Hot Pies on the Tram Car

by Sheila Newberry

  ‘What d’you expect me to wear in the meantime?’

  ‘You look very chic as you are.’ He removed his coat and hat, then his jacket, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. ‘It’s warm in here. Shall I turn down the heat?’

  She didn’t deign to answer that. ‘I want to go home, Philippe. As soon as I get my things back. Last night, well, that was wrong, very wrong; I am still a married woman—’

  ‘What do you think happened last night?’ He was actually smiling. ‘Can you remember?’

  ‘Thanks to whatever you gave me to drink, no!’

  ‘Then I will enlighten you. I kissed you goodnight and despite your pleas, I left you.’

  Lilli felt a wave of relief sweep over her. ‘You’re sure?’ she insisted.

  ‘I would not say so, if I was not.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she managed. He handed her a cup of coffee.

  ‘Black, I think, don’t you? Look, Lilli, I have this to tell you. You must remain here for a while. I have received disturbing news regarding your situation.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I have learned that further efforts will be employed to obtain from you that which you insist you have no knowledge of. You will be safe here, it is a secure address.’

  ‘I want to go home,’ she insisted. ‘What will my landlady think?’

  ‘You must write her a letter saying that you have had to go away unexpectedly, on special assignment. Ask her to ensure your flat is locked and that nothing is touched. You will enclose a month’s rent, which I shall give you. I will have this letter delivered by hand.’

  ‘What about my clothes? I can’t manage with what I have.’

  ‘I will send Annie out for whatever you need. She has good taste; she was not always a servant, but she is very diligent. She will keep you company in the mornings when she cleans the flat. Just remember her loyalty is to me. Here, I am known as John Brown.’

  I must humour him, Lilli thought, fool him into thinking I will do whatever he wants. Thank goodness, my Yvette is with her father. He won’t let anyone get at her.

  *

  Josefina opened the door at her mother’s request. Stella was teaching at the moment. Just as her friend Yvette had done the day she was taken away, she shrieked, ‘Daddy!’

  Jose stepped inside, then put his baggage down. ‘You’ve grown,’ he observed.

  ‘Of course I have! I was only five last time you saw me, and now I’m eight! You didn’t send me a card on my birthday last month,’ she said reproachfully.

  ‘I see you bear grudges, like your mother. Where is she?’

  ‘She is teaching; she mustn’t be disturbed,’ Josefina said firmly.

  ‘She didn’t get my letter? I wrote that I was coming.’

  The door of what they called the music room opened. Stella came out, followed by a plump girl holding a sheaf of music.

  ‘Take our visitor through to the other room please, Josefina, while I see Miss Hobbs out.’

  Jose and Josefina were left by themselves for some time. When Stella joined them, it was obvious that she had changed her dress, literally let her hair down, in a thick single black plait down her back, and hastily applied make-up.

  ‘Josefina,’ Stella told her daughter. ‘Why don’t you do your piano practice? Your father and I need to talk.’

  ‘I don’t want—’ the child began mutinously.

  ‘Go. I’ll call you in a little while.’

  When Josefina had reluctantly departed, Stella faced Jose. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He looked at her appreciatively, at the rapid rise and fall of her bosom, the lustrous hair.

  ‘I missed my beautiful wife, my singing partner . . . When you wrote with your new address, I took stock of my life. Oh, the girl was gone by then. I was crazy for her, but it didn’t last.’

  ‘You want me to sympathize with you, I suppose?’ She stood there, her anger palpable.

  He rose in one swift movement, and before she could stop him, he had hold of her and was kissing her passionately. Stella went weak at the knees. Her resistance evaporated.

  ‘Stella,’ he murmured. ‘You’ll take me back, won’t you?’ He added, rather unfortunately, ‘If only for Josefina’s sake, eh?’

  She pulled away then. ‘You’ve always regarded our child as an encumbrance!’

  ‘I promise to do better. She’s got your spirit, I like that.’

  ‘She looks like you . . .’

  ‘I’m happy you think that.’ He pulled her to him again. ‘Now you have a proper home, a new career, can you find room again for me in your life?’

