by Ruthie Lewis
All of this was new to the children, who did not know about Rosa’s working life before her marriage to their father. To them she was Mummy, so clever with her needle and scissors that people came to ask her to make things for them. Their eyes opened wide when Grace and their father told them how their mother used to go to Buckingham Palace to fit her feminine uniforms. The Queen and her court liked them to look as real as the men’s uniforms and hence they wanted to use the same cloth and buttons and decorations. Rose ‘uniforms’ were very popular. Her talent for making feminine versions of regimentals brought her acclaim in her firm, and some special presents from the Queen and members of her family.
‘How did Mummy meet Fa?’ asked Daisy. ‘Were you at Buckingham Palace too?’
‘Were you a soldier?’ asked Albert. ‘You never said you were a soldier. Were you, Fa?’
‘No, no,’ chuckled George. ‘I’ve always been a bricklayer, lad, and I’ve never been out of work what with all the building going on in London. I met my Rosa while we were building a new part of the uniform factory. She was always shooing me out of her workshop, saying I made her fabrics dusty. She kept me in line even then,’ he said smiling.
‘But what were you doing in her workshop, Fa?’ Albert asked.
‘Well, part of the new building had a door into the corner of her work-room. So we had to go in there in order to knock through and build the door. My mate Bert asked Rosa out several times, but she weren’t interested in him. Goodness only knows why, but she took a shine to me.’
‘I know, why, I know why, Fa,’ said Harry. ‘It’s because you told the best jokes.’
They all laughed at this for George was very fond of telling silly jokes and playing gentle tricks on the children. His love of fun had indeed been one of the things that had attracted Rosa, Grace knew. It had reminded Rosa of her own late father who had been a great joker. Physically, Grace knew that her brother-in-law had little in common with Fred Perrow who had been a big bluff man with reddish hair. His size and the hair was all the impression that she retained of her father.
Grace was glad to see George recover a bit of his old self on these outings, but she was much more concerned about how he was coping on a day-to-day basis. Rosa had kept their little house spotlessly clean, partly so that she could continue to work at sewing and bring income into the household, and partly as a matter of pride. She and George might have lived in a poor area, but Rosa had been determined that their home would always be a haven from the mucky world outside. And so it had remained until her illness made keeping the house to her own high standards, even with the willing help of the children, no longer possible.
Thus, those three weeks were not solely a time for fun, frolics and exploration. Grace also spent several days bringing the little house in Bell Lane back up to the standard of order and cleanliness that Rosa had maintained when she was healthy.
The children helped. Albert took on the task of keeping the tiny cooking space clean and tidy. He was very keen to learn how to make food for the family. ‘But I like to feed people,’ he said when Grace expressed surprise at his keenness to help her shop and cook. He didn’t even mind cleaning up, saying, ‘I like to see it all clean, just like Mother kept it.’
Harry was more of a dreamer and would often be found part way through a task such as making the beds, sitting and humming a tune to himself. He was always sorry that he hadn’t finished his job and would hurry to complete it once he was found. He was just not always connected to the world around him and the other people in it. He clearly had a vivid daydream world.
Daisy was a miniature version of her mother and always keen to be busy doing the best that her little hands could manage. She followed Grace like an enthusiastic puppy and copied all that she did. Grace knew that she was too young to keep the house clean on her own but hoped that she, along with her brothers, would keep it in some semblance of order once she moved to Sevenoaks
Some of Grace’s time was also spent in making George a budget that he could follow. She listed what she knew of the family’s expenses against George’s income. His pay was just enough to cover the basics, and with what Grace could send from her own new salary they would be able to get by comfortably. George protested at her spending her money on his family. ‘But you will have all sorts of new expenses yourself. New clothes, books and all manner of things.’
‘Nonsense, George,’ said Grace. ‘We are all in this together.’
‘Well, you mustn’t spend all your free time coming up to Rotherhithe,’ George said. ‘You’ll make new friends down in Sevenoaks, and you’ll want to spend time with them. You mustn’t worry about us, we’ll be just fine. Albert is a real little man by now and won’t let any harm come to the twins, and Mrs Berton from next door will see them at lunchtime.’
‘They should be at school,’ said Grace. ‘Is there nowhere that they could go? I know Rosa taught Albert his letters and numbers, and I have given him some books to keep up his reading, but they should be in regular school. I only wish they were close enough to go to the Clare School. I know Mrs Clare would be happy to have them,’
‘There’s no school closer than Lambeth,’ George said. ‘I reckon they’re too young to get there by themselves, and I can’t leave work to take them. None of the other local children go either.’
‘Sometimes I think that it would be better for me to stay here in Rotherhithe and start a free school myself,’ Grace said, ‘rather than swanning off to Kent to teach young ladies.’ She sighed. ‘But goodness only knows where the money to do that would come from.’
‘Rosa would never have wanted you to live here in Rotherhithe, Grace. You know she always had bigger plans for your future and you always did too. Don’t worry. We’ll do just fine here, you’ll see.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ said Grace. ‘Just don’t let your employers and your foreman take advantage of you. They would work you all hours until you dropped down, if they could. And, I am sure you know this, but you need to keep a close eye on the money and don’t go lending out to friends like I know you have in the past. You are a soft touch, George. The rent and food and clothes are more important than doing favours for friends, especially when they seldom pay you back.’
