Looking Back

by Looking Back (retail) (epub)

  Sandra was delighted. ‘Thanks, gal,’ she said, and gave the ladder another shake. ‘Cross your legs if anybody passes,’ she laughed. ‘You don’t want to give ’em a fright, do yer?’ With that she went away down the street at a clumsy run.

  ‘Sandra!’

  Screeching to a halt, the girl yelled back, ‘Now what?’

  ‘Happen you should take off some of that make-up.’

  Indignant, Sandra dismissed the idea with a two-fingered gesture. ‘Like hell I will,’ she retorted. ‘It took me long enough to put the bugger on.’

  Molly could advise her no more, except to call out, ‘Mind how you go then. We’ll talk tomorrow.’ She watched her friend skip down the street like a two-year-old, and couldn’t help but be concerned. This new fella sounded like a fly devil to her.

  In the pit of her stomach, she had a feeling it would all end in tears.

  * * *

  When the windows were sparkling all over the front of the house, Molly packed away her equipment and took the children inside. The bairn was still asleep in his pram, and Bertha was already yawning. ‘Tired, are you, sweetheart?’ Molly asked, and no sooner had she finished speaking than Bertha climbed on to the sofa and was away in the Land of Nod.

  ‘Well, I never!’ Molly was amazed, but pleased. ‘I’d best get on with that washing while I’ve a chance.’

  Taking off the woolly jumper, she laid it over the little girl. Then she placed a few knobs of coal on the fire, and taking herself into the scullery, she drew all the dirty linen from the wash-tub and separated it into different piles; coloureds in one, whites in another. Flicking the switch beneath the dolly-tub, she then filled it with water, and throwing in a handful of soap flakes, began putting the whites in one by one.

  When the clothes were dancing in the hot water, she took the washboard down from the nail on the wall and slid it into the tub. Grabbing one item at a time, she drew it over the board and, scrubbing it up and down on the ridged surface, pummelled the dirt out of it.

  When both lots of clothes were washed and dumped in the basket, she switched off the tub and fed the garments through the mangle, to squeeze out the surplus water. That done, she took the basket outside and hung the clothes on the line; there was nothing Molly liked better than to see the washing blowing in the fresh breeze.

  Returning to the scullery, she emptied the dolly-tub and tidied up.

  ‘By! That’s a good morning’s work,’ she sighed, and made herself a cup of tea, even treating herself to a slice of the bread pudding that Rosie had brought round the day before.

  * * *

  Like Molly, Rosie had been busy doing the washing. When it was finished, she made her way up to the Tattersalls’ house and let herself inside; as usual, the door was on the sneck.

  Pushing open the parlour door, she smiled at the scene before her. The bairn sleeping in his pram by the back window, the child lying on the sofa, fast asleep, and there beside her was Molly.

  With one arm round her little sister, and the other hand clutching a half-eaten portion of bread pudding, Molly, too, was dead to the world.

  For a long, emotional moment, Rosie looked down on Molly’s sleeping face. ‘Had a hard day, have you, lass?’ she murmured, and gently eased the bread pudding from her hand. She placed it on the saucer and took it quietly into the scullery, where she replaced it in the larder.

  A quick glance at the bairn to make sure he was all right, then another at Molly and the child, and she departed, closing the door behind her.

  As she went down the street, Rosie held the picture in her mind. ‘Poor wee girl!’ she muttered. ‘She must have been exhausted.’

  Shaking her head in despair, she quickened her steps. ‘I wouldn’t want that lass’s life for a gold clock. There’s Lottie, who causes more trouble than she’s worth, a dad who likes booze and women and doesn’t give a tinker’s cuss for anybody but himself, and a mother who’s turned her back on her own flesh and blood.’ She took a breath. ‘Five childer not of her own, and no money coming in. It doesn’t do thinking about!’

  Glancing up at the skies, she saw the storm clouds brewing – in more ways than one. Climbing the steps to her own front door, she glanced back at the Tattersalls’ house. ‘It’s a big cross for a young ’un to carry,’ she whispered. ‘And this is only the beginning.’

  Chapter Ten

  Molly was at the end of her tether. ‘I’m not having you lying in bed when there’s work to be done,’ she told Lottie. ‘You turn up here after being out all night, then take yourself off to your bed and refuse to get up. You know that Dad will be in any minute. Are you deliberately trying to cause trouble, or what?’

