Chapter Three - the chapter I despise the most - so beware

THE FIRST PARAGRAPH:

After dinner, Edward and Coleman settled into the lower den for a drink to discuss business. The room was built specifically for this type of gathering, with darkened cherry wood panels and sparsely set furniture to limit the number of occupants to the room. The purpose of the décor was to encourage deep, thought-provoking conversation. While there were candles fastened to the walls, Coleman preferred using the fireplace as the sole source of light in the evenings. The solitary glow was calming to him.

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The two men sat drinking their rum, talking flagrantly of Charlton’s culture and felt the roar of the fire tinge their faces for a long time before they approached the subject of business. Finally, Coleman spoke first.

“I’m not really sure what I am supposed to do to turn this thing around, father. Nothing seems to be working and people appear to be uncooperative at the same time. Its frustrating.”

Edward seemed to be staring off into the fire at this point. The toe of his boot playfully shifted the embers that had fallen away from the blaze.

“And I cannot seem to get anywhere with Richard,” Coleman rambled on. “The man has no sense of finality. I don’t believe that he does not understand that his tenure is nearing the end.”
“Ah…Richard,” Edward said at last. “The man that brought us here. Yes. He certainly took us for a ride from time to time.”

“The whole system stinks of hot manure,” Coleman declared emphatically. “How can a man who barely won fifty per cent of the vote stand so high?”

“Do you want me to have a talk with Montgomery?” Edward asked out of boredom.

“No. I can handle Richard on my own,” Coleman paused,”Did you say Montgomery?”

“Yes…Montgomery. I still speak with him on a regular basis. Especially these days.”

“How interesting.” Coleman was surprised.

“Richard was an intelligent man who knew his power base many years ago. But he has slipped away from Montgomery over the past few years becoming more generous and appealing to the poor. Montgomery can turn things around I am sure of that. Its just a matter of when.”

“Why not now? Why not start today?”

“Maybe you should join me the next time I will meet him. It would be a good opportunity for you to start doing business with him. And maybe you can inject some of this energy you seem to have back into his political life.”

“It would be an honor to do so, father. I won’t do you wrong.”

Edward sighed and stared back into the fire. A scowl came over his face and turned to Coleman.
“But I would caution you to not gripe around him. Remember, while Richard seems to call the shots, he doesn’t always and you may say something that upsets him…Montgomery that is. We haven’t lost everything here. I don’t want Montgomery to think that you are not up to it.”

“Certainly. I can do that. When are we to meet? Will you set up the meeting tomorrow then?”

“Calm down boy. You’re not a boy anymore and I should not have to say that to you.”

Coleman bowed his head in disappointment. His eagerness was getting the best of him.

“There is an event tomorrow evening at my place. I will introduce you to him formally then. But remember this, while in the presence of a crowd Montgomery is to be treated as you have always known him, a mere socialite. But once you get behind those doors…you listen and don’t speak until spoken to.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t talk business in front of him in a crowd either. He doesn’t want people to know just how much he controls.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And bring your wife around for once. It can’t hurt either one of you to be together for at least one evening,” Edward said and got up from his chair. He stared at Coleman and then walked out of the den. Coleman stared wide-eyed into the roaring fire and did not blink until the patter of his father’s horses had faded away.

*******

Meanwhile, Willie managed his way through the hustling crowd and like a quick learner made it to the bakery a few pennies richer than when he left home. Picking pockets was one of the first tricks he learned to play against the wealthy. He was taught well by the elders who started the practice after Montgomery gave his infamous speech twenty years ago. While it was an act of defiance for many of them, it was both fun and out of necessity for Willie.

When he finally arrived at the bakery he was disappointed to see the line was a dozen or so long. A feeling of regret sunk into his chest as he assumed the last of the good bread, maybe even all of the bread, had been taken. He took his spot in line and tried to keep his eyes to himself, but he could not help noticed an awkward site. A few yards away stood a man who was yelling at everyone poor beggar on the street. His over-tailored suit flopped clumsily about him as it was fit for the man who stood on stilts, but his body was so thin that the clothes draped off of him like a little girl playing dress up with her mother’s clothes. Women tried to avoid getting his dangling black sleeves in their hair while the men chuckled at the length of the tails from his jacket.

