Off To See The Wild West Show Part 2 Chapter 3 (1/6) By Frank Beill

(1/6), (2/6), (3/6), (4/6), (5/6), (6/6). Part 1 Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Part 2 Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4.

The red brick Board School stretched for nearly half the length of the street. Did Sal still live 'somewhere opposite'? My heart sank seeing all the doors to be knocked on especially after the Westbourne Avenue experience. Fortunately, shops and other businesses occupied most of the buildings facing the school. One caught my attention: Henry Tiplady, fisherman's outfitter. His emporium occupied three whole houses, so there must have been a great demand for Mr Tiplady's goods. It was closed for the night but I could see what was in the windows: knitted grey marl jumpers and bright yellow leggings, jerkins and sou'westers.

There were other things on display but my years in the Hull Sailors' Children's' Orphanage were no help in guessing their use to a fisherman.

After all the business premises number forty was the first house were people lived. Written in black letters across grey wooden archway doors attached to the house were the words: 'John Capes - Needle Maker'. Images of someone creating fine tools for local seamstresses came into my mind. Later I discovered these needles were over six inches long and made of wood. The women of the Hessle Road area used them to make and mend fishermen's nets and definitely not for delicate embroidery. There was neither time nor money around here for such refined relaxations or for any idle pastimes, come to that.

Sal was supposed to be married to a fisherman and not a needle maker, so my search began by knocking on the next front door. Number forty-two looked like somewhere occupied by ordinary working people. The door was set back from the pavement but its carved wooden frame stood proud from the wall.

My triple knock echoed in the empty passageway, but there was no sound from inside. I tried again but again there was no response. I stepped back, ready to move on to the next door in the terrace. I turned to move but I halted seeing two small eyes staring at me from inside the front room. I tried to make eye contact. There was a terrified squeal and the mop of dark hair disappeared into the darkness. A suppressed pain stabbed me through the heart. Memories of two other pairs of dark eyes under long black hair returned. I didn't want to continue but I'd come too far to stop now.

'What d'you want, mister?' A faint voice floated out of nowhere. There was a covered passageway between the two houses. A woman emerged from the gloom. Her head was covered by a long dark shawl, which merged into a shapeless dress hanging low enough to sweep the floor. 'I'm looking for somebody,' I stammered, startled by her unexpected appearance.

Continued... Next Page (2/6)

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