  A small voice spoke from the doorway. ‘Can I come in now? Is everything all right?’

  Stella whispered in his ear. ‘You can stay tonight, but you’ll have to convince me . . .’

  ‘One night will be enough for me to do that,’ he assured her. He let her go. ‘Come in, Josefina, and tell me all about yourself, since I last saw you.’

  ‘It’ll take a long time to do that,’ Josefina began uncertainly.

  ‘And I’ve got plenty of time to listen. Let’s do that, while your mother makes the tea.’

  *

  Buck accepted the bowl of arrowroot blancmange, laced with a dash of sherry, gratefully. He was sitting up in the nice clean bed now, and even with the stubble on his face and the dark circles under his eyes, he looked better than he had earlier.

  ‘Don’t rush off, Florence,’ he said. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

  She found a chair, sat at a distance from the bed. ‘Need to take the weight off my feet.’

  ‘You’ve got more flesh on you, it must suit you, marriage.’

  ‘It does. Eat up, there’s a good chap. It’ll line your stomach.’

  He did as she said. When she took the dish from him, he suddenly seized her arm.

  ‘Don’t do that!’ She sounded alarmed.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I ain’t got the strength for what you’re thinking . . . But I can recall when you didn’t mind, can’t you?’

  ‘Whatever d’you want to bring that up for? I’d better go.’

  ‘I never told no one, you know. Only your father suspected, and then he kicked me out.’

  ‘We were both so young and giddy; I think that’s the expression.’

  ‘It was the first time for both of us. I loved you, Florence.’

  ‘No, you didn’t! You just couldn’t help yourself, that’s all.’

  ‘I never forgot you, or what happened,’ Buck said. He slumped back on his pillow.

  ‘Well, I certainly managed to.’ She sounded fierce. ‘My father made sure of that.’

  ‘I never meant to blight your life—’

  ‘You didn’t! One mistake, but I rose above it, and now I’ve married my Mr Right.’

  ‘I’m glad you think that. Well, you had better go, and don’t worry, my lips are sealed.’

  As she climbed the stairs to her flat, Florence thought, ‘Please God, let it be so . . .’

  ‘What’s up?’ Manny said, when he saw her face. ‘Buck not spoken out of turn?’

  ‘I’m just tired, that’s all,’ Florence sighed. ‘I guess I need an early night.’

  Manny sat her down and eased her shoes off. ‘I’m going to take real care of you from now on,’ he promised. ‘And as we have the place to ourselves, an early night sounds good.’

  Just then, they heard the knock on the front door below. Manny went down and came back with a letter in his hand.

  ‘It’s addressed to you, Florence. Came by hand.’

  Florence opened it cautiously. When she unfolded the single sheet of notepaper, she discovered two guineas wrapped in tissue. She read the letter, looking puzzled. At last she looked up, said slowly, ‘It’s from Lilli. You’d better read it. I don’t know what to make of it.’

  *

  Lilli went to bed that night in a peach-coloured silk nightgown, so sheer that she quickly covered herself with the bedcloth
es. She didn’t want Philippe to get any ideas. She feigned sleep when he went through to the bathroom, as he had the previous night, but this time she had made sure she remained sober. She needed her wits about her. If this was all a dream, she thought, it was a very disturbing one.

  When he had gone, she let the tears wet her pillow. She cried silently because she had made a mess of her life, and suddenly she thought of Sam, her husband. In the early days, before they came to England, they had been so in love. He hadn’t been impatient with her then, as he was when she rowed with his mother. If only they could have set up home on their own! Supposing she never saw Yvette again . . . I couldn’t bear it, she said to herself. I’ve got to get away from this place, and go to Sam and throw myself on his mercy. Surely he would forgive me?

  *

  Josefina cuddled Yvette’s doll in her arms, whispering to her. It was a comfort, even though naturally the aristocratic Clarice did not answer. Her long-lashed eyes closed automatically when Josefina put her down on the pillow.

