The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson
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Poppy Silk. Had he realised she was such a prize, he would have organised a lottery for her long ago. Minute by minute the scheme was gathering momentum and he could see the financial advantage in waiting; more contenders might well be keen to buy tickets as word spread through the encampment. There was also an advantage to be gained by lowering the price to one pound each. More would be inclined to part with a pound, and those fools whose deprived dicks were ruling their heads would buy several tickets each.
‘Right,’ said Tweedle. ‘Here’s what I’m gunna do. Tickets’ll be a quid each. The last day for staking your claim is next payday at the end o’ September. Everybody can buy as many tickets as they can afford, depending on how much you want the wench … But there’s a condition …’
The navvies looked at him expectantly, wondering what condition he could possibly lay down.
‘I have to protect me own interests in this. So any one of you young bucks who tries to sweep young Poppy off her feet in the meantime to try and beat the lottery will have his tickets withdrawn … and no refund. Is that clear?’
The navvies looked from one to the other and nodded.
‘I reckon that’s fair,’ the Masher said. ‘It puts paid to any ideas of trying to put her in the family way meanwhile. Do yer agree, Jericho?’
‘Why look at me?’ Jericho asked resentfully.
‘’Cause you’ve bin sniffing round already, and am likely to sniff round again unless there’s a rule agin’ it … So, do you agree?’
‘I reckon so,’ Jericho said with reluctance. He could see his chance slipping away. He had been so close to buying Poppy, but that chance was all but gone now. Now he would have to consolidate his resources and buy as many tickets as he could to boost the odds.
Dandy Punch, the stocky timekeeper, called at Rose Cottage after work had finished on Saturday to collect the rent. Poppy answered the door to him and was gratified to see him drenched to the skin as he hunched under his hat as if it might afford adequate shelter from the rain.
He bid her an obsequious good morning, which made her flesh creep. ‘You look a picture today, young Poppy,’ he said with a slavering leer, his voice as smooth as lard. ‘But then, you always do.’
‘I’ll fetch me mother,’ she said offhandedly, at once turning her back on him.
‘Is Tweedle Beak about yet?’ he called after her. ‘I’d like a word if he is.’
Having heard, Tweedle rose from a chair and, in his shirtsleeves, went to the door. His hand was in his pocket delving for the money to pay the rent in anticipation of Dandy Punch’s asking for it. He counted out the exact amount then handed it over to the timekeeper who, in turn, made a mark in his collection book.
‘A word, if you please, Tweedle …’
Dandy Punch turned away from the door and from the hut, signifying to Tweedle that the conversation should not be overheard. Tweedle followed him, closing the door behind him.
‘What can I do for you, Dandy?’ he said, eyeing resentfully the dark clouds above that were spilling their contents over him.
‘Quite a bit, I fancy, Tweedle. They say as how one good turn deserves another …’
‘Oh?’
‘You remember after Lightning Jack left … I turned a blind eye to you paying the rent on this hut …’
‘Turned a blind eye?’
‘Well, it was all done unofficial, Tweedle. Strictly speaking, Treadwell’s like to have gangers renting the huts, not ordinary navvies. Gangers have a bit more sway with the lads who lodge, you understand.’ He turned up the collar of his coat. ‘But since I knew you was trying to protect poor Sheba and her brood, I had to admire you for it. It was a noble thing to do, Tweedle. Very noble. There was no fear of me turning round and saying you couldn’t do it, neither to you nor any of the gaffers.’
‘What am yer after, Dandy Punch?’
‘Well … the time’s come when I reckon it behoves me to ask a favour in return … And not just a favour for meself, Tweedle, ’cause I’ll be doing you one as well.’
‘What is it you want?’ Tweedle asked pointedly. ‘Come on, mek it quick. I’m getting bloody drenched.’ He did not take kindly to having it identified that he owed a favour to anybody. That which Dandy Punch had done he had not perceived as a favour, more in the line of duty.
‘Well … this lottery as you’m about to run … I reckon as you’ll be wanting somebody to write out the lottery tickets, putting the names on, and keeping an account of the money you collect.’
‘Listen, Dandy, I can keep an account o’ the money meself without any help from you or anybody else. But yo’ could write the names on the tickets, if yo’ve a mind, ’cause I can’t. Already I’ve took a pound each off the Masher, off Fatbuck, off Waxy Boyle and Windy Bags.’
‘Hang on … Let me write ’em down …’ Dandy Punch fumbled between the pages of his dog-eared rent book for his blacklead. He licked the lead and began to write, hunched over his book to keep it dry. ‘Masher … Fatbuck … Waxy … Who was the last one you mentioned?’
‘Windy.’
Dandy wrote it down. ‘Let me know who they are when you take their pounds and I’ll see to it as there’s a ticket wrote for every pound took, eh?’
‘Fair enough, Dandy.’
‘Now look, Tweedle …’ Dandy tucked his book under his arm and felt in the pocket of his trousers. He drew out a handful of coins and counted them into Tweedle’s hand. ‘That’s five pounds, Tweedle … Now what you can do for me in return is to let me have two tickets for each of me pounds, so as I have ten tickets for five pounds. That’s my discount, like, for helping you to operate the lottery, and for turning a blind eye to your tenancy.’
Tweedle shook his head. ‘It ain’t enough,’ he said, seeing an opportunity to profit further. ‘It ain’t enough to warrant that sort o’ discount. Look, Dandy, it strikes me as yo’m keen to win this Poppy, eh?’
‘That, I am. Right keen. She’s a fine madam.’
‘And that’s why you want to boost your chances, I can see that. Well, all I can say is boost ’em good and proper by paying for ten tickets and write yourself twenty. Yo’d be almost certain to win the wench. I can’t say fairer than that.’
Dandy Punch hesitated and sucked on his lips. ‘Ten pounds is a lot o’ money, Tweedle … I’d invest it without a second thought if you could guarantee as my name would be picked out o’ the hat … Nobody else need know, o’ course.’ He tapped his nose and winked. ‘It’d be just between us two. You could still collect the money off the other chaps and make a tidy profit.’
Tweedle Beak considered it for no more than two seconds. ‘Give me twelve quid, Dandy, and I’ll guarantee it. But so sure as yo’ breathe a word o’ this to anybody, I’ll skin thee alive.’
‘Have no fear. It’s just between you and me, Tweedle. And I’m a man of me word. I knew we’d understand one another. Just let me know who’s paid and I’ll write out their tickets as well.’
Tweedle leered. ‘Not that they’ll see the light o’ day, eh, Dandy?’
‘Oh, they’ll have to be put in the hat, Tweedle. But mine’ll be a different colour. Whoever does the draw will have to know what colour to pick out.’
‘Oh, that’s easy fixed,’ Tweedle said. ‘Leave that to me.’
Poppy’s elusive dream of winning Robert