by Carol Rivers
‘Happy birthday, gel,’ Lil said as she cut the fruit cake covered in pink icing and handed it out.
‘Happy birthday.’ Danny gave her a lovely brown pair of woollen gloves.
‘Just what I wanted,’ Lizzie gasped.
‘I know, don’t I?’ he grinned. ‘Can’t have my girl going around with frozen fingers.’
Everyone had been so kind. Lil had given her a long woollen scarf that smelled faintly of mothballs but was very warm, Ethel the sewing box and Danny the gloves. Flo had made a special card at school, with a pretty lace edging. Even Babs had given her a navy blue hair ribbon. Earlier that day her father had given her a photograph of Kate. Her mother looked very young, dressed in a white cap and apron and a long black dress, the uniform of service. The date on the back was 1895. Her mother had been fourteen. With tears in her eyes, Lizzie had hugged him. She knew the photograph was precious and hadn’t been given away lightly.
When Flo returned, she hobbled in and showed off her bandaged knee. ‘Dr Tapper said it wouldn’t ’urt, but it did,’ she proudly told Rosie and Timmy. The little kids squealed in horror.
Babs tried to catch Lizzie’s eye. She went to sit beside Frank in the front room. Lizzie ignored the little display of airs and graces. She wasn’t going to let anything upset the apple-cart tonight. Not even Vinnie’s absence. Bert arrived at seven with a box of fruit and pushed it into her arms. The apples and pears were polished like marbles. It made the perfect end to her day.
‘Don’t forget to think about the job,’ Ethel said at nine o’clock when she pushed the kids up the stairs to bed. They were staying at Lil’s overnight and still full of beans.
‘Yeah, thanks Ethel. I’ll let you know.’
‘I’ll wait on the cart,’ Frank told Danny as everyone filed out of Lil’s house. Frank bent down to kiss Lizzie. She quickly turned her cheek. She felt a bit guilty as she moved sharply away; after all, he had been kind enough to take Flo to the doctor’s.
‘Thanks, Lil. I had a lovely time.’ Lizzie gave Lil a big hug.
‘You’re worth it, gel.’
When Lizzie and Danny were alone on the doorstep of number eighty-two, he took her in his arms. ‘I love you, sweetheart,’ he murmured.
‘I love you too, Danny.’ Lizzie looked up at him. In the darkness, she tried to read his expression, but when Benji moved outside Vi’s he let her go.
She watched him turn then and stride across the road. One agile spring and he was up on the cart. She heard Frank urge Benji on and soon they were vanishing into the darkness. Lizzie swallowed. She was trying very hard not to let the tears fall in case any of the kids was still up.
Chapter Twelve
Seven days later, there was a tap on the door.
‘Mornin’, Lizzie.’ Frank stood there in his overcoat.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lizzie’s heart was beating fast. ‘It’s Danny, isn’t it?’
Frank nodded as he stepped in. ‘He went to sign on a boat this morning and told me to give you this.’ Frank took an envelope from his pocket. ‘He’s loading coal to pay for his passage, but he don’t know how far he’s gonna get on this city vessel. Italy, he hopes. Then he’ll board another ship. Soon as he lands he’ll cable you.’
Lizzie slipped the letter in her pocket. She didn’t want to read it in front of Frank. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ she asked.
‘If it ain’t no trouble.’ Frank followed her to the kitchen.
He sat down and Lizzie put two enamel mugs on the table. She was trying to ignore the panic growing inside her. Danny had gone. She had been dreading this day and now it had come.
‘I dunno what to say,’ Frank muttered. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘No, thanks all the same.’
‘Are you all right for veg? I’ve got some nice King Edwards coming in tomorrow. Dad’s bringing a load back from Covent Garden on the cart. Guaranteed no frost bite. Bert can fetch a few home for you.’
She knew Frank was making conversation, trying to take her mind off Danny. He leaned his arms on the table. ‘Danny said I should ask you if you wanted a job in the shop.’
She sat down quickly. ‘Danny said that?’
Frank nodded. ‘Dad needs someone on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, ’cos I’m gonna take the barrow up the market.’
‘But Bert will be at the shop, won’t he?’
Frank moved uncomfortably. ‘Yeah . . . well, that’s the point, really. I don’t like to say it, but the truth is, Bert ain’t no brain of Britain. He’s all right when it comes to humping stuff, but a dead loss at figures. Me dad’ll wants someone a bit quick at totting up.’
Lizzie didn’t know what to say. She had been thinking about the job at Rickards, but it was too far. She couldn’t look after the family and hold down a responsible job, whereas three days a week in a greengrocer’s would be just right. She could do with the extra bit of money, too.
‘Anyway,’ said Frank when she gave no reply, ‘think about it. No rush.’ He gulped his tea and stood up.
In silence she accompanied him to the door. ‘Well, cheerio, gel. See you soon.’
‘Bye, Frank.’ She watched him walk down the street. A deep sense of loneliness filled her. When would she see Danny again?
