She returned to the kitchen, sat on the fireside chair and thought about what her life might have been if Jim hadn’t died. This would have been her domain, standing at the cooker making their meals. Washing the clothes in the sink and pegging them out to blow in the yard or on a rainy day draping them over the fireguard to dry. She’d have turned this little house into a palace; everything would have been shining and cosy and warm. And the children, two or three at least… She curled her legs under her, leaned back and closed her eyes. If only I could stay here forever, she thought. It felt good to be alone and for the first time since Jim’s death she allowed her thoughts to focus on the future. She knew that adjusting to life without him would be hard. In the short time they had together he had brightened her days with his love and the promise of a better life. She had never been so happy. Even the dreary days spent in the shop with her mother’s endless carping couldn’t spoil the joy she felt when Jim came home from work. Now he was gone and it felt like her life was over too. She’d be buried in that miserable shop, stacking tins in pyramids till she dropped, and there’d be no way out.
An hour slipped by and she knew she had to leave, but still she couldn’t stir herself. She shifted her position and found a soft bit of the chair to lay her head. I’ll stay a bit longer, she thought, what’s the harm? She brought to mind Jim’s face with his broad smile and those blue eyes that could melt her heart.
*
Her eyes closed and within minutes she was asleep and dreaming that she was in a park pushing a pram. It was summer and the flower beds were full of busy Lizzies and the humming of bees. At the sound of a soft cry, she pulled back the baby’s blanket and her heart stopped. The pram was empty. She awoke in a panic and it was a moment before she remembered where she was. This wasn’t the first time, since Jim died, that she had dreamt about a baby and her thoughts returned again to that last night they had been together. Might there be a chance that she could be pregnant even now? The thought filled her with joy.
She sat up and rubbed the crick in her neck and, with a final look round the little kitchen, she went out through the front door and locked it. It was just a few steps to the neighbour’s house to return the key and tell her that she wouldn’t be moving in, but for some reason she couldn’t explain, she held it tight in her pocket and walked on by.
Chapter 4
When Helen arrived back at the shop, she noticed that the brass bed wasn’t there. Her mother was busy packing a woman’s bag so she went through to the living room and there it was, leaning against the sideboard. She put the kettle on, made a pot of tea and brought two cups into the shop.
‘You moved the bed,’ said Helen, as she handed her mother the brew.
‘Course I did, near give myself a hernia in the process. Anyway, it won’t be here long. I put a card in the window and I’ve already had a couple of enquiries. We should get a good price for it.’
‘You’ve done what?’ Helen couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.
‘We have to get rid of it. It’s no use to you, is it?’
‘You’ve no right to sell my property. What if I want to keep it?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Helen. You need all the money you can get, now that you haven’t Jim’s wages coming in. Speaking of which, did you get the two weeks’ rent you paid to the landlord in advance?’
‘No, I didn’t. He wasn’t—’
‘You didn’t get it? My God, Helen, I can’t believe you could be so stupid. It’s a good job I’m here. You wouldn’t last two minutes on your own.’
‘Stop it, Mam, don’t speak to me like that. I’m not a child.’
But her mother wasn’t listening. ‘Have you been out like that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your clothes – look at you. Your husband only buried yesterday and you haven’t the decency to wear those black clothes I got for you. What will the neighbours think?’
‘I can’t wear those clothes, they smell of somebody else.’ Helen was close to tears. ‘And why are you being so nasty when you know I’m heartbroken about Jim?’
‘Yes, and I’m heartbroken that you’ve walked away from two weeks’ rent and don’t want to sell that bloody big bed that’s no use you.’
Helen put her hands over her ears to fend off the hurtful words. ‘Stop it! Stop it! I can’t take any more of this.’
‘For God’s sake get a grip, girl. There’s many a woman has lost her man and, the longer this war lasts, the more widows there’ll be. But you’ll be better off than most of them. You’ve a decent home here and a business. You’ll not go without and count your blessings too that you haven’t a child to bring up.’
Helen’s anger and frustration had reached boiling point. She could hardly breathe, let alone speak. She clenched her fists and stood tall, towering over her mother. It was a moment before she found her voice. ‘How do you know there won’t be a child?’
Her mother stepped back, her face filled with uncertainty. ‘What do you mean? You’re not…’
‘Why would I tell you if I was? I’ve had enough of the way you order me around. You’ve always made me feel small and useless, but this is the day it stops. I’m going to get my things together, then I’ll leave and I won’t be back so don’t try to find me!’ She started up the stairs, but her mother caught her arm.
‘Don’t be stupid, where would you go? And what about the shop? How will I manage without you?’
Helen shook her head. ‘That’s all you care about, isn’t it? This bloody shop. Well, I’m getting out of here, Mam, I’ve had enough. I’ll not spend another night under this roof,’ and she pulled her arm away and ran up the stairs.