“You ma’am,” he cried out pointing directly at a poor, beggar woman who was trying to dance for money. She was an old looking woman, much older than what she realistically was, and smiled with the only three teeth she had managed to save over time. Her hair was long and stringy, with the curls entangled with tiny sticks from the shrubs that she made her bed.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself woman!” he said as he plumped his heavy sticks on the pavement. Willie saw her look away, but it became obvious that she had heard him from the way her dancing slowed and her smiled became more and more forced. He was accusing her of begging for money and using her dancing, which was revolting even to the untrained eye, as the catch. For quite a long time he blasted her for not being dressed properly, for acting against the grain of women in society but mostly for assuming that she had the right to take people’s money. She had no talent and her scant clothes further deteriorated her standing with God. In short, he argued that she was a useless human being that was destined to live in eternal strife. The man’s voice was becoming menacing and Willie became frightened for the woman.

But the man continued. For all he knew she was trying to take care of her children, or make for a better life for herself. It did not matter to him. All that mattered was her sinful behavior and the means did not justify the ends. At last the woman had stopped her dancing and stood there staring at the man as he whipped her ferociously with his preaching. She had not made a penny since he started in on her. In fact, she never made any money on any occasion no matter the drama she displayed. Willie saw a tear roll down her cheek.

“Stop it!” She cursed back as a flood of tears streamed down her face. Her raspy and undeveloped voice, which would almost be a sin in itself as she had tried singing in the past, wailed, “Stop! Stop! Stop! I am a graceful woman! A real dancer and I can dance with the best of them!” She attempted to twirl herself around like a ballerina would with her arms encircling the empty space in front of her chest. But of course this brought laughter from the crowd. At every quarter of a turn she clumsily knocked into someone either coming or going and that created a small spat of anger amongst the laughs.

It was no use for her to continue to try spin or dance any more. Instead, she ran off with tears pouring down her face and screaming all the way down the street. Her screams could be heard a long way off and for several minutes before the sounds of crowd were again overtaken by the man on stilts. This time, however, he was on the other side of the street heckling a drunkard about his bottle of stale wine.

Without having noticed, William’s curiosity of the man led him into a long, blank stare.

“What are you staring at you stupid stump?” Willie was shaken from his gaze to find that he had been gazing at four girls who were now standing in front of him in the line. “You weren’t moving up,” one of them said snidely, “so we took your spot.”

Another chimed in, “And so did a few others. See that man there,” she said pointing at a man in wrinkled slacks and a heavier than usual coat, “you were behind him when we came.” It was true, Willie had not been paying attention to the line and several people had moved in front of him.

Yet a third girl mocked him even more, “Looks like mama is going to have to have stale bread tonight. I wouldn’t want to be your mama. You would have stale bread every night!”

That was almost a truth already, except that his family could not afford bread everyday. In fact, they barely could afford to make it more than once a week.

“So why don’t you let me back in my place then?” Willie asked angrily, but this was followed by wicked shrieks of laughter from the three girls and chuckles from those adults ahead of them in the line.

“You had better watch it,” he said back as though he was ready to go cuff to cuff with the girls, “or I’ll put you in you down on the ground…real hard.”

The crowd roared in laughter at this and soon enough the man in stilts returned and started in on William, berating him for all that he could imagine. It seemed a hopeless battle with the girls shooting snide remarks about him, the stilted man preaching about horrible sins and consequences and the crowd laughing hysterically in front of him. He felt no less confused than the old dancer had felt a few minutes before as it was clear he was overmatched. He too now wanted to cry but the toughness of the streets had taught him to hold it in. Instead he charged the man on stilts, sending him backward with his arms flailing for balance. The man crashed down with a crack as his head banged against the pavement. Some adults came to the man’s rescue and William instantly regretted his actions. But before he could think too long about it, the girls had jumped over him from all around. Their fists pounded his head and body as he struggled to keep his balance. Eventually the entire crowd erupted into a brawl. No one took sides as there were no sides. It was every man, woman and child for themselves.

It seemed like forever that William was caught in the middle of the pack, but after some time he felt a tiny hand grab a hold of his and drag him out of the middle of the fight. The hand belonged to the youngest of the sisters. Together they made it out of the pack and into a nearby alleyway where a side door was held open by a young man with powder on his face.

“Thank you Joseph,” she said to her older brother as she lead William into the back of the bakery.

“You alright little sis?” he asked.

Elizabeth nodded and smiled at her brother and he keenly reciprocated before looking out at the crowd in bewilderment.

