Hot Pies on the Tram Car

by Sheila Newberry

  ‘I was intending to have a bath,’ Florence told her. ‘But . . .’

  ‘Not this morning, eh? Look, I’ll go and tidy your bed while you freshen up. Could you do with a nice cup of tea?’

  ‘Could I! Off you go then, I don’t appreciate an audience!’

  Florence insisted on sitting at the table to drink her tea. ‘Josefina not awake yet?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. She’s with Lilli and Yvette. Oh, and there’s something I’d better tell you right away: Stella’s come home!’

  ‘What d’you mean she’s come home?’

  ‘She’ll tell you all about it, I’m sure. It’s not my place to do so.’

  ‘What about breakfast?’ Florence worried. She put her hand to her head. She still felt weak and dizzy. She attributed that to the doctor’s potion.

  ‘Finished your tea? I think it’s time I learned to cook, don’t you?’

  ‘Manny . . .’

  ‘He won’t expect to join us this morning, I’m sure. And Lilli can feed the girls. Back to bed for you, Florence dear.’

  ‘I’m feeling much better . . .’ Florence said unconvincingly.

  ‘Doctor’s orders!’ Rose Marie managed a bright smile.

  ‘What else did he say?’

  ‘Not much to worry about, I’m sure, but Lilli will tell you. I wasn’t here after all.’

  ‘Oh, how did your afternoon and evening go?’

  ‘I’ll enlighten you later! But we had a lovely time. Take my arm, Florence, that’s it.’

  *

  The bacon was overcooked, she’d broken the yolks of two of the eggs, so Rose Marie decided to scramble these rather than drop them in the spitting fat. Breakfast was rather a disaster, she thought ruefully. She spooned some of the rubbery-textured egg on to buttered toast, arranged a tray and took it in to Florence.

  ‘Just what I could do with,’ Florence told her kindly. ‘Is Stella up yet?’

  ‘No. I’ll tell her you’re waiting to see her, when she is.’

  Rose Marie ate a solitary breakfast, the first meal she had ever cooked, she realized. She was opening the kitchen window to put her bacon rinds out on the sill for the birds, when she heard excited voices, and Josefina burst into the room.

  ‘Where’s Mummy?’

  ‘Still in bed—’

  Josefina didn’t hesitate, she was out of the kitchen in an instant without waiting for Rose Marie to add, ‘She’s still asleep!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Lilli apologized, holding her own daughter in check. ‘How is Florence today?’

  ‘Not too bad it appears. Are we making a fuss about not much?’ Rose Marie asked hopefully.

  Lilli shook her head. ‘I should leave Florence to tell you, I think. Yvette and I will go upstairs now, and come back later. Can you manage?’

  ‘Of course I can! Thank you for all your help yesterday, Lilli.’

  ‘I’m so fond of Florence. She has helped us very much, also.’

  *

  ‘Darling, it’s wonderful to see you!’ Stella cried, as Josefina kicked off her shoes, and jumped on the bed, making the springs groan, as Stella sat up.

  ‘Oh, Mummy, I missed you so much! How long can you stay?’ She smothered her mother’s face with damp kisses.

  ‘As long as you want me to . . .’

  ‘That’s for ever!’ her daughter assured her fervently. ‘Is Daddy coming back soon?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Stella hesitated, but felt unable to impart the bald facts. ‘He sends his love, anyway.’ That much was true. ‘Now, go and see Rose Marie, because I must get up, and then find out how Florence is.’

  Some time later, Stella joined Rose Marie and Josefina in the kitchen.

  ‘What d’you fancy for breakfast?’ Rose Marie asked.

  The smell of burnt bacon lingered, despite the open window. Stella said quickly, ‘Oh toast will do, Rose Marie, thank you. I can get that myself. But is it all right if I look in on Florence, first?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Don’t say, well, too much, will you?’

  ‘I won’t.’ Stella stifled her minor irritation. Rose Marie was patently the sister-in-charge this morning. She realized belatedly that she couldn’t just arrive back and expect things to be as they were before she left home seven years ago. Rose Marie was a young woman now.

  Stella tapped on Florence’s door and then entered her room.