‘Yes, yes, I know,’ replied George. ‘Rosa was always saying the same.’
Grace said a silent prayer that her brother-in-law would listen to the voice of his dead wife and not let himself be taken advantage of. She had no real choice but to trust his word. She left the little house clean and tidy, just as Rosa would have liked, hugged the children hard, and took her leave.
*
At home in Hackney at the end of these three bittersweet weeks, Grace began to pack up her belongings. Her new life beckoned to her, and she looked forward to it, but her heart and mind continued to be with George and the children. She would miss the children terribly and visits would perforce be less frequent. She had written to the new headmistress to ask for permission to spend one Saturday and one Sunday per month out of school, but she had not yet had a reply.
The Clares returned from the seaside, and Grace prepared to say goodbye to them. Mrs Clare passed on books and some excellent advice and reminded her to write and ask for more if she needed it. Grace had a great respect for the knowledge and advice of Mrs Clare and knew she would find it helpful in her new role. Mela helped her pack, and then walked with her to the railway station.
‘Goodbye, my dear friend,’ she said, embracing Grace on the platform. ‘Be sure to write to me often, and tell me all your news. Nothing will be the same without you here.’
‘I will,’ Grace promised. ‘I wish you could come as well. I shall miss you terribly.’
Excitement was her predominant emotion when she climbed onto the train to take her to Sevenoaks. A new adventure awaited and her mind was a whirl of plans for her new life and questions about how she would get on. But she knew that a little part of her heart had been left behind with George and the children in Bell Lane.
Chapter 4
The headmistress in Sevenoaks was grudging, but she accepted Grace’s need to keep in touch with her family so gave her the time away from school that she asked for. In late September, three weeks after taking up her post, Grace travelled back by train to Rotherhithe and walked through the muddy streets to Bell Lane.
It was Saturday and George was at work, but the children greeted her with shrieks of delight. Grace kissed them and surveyed them critically. They looked clean and well fed and the house was in good order; not quite as immaculate as when she left it, but still very clean. ‘And what have you been doing with yourselves?’ she asked. ‘Albert, have you been reading the books I left you?’
Albert nodded vigorously. ‘And you,’ Grace said, ruffling Harry’s hair. ‘Have you been a good boy?’
‘I have been making up songs,’ declared Harry.
‘He sings them all day,’ said Daisy. ‘Over and over. They don’t make any sense.’
‘They make sense to me,’ Harry asserted.
‘I’m sure they do,’ said Grace laughing. ‘Come, your father will be home soon. It is time to start dinner, and you can all help me.’
George came in an hour later, covered in brick dust as always, and kissed her on the cheek before going out back to wash up. ‘You must tell us all about your new school,’ he said, and so over dinner Grace described her new life, the grumpy headmistress and the other teachers, the big brick schoolhouse and her pupils, the daughters of bankers and solicitors and prosperous farmers. She struggled to describe Sevenoaks, so different from Rotherhithe that sometimes she thought it might as well be a different world.
All seemed well, and she left the next day to travel back to Sevenoaks reassured that the family were getting on well. But her next visit in October was not so comforting. The children were in foul moods; the twins had been quarrelling, and Harry had torn the pages of one of Albert’s books. ‘They have nothing to do,’ Grace told George that evening. ‘Rosa always kept them occupied, but when they’re home on their own they grow bored, and that’s when they cause mischief. Oh, how I wish we could get them into a school.’
But there was nothing to be done. There was no school in Rotherhithe, and even if there had been, there was no money to pay the fees. Grace was being well paid, but even her salary would not stretch that far.
Worse was to come. On the next visit Grace found Albert walking around the house barefoot, his feet covered in mud. ‘What are you doing?’ she scolded him. ‘Where are your shoes?’
‘Please don’t be cross, Auntie Grace,’ Albert said piteously. ‘My feet are too big now to go in my shoes, and I don’t have any others.’
‘Your father was supposed to buy you shoes,’ Grace replied.
‘Fa says there isn’t any money,’ Albert mumbled.
That evening Grace said nothing until the children went to bed, but then she took George into the parlour room of the little house and sat down facing him. He hung his head, knowing what was coming.
‘What happened to the money for Albert’s shoes?’ she asked. ‘I made sure there was enough in the budget to afford them.’
‘I don’t know, lass. The money just seems to disappear. It’s like trying to hold water in a sieve. It don’t matter how fast I make money, it just drains away.’
‘Have you been lending money to your mates again?’ Grace demanded.
‘I couldn’t help it, lass. The poor fellow was in a piteous state. He couldn’t pay his rent, and he and his kiddies were about to be evicted. So I lent him five bob to help him out.’
Five shillings was a quarter of George’s weekly wage. ‘You lent your friend money, and now your son has no shoes,’ Grace said.
‘Please don’t be angry with me,’ George pleaded. ‘He said he would pay me back, and I believed him.’