“You had better stay in here for a bit,” he said to both of them. “It looks nasty out there.”
“By golly,” the baker said as he came over to meet his back-door guests. “I think your sisters are right in the thick of it Elizabeth. How did you ever survive?”

“It’s no worry about them,” interrupted Joseph. “They probably started the whole mess.”

“You should be as easy on them Joseph as you are on this little angel. They are no different from the rest of us you know.”

“Aye. But then again I have never heard you call any of them angels.”

“You may be right about that.” The baker chuckled and changed his direction to William. “So who might you be then? I’ve seen you in here before, but never in the back.”

“I’m William…but everyone calls me Willie,” he said shyly.

“Yes, I know you. You’re Christopher Calloway’s youngest aren’t you?”

“That’s my pop. He works down on the ships.”

“Well, it is nice to meet you Mr. Calloway.” The baker extended his hand to William and they shook. He then leaned in close, gave a wink to Willie and whispered, “You had better keep a hold of this one. She’s a keeper.”

Willie blushed and looked with wide eyes at Elizabeth when she laughed at the baker’s remark. But before he could turn away in embarrassment, Elizabeth ran behind the bread shelves with Willie still in tow. She grabbed two of the last loaves of bread and looked at the baker with her childish blue eyes that made his own cheeks turn rosy.

It bothered the baker when she looked at him that way. He never enjoyed giving away his bread for free but he knew it was a lost cause. It worked every single time. He did, however, insist on some payment for the extra loaf as he knew it was for William and not for her. In the end he accepted half-price for it and set them off before he became angry. Still hand in hand, they ran out of the store together and stood far away from the breaking crowd near the main entrance.
Finally, William looked at her and said, “I live up the street there.” He pointed toward the Crossing and continued, “Above the fish shop.”

“Fish shops stink,” she said scrunching her nose and waving her hand in front of her face. Again Willie blushed.

“But I will come and see you anyway? William?”

“Yes, but you can call me Willie.”

“I like William better,” said to him with a smile. “I have to go…it was nice to meet you.” She walked off and waved. She joined her sisters, who were now sporting badly torn garments from the scuffle, and never looked back at the gazing friend she had just made.

When Elizabeth was out of sight, William started back home with a grin on his face. He never had a friend that was a girl, and his sisters did not count. He wandered for a while, bread in hand, thinking of her and wondering what he would tell Lewis when he introduced them for the first time.

When he was a few steps from the front of his apartment, a strong pair of cautious hands scooped him up and lifted high above the ground.

“Father! Where did you come from? I never saw you.”

Christopher, was returning home from work where he worked for the Montague Shipping Company as porter, just like his father had many years before him.

“I know you didn’t,” said cheerfully. “How was your day today son?”

“It was OK. I found a great box to sit on and I did in front Mr. Keenan’s shop all day.”

“Oh you did, did you? Well, that must have been fun. Was Lewis with you?”

“Not until the end, when mum called me. He came down then to take care of the box.”

“And what kind of bread did you get? Your mother isn’t making any tonight?” he asked taking the loaf from Willie’s hands. His inspection revealed a brief look of dissatisfaction. “It is rather stale isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry. It was the last one in the store,” William’s voice lowered into shame.

“It’s OK, son. There will be better days,” Christopher said. “Besides, you don’t want your mother to think that someone else bakes the best bread do you?” He jabbed his finger into Willie’s ticklish side and they both laughed as they neared the stairway to their apartment.

“Carry me the rest of the way,” Willie pleaded with his father. Christopher obliged with pleasure as his father and grandfather had done so many times to him when he was young.

“OK then, I will…but don’t break your head with the bread. Its awful hard” Christopher ducked under the doorway and began to walk upstairs when a ruckus outside caught his attention. He turned around briefly to see the older boys in the neighborhood run into the far corner of the adjacent lot and place something under a set of exterior stairs. They looked about them at the same time to ensure that no one was watching. Because William and his father were in the shadows of the stairwell, they could not be seen by the boys, and Christopher stood there a moment to observe them.

“I wonder what they are up to?” he mumbled to himself. After a couple of minutes he lost interest and turned to go up the stairs.

Once inside he took the bread from William and went into the kitchen. It was better if he lied to his wife about the bread, taking the blame for William as though it were he that had been to the bakery. The initial conversation between the two adults did not go over well but eventually subsided. There were more pressing concerns at hand than worrying over the condition of the bread. They were nearly out of money and Christopher had not been paid in weeks.