  ‘I know Yvette said you were for show, and not to be played with, Clarice, but I know you like to be cosy in my bed with me. You may have a hard head, and arms and legs, but you’ve got a nice, soft body.’ She squeezed Clarice round her middle. ‘You’re losing a bit of your filling; I must get Mummy to sew you up.’ She lifted the doll’s dress and petticoat and examined the tiny hole she had poked with her little finger, curious to see what Clarice was made of. The answer was fine wood pulp. Mummy would want to know what the dust was on the sheets.

  She wondered if her father really was as pleased to see them as he said he was. He had never taken much notice of her before. Nor had her mother, really, until recently. Aunty Florence was the one she missed most. Then Rose Marie, but they both had other people in their lives to love now. A tear trickled down Josefina’s cheek. Stella had forgotten to come in to say goodnight, just told her to take herself off to bed. She couldn’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss. She made her mind up, climbed out of bed, and tiptoed along the landing to her mother’s room. She turned the door handle, but the door wouldn’t open.

  ‘Mummy!’ she called out. ‘The door’s locked!’

  After a moment, came her mother’s muffled voice. ‘Go back to bed, Josefina!’

  As she turned sadly away, there was another voice. Deep, masculine. She couldn’t make out words, but then she heard a brief snatch of laughter. Then there was silence.

  SIXTEEN

  ROSE Marie waited until after tea to talk to Florence on Sunday afternoon. Florence and Manny seemed a trifle preoccupied. Before they sat down to eat, Manny took a tray, covered with a clean tea towel, downstairs. Rose Marie deduced there was someone staying in the basement. Who? she speculated. She looked at Russ, sensing his apprehension now the initial euphoria had lessened. There was still an important hurdle to cross, she thought.

  Her chance came when she and Florence were by themselves for a few minutes in the sitting-room while the men went down to the yard bunker to fetch more coal for the fire.

  ‘Florence, I have something important to ask you,’ Rose Marie said. ‘Russ and I want to get married this summer. Oh, I know I said we were in no hurry – and please don’t think this is because we have to, because we don’t – but, well, we’ve decided, only, of course, I need your permission, and—’

  ‘You’re worried I’ll refuse, eh?’ Florence smiled at Rose Marie’s worried expression. ‘Well, I do feel you are both rather young, but you’ve made your minds up, and it’s obvious you are very much in love. Who am I to keep you apart? You have my blessing.’

  Rose Marie jumped up and hugged her tight in her relief. ‘Thank you, Florence!’

  ‘Go easy, my dear. I’m not up to bear hugs just now!’

  ‘What d’you mean? Oh, Florence, you’re not ill again?’

  ‘Far from it. Can you bear to wait until September for the wedding? You see, I’m expecting a baby in August, and I’d like to look my best for your big day.’

  ‘What wonderful news! Hope it’s a boy this time after all us girls! You’re going to be just like the mother of the bride and I’ll make sure you have a lovely outfit from Belling’s!’

  ‘It may still have to be a larger size,’ Florence remarked ruefully.

  ‘What does Manny think about all this?’

  ‘Ask him; here come the coal carriers!’

  *

  By the middle of the week Buck was up, but not exactly raring to go, despite heavy hints from Manny. He had a proposition to put to Florence, when he could catch her on her own. In the meantime he decided to impress her with tidying up the basement rooms.

  She came across him, broom in hand, disposing of cobwebs in the corners.

  ‘Thank you, Buck! We meant to spring-clean in here, but we’re so busy in the shop—’

  ‘I realized that, and I thought I could help.’ He paused, then, ‘I was wondering, Florence, if you could do with an extra pair of hands in that respect?’

  ‘Could I! But the truth is, we can’t afford it, Buck. We’re just breaking even now!’

  ‘Look, let me do my bit. I’m not asking you to pay me; bed and board would be enough. Doc said I shouldn’t go tramping about looking for work, sleeping rough and that. Well?’

  ‘I’d have to discuss it with Manny; we’re partners in the business since we wed.’

  Buck thought to himself, crafty old devil! Didn’t know he had it in him.

  It was her turn to hesitate then, but he was going to find out soon, if he stayed.

