More Than Riches

by More Than Riches (retail) (epub)

  ‘I suppose not.’ During the brief silence that followed, Rosie seemed a million miles away, unaware that Peggy was regarding her with concern. It was only when Peggy spoke, asking whether she had something on her mind, that Rosie looked up with surprise. ‘What do you mean?’ She had been thinking of Adam, and of what Ned had told her some time back. The news that Adam was married had raised all manner of emotions in her, and even now, after all this time, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  ‘I know you.’ Peggy half guessed the truth. ‘Whatever’s on your mind, the best thing is to talk about it. A trouble shared is a trouble halved, they say.’

  ‘Do you think he’s completely forgotten about me?’ Her brown eyes were soulful.

  ‘Ah! Adam, you mean?’

  ‘You knew I was thinking of him, didn’t you?’

  ‘I’ve known you for too long, gal. And no, even though he’s married and should have, I don’t expect for one minute he’s forgotten you. After all, you’re wed, and you ain’t forgot him, have you, eh? You love him just as much as you’ve ever done. And what good will it do, tell me that, for God’s sake?’ She thought about Rosie’s hard life and that miserable husband of hers, and wished with all her heart that it could have been different. But it wasn’t, and now perhaps it never would be. Shaking her head in frustration, she pleaded softly, ‘Oh, Rosie, will you never stop tormenting yourself?’

  ‘When Ned told me he’d married that young woman who came to the christening, well, I don’t mind admitting, I was surprised. Oh, it’s not that I didn’t think she was nice, because she was. But somehow she just didn’t seem to be the type I imagined he’d settle down with.’

  ‘I thought the same, and yes, she did seem nice enough in her own way… chatty and friendly. But, like you, I never saw Adam as going for the brassy hair and deep cleavage type.’

  ‘Happen we’re being unkind?’

  ‘Happen.’

  ‘I hope he’s content. It would be nice to think he had a family of his own… children… a son maybe.’ She smiled, but it was an unhappy expression.

  ‘It’s just as well he got wed because now you know he’s out of reach.’ Peggy believed the only way to be kind was to be cruel.

  ‘You know he’s done well for himself?’ There was pride in Rosie’s voice.

  ‘I should know, gal. You’ve told me a million times.’ Like Doug and Martha, they believed what Ned had told them about bumping into Adam at another sale two years back. They weren’t to know he had sold his business to Adam.

  Deliberately thrusting Adam from her mind, Rosie was genuinely delighted to report, ‘Ned goes from strength to strength. Lately, he’s a different man. It’s as though somehow he’s shed a deal of worry. Certainly his business is picking up, and what’s more, he’s just taken delivery of a new wagon.’ Rosie had a great deal of affection for her father-in-law, and had never blamed him for sacking Doug. The only regret she had was that Doug could not be the man his father was.

  Thankful that Rosie had wisely changed the subject, Peggy answered, ‘I’ve always liked Ned Selby, and I’m glad he’s doing better these days. Do you think he’ll take Doug on again?’

  Rosie’s eyes darkened with anger. ‘Why should he? Doug’s unreliable, lazy, and half the time he’s drunk. I’m not surprised Ned’s turned his back on him. Besides, he’s got his hands full with Martha.’ Every day she grew more and more vindictive, making that poor man’s life an absolute misery. And though she did feel sorry that Martha must be suffering too, Rosie couldn’t help but wonder at Ned’s immense patience.

  ‘What? You mean she’s playing up again? I thought she’d got to like this new nurse.’

  ‘You know her. She can’t like anyone for more than five minutes at a time. Yesterday when I went round to see if I could be of help in any way, Martha was throwing a terrible tantrum. Ned was sitting at the kitchen table with his hands over his ears, and the nurse was close to tears.’ She sighed. ‘If you ask me it’s only a matter of time before that one follows the others out of the house. Soon Ned won’t be able to get anybody to look after her.’

  ‘By! She’s a wicked old sod. If I was Ned, I’d bugger off and leave her to it!’

  Rosie shook her head. ‘Never. Ned’s a good man. He’d have to be at his wit’s end to do a thing like that.’

  ‘Oh, aye? And how long will it be before he is at his wit’s end? The man isn’t a saint, when all’s said and done.’

  Noises from the front hallway made Rosie look round. ‘Sounds like your mam’s back,’ she said with a chuckle.

  Peggy listened too. ‘Well, I’m buggered!’ she exclaimed. ‘So she is. What did I say, eh? I knew it. She must have ants in her pants because she can’t sit still for two minutes at a time.’

  After a lot of shouting and pushing and cries of, ‘I wanted to see the end of the picture!’ the little tribe came bundling into the parlour. ‘These two wouldn’t keep quiet,’ Peggy’s mam moaned. ‘Three times the usherette threatened to throw us out.’ She cuffed the three eldest round the ears. ‘Get washed and off to your beds.’ ‘We wanted to watch the end,’ they argued in unison. But when she glared at them, they soon scooted into the scullery.

  ‘An’ this little sod wet himself!’ she explained, pushing the young one before her.

  ‘I ain’t!’ he wailed, tears in his eyes as he appealed to Peggy. ‘I wanted to watch the end an’ all.’

  ‘Why didn’t you wait for the end, our mam?’ Peggy wanted to know. ‘There’s nothing worse than seeing a picture nearly all the way through, and not knowing what the end is.’

  All she got for an answer was the suggestion that she: ‘Mind your own bloody business!’ It was obvious that taking all the children to the pictures had turned out to be more of an ‘adventure’ than Peggy’s mam could cope with. She looked harassed and weary. ‘I’d best make you a brew,’ Peggy offered.

  ‘That’s nice, dear,’ sighed her mam. Then she fell into the nearest chair as though her legs had given out.

  When little Danny woke with a start and began screaming at the top of his lungs, Rosie thought it was a good time to leave. She said goodbye to Peggy’s mam, who smiled wanly from the depths of the chair. ‘See you later,’ she called out to Peggy who was in the scullery overseeing the younger ones. But Peggy was being bombarded with complaints and didn’t hear.

  Outside, Rosie sighed and glanced at her son, who was now contentedly walking along beside her, his hand securely tucked into hers as they made their way home. ‘It’s a madhouse,’ she said, ruffling his brown hair. ‘But it’s a happier house than ours, and that’s a fact.’

  * * *

  That night, Doug came home late. He was in a foul mood. ‘Old Leyland’s going senile,’ he complained. ‘He says I came back to work drunk after the break. He’s a bloody liar. I was sober as a judge.’ His face twitched as he spoke. It was obvious to Rosie that he had been drinking and that he badly needed a drink now. ‘What money have you got?’ he asked, pushing his tea aside. The meat pie had been light and fluffy, oozing with gravy and crispy at the edges when Rosie baked it earlier. Now, after being kept warm for two hours, it was dry and shrivelled.

  ‘None for booze, I can tell you that.’ Taking up the poker she jabbed at the coals with it. All day she had felt a chill, and now she feared she was coming down with ’flu.

  In two strides he was across the room. Snatching the poker out of her hand, he flung it into the grate. ‘What the hell have you got a fire lit for?’ he snapped. ‘It’s the middle of summer for Christ’s sake. We ain’t got money to waste!’

  ‘No, and if you get sacked from Leyland’s, for being drunk at work, we won’t have money to feed us neither.’ Her eyes were hard and bright as buttons.

  Incensed when she dared to defy him – and that was too often lately – he insisted, ‘You’ve got money all right. I know you keep a few shilling tucked away.’ When she said nothing but continued to challenge him with those forthright brown eyes, he r
eached out to touch her mouth. ‘You’re a handsome-looking woman, Rosie,’ he murmured. ‘To be honest, I don’t know which I want most… a pint of ale at the pub, or an hour on the floor with you.’ She hated it when he talked like that, as though she was little better than a jar in his fist. ‘There’s two shilling under the clock.’ In that moment, giving him the few coins she had put by was the lesser of two evils. ‘Take it, and to Hell with you!’

  For a long unbearable moment he stared at her with avaricious eyes and she felt herself cringing. Taking her by the shoulders he leaned forward to cover her mouth with his. ‘Later,’ he promised, reluctantly pushing away. He laughed in her face before taking the money from the clock and making a hasty exit. ‘Right! I’m off for a pint or two okay?’ he said brightly. She didn’t answer. She was astonished that he should expect her to.

  After he had gone, she went upstairs to check her son. Sound asleep and contented, he had obviously not stirred since she took him up some two hours before. ‘You’re such a little innocent,’ she murmured. ‘But you’re growing so fast, and I’m afraid he might pass his bad ways on to you.’ When Danny was a baby, the fear wasn’t so great. But now that he was a little man in his own right, talking and listening and looking up to his dad with the loving eyes of a son, she was desperately afraid. ‘I won’t let him ruin you,’ she vowed.

  But that night, when Doug stumbled into the bedroom, blind drunk and hardly able to stand, she wondered whether in the end he would ruin them all.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, Rosie kept out of Doug’s way as much as possible. When they went to bed she pretended to be asleep, and when he woke in the morning she was already downstairs preparing his sandwiches for work. Two out of three nights he managed to arrive home sober, and though he badgered her for money, she was determined that he would not have the money which she had hidden in the rent book.

  The days came and went and each was the same as the one before. As though in defiance of her mundane existence, Rosie sang at her work, keeping the little house clean, taking advantage of the fine weather to dip the blankets and scrub the mats. Every grubby garment in the house was washed, ironed and neatly stacked into the laundry cupboard at the top of the stairs, and the windows were cleaned until they sparkled. Even grumpy Ada from the bottom house had to admit, ‘By! Them windows look a right treat, lass. Happen you should come and do mine?’ If Ada had been badly or old, or if her legs were swelled up with varicose veins, Rosie might well have offered, but the woman wasn’t much older than Rosie herself. She was also known to be bone idle so Rosie just smiled and thanked her, and quickly retreated into the house.

  On Thursday night Doug went out on money borrowed from ‘an old mate’. Peggy popped round and told Rosie she just had to get out of the house. ‘I’ve had a bad day at work and the kids are making that much noise I’m tempted to suffocate the little sods,’ she groaned. They talked until nearly midnight and Doug still wasn’t home. ‘Happen he’s found another woman and run off with her?’ Peggy suggested.

  ‘I should be so lucky!’ Rosie laughed.

  Realising how the time had run away with them, and that her mam would have put the children to bed by now, Peggy rose to leave. ‘Keep sane, kid,’ she told Rosie, and Rosie promised she would.

  After letting Peggy out, she locked the door and went to bed. A quick peep into the smaller bedroom told her that little Danny was still sleeping. She couldn’t sleep though. Her mind was too alive. She thought on what Peggy had said just now, about Doug running off with some woman. ‘There’s no other woman would have you!’ she muttered, her gaze following the antics of a spider on the ceiling while she reflected on her own life.

  After a while she slid down between the sheets and closed her eyes. She felt strangely afraid, as though waiting for something to happen. It was an odd and eerie feeling, so strong that she had to get out of bed and go downstairs again. ‘You must be losing your mind, Rosie gal,’ she chuckled. Making herself a cup of cocoa, she curled up in the big armchair, thoughtfully sipping at the hot drink and warming her hands on the mug at the same time. ‘It’s freezing in here!’ she moaned, taking Doug’s overcoat from the back of the door to fling over her legs. Once the night had settled, the cold chilly air from outside seeped in and the temperature dropped.

  She finished the cocoa and put the cup in the hearth. She felt tired, yet not tired enough for sleep. She dozed and woke, and thought awhile. The clock ticked the minutes away, chiming the hours between, and soon the night was almost gone and the sky infused with the colours of morning. And still Doug wasn’t home. ‘Why should I care if you choose to stay out all night?’ she asked aloud. ‘God only knows, I should be pleased to see the back of you.’

  All the same she couldn’t help but worry. When all was said and done he was her husband and, even though she was eaten up with regret for having committed herself to him, she was essentially a woman who took her marriage vows very seriously. This was the first time he hadn’t come home, and she began to wonder whether he really did have a woman who served him better. That made her smile. If there was a woman out there who wanted him, she only had to ask.

  Having sat in the chair for so long, she began to ache all over. The mantel clock struck four, and above the chimes came the sound of a child crying. Hurrying up the stairs, she found the boy on his feet and rubbing his eyes. ‘Shh, sweetheart. It’s all right.’ He felt cold to the touch as she helped him back to his bed. Tenderly she settled him beneath the blankets. ‘Mammy’s here,’ she coaxed, Lying down beside him, she folded him in her arms and there she fell asleep.

  It was the rattle of the milk cart that woke her. Sitting up with a start, she was momentarily confused. With sleepy brown eyes she glanced round the room and finally her gaze fell on the lad sleeping beside her. Realisation dawned and she got carefully from the bed.

  It was only a few steps along the landing, but even before she had opened the bedroom door, she sensed that Doug was still not home. When he was here there was a brooding atmosphere in this house she loved. Whenever he was out, it was as though the sun shone in every room.

  Dropping on to the bed, she drew her hands over her face as though to wipe away the sleep that was still on her. ‘Where in God’s name is he?’ she murmured. Going to the window she looked out. Apart from the milk cart that was already turning the bottom of the street, there wasn’t a soul to be seen. A quick glance at the bedside clock told her it was still only five. Soon the street would be filled with the sound of people wending their way to work, but for now the men were still snoozing, although the women were no doubt busy in their kitchens, packing sandwiches and making flasks of tea.

  Wide awake now, Rosie went downstairs and boiled a kettle full of water. That done she tipped most of it into the bowl, tempered it with a rush of cold water from the tap, and stripped off her nightgown; a thorough strip-wash, and then to work. She cleaned out the ashes from the fire-grate, washed the hearth and brought the tiles to a high polish, then she pushed the sweeper over the carpet and dusted the furniture. By that time it was nearing six-thirty.

  Just as she was straightening her back from her labours, a small voice called out from the parlour doorway, ‘I’m hungry.’ The little fellow looked tousled and tired as he came into the room.

  ‘You’re as bad as your mam,’ Rosie softly chided when he put his small hand in hers. ‘I reckon we both look the worse for wear.’

  Fastening his pyjama top, she sat him up at the table. ‘What do you fancy, little man?’ she asked, tickling him under the chin with the tip of her finger.

  ‘Chuckie egg,’ he said, his drooping eyes growing round with anticipation. ‘And soldiers.’

  ‘Well now, that’s just what your mammy fancies too,’ Rosie told him. ‘But we don’t have our breakfast before we’ve washed, do we?’ He shook his head. ‘Right then. I’ve had my wash, so now it’s your turn.’ Lifting him from the chair, she took him by the hand and together they went into the kitc
hen. Using the remaining water in the kettle she soon had him washed, dried and dressed in clean grey trousers and pale blue jumper. ‘There!’ Running the comb through his bouncy brown locks, she regarded him with pride. ‘You’re a handsome fellow, I’ll not deny it,’ she told him. But he wasn’t listening. Instead, he was reaching into the cupboard where Rosie kept his toy box. ‘Play trains,’ he said proudly. Falling to his knees, he tipped the entire contents on to the carpet.

  ‘All right,’ Rosie said. ‘But only until I’ve got breakfast. Because then we’re going out. I want to catch Grandad Selby before he goes to work.’ She would need to be quick, as these days he always left home sharp at eight o’clock. ‘Happen he might know where your daddy got to last night… and where he is now!’ she muttered beneath her breath.

  The breakfast was soon got ready, and though Rosie’s appetite vanished once the soft-boiled egg was in front of her, little Danny eagerly devoured his, together with Rosie’s toasted soldiers as well as his own.

  ‘Come on then. Let’s be off.’ She wiped his face with the flannel and soon the two of them were ready for the chilly morning air, the boy looking smart in his short grey jacket and cap, and Rosie wearing her best tweed coat and the new red scarf which Peggy had bought her last Christmas. ‘If we hurry, we’ll just catch the early tram,’ she said, gripping Danny’s hand and running him down the street.

  The tram was about to leave, but the driver saw them and waited. When the conductor swung the boy on to the platform, Danny thought it was all a wonderful game and, much to the annoyance of a fat woman with a snappy pooch, insisted on pulling faces at it all the way to the next stop where he and Rosie disembarked.

  Ned Selby’s house was only a short walk from the tram stop at the bottom of Artillery Street. As they approached, Rosie saw the wagon parked on the common opposite. It was Ned’s. ‘Good. Your grandad hasn’t left yet,’ she said, hurrying the rest of the way. Excited at the prospect of seeing his grandad, the boy ran ahead.