you something? Tea? Something stronger?”

“Tea would be fine, Fred, and please call me Charles….Now tell me about this school and what you hope to accomplish?”

“I’ve always wanted to have a place where boys who are living in poverty, or who are in danger of having unhealthy or evil experiences can live in safety, can get a good education and eventually be placed in a good position where they can make a success of their lives,” Frederick told Dickens.

“Isn’t this expensive?” the author inquired.

“I’ve come into money, and so I’ve been able to put my hopes into practice,” Frederick told him.

Dickens looked at him and said, a little pretentiously, and said, “You know I believe a man should go through life not chained to a job or a desk, or the narrow confines of a miserable office, just making money—more money than he needs, but should find ways to help people, and you, Fred, are just such a man. I am proud to know you.”

“Thank you, Charles, but I must say that thought you just expressed—why, you should put that in a story some time!”

“Who knows, Fred, perhaps I shall, but what you are doing here is reflected in a story about a poor boy that falls into bad company and what happens to him. The first installment will appear in print shortly.”

“What’s the story called, Charles, if I may ask?”

“I call it Oliver Twist.”

“I’ll look forward to reading it….Would you like to meet the rest of the people in the School?” Frederick asked, with no little pride in his voice.

The two men went into the large room which was sometimes used for classes, and always as the dining hall. Nicholas, Joe, and John were sitting at one table, playing a game with a deck of cards. Tom and Bill were sitting at another table, discussing  the current events of the day. Edward would have each one read aloud a story from the London Times, and then discuss it.

Everyone stood up when Fred and Dickens came into the room. Introductions were made, and Charles moved to the table where the three young boys were sitting.

“May I show you something?” he asked. “If you would just let me have the deck of cards for a minute?”

He soon had the boys in gales of laughter as he showed them one card trick after another, ending with Dickens retrieving a card from behind one of Joe’s ears.

Jane came into the room with a plate of hot buns. “Just out of the oven, they are!” she said. “I know that young gentlemen—and some older ones too—always like something to go with their tea.”

She bustled about serving the buns, and Charles remarked to his two hosts, “You know she reminds me of my old nurse, ‘Peggoty’ was her name. I’ll have to think about putting her in a story!”

John Williams joined them and the four men chatted comfortably, drinking tea and devouring Jane’s delicious buns. Soon it was time for Charles to go, and he went to say good-bye to the boys.

“Come again, please, sir,” said Nicholas.

“I will try,” said Charles, and he gave each boy a shilling. “That’s for you to buy something. Now, mind your book, and you can grow up to become a rich and famous writer just like me. Heh heh.”

“I like to write,” said Nicholas. “Mr. Edward says my handwriting gets better each day.”

“Good for you,” said Charles and he went to say good-bye to Tom and Bill. “Good luck to you both—and here’s something for you also.” He gave each of them a shilling, and said, “Perhaps you each might have a young lady you would like to treat to tea at Gunter’s Tea Room. I understand he serves something called ice cream.”

Tom and Bill thanked him. Tom’s thoughts turned to Sally, Dr. Buchanan’s maid. Perhaps she might enjoy such a treat!

He said his good-byes to Jane and John and shook their hands. and then went to Fred and Edward. “What you are doing here is wonderful. If there is ever anything I can do to help you, just let me know—and I mean that, most sincerely!”

He shook their hands and left.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and soon it was November—November 4th, to be exact. The three men had taken the boys to the baths and John had escorted the three boys home.

It was mild for November and Frederick and Edward were walking a little slowly enjoying the early evening air. They were passing an alley when they saw a little figure crouched against the wall. 

To be continued...

Author’s notes:

* When male animals, lions, bulls, stags, leopards, are depicted on coats of arms and are described as rampant, it means that they are shown as being sexually aroused (i.e., they have a hard-on!).

** Christian worship on this site may have Roman origins, though this is not fully proven. At one point the satirist and essayist Stephen Gosson was rector. The present church (the fourth on the site) was completed by George Dance the Elder in 1725^[4], the previous one having survived the Great Fire of London in 1666^[5] only to be demolished in 1725. During construction, the foundations of the original Anglo-Saxon Church were discovered (Entry in wikipedia®).

As always my thanks to my reader, mentor, and friend, “Critter.”

Posted: 12/03/10