Mothering Sunday

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘I reckon young Nell has taken a shine to Mickey.’

  Annie chuckled as she kneaded the dough for a new batch of bread. Mrs Spooner had popped into the kitchen for a chat while the house was quiet. ‘You can say that again, bless her. Why, she’s almost a different person when Mickey’s about. Have yer seen the way her eyes light up when he walks into a room?’

  ‘Yes, I have, and between you and me I don’t think she’s the only one who is love-struck.’ In truth, Annie had been shocked too, when she first met Mickey. Black people were a rarity in Nuneaton and she wasn’t sure that he’d fit in there. However, Mrs Spooner had soon persuaded her to at least give the lad a trial and now she was glad that she had. He was a hard-working young man, she couldn’t deny it. As Mrs Spooner had sternly pointed out when she voiced her hesitation, ‘Happen his blood is the same colour as ours, an’ when I was livin’ in Jamaica I found out the colour of his skin won’t wipe off on the towels neither!’ After the time she had spent in the West Indies with her husband she was used to black people.

  Suitably chastised, Annie had agreed he might stay.

  Now, when Annie raised a questioning eyebrow, Biddy Spooner grinned. ‘Ain’t yer noticed the way our Jacob watches Sunny lately?’

  Annie’s mouth dropped open. ‘Jacob? an’ Sunday? No!’

  ‘Why not?’ Mrs Spooner shrugged. ‘She is almost fifteen now and she’s turning into a very pretty young woman.’

  ‘Hmm, I dare say yer right,’ Annie answered. ‘After all, I were married when I were only a few months older than that, so I dare say he could be lookin’ at her through different eyes. But how would you feel about that? I mean, I know yer like her but I thought you’d set your sights on Jacob marryin’ someone who came from money, like that Rebecca he were walkin’ out wi’ fer a time.’

  ‘Oh, that little minx! I had no time for her,’ Mrs Spooner said roundly. ‘I didn’t like the way she looked down on our Sunny – on all of us, if it came to that. No, I reckon if Jacob has set his cap at Sunny I’d be more than happy. After all, we know her now, don’t we? An’ although we have no idea where she came from, she’s turned out to be a little gem. Why, this place is earnin’ more now than it has for years and I’ve her to thank for that. She certainly isn’t afraid o’ hard work.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Annie agreed. ‘But don’t get buildin’ yer hopes up, mind, an’ start match-makin’. What will be will be – wi’out any help from you, woman.’

  Mrs Spooner gave a wicked grin before hobbling off to the drawing room. ‘We’ll see,’ she said over her shoulder and Annie laughed as she turned her attention back to what she had been doing.

  Mickey settled into his new role remarkably quickly. Like Tommy before him, he adored working with the animals and he enjoyed doing the gardening and odd jobs too, so all in all in no time the house was running in a well-organised way again although everyone missed Tommy and Daisy.

  The summer passed a little sadly but fairly uneventfully. Admittedly little Nell got upset from time to time when she saw Albert Pinnegar lurking nearby, silently watching the comings and goings at the house, but he never came to the door again and as Mrs Spooner pointed out, they couldn’t summon the constable to him just because he was passing by. Sometimes, Jacob went out and sent him on his way, getting a mouthful of abuse for his trouble, but Pinnegar never actually threatened violence to him. Meanwhile, Sunday worked hard and the lodging house was thriving.

  In late July, Mickey went to the cattle market to choose a small pony for Mrs Spooner. Sunday accompanied him and that day she got her first glimpse of the prejudice the lad had been forced to endure. As they strolled amongst the pens of animals, some people stepped away from Mickey as if by being in close contact with him they might become tainted, while others sneered and one man – one of Pinnegar’s hangers on, Sunday realised – even spat at his feet. She was horrified. Mickey was one of the gentlest souls she had ever met and she placed her arm through his in defiance and glared at anyone who looked askance at him.

  Throughout it all Mickey hung his head in shame and Sunday became more and more irritated.

  ‘Hold your head up and stare back at them,’ she instructed in a hiss.

  ‘It would do no good. They don’t like me because my skin is dark,’ he answered miserably.

  ‘So what?’ Sunday was really annoyed now. ‘What difference does it make? You’re still a person and no one should be treated like this.’

  When Mickey didn’t answer she grabbed his arm and hustled him out of the town towards the River Anker.

  ‘We can talk there, it will be quieter,’ she told him and he went without argument. Sinking onto a bench near the water, she pulled him down beside her.

  ‘You have to learn to stand up for yourself,’ she told him firmly. ‘I learned that a long time ago. The weaker people think you are, the more they will pick on you.’

  ‘But I’m different, neither one thing nor the other,’ he tried to explain. ‘My mother lived in London and she fell in love with a docker there. He was a black African man and soon she found out that she was having a child. When she told him, he conveniently disappeared so my mother had no choice but to come home to her mother with her tail between her legs. Can you imagine what people must have said when I was born? Thankfully my grandmother was a strong woman who wouldn’t take any nonsense from anybody, but my poor mother died giving birth to me. Perhaps that was her punishment for having an illegitimate child – and a black one at that?’ He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Anyway, my grandmother cared for me then until she died too, when I was just a nipper and that’s when I was taken into the workhouse. I can still remember her clearly.’ He swallowed, then concluded: ‘The rest you know. The people who sometimes came to the workhouse looking for a child to offer a home to never considered me. I’m half white and half black, you see. What they call half-caste.’

  ‘I like the colour of your skin. And at least you know who your parents were and that your mother and your granny wanted you.’ Sunday sighed. ‘I have no idea where I came from. I was dumped on the workhouse steps the day I was born, so I dare say I’m illegitimate too. But I won’t let it spoil my life, I’m telling you and you mustn’t let it spoil yours, Mickey. No matter what colour your skin is you’re a person and a good person, so start to stand up for yourself, do you hear me?’

  With his liquid dark eyes looking dangerously shiny, Micky sniffed and nodded as Sunday rose and said, ‘Now let’s go and buy that pony, shall we? And remember to stare them right back in the eyes.’

  With their arms linked together, the two youngsters set off again, and before too long they had got what they had come for.

  The pony was a placid animal recently retired from the pit and destined for the knacker’s yard until Mickey rescued him. ‘I think we should call him Treacle,’ he told Sunday as they led the pony home.

  ‘It does suit him but let’s wait and see what Mrs Spooner thinks, eh? He is her pony, after all.’

  As it happened the old lady thought it was a splendid name and she fell in love with the gentle creature on sight. He was brown and white with soft brown eyes and suddenly Mrs Spooner was off out, here, there and everywhere in the cart that Mickey had restored to its former glory. The little pony had given her a new lease of life and was quickly spoiled by all of them.

  Before they knew it they were into September and the weather began to change. The nights drew in, and once again the fires needed to be lit in the mornings each day, a job that Nell and Mickey took their turns doing.

  On one particular Monday when low grey clouds were scudding across the sky, Nell and Sunday entered the kitchen in the late afternoon after finishing the laundry between them. Sunday was now quite capable of cooking all the meals yet still Annie turned up as regular as clockwork to help out, especially with the evening meal. She had discovered quite quickly that retirement, especially without Daisy and a bairn to care for, could be quite lonely and she enjoyed the hustle and bustle at
the house.

  ‘Ah, here you are, lass,’ Annie addressed Sunday the instant she set foot through the door. ‘Take this through to the dinin’ room fer me, would yer?’

  Sunday frowned at the covered dish Annie was holding out to her. The lodgers didn’t usually dine for at least another hour.

  She held her hands out to oblige but Annie then told her impatiently, ‘Take yer apron off an’ tidy yer hair first, can’t yer, gel?’

  That was odd. Annie wasn’t normally so fussy but the girl supposed she’d better oblige her so she quickly did as she was told, carelessly running her fingers through her hair.

  Nell and Mickey were looking on and Sunday noticed that even Mickey was grinning.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked warily and Annie scowled at the two young people and flapped her hand at her.

  ‘Never you mind. Now just get through to the dining room and do as you’re told for once!’