She sat on the bed and stared at her shaking hands. She couldn’t believe what she’d said. It was as though something had snapped inside her, but she didn’t regret it for one moment. She went down to the cellar and brought up some cardboard boxes and filled them with her possessions, Then she pulled an old grip bag from under the bed, blew the dust off it and began pulling her clothes out of the wardrobe. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of something that stopped her in her tracks and she let out a cry. There was Jim’s suit swinging on a hanger – the empty jacket the saddest thing she had ever seen. She wrapped her arms around it, breathing in the familiar smell of him. Then held it away from her, picturing him the last time he wore it at the working men’s club the night before he died. She smiled and reached out to brush a sprinkling of her face powder on the shoulder where she had rested her head as they danced that night. It was then that she remembered the five pound note he had won in the raffle. Hadn’t he put it away safe in his inside pocket? She felt for it – nothing there. Nothing in the other pockets either. Where could it be? Then she vaguely remembered her mother coming into the bedroom during one of those times after Jim’s death when she could barely lift her head off the pillow. Didn’t her mother go to the wardrobe? She remembered the door creaking. Could her mother have taken it? Why would she do that? But it must have been her; there was no one else. She shoved the suit into the bag, along with the cricket sweater that he would never wear, and went to face her.
‘Where is it, Mam? Where’s the fiver Jim won at the club?’
Elsie was in the middle of serving a customer. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute, Helen.’
‘You took it, didn’t you?’
‘Helen, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, let me finish Mrs Morrison’s order, please.’
She ran back up to her room and came down with her bag; by that time Mrs Morrison had left and her mother had turned the shop sign to ‘Closed’.
‘That five pounds he won, it was in his suit pocket. I didn’t take it, so it must have been you.’
‘This is nonsense. I don’t know what you’re talking about. The only thing I did was hang up the black dress and coat. You’re confused, Helen, look at the state of you. And you think you can go off on your own? You won’t last a week before you come crawling ba
ck here.’
‘You’re wrong!’ she screamed. ‘I know you took Jim’s money and I’ll never come back here. I’d rather die!’
She ran out of the shop and straight across the road to her neighbour, Douglas Finney. He was a rag and bone man and he owned a handcart.
He looked up as she came in and gave her a lopsided smile, keeping his cigarette firmly in the opposite corner of his mouth. ‘Are you all right, lass?’ Then he noticed her tears. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Oh, Douglas, can I ask you a favour?’
‘Course you can, love.’
‘I know that Jim asked to borrow your handcart to wheel our belongings over to our new house in Newton Heath and I was wondering if you would still help me to move them.’
‘But I thought you were staying on at your mam’s?’
‘No, Douglas, I’m moving out.’
He took the dimp out of the corner of his mouth and ground it underfoot. ‘Well, I won’t ask you why, but are you sure you’ll be all right on your own so soon after… you know?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she insisted. ‘I just need some help.’
‘Well, I’m your man. Have you got your things ready?’ Helen nodded. ‘Right then, I’ll wheel my cart over to the shop. Will you be taking that big bed with you?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘It’s the only piece of furniture I’ve got.’
By the time the cart was loaded, word had got round and a few neighbours had come out to say goodbye. So shocked were they when they saw how little she had to call her own, they nipped back into their homes and came out with a few things they could spare: a tablecloth, a few bits of crockery, a frying pan, even an old patchwork quilt from Mrs Lowe.
At no point did her mother come out and it didn’t go unnoticed by the neighbours. Their eyes flitted to the shop window and back and they whispered and tutted.
‘Have you everything now?’ said Douglas.
‘No, there’s just one more thing,’ and she ran into the shop, straight past her mother serving a customer, and into the living room. On the sideboard sat Jim’s helmet. It had unsettled her from the day of his funeral when they wanted to present it to her, but she couldn’t leave it behind, Jim would never forgive her.
It was time to go. Douglas picked up the shafts of the handcart and set it moving while she walked beside him, her arms wrapped around the dented helmet.
*
It was growing dark when they arrived at the house and started to unload the cart. Helen had just carried in a couple of rag rugs she’d taken from her bedroom at home, when the woman from next door wandered into the kitchen with the child on her hip.
‘That were a fine bed your husband just carried in,’ she said.
‘Oh, he’s not my husband, he’s just a friend – a neighbour from where I used to live.’
‘Is that right?’ The woman’s eyes flitted round the room. ‘Is the rest of your furniture coming tomorrow?’
‘Maybe… I’m not sure. I need to buy a few more things.’ Helen was uneasy; not wanting to discuss her situation.
‘Have you brought blackout curtains?’ The woman had wandered over to the window, jiggling the whinging child. ‘You know this is the only room in the house that has them, don’t you? You’ll need to sort the other rooms or you’ll be fined for breaching the blackout regulations.’
Helen’s heart sank. Now she’d have to make curtains, and how much would that cost for the material?
‘Anyroad, my name’s Ada Clark, what’s yours?’
‘Helen Harrison.’
Ada acknowledged her with a nod. ‘So, where’ve you come from?’ she said.
‘Over Moston way.’ That was vague enough, thought Helen, but she’d not give anything more away.
‘I could make you a brew if you want.’
‘No, no,’ said Helen. ‘That’s kind of you, but I’ll need to get on, sorting things out, you know?’
‘Well, I’m only next door if you need anything,’ and with a last look around the bare kitchen she left.