  Drawing the bedclothes up over herself, Lottie screamed abuse. ‘Leave me alone and stop your nagging. You’re not my mam!’

  ‘No, but I’m the one who has to put up with you.’

  ‘Only until our mam gets back, and then we’ll see.’ Turning away, she ended the heated conversation.

  Knowing she couldn’t leave it there, Molly sat beside her on the bed. ‘Lottie, I’ve summat to tell you,’ she began. It was time for her to know that Amy wasn’t coming home.

  ‘I don’t want you to tell me nuthin’!’ Lashing out, Lottie caught Molly hard on the face. ‘Get away from me.’

  Realising there was nothing to be gained by trying to tell her now, Molly backed off. ‘I’ll leave you,’ she agreed, ‘but I want you out of that bed and dressed before Dad gets home.’

  ‘Sez you!’

  ‘If you don’t, I’ll have to tell him you stayed out all night.’ She wouldn’t tell him, but Lottie couldn’t know that.

  ‘You cow!’ Glaring at her sister from beneath the blanket, Lottie snapped, ‘You would an’ all, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Not if you promise to be out of that bed and dressed before he gets home.’

  ‘I’ll get out when I hear him come through the front door.’

  ‘I need your help downstairs, Lottie. There’s the dinner on the boil, the table to be set, and the children to be seen to.’

  Lottie would have none of it. Turning away she growled, ‘I’m no bloody nursemaid! I’ll get out when I hear him come in, and that’s it.’

  Apart from dragging her out of bed and forcing her downstairs, Molly could only bide her time. ‘You and I had better have a long, hard talk,’ she warned. ‘You can’t go on as you are, Lottie. Right now, none of us can afford to be selfish.’

  With Lottie remaining sullen, Molly decided the best thing was to leave her be, for now. There would be time later to pull her up by the bootstraps. ‘Just think on what I’ve said,’ she urged. ‘We have to talk, and soon.’

  ‘Go away!’

  ‘I mean it, Lottie. There are things you have to know, and rules to be kept to… whether you like it or not.’

  Leaving the room, Molly deliberately left the door open. She wasn’t surprised when, even before she’d reached the bottom of the stairs, Lottie had scrambled out of bed and slammed it shut against her. ‘I’ll have to get tough with her, or she’ll run rings round me,’ Molly decided.

  But it was a hard thing, because Lottie was a law unto herself and, judging by her attitude now, always would be.

  When she got downstairs, Bertha and Eddie were playing tents with Molly’s winter coat. The sound of their laughter echoed through the house. ‘Come and see, Molly!’ Bertha peeped out from beneath the tail-end. ‘Me an’ Eddie are gonna live in here all the time.’

  Getting down on all fours, she crawled in with them. ‘Cor!’ Feigning astonishment, she told them, ‘It’s as big as a house.’

  Bertha rolled over, laughing. ‘No it’s not,’ she said, and told Eddie, ‘Molly’s pretending.’

  Whereby she tickled their tummies and got them both helpless with laughter. ‘You found me out,’ she chuckled as she crawled out again.

  ‘You keep an eye on Eddie,’ she told Bertha. ‘I’d best get the washing in before the rain comes.’ Like Rosie, she had seen the
storm clouds closing in fast.

  She was coming up the yard steps when Rosie herself appeared. ‘Here, let me give you a hand.’ Taking a heap of washing from over Molly’s shoulder, she told her, ‘You’d best get yourself off down the street and on that tram afore the heavens open.’

  Molly took her advice and was soon ready. ‘I’m sorry, you two,’ she told the youngsters, ‘but I need my coat.’ When Bertha looked at her with big cow eyes, she took her dad’s old khaki coat from behind the scullery door and threw it over them. ‘It’s better than mine,’ she said. ‘It’s bigger.’ And they were happy enough.

  ‘Eddie will need his napkin changed,’ she told Rosie. ‘I meant to do it myself, but I thought it best to fetch the washing in first… I didn’t realise what the time was.’

  ‘Away with ye!’ Rosie ushered her out the door. ‘Have ye got your purse now?’

  ‘I have.’ And to prove it, Molly waved it in the air.

  ‘And something in case you get caught out in the rain?’

