Drying her arms on the towel Rosie had brought, Molly told her, ‘I want you to read it.’
While Rosie sat down to read the letter, Molly carried the bowl into the scullery. She tipped the water down the sink, rinsed the bowl out, then picked up a few small pieces of broken glass that were still lying on the flagstones. That done, she took the mop and bucket from the corner and gave the floor a quick wash over.
When she returned to the parlour, Rosie was sitting, the letter opened on her lap and a look of horror on her face. ‘I can’t believe it!’ she kept saying. ‘I never would have thought she could do a thing like that – leave your da, yes, maybe – but never the children!’ Shaking her head, she looked up at Molly. ‘Do you know who this fella is?’
‘Someone she knew years ago and now he’s back, like it says in the letter.’
‘Any idea where she’s gone?’
‘No.’
‘If we were to track her down somehow, do you think we could persuade her to come home?’
‘You’ve read the letter, Rosie. What do you reckon?’
‘She must have thought long and hard about it,’ the Irishwoman imagined. ‘No, I don’t think a team of wild horses would fetch her back.’
‘Or half a dozen children!’ Molly’s voice hardened. ‘I would have done anything for our mam, you know that. I’ve seen what he’s put her through and there have been times when I wanted to kill him myself. But she left the bairns. How could she bring herself to do that?’
‘Happen she thought there was no other way.’ Rosie tried to put herself in Amy’s shoes. ‘After all, it’s hard for a woman who’s got four young childer and no man to provide. Folks tend to turn the other way.’
‘I wouldn’t have turned the other way, and neither would you. I would have helped her… found her a place to rent, given over part of my wages. And Lottie’s out to work now, too. We’d have managed, if she’d left my dad. She should have done it years ago.’ Molly felt like weeping.
‘I don’t think it would have worked, lass.’
‘Maybe not. But we might have worked summat out, only she never gave us the chance.’ Now, in the light of day, and after the initial shock, there were other, more pressing things to consider. ‘However am I to tell the children, Rosie? And what about me and Alfie?’ Coming to sit on the sofa, she looked at the other woman, and for a while, neither of them dared voice their thoughts.
Finally, Rosie spoke the obvious. ‘He’ll never go to America,’ she said. ‘Not without you.’
‘But he has to,’ Molly fretted. ‘One way or another, he must go.’ Already she had the makings of a plan in her mind, but she daren’t mention it to Alfie’s mother, not yet. ‘Will you do something for me?’ she asked.
‘What’s that?’
‘Don’t mention the letter to them at home, or say anything about our mam having run off. I need time to think it all out.’
‘I’ll not say a word, but what will yer do now? You’ll have to tell your da. If he should turn up at the infirmary, there’d be blue murder!’
‘I know.’
‘And what about you?’ Rosie felt for Molly; she saw how Amy’s selfish action had devastated the girl, and yet her anger at Amy was tempered by the fact that life under Frank Tattersall’s rule must have affected her more than anybody realised. ‘You’ll not be able to work, will you. You’ll have to take on your mam’s role. Hard though it is, you’ll need to be a proper mother to them kids.’
‘That goes without saying,’ Molly said quietly. ‘They’ve got nobody else.’
‘I’ll help you all I can, you know that.’
‘You’ve always been a good friend to Mam and me, Rosie. Thank you for that.’
Just then the front door slammed, the shock of it waking Eddie, who began yelling upstairs at the top of his lungs. Leaping up from the sofa, Molly hurried to the door. ‘Lottie!’ She found her sister leaning against the wall, giggling to herself. ‘What in God’s name are you playing at?’
Rushing up the passage she took hold of the girl and marched her into the parlour. ‘I waited up for you last night. Where the devil were you? What mischief have you been up to now?’ When Lottie went into a sulk, Molly shook her hard. ‘Answer me! I want to know, and you’re not going up those stairs until I do.’
‘Who says so?’ Staring up defiantly, Lottie couldn’t take her eyes off the vivid red mark across Molly’s cheek. Reaching out, she poked her in the face, making her cry out. ‘Been scrapping with your Alfie, ’ave yer?’ she sneered. ‘Yer want to watch out, or he’ll end up like our dad… knocking you from one end o’ the house to the other.’