When Ada had gone Helen went to see how Douglas was getting on bolting the bed together. She came into the room and her eyes opened wide at the sight of it.
‘You’ll be comfortable on that,’ said Douglas. ‘Probably came out of one of those big Edwardian terraces on Queen’s Road.’
‘It almost fills the room,’ said Helen. ‘Good job I’ve got double sheets to fit it and a Witney blanket too – wedding presents we never used. And with Mrs Lowe’s quilt on the top, I’ll be as snug as a bug.’
Downstairs, Helen got her purse and offered Douglas a half crown for his trouble.
‘Nay, lass, keep your money. I’m happy to have helped you and if you need anything else doing let me know.’
When Douglas had gone, she went upstairs and, with the light fading fast, she made up the bed. At least she had a bed to sleep in, but when could she ever afford a dressing table or wardrobe? Back in the kitchen she drew the blackout curtains and switched on the light. The first thing she unpacked was an old kettle so she could have some tea. Then she emptied her shopping bag: bread, milk, a half pot of jam, tea, two eggs, a bit of butter and a couple of bacon rashers, all taken from the kitchen at home. It wasn’t stealing, she told herself, these were her rations.
She delved into one of the cardboard boxes and took out some ornaments that she had kept in her ‘bottom drawer’, presents from friends when she got engaged, and saved for when she and Jim would have their own place. She set each one on the mantelpiece and stood back to admire them. It felt good to have her own pot figures; one a girl like Little Bo Peep, the other a boy carrying a piglet under his arm.
The kettle whistled, she made a brew and jam butties and sat in the old armchair to plan her next step. With the rent already paid and her savings of thirty shillings in her purse for food and coal, she had two weeks to find work before she’d be out on the street or, worse, back home with her tail between her legs. She pushed away the rising panic. What if nobody would give her a job? Don’t be silly, she told herself, you’ll get something.
First thing in the morning she would try the AVRO aircraft factory. She could walk there in half an hour and, if she didn’t get taken on, she would walk on into town and ask at the shops. As she sat there, the room seemed to grow colder and colder and without a fire she’d be better off in bed. She undressed and climbed into the huge bed and lay there in the pitch black listening to the sounds of the house. It was comfortable, but she couldn’t sleep with the turmoil in her head. What madness had led her in the space of a day to leave her home, her job, her mother… to end up alone in a strange house that she couldn’t afford? What if her mother was right and she was no good on her own? If only Jim hadn’t died. He’d be lying beside her now and she imagined him making love to her as he did on their last night together. Her thoughts turned again to the baby they had so wanted. She had deliberately shocked her mother by saying there might be a child, but the truth was that since Jim’s death her thoughts had turned more and more to the possibility that she could be pregnant. It wasn’t likely, of course, and anyway, how could she support herself and bring up a child?
The week went on and the January weather became treacherous: icy pavements that thawed and iced again overnight; then snow deep enough to cover her shoes. She walked everywhere to save money. She wanted war work, but they didn’t want her. The mills were looking for experienced workers. The shops told her it was a quiet period after Christmas and to come back in a month. She returned home each day chilled to the bone and stuffed her sodden shoes with newspaper and set them next to the fire to dry out. The money went on coal, the gas meter and basic food like potatoes and porridge to fill her up and she lived in just two rooms – the kitchen and her bedroom. As well as looking for work, she was determined to clean the house from top to bottom. She had found a galvanised bucket in the coal shed, bought carbolic soap and soon everywhere smelled fresh and clean. She also bought some blackout material and made a cu
rtain for her bedroom. The other windows would have to wait.
She had just arrived home after a day looking for work when there was a knock on the door. It was Ada, clearly expecting to be invited in. ‘Just thought I’d pop round to see if you’ve settled in all right.’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ said Helen, careful not to open the door too wide to stop Ada seeing the still unfurnished parlour.
‘I haven’t seen your husband at all.’
If Ada hadn’t been so nosy, she might have confided that she was a widow, but Helen didn’t trust her not to spread her business around strangers. ‘He’s not here.’
‘Oh, is he away in the forces?’
‘No,’ said Helen.
Ada gave her an odd look. ‘Only, the landlord said you were a young married couple.’
‘I have to go,’ said Helen. ‘I’ve milk on the boil.’
‘Well, I’ll get back to the child, she’ll be waking up from her nap. You know where I am.’
Helen managed a nod and closed the door. Maybe she should have said she was a widow, but then she would have had to explain about his death and she wasn’t up to discussing her grief with strangers. She should have lied and said her husband was in the army but now, by saying nothing, Ada was suspicious and no doubt she’d keep asking more awkward questions.
She had just got the fire going when there was another knock at the door. It had better not be Ada again, she thought, but she needn’t have worried. There on the doorstep was her friend Gwen grinning at her. ‘Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes! I thought I’d never find you. I knew the house was on Droylsden Road but I didn’t know the number. Then I remembered you said it was between a pub and a park.’
Helen hugged her. ‘Oh, Gwen, thank goodness you’ve come,’ and she tried not to cry.
Gwen linked her arm. ‘Hey, come on now, let’s get inside.’
The Girl from the Corner Shop Page 4