  Molly showed her the umbrella she’d collected from the front parlour. ‘Now will you stop fussing?’ But it was so good to have somebody fussing over her, and Rosie was such a sweetheart.

  ‘Right then. Leave me to the young ’uns and get away down the street, will ye? Get a move on, for goodness’ sake. You’ll miss the tram, so ye will!’

  Molly ran all the way. Even so, the tram was already in. With one last spurt of energy she hopped on board.

  ‘Another minute an’ we’d have been gone.’ The conductor was a familiar face; with little clumps of ginger hair sprouting out like carrot-tops all over the top of his balding head, and a cheery word for everyone, he always brought a smile to Molly’s face.

  ‘Morning, Horace,’ she answered. ‘How are you today?’ Falling into the nearest seat, she fished threepence from her purse and handed it to him.

  He clipped her ticket and laid it in her open palm. ‘Not as bad as yesterday,’ he answered with a grin. ‘But better than I’ll be tomorrow, I expect.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Fidgeting about, she made herself comfortable.

  “Cos tomorrow I’ve to see the dentist and have two teeth pulled.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m not looking forward to it, I can tell you.’

  ‘I don’t blame you.’ Molly shivered; she hated the dentist. ‘I only go when I really have to.’

  ‘Hey!’ Wagging a finger, he laughed. ‘You’re supposed to cheer me up, not frighten me even more.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘But then you’ve got beautiful teeth.’ He saw that every day in her lovely smile. ‘Mine are falling apart,’ he moaned. ‘Rotten inside, crumbling outside.’

  ‘It’s that tobacco you keep chewing.’

  ‘Aye, an’ I’ll keep on chewing it an’ all,’ he declared defiantly. ‘Teeth or no teeth, it’s the only pleasure I’ve got.’ Winking, he gave Molly a naughty nudge. ‘Except when the wife’s in a good mood,’ he chipped, ‘which is not often enough these days.’ That said, he went away, whistling merrily. Hoping his luck might be in tonight, Molly thought with a silent chuckle.

  Settling herself down for the ten minute journey, she glanced out of the window at the darkening skies. Rosie was right about the rain, because even while she watched, it began pattering on the window pane, its frantic rhythm growing faster by the minute.

  Getting off the tram at the first stop, she ran all the way to the school, dodging the raindrops as she did so. The children were waiting inside as usual. Giving them both a hug, she decided, ‘We’ll hang on a bit for the rain to let off.’ Rosie was with the little ones now, so there was no need to panic.

  ‘I did a drawing for you,’ Milly told her, and held up a mangled piece of paper. On it was a pencil sketch of what looked like a scarecrow. ‘It’s you,’ she said proudly, and Molly had to stifle her laughter.

  ‘It’s beautiful!’ she gasped. ‘Thank you.’ And she gave Milly another hug.

  Georgie tutted. ‘It looks like a scarecrow to me.’

  Out of the mouths of babes, Molly thought, and raised her eyebrows warningly at Georgie. ‘And what have you been doing today?’

  ‘It isn’t a scarecrow!’ Milly’s face began to crumple. ‘It’s our Molly!’

  Shaking her head meaningfully, Molly looked at Georgie. ‘You didn’t really mean that, did you?’ she pleaded, and peace was restored when he told Milly, ‘I can see it’s our Molly.’ Looking at the picture, he fibbed, ‘I were only joking before.’ He smiled all over when Molly gave him a grateful wink.

  A moment later, the rain began to ease off. ‘Look, Moll, it’s Mrs Bolton, our teacher!’ Filled with awe, Milly tugged at her sister’s hand. ‘She gave Paul Martin the cane… right on his little arse. He cried for ages and ages.’

  Molly was horrified. ‘Where did you hear that word?’

  Milly was mystified. ‘What word?’

  Georgie obliged. ‘Arse.’

  Milly grinned. ‘Well, Paul’s mam had a fight with Mrs Bolton, and she said it… “You’d better not lay a cane on my Paul’s arse ever again”, that’s what she said.’

  By this time Molly was beside herself, holding back the laughter and praying to God she wouldn’t let it loose in front of Mrs Bolton. ‘Right, well, we’d better go,’ she spluttered, and began pushing the children forward.

  But just as she had feared, Molly was stopped in her tracks. ‘Ah, let me see now… Molly, isn’t it?’