‘Hey! You mind your tongue, young lady!’ In spite of her decision not to interfere, Rosie took offence at Lottie’s remark.
The girl gave her a hostile look. ‘What’s she doing here?’
‘Rosie’s a friend, that’s what she’s doing here,’ Molly replied angrily. ‘Now you tell me where you’ve been all night, and who you’ve been with. NOW!’
‘Get off me!’ Fighting and kicking, Lottie was impossible to contain. ‘I don’t need to tell you nothing! Wait till Mam gets back – I’ll tell her what you’re like. I’ll tell her how you bully me at every turn. She’ll have summat to say about it, and then you’ll be sorry!’
Already drained by the news of her mother leaving, and then the fight with her dad, Molly was exhausted. Releasing Lottie, she said flatly, ‘I’m only looking out for you, can’t you understand that?’
Scrambling up, Lottie glared at her sister, her face hard as brass. ‘I don’t want you looking out for me,’ she retorted, ‘I can look out for myself. And if you must know where I was last night, I was with a girl from Argyle Street… we went to the fair and I stayed the night at her house, so there you are. That’s all there is to it!’
Molly breathed a sigh of relief. ‘That’s all I needed to know,’ she answered. ‘All the same, you should have got word to me somehow, and then I wouldn’t be thinking the worst.’
But Lottie had won the day and she knew it. ‘That’s the trouble,’ she snapped. ‘You allus think the worst!’ She flounced off upstairs, secretly smiling and promising herself that the wonderful night she’d spent with the lad from the fairground would not be the last. Not if she had her way.
Rosie wondered how much more Molly could take. ‘She’s a shocker,’ she remarked, her gaze going to the doorway. ‘If she were mine I’d tan ’er backside till it were black and blue, so I would.’
‘What am I going to do with her?’ Molly felt drained. ‘She defied Mam, and she’ll defy me.’
‘Aye – and she’ll rue the day, you mark my words.’
Molly glanced at the mantelpiece clock; it was already half past seven. ‘I’d best get the children up and fed.’
‘And I’d best get that lazy Sandra out of her bed, or she’ll be late for work.’ Rosie chuckled. ‘Mind you, it won’t be the first time and I dare say it won’t be the last. But there’s a few minutes spare for me to give you a hand with the young ’uns before I go.’
‘No, thank you, Rosie. You’ve done more than enough.’
Rosie suddenly remembered: ‘What with all the goings on, I forgot to tell you. Alfie gave me a message afore he went to work. He said to tell you he’ll see you tonight, and you’re to put on your glad rags. He plans to take you to the flicks.’
Molly wasn’t sure. ‘I don’t know if I could sit through a picture with him, knowing what I have to tell him.’
Rosie wagged a finger. ‘You go, lass,’ she urged. ‘I’ll watch the childer. It’ll do ye good, so it will, and you don’t need to tell him anything. Not yet, anyways. Tomorrow will do. Tonight, you’re to get out and put some colour in that pretty face of yours.’ Softly pinching Molly’s cheek, she told her, ‘You’re as pale as a winter’s day, so ye are.’
‘Happen you’re right.’ Walking with her to the door, Molly paused by the dresser. ‘Wait, Rosie,’ she said. Opening the dresser drawer she took out a s
oft blue neckerchief. ‘I told Sandra she could borrow this.’
‘Are you sure ye know what you’re doing?’ Rosie chuckled. ‘Knowing her, you’ll not get it back.’
‘That’s all right.’
These past few days, Molly had learned that there were more important things to worry about than an old neckerchief.
‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ Rosie promised. ‘I can take Georgie and Milly to school, or I can mind the bairns at home. Whatever suits you.’
‘I’d be glad if you’d watch the bairns,’ Molly decided. ‘I’d best take the children as usual. There’s no point changing routine now.’
As she was leaving, Rosie touched her on the shoulder. ‘Later on, we’ll sit and work out what’s to be done. What d’yer say, lass?’
‘That would be good.’ Right now she needed company more than anything.
‘See you in a while then.’ Giving Molly a bear hug, she whispered in her ear, ‘Chin up, me darlin’, we’ll work something out.’