  ‘Florence dear, this isn’t like you, in bed on such a nice morning! I arrived just at the right moment, eh?’ She leaned over and kissed her sister. ‘What’s up?’

  Florence motioned to Stella to sit on the side of the bed. ‘Just one of those tiresome female complaints, the doctor says. He wants me to have a proper examination at the hospital clinic. I may need a minor operation - you really mustn’t worry about me! How about you? Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?’

  Stella began to sob, she couldn’t help it. She mopped her face with her handkerchief.

  ‘You’re very thin, and pale; you don’t look well yourself,’ Florence said, concerned. ‘Come on, tell me, you’ll feel better if you get it off your chest.’

  ‘It’s the old story.’ Stella sniffed. ‘Jose is a rat, like you said he was.’

  ‘Oh my dear, did I say that? I know I called him a dago, but—’

  ‘Well, he was. He is! He’s got a new partner, in both senses of the word. He wants to be free of me – of us, oh, my poor Josefina! How can I tell her that?’

  ‘You don’t have to yet. She can think you are here on holiday. Personally, I think you have arrived just at the right time! I imagine Rose Marie and Lilli have been wondering how on earth they can cope with their work, as well as looking after me for a week or two . . .’

  ‘Well, I’ll put their minds at rest. I’ll look after you, of course.’

  ‘I feel better already! But I suppose the pie shop will have to close until I can get back to the baking – unless Manny can help out there.’

  ‘I’ll ask him, and remember, I enjoyed my role as pie-maker’s assistant when I was not much older than Josefina! The main thing is, you mustn’t worry. It will all work out.’

  ‘I hope it will for you too, my dear,’ Florence said. ‘And I don’t just mean the pies . . .’

  ‘Mummy,’ Josefina called. ‘Can I come in and see Aunty Florence?’

  Florence answered immediately, ‘You know you can!’

  *

  Florence found it very frustrating resting in bed on Monday morning, while Stella and Manny made their first batch of pies in the kitchen. She couldn’t help feeling grateful that Rose Marie was not involved, after the unpalatable scrambled eggs she had served up for Sunday breakfast. Stella’s offering had been edible, if not inspiring. Two slices of toast and honey, to give Florence energy, she said.

  Rose Marie had caught the tram as usual, and Lilli had brought the children downstairs when she went to the Golden Domes. She’d warned them to be good and not to worry Florence until she returned in the afternoon, when she promised to take them out. They were settled in the sitting-room with draughts and dominoes, and a pack of patience cards.

  ‘No ham-and-egg pies today, so you’ve got the morning off,’ Josefina was told.

  Manny was more dextrous than Stella. He followed the recipes in the tattered exercise book which Florence kept in the table drawer. The pastry pie cases were duly filled and seasoned, then went in the oven. They relied on an alarm clock to time the baking.

  They didn’t talk much, concentrating anxiously on the task in hand. Now and again Manny glanced thoughtfully at his companion. She was taller than her sisters, of a height with himself. Her long dark hair was braided round her head and hidden by the cotton cap. He didn’t know her well, having come to Paradise Street after Stella had left home, but at their previous brief encounters he had observed her vivaciousness, overheard snatches of her lyrical singing as she entertained her daughter. He thought, she doesn’t look too well herself, but maybe it’s b
ecause she isn’t wearing lipstick this early in the day.

  ‘A bit lopsided,’ Stella sighed, over the final batch of meat patties. ‘D’you think the customers will mind?’

  Manny shook his head. ‘A couple of hungry bites, and they’re gone!’

  ‘I’m hungry, too, how about you?’

  ‘I could do with a cup of tea . . . but first I must take the pork pies down to the shop and put a note on the door saying we’ll be opening an hour late—’

  ‘Due to circumstances beyond our control? Isn’t that what they usually say?’

  This time he nodded.

  ‘The girls are suspiciously quiet. I’d better check on them. Thanks Manny for all your hard work.’

  ‘It’s what I’m employed for,’ he said a trifle shortly, as if remembering his place.

  ‘So am I now, I suppose; I must earn my keep.’

  ‘You’ll be here a while then?’

  ‘Yes. Just as well, isn’t it?’

  Just as well, he thought. Florence and Josefina would be glad to have her home. But how about Rose Marie? She hadn’t looked too pleased this morning, when Stella told her she could manage without her . . .

  *

  Florence made her mind up. She insisted that she would visit the hospital this afternoon. Get it over with it, she said, emerging from her bedroom fully dressed.

  Stella, slumped wearily in Florence’s chair, after all the early morning chores, suppressed a groan. There was still the washing to sort and bag up for the laundry, with most of the contents of her luggage to add to that: she had certainly left Spain in a hurry. She literally had a few coppers in her purse, but she didn’t need to worry Florence further by telling her that.

  ‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’

  ‘Yes. The doctor said “as soon as possible”. I’ve no pain, thanks to his horrible medicine. We can leave when Lilli comes home. I’ll be extravagant: call a taxi for once!’

  The outpatients clinic was at the rear of the hospital. They walked down echoing corridors with polished floors, where trolleys squeeked on rubber tyres and nurses coiffed like nuns hurried past to where duty called. The smell of carbolic was overwhelming, not reassuring; in fact this made them afraid, wondering what was to come.

  They glanced through the glass partitions beyond which the ward stretched; rows of beds with plain white covers, with patients lying propped on pillows; chairs in which slippered men in checked dressing-gowns sat reading newspapers. They heard a rattling cough and saw a pale young woman reaching for a glass of water.

  ‘Here we are, I believe,’ Florence said, as they approached a waiting area, where women of all ages sat patiently on long benches or wooden chairs. They handed in the doctor’s letter at the desk.

  ‘This is a free clinic,’ the receptionist informed them, placing the letter on the pile. She sized them up. ‘Although if you can afford to pay something for your treatment, the hospital will be grateful. There is no means test, we leave it to your discretion.’

  ‘I understand,’ Florence said.

  ‘Take a seat. There may be a long wait, but everyone will be seen and we have three doctors here this afternoon.’

  ‘It’s quieter than being in church,’ Florence murmured to Stella. The faces around wore impassive expressions: one or two even had their eyes closed. Only their fingers, gripping their baskets or handbags, betrayed the fact that they were not asleep.

  Two long hours went by before at last Florence’s name was called, and the two of them were ushered into a small consulting room.

  Florence was concerned when she saw how youthful the doctor was. He was drying his hands on a towel, but he smiled and tried to put them at their ease. ‘Now, which of you is my patient?’ he asked.

  After he had perused her own doctor’s letter, he asked Florence to undress behind a screen, to don a robe and to climb on to the examination couch. He pressed a bell. ‘There will, of course, be a nurse in attendance. Call me when you are ready, please.’ He saw Stella’s uncertainty. ‘Oh, don’t go. Your sister will be glad to have you with her when I tell her what I have discovered about her condition . . .’

  Florence submitted to the examination without a word of complaint. She knew it would be over quicker if she kept calm. There were reassuring murmurs from the doctor and the kindly nurse patted her hand and approved of her stoicism. Then it was over, and she was suddenly shaking and unable to manage putting on her clothes without help. The nurse buttoned her up, and even tied her shoelaces. ‘Well done, my dear. Ready to see the doctor now and hear his verdict?’

  I’ve got to get a grip on myself, Florence told herself sternly. I mustn’t alarm Stella. She pulled the curtains aside and walked out, managing a smile for her sister.

  The doctor looked cheerful. ‘You’ve allowed this to go on longer than you should, but I think this problem can be alleviated. I am going to tell you now that there is no indication of any malignancy . . .’

  A huge wave of relief washed over Florence, and she said faintly, ‘Oh, thank God.’

  He continued. ‘In a week or two, when there is a bed available, I recommend that you come into the hospital for things to be put right. You should rest as much as you can, in the meantime.’ He now addressed Stella, ‘Can you help with that?’

  ‘Of course I can!’ she agreed.

  ‘Sometimes,’ the doctor said kindly, ‘a possible recurrence can be resolved by the patient deciding to add to her family. You might consider that, Mrs Flinders, at your age.’