‘I know. You always believe people, because you want to see the best in them.’ There was no point in getting angry, Grace thought. Nothing was going to change George’s nature now, and anger would only hurt him. ‘There’s not much food in the larder either, and the coal bunker is nearly empty. And have you paid the rent?’
‘I’m a little behind,’ George admitted.
‘I’ll leave you some money before I go,’ Grace said. ‘George, you must look after your finances.’
‘I try, lass. I really do.’
In her reticule, Grace had her first pay from her new school. She left money to pay their bills and buy Albert a new pair of shoes, and she travelled back to Sevenoaks the following day, full of misgivings. Three weeks later, just when she was planning another visit, a letter arrived in the evening post. The writing was childish and shaky, with many mistakes and misspellings.
Grace gasped with horror. George was hopeless with money, but she had never dreamed things could get this bad. Without coal, the family would have no heat and could not cook their food, and if the rent could not be paid, they would be evicted. If they were made homeless they would have just two choices; the street, or the workhouse.
She knew she should be angry with George, but all she could feel was sorrow for him. For all his gentle nature, George was a proud man. He had never learned to read much, or to write at all. Asking his son to write that letter must have been one of the hardest things he had ever done, and was a measure of his despair.
She slept little that night. Instead, she lay on her bed gazing at the shadows on the ceiling and wondering what to do. She loved her new job, despite the grumpy headmistress, and she did not want to leave. But it was clear, now, that despite the help and money she provided, George could not manage alone.
The decision was painful, but she knew she had no choice. In the morning after prayers and breakfast she knocked and entered the headmistress’s study. ‘Ma’am, I am sorry. But I fear I must hand in my notice. My family needs me, and I must go to them.’
‘Your notice?’ The headmistress stared at her over the rim of her spectacles. ‘In the middle of term? It is out of the question. Who will replace you?’
‘I am so sorry, ma’am,’ Grace said. ‘But my family needs me.’
‘You are a talented teacher, Miss Perrow. Even though you have been here only a short time, the governors have already taken note of your qualities. If you stay here, you are certain to advance. A fine career awaits you. ’
‘I am sorry,’ Grace said. ‘But I have no choice.’
‘Very well. You may go at the end of the week. Make sure you pack all your belongings, and do not expect a reference for your next employer.’
*
She wrote to Lady Ringrose, apologising for her decision and explaining her reasons, and received a very kind letter in return. She wrote to Mela, too, who wrote back at once.
My dear friend, are you certain? You know that whatever you do, I will always support you and be your friend. But my dear Grace, it is the friendship and love I have for you that compels me to tell you my true feelings. You have such talent, Grace, such energy and such zeal for teaching, and you are giving it up to look after your sister’s children? Is that truly the right thing to do? I cannot believe that it is.
Mela’s letter was written from the heart, and Grace took no offence. On one level, she knew Mela was right. The desire to teach was embedded deep in Grace’s soul, and she knew she could not give it up entirely.
The nearest school was in Lambeth, George had said, too far away. Perhaps, thought Grace. But in the back of her mind, an idea slowly began to take form.
On Friday afternoon after lessons, Grace packed her bags and said farewell to her fellow teachers. Most thought she had taken leave of her senses, but a few understood. A carriage took her to the train and she rode up the line to Rotherhithe, arriving as dusk was falling. She hired a porter to bring her bags, and walked through the streets to Bell Lane. Smoke drifted heavy in the autumn air, and the stinks from the glue factory and the vitriol works were as strong as ever. Mud squelched under her feet.
Through the window she could see an oil
lamp burning in the parlour. She knocked at the door and George opened the door in his shirtsleeves, eyes wide with surprise when he saw who it was. Grace drew a deep breath. ‘You need me,’ she said, ‘so, I have come to stay.’
*
‘I make one condition,’ she said later that evening. ‘I am in charge of paying all the household bills. When you receive your salary, George, you must bring it straight to me. There must be no more loans to your friends. Is that understood?’
‘Yes,’ said George humbly. ‘Oh, Grace, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean for things to work out like this.’
‘Well, they have, and we shall make the best of them,’ Grace said briskly. ‘I am determined that good come out of this. I can start teaching the children, and maybe attract a few other pupils too. In the morning I shall go to market and stock the larder, and in the afternoon we can have some lessons.’
The children, who had come tumbling shrieking downstairs at the sound of their aunt’s voice, were delighted by the idea of lessons. They were overjoyed to see her, and happy to assent to anything that would keep Auntie Grace with them. Looking at their shining faces, Grace was certain that she had done the right thing.
‘We need to make some changes to sleeping arrangements,’ she warned. There were only two bedrooms upstairs. ‘Albert and Harry, you can go in with your father. Daisy, you and I shall share.’
‘Goody,’ said the little girl, clapping her hands with delight.
Grace looked at her severely. ‘Do you snore?’
‘No!’ said Daisy indignantly.
‘Hmm. Do you bite?’
‘No!’ squeaked the girl, beginning to giggle.
‘Good. Mind you don’t do either of those things, or there will be trouble.’ She looked at George. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I am here. Everything will be fine now.’