And then she was gone, and Molly was left standing at the door, more alone than she could ever remember.
* * *
At her own front door, Rosie glanced back to see Molly looking wistfully up at the skies. With a sorry heart, she shook her head and loudly tutted, ‘Amy Tattersall, you’ve done a terrible thing to that lovely girl of yours. May God forgive you, because nobody else will. Shame on you, Amy. Shame on you!’
* * *
Behind Molly, Milly’s excited voice rang down the passage. ‘Look, Molly!’ she called. ‘Eddie’s coming down the stairs all by himself.’
From the front step, Molly swung round, horrified to see the little chap coming down the stairs, his arms open as if to leap all the way to the bottom. Every time Milly went to get him, he screeched with laughter and wobbled dangerously. ‘No, Eddie!’ Rushing to the stairs, Molly plucked him into her arms. ‘You little monkey, that’s enough of that.’ Later, now he’d found his courage, she would have to teach him how to come down backwards.
‘Milly, run back and tell the others it’s time to get up.’ Taking the bairn into the parlour, she added, ‘Tell them breakfast is ready. That’ll shift them.’
Putting Eddie on the floor so he could toddle about, she laughed when he scurried straight for the stairs. ‘Oh no you don’t,’ she said and much to his frustration, shut the parlour door.
Giving him an old cardboard box to play with, she set about getting the toast under the grill. She then put a slab of butter in the dish; rather shame-facedly got out a new pot of jam from the store cupboard and put them both on the table, together with two knives. She half-filled the cups with milk and carried them through. Next, she put a kettle of water on to boil, ready to wash their hands and faces, and while that was singing, she laid out their clean clothes all in a row on the settee.
‘Come on, you lot!’ With Eddie tucked under her arm, she yelled up the stairs. ‘Down here now, or you won’t have time for breakfast before school.’
A small face appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘I’m not going to school till after Christmas.’ It was Bertha, big-eyed and with her dark hair a-tumble.
Molly smiled. ‘I know you’re not, sweetheart,’ she said, ‘but I need to get you all washed and dressed, so come down now, there’s a good girl, and fetch the others with you.’
Milly was next, then Georgie. ‘I can wash myself,’ he protested when Molly dabbed a wet flannel at his face. ‘I’m already eight. Wash Milly, she’s only six, and she’s a girl!’
Sighing, Molly left him to it and brought another flannel, which she first scrubbed with soap and then gently dipped into the warm water. With Milly squirming and grumbling, she washed and dressed her, then sat her at the table. Hot on her tail was Bertha, who stood still as an angel while Molly got her washed and ready. ‘You’re a good girl,’ she told her, sending her up to the table.
‘So am I.’ Milly was indignant, until her big sister kissed her soundly. ‘Yes, love, you’re a good girl, too,’ she said, and her heart ached for the little ones.
It didn’t take long to wash Eddie and change his nappy. ‘Right!’ Sitting him on her lap, Molly gave them each two chunks of bread. ‘You can help yourself to butter and jam,’ she told Georgie, ‘and try not to drop anything on the tablecloth.’
Then she buttered the girls’ bread and, spreading a generous helping of jam on top, she told them, ‘Eat up, you lot. We’ve only got fifteen minutes before we need to be on our way.’ God only knew how it had got so late.
When breakfast was over, Rosie showed her face round the door. ‘Just in time, am I?’ she said, and all the children cheered to see her there. ‘I got my own breakfast,’ Georgie proudly told her. ‘’Cos I’m eight, and I’m a boy.’
‘Yes, and you spilt a dollop o’ jam on the table, when our Molly told you not to.’ Milly always had to have the last say.
‘Hey! Stop arguing, you two.’ Coming into the room, Rosie lifted the bairn from Molly’s arms. ‘I’ll see to the two young ’uns,’ she offered. ‘You’d best get off, lass, or you’ll never catch that tram.’ She gave a shudder. ‘I’ll tell ye summat else an’ all. October’s in the air. You’ll need your coats, it’s bitter outside.’
A few minutes later, Molly had the two children ready; dressed in their heavy coats and scarves, they were prepared for Siberia.