  Florence flushed. ‘It’s Miss Flinders, doctor.’

  ‘I do apologize! I just assumed—’ He paused. ‘Well, go home and don’t worry. All will be well. Just await a letter from the hospital.’

  ‘I will. Thank you so much, doctor.’ Florence rose. Stella offered her arm.

  As they walked back down the corridor, Stella said, ‘It’s such a relief, Florence, isn’t it, to know things can be put right. I’m sure the doctor didn’t intend to embarrass you.’

  ‘Don’t mention it to Rose Marie, or Lilli, will you? Or I’ll be embarrassed all over again!’

  SEVEN

  ROSE Marie was feeling decidedly fed-up. Florence appeared to have handed over the running of the household to Stella and encouraged her to manage the pie shop with Manny.

  ‘It’ll help to take Stella’s mind off her own affairs if she’s kept busy,’ Florence told Rose Marie. ‘You shouldn’t have the burden of all this at your age.’

  It was Lilli who thought of a temporary solution.

  ‘You’ve only the two bedrooms and it must seem very crowded in your room, with the extra bed moved in there for Josefina; naturally she wants to be with her maman, but . . .’

  ‘It’s me who has the truckle bed!’ Rose Marie confided.

  They were in Lilli’s flat, where it was quiet, while Yvette played downstairs with Josefina.

  ‘Yvette can come in with me, and you can have her room. What do you think?’

  ‘The thing is, would Florence mind? But honestly, I haven’t had a sound night’s sleep since Stella arrived. That small bed is awfully hard.’

  ‘I’ll suggest the idea to Florence, I’d be glad of the company. We get on well, don’t we?’

  ‘I used to get on with Stella,’ Rose Marie said ruefully. ‘But I was younger then.’

  Florence had observed the little flare-ups between Stella and Rose Marie, and thought privately that the arrangement would be a relief.

  ‘Rose Marie can eat with us, that should help Stella I think, not having to prepare her meals,’ Lilli said.

  ‘In that case,’ Florence told her, ‘Rose Marie must pay you for her keep, not me.’

  There were two letters in the post mid-week. One was for Florence from the hospital informing her there would be a bed available in the hospital on Sunday, that her operation would be the following day and she should be home again on the Wednesday of next week.

  The other letter was for Rose Marie fro
m Russ. She opened it in the privacy of her new bedroom. His writing was, she mused, cheerful and confident, like the man.

  My dear Rose Marie,

  My mother has expressed a wish to meet this wonderful girl I am forever talking about!

  This being my Saturday morning off, and, fortunately, yours, too, I would like to call for you at about ten o’clock and then escort you back to our house for the rest of the day.

  What do you say? Yes, I hope!

  Please advise by return of post.

  Salutations,

  Russ.

  She showed the letter to Lilli. ‘I’ll have to see what Florence thinks.’

  ‘How can she mind? He asks so charmingly.’

  Florence was too preoccupied with her own news to say then what she later thought, that it was rather early in their friendship for Rose Marie to meet the young man’s mother.

  *

  Her friends were excited for Rose Marie. Mrs Belling appeared in the workroom unnoticed.

  ‘More chatter than clatter!’ she reproved them mildly, seeing the sewing machines idle. ‘Anyone care to tell me what all the fuss is about?’

  Rose Marie owned up. ‘I’ve been invited to visit my young man’s mother!’

  ‘Oh, have you? Tell me, is the young man by any chance Miss Short’s brother?’

  ‘How—’ Rose Marie wondered how Mrs Belling knew that.

  ‘The workroom grapevine, my dear. I imagine you are undecided what to wear?’

  ‘Well, I have my tussore costume, of course, but he’s seen me in that several times.’

  ‘I’ll send one of the sales ladies up here at lunchtime with a box of clothes we have sorted out for the summer sale. Look through and see if there is anything which will suit, eh?’

  ‘I’m not sure if I can afford . . .’

  ‘Don’t worry about that now.’ Mrs Belling looked round at the other girls. ‘The offer goes for the rest of you, too! Now, some treadling would not come amiss! I really came to say we need more of the voile blouses to display downstairs, they are selling very well. Thank you.’