  Full of apprehension, Molly turned. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Bolton.’ She felt ten years old, and more afraid of Mrs Bolton than either Milly or Georgie were. And with every right.

  For Mrs Bolton was a formidable sight. A huge mound of a woman, with tiny spectacles and a round red face, she looked terrifying when she smiled, as she did now at Molly. ‘Tell your mother the children are a credit to her,’ she purred, her body filling up the little porch. ‘They know their manners, and that’s more than I can say for some of the little horrors!’

  ‘Are they doing all right with their work?’ Molly was new at talking to teachers, and she felt uncomfortable.

  ‘Well, Georgie has trouble with his reading, but he’s good at sums, and Milly has trouble with her arithmetic, but she’s better at reading.’ Giving a hearty laugh, the woman suggested, ‘They should share it out better, don’t you think?’

  Molly didn’t know quite what to say, so she smiled politely instead. ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled, and immediately felt silly.

  ‘Good!’ Clumsily throwing open her umbrella, Mrs Bolton almost poked Molly in the eye. ‘Tell your mother if she ever wants to see me, I’m available for ten minutes at the end of each day.’ With that she pushed her way through and marched regally out into the rain like a real hero.

  ‘She’s fat!’ Milly didn’t mince her words.

  ‘It’s not her fault,’ Georgie retorted. ‘Her mam gave her too many sausages when she was a baby.’

  Molly laughed out loud. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Mrs Bolton. She told it to Dicky Donley when he called her fat in the playground. Then she gave him a hundred lines saying, Mrs Bolton is not fat, Mrs Bolton is not fat, Mrs Bo—’

  ‘That’s enough!’

  Grabbing hold of the children, Molly made a run for it. She was still chuckling when they got on the tram, five minutes later.

  * * *

  It was time for Rosie to pop back home. ‘I’ll get the men’s dinner then I’ll be back,’ she promised. ‘Don’t forget I’m minding the bairns while you and Alfie go out tonight.’

  Walking to the door with her, Molly said sombrely, ‘I’ll have to tell him tonight, Rosie – about America, and everything.’ But first she had to be sure. ‘You will back me up, won’t you?’

  For a moment the woman looked into the girl’s troubled blue eyes. ‘I can’t see any other way.’ Like Molly, she was desolate. ‘I’ll do all I can,’ she promised. ‘And may God help the pair of us!’

  The first thing Molly did when Rosie was gone was to go up to Lottie
and remind her, ‘I want you out of that bed before Dad gets home, or there’ll be hell to pay.’

  Lottie turned over and didn’t answer, but her sister knew she’d heard, so she left it at that.

  Downstairs, she busied herself. Getting out the big bowl and rolling pin, she set to making a meat and potato pie. The leftover potatoes were sliced in half and put in a tray of lard to bake in the oven. Together with the carrots and gravy, it would make a tasty meal.

  While that was cooking, she washed and bathed all four children and got them into their nightgowns. ‘Later on, I’ll be leaving you with Rosie while me and Alfie go out,’ she told them.

  ‘Will Dad be here?’ Milly wanted to know.

  ‘He might be, or he might decide to go out, I don’t know, sweetheart.’ She added wryly, ‘Your dad doesn’t tell me his plans.’ Any more than he used to tell our mam, she thought angrily.

  ‘I don’t want him to be here.’ Georgie was honest to a fault.

  ‘And I don’t!’ Bertha started to cry.

  ‘Hey!’ Grabbing them all to her, Molly promised, ‘I won’t be gone long. Rosie will be here, and Dad will probably be going back out once he’s had his dinner.’

  Little Eddie’s bottom lip began to tremble. ‘Want my mammy!’ he cried, and flung his arms round Molly’s neck.

  ‘No tears,’ she said, wiping them away. ‘You’re a big brave boy, aren’t you?’ She dreaded the moment she must tell them the truth.

  Singing a song, she began clapping her hands, and soon they were all clapping. ‘Let’s do “Ring-a-Ring-a-Roses”,’ Bertha cried excitedly, so they all joined hands and went round and round, until Milly felt sick and they had to stop.

  ‘Can we stay up late?’ Georgie asked.

  ‘We’ll see.’ She made no promises. If their dad was in a bad mood when he got home, she’d rather they were in bed out of his way, but if he went straight out again, or didn’t come home at all, happen Rosie would let them stay down an extra hour.