‘Right!’ Ushering them out the door, she hurried them down the street and up to Cicely Bridge. As luck would have it, the tram was ten minutes late and they had plenty of time, though the wind was keen, just as Rosie had said. ‘I don’t like being late for school,’ Milly whined. ‘Everybody looks at you when you go in.’
Georgie had the answer. ‘Put your tongue out at them.’
‘That’s no way to behave,’ Molly scolded. ‘I’m surprised at you, Georgie.’ He was always such a little gentleman.
Subdued by her reprimand, Georgie was quiet on the journey to school. ‘I didn’t mean it,’ he said sheepishly as they got off the tram, and his smile readily returned when his big sister gave him a hug. Then it was Milly’s turn. ‘Hurry in, and don’t forget to tell them the tram was late.’
She watched them through the gate and into the building, and waved as they went through the door.
A few minutes later she was back on the tram and on her way home. Inevitably, her thoughts turned to Amy. ‘Oh, Mam! What am I supposed to say when they start asking after you?’ Rage had turned to despair. Her own life must take second place. With her mam gone, her job now was to hold the family together.
It was a daunting prospect.
* * *
By the time Molly got back, Rosie had the table cleared and the tea made. Bertha was seated cross-legged on the rug, playing with her doll, while Eddie was content in his pram with a bottle of warm milk.
While they were quiet, the two women had time to talk about the future.
When Rosie took herself off to the scullery to pour the tea, Molly struck a match to the kindling wood in the fire grate. With a few knobs of coal from the scuttle close by, there was soon a cheery fire underway. ‘You’re right about it being cold outside,’ she told Rosie. ‘There’s a real sharp nip in the air.’
Setting the tea on the fender, Rosie eased herself into the armchair opposite. ‘Have ye been able to think things through at all?’
‘What… you mean about Alfie?’ Reaching down, Molly collected her tea and took a sip. She had thought about nothing else all morning.
‘Not just Alfie,’ Rosie answered. ‘I mean everything.’
‘Course I have, but there’s not a lot I can do,’ Molly told her. ‘I’ll not be able to work because of the children, so my dad will have to start tipping up his wage on a Friday. If he doesn’t, there’ll be no money at all coming in. At least our mam had my board and lodgings, and a bit over the top whenever I could manage it. I don’t know if I’ll get anything out of Lottie.’
‘Do you really think he’ll start tipping up his wages?’ Rosie couldn�
��t see it, somehow.
‘Hmh!’ Molly was under no illusions either. ‘I’m sure he’ll kick up holy hell, but like it or not, he’ll have to start facing up to his responsibilities.’
‘You’ll have your work cut out,’ Rosie sighed. She saw Frank for what he was, a womaniser and a waster. ‘The trouble is, he’s got away with it for too long and now he’s set in his ways. Once he finds out your mam’s gone off with some fella, he’ll run riot.’ She gave a low whistle. ‘Sure, I’m glad I’m not the one that has to tell him!’
Molly didn’t look forward to that task either, but it would need to be done. ‘I’ll tell him tonight,’ she decided. ‘I daren’t leave it any longer.’
‘Aye, I can see that.’
The girl gave a sad little smile. ‘D’you know, Rosie, I really thought she’d come home. Last night, I was so sure she would just turn up and be full of apologies, but she didn’t – and now I know she never will. I don’t even know if any of us will ever see her again.’
Choking back the lump in her throat, she went on, ‘I’ve been thinking about earning some money from home – you know, so I can be with the children. Mrs Pearson down the street, she earns from home, doing other folks’ washing. Happen there’s summat I could do like that.’
‘I’m sorry, lass.’ Rosie felt guilty. ‘You know I’d have the childer while you went out to work, but I can’t leave Dad all on his own, and I can’t take the childer there because, however much he puts on a brave front, he’s not a well man. An hour at a time is about all he could stand of little ones round his feet. That’s not to say he doesn’t think the world of them, because you know he does.’
‘Thanks all the same, Rosie, but I’ll manage somehow, don’t you worry.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying, it’s not nice doing other folks’ washing. Sure, there must be something else ye can turn your hand to?’
Molly had been considering it long and hard. ‘There are three things that come to mind – the washing and ironing, dressmaking, but I’m not that good with a needle and thread, and there was one other thing…’
Looking Back Page 12