Free Mary's Child by Irene Carr

would stop, but today, Thursday, it was business as usual and the yards along the banks of the river swarmed with men.
    Once over the bridge the traffic thickened and the cortège was brought to a halt. Another carriage travelling in the same direction stopped abreast of that carrying the Milburns and Chrissie. This, however, was a much grander affair, the paintwork smart and unmarked, the leather of the harness gleaming and the metalwork aglitter, reflecting what little light there was. A coachman in livery sat on the box.
    Bessie, Daniel and the two young men still stared straight ahead of them but Chrissie peeped past Bessie to see into the other carriage. It held an elderly man in a frock coat, his top hat and gloves held on his knee in one hand. Beside him sat a boy a year or two older than Chrissie, certainly bigger. He wore a dark grey suit of jacket and knee-length shorts, with a wide, white Eton collar. His head was turned away from Chrissie, his face lifted to the elderly man as he made some comment or asked a question. Then he turned and glanced across into Chrissie’s carriage and their eyes met.
     
    Minutes earlier young Jack Ballantyne had said, ‘Thank you for bringing me. I know you are very busy.’
    George Ballantyne chuckled, ‘I’m not busy but your father is. Now that he’s back I only work when I want to. While he was away he won us orders that will keep the yard in work for the next three years, but it also means three years’ hard work for him.’ Then he added, ‘And a lot more.’
    ‘A lot more what?’
    ‘Work for a lot more men. A full quarter of the men in this town work in the shipyards. That’s what we do – build ships. This is the biggest shipbuilding town in the world. And a thousand of those men work at Ballantyne’s.’
    Jack was awed, though he was too young to appreciate the statistics. He stared out of the window as a tram passed, rocking on its rails, bell clanging. Then he leaned forward, pointing. ‘Look, Grandfather! There are two coffins in that hearse.’ They were plain coffins with just one wreath and a few small bunches of flowers spread along their length.
    George Ballantyne frowned and shook his head. ‘A sad business, Jack. I read the account of it.’
    As soon as he had read of the Carter family’s tragedy, he had contacted his solicitor Arkenstall, concerned for the future of their young daughter. ‘What about the child? I don’t believe she is any kin of mine, but – will she be cared for?’
    Arkenstall had also read the report and answered. ‘I made enquiries. She has found a new home with an aunt of the deceased. You need not worry on that score.’
    George Ballantyne grunted agreement. Loyalty to his dead son demanded he believe the child was no relative of his, but nevertheless, he was glad she would be looked after.
    Now, in the swaying carriage, he went on, ‘A young man and his wife were crossing the river in a boat when they were run down by a ship. Her crew didn’t see the boat in the fog until it was too late to avoid it. Both of them were drowned.’
    Jack sucked in a breath. ‘That’s awful.’ He said worriedly, ‘You and Father work on the river.’
    George squeezed his shoulder. ‘Stop worrying! Those two people were crossing at night and they were just very unlucky. Your father and I won’t be doing anything like that. Nor will you.’ And then to take the boy’s mind off it he promised, ‘We’ll be able to get aboard the ship this afternoon. She’s decked over now.’
    Jack smiled happily again. ‘And you’ll take me round her?’
    ‘I’ll be talking to all the foremen. You can come round with me.’
    ‘Oh, thank you!’ Jack was never happier than when wandering about the Ballantyne yard.
    Then he turned and found he was looking into a carriage that had halted behind the hearse. He was vaguely aware that there were adults filling the narrow seats of the carriage but his eyes were drawn to the small, white face almost