  ‘I don’t know if you realized, but I’m expecting a baby, Buck.’

  There was a mere flicker of his eyelids. ‘You can’t afford not to have me, then.’

  ‘Well, It does seem . . . I’ll speak to Manny later. I came to say, it being early closing day, why don’t you join us for lunch?’

  ‘I’d be glad to. I mean no offence, but I look forward to a square meal after all that pap!’

  ‘No!’ Manny said explosively, when she told him of Buck’s idea.

  ‘You don’t like him, do you? In a month or two, Manny, I’ll be carrying all before me, and I won’t be able to manage what I do now.’

  He showed instant concern. ‘I guess I’m jealous. He knew you long before I did.’

  ‘I could never have married him! Manny, I always thought of you as a kind person.’

  ‘I try to be. All right, Florence. Let’s give him a month’s trial.’

  They were in the shop, clearing up. Florence pulled the blind down on the door. She gave him a quick kiss. Then she gasped. She took his hand, placed it firmly on her stomach.

  ‘The baby, Manny, I just felt it move for the first time . . .’

  ‘So did I,’ he said, in awe.

  ‘There you are, then, that’s the bond we have between us, and no one can spoil that.’

  *

  There had been months of strikes and hardship for the country’s workforce. In May, negotiations finally collapsed between the coalminers and the mine owners. All the other unions came out in support and a general strike was inevitable. For nine seemingly interminable days industry was at a standstill.

  Clerical workers in the capital were not involved in the national strike, but the transport service was badly affected. The tram car no longer ran along the route to Paradise Corner and Rose Marie found herself without the means to get to work.

  Many others took to the bicycle again, having not ridden one for years; some determined to walk from the suburbs. Those who normally reserved their motoring for weekends, decided to drive to work, offering lifts to colleagues. Empty lorries returning to base were flagged down and young women in stylish clothes climbed nimbly on to the tailboard of these vehicles for a twopenny ride, to cheers and waves from the army of walkers.

  ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’ soon became a familiar call.

  ‘You’re not getting a ride on the back of a lorry!’ Florence said firmly to Rose Marie.

  Sh
e didn’t have to: that first morning, there being no trains or buses, Elmo Turbot-Watts came to the rescue and collected Russ from his home. En route they stopped for Rose Marie. They also picked up some stragglers along the way and there was relieved laughter as they squeezed into the back of the van.

  ‘Who’s for a game of sardines?’ asked a cheeky office boy.

  ‘There were only three girls in the workroom,’ Rose Marie reported that night to her sister. ‘Mrs Belling asked me if I would mind helping out. I enjoyed myself, though there was more chat about the wedding than treadling. Anyway, orders are right down.’

  ‘Pie sales were actually up, all those hungry hikers on their way to the city! We had to do another baking. Although the butcher warned me he doesn’t know when he’ll get the next delivery of mutton.’

  ‘The strange thing is,’ Rose Marie said, ‘folk are so cheerful. Whistling as their feet turn the pedals, talking to strangers, helping where they can. Mr Turbot-Watts says people rise to a challenge, like they did in the war.’

  ‘I don’t imagine the miners are whistling any tunes, poor devils,’ Florence mused.

  ‘You’re with the workers, then? Not management?’

  ‘Of course I am. Mr Baldwin says the government are determined not to yield, they are urging volunteers to keep vital services going. I miss the newspapers, there’s only the news printed by the political parties, and all that pontificating by them on the wireless, eh?’

  After nine days the TUC capitulated and there was a general return to work by their members; however, the miners stood firm for several more months, despite the suffering and hardship their communities were forced to endure.

  Some firms had inevitably gone to the wall. Others cut down on staff. The ‘whistling’, as Florence predicted, abruptly ceased. The Depression was fast becoming a fact.

  *

  Lilli had been away for four months by July. Florence and Manny were partially reassured by the monthly rent which came with a brief covering note from their friend. Josefina was still in regular correspondence with Yvette, so they knew she was all right. Florence took it upon herself to write to Lilli’s husband Sam to advise him of his wife’s absence. He thanked her for her concern but wasn’t sure what he could do, except: