Jam and Roses

by Mary Gibson

  Elsie yawned. Calmer now that she had told her story, her eyes began to droop. Bertie lifted her up as though she were no lighter than Jimmy, and Milly followed him upstairs, where she tucked Elsie into bed as though she were a child. As she fell into an immediate sleep, Bertie looked on while Milly undid her hair from its severe tie, letting it fall loose on the pillow. Then going to her chest of drawers, she brought out the prettiest bow she could find and fastened it in Elsie’s hair.

  ‘She loves a pretty ribbon,’ she explained, looking up at Bertie with tears streaming down her face.

  Bertie put his arms round her and they crept downstairs together. He quietly closed the kitchen door behind them, so that Elsie wouldn’t be disturbed, and held Milly close.

  ‘Don’t cry, Milly. It’s not your fault, you know,’ he said, holding her away from him and looking intently into her eyes.

  ‘I know, but it breaks my heart I couldn’t keep her out of that place and sometimes I think, if only I’d given her the money for that bloody dress!’

  ‘But you didn’t have the money.’

  It was the plain truth, and for an instant gave her relief from the punishing cycle of guilt she’d got herself into, since her first visit to Stonefield.

  ‘But what are we going to do with her? How can we let them take her back there? It would kill her.’

  Bertie sat down, pulling her into his lap. ‘We’ll think of something. She’s safe here for a while.’

  ‘But she can’t stay here. What sort of a life can she live? She’ll be forever looking over her shoulder, waiting for someone to report her. And besides, Bertie, you want to be a councillor one day. How’s it going to look if you’ve been hiding a criminal?’

  He shook his head dismissively. ‘They’ll go to Arnold’s Place first. They might not even think to come here. How would they know that you live in my house?’

  She hadn’t thought of that. She jumped up. ‘I’d better get round me mum’s and warn her!’

  But he caught her before she could dash out. ‘Hold up, you’re best to stay with Elsie and Jimmy. I’ll go.’

  He put on his jacket and trilby hat and she smoothed his collar, then let her hand rest gently on his cheek.

  ‘You look tired, love,’ she said, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, and suddenly remembering how serious he’d looked earlier when he’d arrived home.

  ‘You never told me what we needed to talk about.’

  He kissed her on the cheek. ‘That can wait, duck, best get a move on!’

  While he was gone, she sat beside the fire, making a little winter coat for Jimmy. Sewing usually calmed and distracted her, but tonight she was getting little done, and, more often than not, the material fell to her lap as she imagined how her mother would take the news. She would probably want to rush round to see Elsie, but Milly only hoped Bertie would be firm with her. Nothing went unnoticed in Arnold’s Place and once the news of Elsie’s return was common knowledge, it would soon filter down Tooley Street to Tower Bridge nick. And she should have told Bertie not to say a word if the old man was there... but he wasn’t stupid. She sewed a button on to the wrong side of the coat and gave up in exasperation. Eventually she heard him open the front door.

  ‘She wouldn’t take no for an answer!’ he said as she gave him a withering look.

  ‘My child needs me!’ Her mother began unbuttoning her coat. ‘And may I not move from this spot till I’ve seen her! Now you take me to her.’

  She’d come out dressed still in her old apron and slippers. Poor Bertie, Milly should have known he’d be no match for her mother, when it came to one of her set of jugs.

  Milly led her upstairs and watched as her mother sat gently on the side of the bed, taking Elsie’s hand and kissing it over and over. ‘Oh, me poor baby,’ was all she said. ‘I swear, Milly, sometimes I’ve felt like murdering that old bastard for what he’s done to her, and if he dropped down dead tomorrow, I wouldn’t be sorry. No, as God’s my judge, I wouldn’t.’

  Milly joined her mother at the bedside. Stroking her daughter’s hair back from her head, Mrs Colman smiled. ‘Did you put the bow in her hair?’

  ‘Yes, it makes her look more herself.’

  ‘You’re a good sister, and don’t let her tell you any different. She’ll want to be blaming you for everything, but don’t you listen to her.’

  Their mother knew them all so well, knew them and loved them in spite of their faults. Milly only hoped that she would be as understanding to Jimmy as he grew up. Right now, he was perfect, but she had no illusions he would stay that way.

  Elsie stirred, her eyes fluttered open and she saw her mother. For a moment, confusion clouded her face. Then realizing she was home, she sat up, threw her arms round her mother’s neck and sobbed.

  Ellen Colman couldn’t be coaxed from Elsie’s side, so she slept in the bed with her and next morning, very early, she left, so as to be home before Amy woke. Milly still wasn’t sure what would happen to her, but Elsie seemed to have been restored by their mother’s visit. It was an almost visible change, as if suddenly there was more flesh on her bones. There was certainly a brightness in her eyes that had been absent yesterday.

  ‘I’m going to Mass, and Bertie’s going to chapel. Will you be all right on your own?’ she asked. ‘Don’t, whatever you do, go out and don’t answer the door to no one, hear me?’

  Elsie nodded, but asked if she could go into the garden. Milly doubted anyone would see her there. Bertie had planted so many climbing roses, which even when bare of blooms still formed a rambling screen round the narrow backyard.

  ‘All right, love, but wrap up in one of my coats if you do. It’s chilly this morning.’ And when Milly came back from Mass, Elsie was still outside. Peeking through the scullery window, she saw her sister passing up and down the garden beds, collecting seed heads in her apron.

  Milly made a point of leaving early for the factory the next day, so that she had time to talk to her mother. She felt like a convict on the run herself as she ran the gauntlet of Arnold’s Place. Women were already up and about, banging carpets, coughing and flinching as dust rose, or standing at front doors gossiping, arms wrapped round themselves against the cold. Some were turning children out of the house, getting them from under their feet, and a few men emerged, slamming doors, ringing hobnailed boots on the paving as they went off to docks and factories.

  Mrs Knight was scrubbing her front doorstep and wanted to talk, but Milly waved and hurried on, keen to avoid any of the normal questions about ‘your poor sister’. Mrs Carney was already making her rounds, picking up bundles for the pawnshop, and she was just emerging from her mother’s house. She was a small woman to be burdened with so many bundles.

  ‘Hello, ducks, I’ve just been telling your poor mother, there’s so many want me services these days, I have to start early, otherwise I’d never get it all done!’ She clucked like a scratching hen. ‘I’m thinking of getting meself a pram to carry it all!’

  Milly didn’t doubt the pawnshop was doing a trade. Southwell’s had already started laying off women, and the crowds of unemployed casuals at the docks, hanging around on the off chance of half a day’s work, were growing by the day. She dodged past the old woman.

  ‘Can’t stop, Mrs Carney, I’ll be late myself!’

  She went in, handing Jimmy over to her mother, before going to the front window. She checked up and down the street, but there was still nothing unusual going on. ‘I reckon you’ll have a copper knocking on your door today, Mum. So remember what I said, not a word about me or Bertie or Storks Road!’

  ‘I know, I know! I’ll just say I’ve not seen hide nor hair of her.’

  ‘Yes, but can you act surprised?’

  ‘’Course I can act surprised. Don’t think I’ve survived all these years with the old man without being able to swear black’s blue and keep a straight face, gawd forgive me.’ She crossed herself.

  ‘Does Amy know?’

  Mrs Colman raised h
er eyes. ‘She spotted me coming in this morning, eventually got it out of me, didn’t she?’

  Milly groaned. ‘That’s it then. It’ll be all over Dockhead by tonight, once she’s told Barrel.’

  ‘Well, I’ve give her the gypsy’s warning.’

  ‘And we know how much notice she takes of that!’ said Milly, thinking of the times Amy had laughed in the face of her mother’s threats. Perhaps she would have to administer her own brand of warning, which Amy usually took more notice of.

  ‘I noticed bruises on her legs,’ she ventured and then wished she hadn’t. Her mother’s eyes filled with tears and her hand covered her mouth.

  ‘I’m at my wits’ end, trying to keep her out of his way. It comes to something when you can’t even protect your own children.’

  Milly knew, more than ever since giving birth to Jimmy, what agonies of remorse her mother must have gone through during all the years of their childhood.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum. I’ve told her to come to me, if it happens again.’

  Her mother gave her a long look, and then a brief nod. Milly took it as unspoken permission to kick her father from one end of Bermondsey Wall to the next, if he laid a hand on Amy again.

  At dinner time she went with Kitty to the café in Tooley Street. It was impossible to talk to her in the factory without someone overhearing them. Once they’d found a table and been served with sandwiches and cups of tea, she leaned forward and whispered, ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with your chap!’

  ‘What’s he done? Wasn’t something wrong with them tins of fruit he give your mum, was there?’

  Milly shook her head. ‘Bob’s sprung Elsie!’

  Kitty’s eyes widened and she choked on her bacon sandwich. She leaned forward.

  ‘She’s out?’

  Milly nodded. ‘She’s in Bertie’s house!’

  ‘Oh, Milly, are you sure it was Bob?’

  ‘He left the bloody gate open for her, Kit! I never told Freddie to do that. I just wanted him to find out from Bob how she was!’

  ‘I don’t think Freddie told him to do it. I’m sure he was just joking that time he mentioned it,’ she said uncertainly. ‘I wouldn’t put it past Bob, though. He’s such a soft ’apporth, he’s likely felt sorry for her and done it on the spur of the moment. But I’ll find out.’

  ‘Well, either way, it’s a bit late now, love, unless he knows some way of smuggling her back in before they notice she’s gone!’

  By the time she picked up Jimmy, it was too late to smuggle Elsie anywhere. Her mother told her she’d given a performance worthy of the films. When the policeman knocked, she’d been indignant, and Milly knew that her mother could do indignant very well. Stonefield, she’d said, was meant to be protecting her child and now she could be anywhere, with no money, no food. What were they going to do about it, she’d demanded, and the young policeman had spent a half-hour drinking dark brown tea and offering apologies, never once suggesting that Mrs Colman could know anything of her daughter’s whereabouts.

  For the rest of that week, Elsie stayed sequestered in Storks Road, seemingly happy to occupy herself helping with laundry and housework. It was almost as though she’d grown so used to being without her freedom that the idea of leaving the house never occurred to her. She seemed simply happy to be home, and happy as well to be in Milly’s company. They sat in the evenings sewing contentedly together, and once her mother brought Amy to see Elsie. Not to be left out, Amy insisted on taking up a piece of sewing herself.

  Mrs Colman looked on wonderingly. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I never thought I’d see me matching set of jugs with not a cross word between ’em!’

  It had been over a week since Elsie came to them, and Milly thought it odd when Bertie came home the following Saturday and suggested they go for a walk in Southwark Park. The weather had turned icy and grey skies threatened snow. It wasn’t a day for a walk in the park. What’s more, Elsie couldn’t risk going out and it seemed mean to leave her alone at home. When Bertie suggested they leave Jimmy with her, Milly grew uneasy. This simply wasn’t like him. Perhaps he was having second thoughts about sheltering Elsie? If he did, then Milly hadn’t a clue what she would do with her sister.

  On the way to the park, Milly slipped her arm through Bertie’s, leaning in to steal some of his warmth, glad at least of some time alone with him. Since Elsie’s arrival they’d hardly had a minute to themselves and even though she saw him every day, she’d missed him. There were plenty of hardy little gangs of children hurtling about when they arrived, but only a few brave couples, who, like themselves, had nowhere else more private to go. Bertie usually walked at an amble, and her long legs always outpaced his, but today he strode, almost at a run, as soon as they entered the park.

  ‘What’s the rush?’ she asked, tugging his arm. ‘Now we’re out, we might as well enjoy the walk!’

  But he didn’t slow down, or even acknowledge her. His face looked set, almost as though he were walking into battle, rather than an afternoon stroll with his sweetheart.

  ‘Bertie, what’s the matter?’ She drew in a breath. ‘Look, if you’ve had enough of Elsie staying, I’d understand. I’ll find somewhere else for her.’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s not that. It’s... Oh, Milly, I’m sorry but...’ He stopped in the middle of the path, seemingly unable to finish his sentence. She’d never seen him so agitated.

  ‘But what? Bertie, spit it out. You’re making me worried now.’

  ‘Milly, I can’t marry you!’ It came out in a rush, his tone harsher than she’d ever heard it. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t marry you.’

  With one deft slice, he had cut the heart from her, as though she were nothing more than a damson, to be stoned and tossed into a basket. She seemed to be looking at herself, cut open, flesh gaping, jagged and torn, an empty cavity where her heart should have been. Desperately wanting the words unsaid, or to have at least misunderstood them, she forced herself to speak.

  ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean, you can’t marry me?’ she said, her voice high and thin, straining against the constriction of her throat.

  He tried to get her to walk on, but stunned to the core, she found herself unable to move. Now she understood why he’d chosen to do it here. He’d probably hoped that in a public place she’d rein in her tears and not make a scene, but he didn’t know her as well as he thought. Decorum had never been one of her strong points and no matter how much he urged her on, she wouldn’t give in but stood stock-still in the path, blocking the way of a young couple, who looked on curiously then hurried round them.

  He laid his hand on her elbow. ‘Let’s go to the flower garden – we can talk better there.’

  She shrugged it off. ‘Don’t tell me I’m showing you up! You should have thought of that, Bertie Hughes, before you asked a common factory girl to marry you!’

  His lips were white in his pale face, she could see him swallowing dryly and, as he spun her towards him, his bright blue eyes turned stormy grey.

  ‘I’m not ashamed of you! And if you’d just let me explain my reason, you’ll understand it’s for the best!’

  ‘For the best!’ Exactly what she’d told Pat, an empty phrase from an empty heart.

  She wished she could feel more anger; it would surely hurt less. But instead she felt utterly betrayed. She knew there was only one way out of her pain. She had to let him speak, let him explain himself, and then persuade him otherwise. She began walking ahead of him, fighting down panic and tears of incomprehension. She had been so sure of him, sure of his goodness, sure that they could overcome all the obstacles of class and temperament, but now all her certainty proved as insubstantial as the flurries of snow whipping around the bare trees, melting on her face like so many cold tears. At the flower garden, she headed for a secluded arbour. Hugging her long wrap-around coat tightly to her, she put up the collar against a sharp breeze cutting across the beds. Bertie sat beside her, leaning forward, hands clasped so tightly that she could se
e his knuckles whiten.

  ‘Remember, just before Elsie turned up, I said I had something to tell you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’ve been so caught up with Elsie, I forgot all about it.’ She found she was holding herself rigid against the cold and against the words that Bertie was speaking, so that she trembled with the effort to keep still. ‘So you’ve been wanting to call it off ever since then?’

  He shook his head. ‘No! I don’t want to call it off, but I have to!’ he said in an agonized voice.

  ‘But why? What’s changed? Don’t you love me any more?’ she whispered, with a sob.

  His hand found hers. Still looking straight ahead, his fingertips lightly brushed her own. ‘I’ll never stop loving you, Milly, but something’s happened that means I can’t offer you the life I thought I could, not any more...’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘My uncle’s disowned me.’

  She almost wanted to laugh, so relieved that he still loved her, that it wasn’t something she’d done.

  ‘Why’s he disowned you?’ He lowered his eyes, and she knew why. ‘Because of me?’

  He nodded miserably. ‘He came to the shop, told me if I married you it would disgrace the family, said I had to choose. I could either have a common jam girl, or I could have his shops when he died, but I couldn’t have both...’

  ‘So you chose the shops,’ she said, all her relief vanishing in the face of his stark choice. He’d promised to stay with her forever, but if he could break faith with her for money, then perhaps he wasn’t the man she thought he was.

  ‘Strike me dumb!’ he said, angry with her now. ‘Do you think I’d take a penny from that man again? Marry or not, I’m finished with him, with them all. Uncles, aunts, cousins, all of them too up their own arses to remember where the family’s come from, a hovel in the sticks!’ His face grew red, and his eyes blazed beneath winged eyebrows, drawn into a sharp frown. ‘The brass of him, talking like that about my future wife. I told him he couldn’t pay me enough to stay in his shop. So the upshot is, love, I’ll be out of work from next week.’