  Sunday took the dish and set off, then as she pushed the dining-room door open, she gasped in amazement. All the lodgers were there with Mrs Spooner as well as Jacob, Mrs Lockett and Lady Huntley. Even Zillah was there, smiling at her. Cissie would have come too, she found out later, but she was back at Treetops Manor helping Molly with the two babies. A little dig in the back propelled her into the room and she was aware that Mickey, Annie and Nell were close behind her too.

  Completely bewildered as to what was going on, she stood there with her mouth hanging slackly open as they all burst into song.

  ‘Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you . . .’

  ‘Oh! But how did you know?’ she gasped as colour tinted her cheeks.

  Lady Huntley giggled. ‘I was the one who had to sign your release papers when you left the workhouse, if you remember, and your date of birth is on there. Mrs Spooner felt it might be nice to mark the occasion with a little party, seeing as you’re fifteen today.’

  ‘Oh!’ Sunday was speechless for one of the very few times in her life as she gazed at the table that was laden with fancy treats. Now she suddenly realised why Annie had been sending her off on errands and doing her best to keep her out of the kitchen and the larder for the last couple of days – she had been preparing all this. No one had ever done anything like this for her before and the girl wondered why it was always so much harder to hold back tears when someone showed her an act of kindness than when they treated her unkindly.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Within minutes the party was in full swing and Sunday was thoroughly enjoying herself. Miss Bailey was belting out a tune on the piano and Annie was hurrying about sloshing gin into anyone’s glass who would stand still for long enough.

  Jacob was particularly attentive and made sure that Sunday’s plate was kept full until she had eaten so much that she was sure she would burst.

  Eventually Sunday collapsed onto the sofa next to Lady Huntley who was looking distracted.

  ‘A penny for them?’ Sunday said brightly and the woman started.

  ‘Oh, sorry, my dear. I was miles away.’ She sipped at her drink, a rather nice sherry that Mrs Spooner kept in for special occasions, and confided, ‘I was just thinking what a coincidence it is that today is your birthday. My daughter, the last one who died, would have been fifteen today too.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Sunday gently rubbed her hand.

  Mrs Spooner, who was sitting at the other end of the sofa, glanced up at this, and saw Zillah looking visibly uneasy. There’s more goin’ on here than meets the eye, Biddy found herself thinking, but tonight was neither the time nor the place for interrogations so she put her suspicious aside.

  And then Jacob suggested, ‘I think it’s time we gave Sunday our presents and told her what her surprise is, don’t you, Aunt Biddy?’

  The old woman nodded and he hurried away to return with a large box which he plonked down on Sunday’s lap.

  ‘I hope they’re the right size,’ he told her. ‘If not, you can blame Auntie.’

  Sunday carefully untied the string and removed the lid then gasped as she withdrew a fine worsted day dress in a rich burgundy colour trimmed with black velvet. And that wasn’t all. Beneath it was a beautiful lilac gown in the very latest fashion, the sort that ladies wore for afternoon tea. The clothes dazzled her, but grateful as she was, she wondered when she would ever get the chance to wear them.

  Mrs Lockett was the next to give Sunday her gift, an assortment of lace-frilled handkerchiefs, each one lovingly hand-sewn.

  ‘They’re so pretty,’ Sunday told her with genuine delight. Each of the lodgers had bought her a little gift too. There was a fountain pen from Miss Bailey, her own writing set from Mr Greaves, a large new carpet bag from Miss Falconer, and so it went on until the girl’s head was spinning. Finally, Lady Huntley handed Sunday her present – a beautiful bonnet inside a hat box. She had never owned anything like it in her life, but again she asked herself, When am I ever going to wear such clothes? They were far too fine to wear when shopping in the market or cleaning in the house, but she was grateful to each and every one of them, nevertheless.

  ‘And now for your last surprise, Sunny,’ Mrs Spooner told her then. ‘You’re coming on a little holiday with me and Jacob.’

  ‘A holiday?’ The girl blinked, completely baffled. ‘But where to?’

  ‘To London.’

  ‘London!’ Sunday thought she must be hearing things. It seemed like the other side of the world to a girl who had never ventured further than the marketplace in her home town. ‘But how will we get there? And where will we stay?’

  ‘We shall be going on the train and the hotel is already booked,’ the old lady told her with a smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy seein’ all the places you’ve only ever read about in books. My dear husband took me a few times, God rest his soul, so I’ll enjoy goin’ again too. We’ll be leaving next Monday and we’ll be staying for a week. That’s why everyone bought you new clothes. We shall need you to look the part if you’re visitin’ the capital. Though you will be expected to help me with me dressing and so on while we’re there, so no slacking.’

  ‘But what about everything here?’ Sunday asked worriedly. ‘There’s an awful lot for Nell and Mickey to do on their own.’

  ‘That’s all taken care of,’ Mrs Spooner assured her. ‘Annie will be moving in here while we’re away to supervise, and if all the jobs don’t get done . . . Well, it’s only for one week, ain’t it? We can soon catch up when we get back home. So, what do you say? Are you up for it?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Sunday said hastily. She was getting excited already although the thought of going on the train was more than a little daunting. She had often watched them pull into Trent Valley railway station, all steam and smoke and absolutely huge! They reminded her of the fire-breathing dragons she had seen in storybooks. But then, she reasoned, if Jacob and Mrs Spooner had travelled on them before, they must be safe, mustn’t they?

  By the time the little party ended Sunday was already counting down the days until she set off on her adventure.

  ‘Yer so lucky,’ Nell told her wistfully that night as they climbed the stairs to their rooms.

  ‘I know.’ Sunday was glowing. Mrs Spooner and Jacob had become the nearest thing to a family that she had ever had, apart from Tommy and poor Daisy, of course, and she couldn’t imagine leaving them now, although she still sometimes dreamed of opening her own home for foundlings when she thought of the babies in the nursery at the workhouse. Of course, now that she was older she realised that that was all it would probably ever be – a dream. First she would need to be able to afford to buy a property large enough to house them, and then she would have to find a way to clothe, feed and educate them. Even though Mrs Spooner was generous, on the wages Sunday earned she would never have enough, even if she lived to be a hundred. Still, she was more than grateful for what she had.

  That Wednesday when she made her weekly trip to the market she spent a little of her wages on a pair of smart buttoned boots from t
he rag stall. They were made of a lovely soft tan leather and would look far nicer with her new clothes than the ones she had bought before, which were more workaday. These fitted her so perfectly they might have been made for her, and she could wear them anywhere – even in London. Back at the Lodge, she put them on to show Nell, and twirled about in them.

  ‘Eeh, everyone is goin’ to think yer a real lady,’ Nell sighed enviously. But she was happy because Sunday had treated her to a little box covered in shells, and inside had put a bright shiny new penny.

  Sunday laughed. ‘Oh, I doubt that!’

  But Nell was adamant. ‘Yes, yer will – an’ yer prettier than any of ’em an’ all.’

  The big day finally arrived and as Sunday got ready to go early that morning she was so excited and nervous that she struggled to do up the buttons on her bodice. She had chosen to wear her new day dress to travel in, along with her new bonnet and shawl, and when she was finally ready and surveyed herself in the cracked mirror in her room she hardly recognised herself.

  ‘You’ll do,’ she told her reflection with a grin, and lifting her new carpet bag she hurried down to the kitchen, noting that Mrs Spooner’s trunk and Jacob’s bag were already waiting at the side of the front door. She smiled; by the size of Biddy’s trunk anyone would have thought they were going away for at least a month, but then she did like to dress up, and seeing as it was her only pleasure, Sunday didn’t begrudge the old lady her frills and furbelows.

  Jacob followed her down the stairs looking very dapper in a new embroidered waistcoat and a dark morning coat. As he eyed her admiringly, Sunday felt slightly self-conscious but relieved that he didn’t comment.

  Annie had no such scruples. ‘Why you’ve scrubbed up a treat, pet,’ she declared when Sunday entered the kitchen. ‘Anyone could take you for gentry in them clothes.’