The Beggar Maid Read Free Page A

the stairs. It was a common occurrence and not one to cause her any concern. What worried her more was the sound of raised voices emanating from the cellar. The door was open and she went to investigate.
    In the dim light of a single oil lamp she could just make out the shape of two men who seemed to be pinning her grandfather to the ground. She only knew who it was who was flailing his arms and legs by the sound of his voice as a torrent of abuse left his lips. When sober, Joseph Crosse never swore when there were women present, and Charity knew that he would be mortified when he sobered up, but she realised quickly that this was no ordinary fit of drunken rage. Her grandfather was plainly terrified and was fighting off some nameless beast, and the men who held him down were attempting to calm him. She hurried to his side, stepping over a couple of shapeless mounds sleeping soundly beneath piles of newspaper, cardboard and rags despite the commotion. ‘Grandpa.’
    â€˜Get back, girly.’ One of the men lifted his hand and pushed her out of the way. ‘The old codger’s gone mad.’
    â€˜Leave him alone. You’re hurting him.’ Charity tried to pull him away but he was a big man and muscular.
    â€˜He tried to kill me,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Went for me with a chiv.’
    â€˜No,’ Charity cried fiercely. ‘He would never do such a thing. Get off him, please.’
    The second man glanced over his shoulder. ‘You ain’t helping, miss. Stand back or you’ll get hurt. I seen this happen before. The drink has addled his brains. He’s been seeing things what aren’t here.’
    â€˜He’s lost his head, all right. The best thing you can do for him is call a constable. Your granddad needs locking up for his own safety and yours.’
    â€˜Aye,’ his companion said gruffly. ‘The Bethlehem Lunatic Asylum is where he should be.’
    â€˜No, please.’ Charity moved closer. She was horrified to see her grandfather’s features twisted into a rictus grin and his face was turning blue. ‘Let me deal with this. I know how to handle him.’
    Suddenly, Joseph relaxed and went as limp as a rag doll. The men released their hold and sat back on their haunches. ‘He’s passed out,’ the younger man said, wiping the sweat from his brow. ‘Thank God for that.’
    â€˜I ain’t so sure.’ His friend leaned over and felt for a pulse. He shook his head. ‘Sorry, love. I think he’s a goner. Must’ve had some kind of fit.’ He scrambled to his feet. ‘Let’s get out of here, mate. We don’t want to be mixed up in this.’
    Charity fell to her knees beside her grandfather. ‘Grandpa, speak to me.’ She chafed his hands and laid her head on his chest, but she could not hear a heartbeat. She looked up and found herself alone except for the ones who were dead drunk or under the influence of opium and had slept through everything.
    She sat for a moment, too stunned to cry and too frightened to move. She had seen dead bodies often enough in the street, but this was different. This lifeless corpse had once been her much loved grandparent. He was her last link with her family and now she was alone and very scared. She was suddenly eight years old again, and had been told that her father had succumbed to the dreaded disease of cholera only a few hours after it had claimed her grandmother. She leaned over and shook her grandfather, uttering a cry of horror as his head lolled to one side and his sightless eyes gazed blindly into space.
    Before she realised what she was doing she found herself outside in the street, retching and gasping for breath. The cold air filled her lungs and her head began to clear. The enormity of what had happened filled her with horror and she went in search of help.
    The doctor lived in Old Fish Street and to her relief he was at home, having his supper. His