Up in the bedroom, she took out the letter. ‘My Darling Lizzie,’ he wrote, and her heart fluttered. ‘I wish that I could say goodbye, but I’ve heard news of a ship wanting a crew and I’m going to try to sign on. If I’m successful, by the time you read this I shall be on my way, missing you with all my heart. But I intend to strike it rich in Australia and save enough money to come home a wealthy man. You know I had to do this. The shop is not my line, Frank is the man for that. Be assured that I leave England with one regret, that you are not by my side. I’ll write and I hope you will write to me, and if things change for you then tell me and somehow I will make it possible for you to join me. Meanwhile, I’ll prove to you that a costermonger’s son is worth his weight in gold. Until I write again, all my love, Danny.’
She read the letter again and again. He hadn’t mentioned anything about her working in the shop. Perhaps there wasn’t the time. She tried to take comfort from his words, but what comfort was there in a separation that might last many years? Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes. She thought of the days when she went to market with Pa, eager for the sight of the barrow and Danny. How he could make her laugh and forget her worries. Tell her jokes and give her hot roasted chestnuts to eat. And how, that day, when he asked her to go out with him, she had imagined sitting in the Lyric way up in the gods.
She folded the letter slowly. ‘Oh, Danny,’ she sighed, ‘what am I going to do without you?’
And then she seemed to hear Ma’s voice again. The soft voice always came to her when she felt low. A voice that told her there was only one thing she could do. Dry her tears and start all over again.
Two weeks later, Lizzie was pegging out the washing. The air had a bite to it that still recalled winter, yet a wide blue sky and the occasional sparrow hopping from tree stump to gutter and flirting with a twig or two indicated the beginning of spring.
‘Hello, ducks,’ Lil called over the fence. ‘Saw you out here, so I thought I’d come and say hello. A bit parky, ain’t it?’
‘It’s freezing, Lil. Doubt if the washing will dry.’ Lizzie pushed a peg over the steaming sheet and joined Lil at the fence. Their hot breath billowed up in the frosty air.
‘I popped in last week, like I said I would, to chat to yer Pa,’ Lil commented. ‘Dunno that he was too pleased to see me though.’
‘Thanks, Lil. It puts me mind at rest when I’m at the shop. And I really appreciate you keeping an eye on Flo for me till I come home.’
‘Does yer dad go out at all these days?’
‘Last time was weeks ago, with Bert, up Island Gardens. He won’t even let me clean his room properly. And he don’t like me helping him to dress no more, or clean his stumps.’
‘Well, anythi
ng I can do to help, let me know. By the way . . .’ Lil lowered her voice and leaned over the fence. ‘I saw your Vinnie the other day, up Poplar High Street. He was with that Mik Ferreter. A shifty looking bugger if ever I saw one. To be honest, love, your brother was always a magnet for trouble, even as a kid. I remember when he started to mix with that bunch from Limehouse. Worried the life out of your poor Ma. Even my two lads, who I’ll admit were no angels, wouldn’t knock around with them.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘Ma must have been really worried.’
‘It was that bloody war,’ Lil remarked acidly. ‘Vinnie might have stood a chance if yer Pa had been at home and told them all to piss off They stood in silence for a moment until Lil shrugged her shoulders. ‘Anyway, how’s the job going? Do you see much of Frank?’
‘No. He goes up the market with the barrow.’
‘Don’t suppose he sells half as many chestnuts as Danny,’ Lil grinned. ‘What’s it like in the shop?’
‘I was a bit nervous but Bill’s very kind. And I like meeting the customers.’
‘Yeah, and the money comes in handy.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘With me and Bert working I can put a bit aside for emergencies.’
‘What about Babs? Is she earning yet?’
‘No, but I might go up to the House and speak to the ladies. Babs is fifteen next month.’
‘And not before time,’ Lil agreed. ‘It’s up to them to give the girl a fair wage. And if Babs don’t ask, then you’ll have to ask for her.’ Lil touched Lizzie’s arm. ‘Ain’t heard nothing from your Danny yet, I suppose?’
‘No. But he said he’d write.’
‘Yeah, he won’t let you down, gel, not Danny.’
Every morning, as soon as she woke, Lizzie wondered where Danny was and what he was doing. Had the boat got to Italy? Had he managed to find another one to Australia?
‘Well, I’d better get cracking,’ Lil sighed. ‘Ethel’s coming over with Tim and Rosie for tea. I’ll pop in and say hello to yer Pa tomorrow whilst yer at the shop.’
Lizzie watched Lil go. A deep pang went through her for Ma. She missed the quiet chats they used to have and the stories Ma would tell her. She missed not being able to confide her feelings about Danny. She wished that she could walk right back in and find Kate standing at the sink, telling her the kettle was on and it would soon be time for a cuppa.
Lizzie had plans for the afternoon. She was going up to the ladies at the House to ask about a wage for Babs. Talking to Lil had made up her mind. She wasn’t going to put it off any longer.
Before she left, she took a tray of food in to her father. ‘I think Babs should be paid a wage,’ she told him. ‘I’m going up to have a word with the ladies.’
‘Take the key off the string,’ he told her. ‘I don’t want no one coming in.’
‘Why don’t you come with me, then?’
‘Me legs are giving me gyp,’ he muttered, turning his chair to face the window.
Well, it was up to him, she told herself as she plaited her thick black hair, put on Ethel’s hat and combed out the curls on her forehead.
It was bright and breezy outside; all the washing would be dry when she got back. What would Miss Hailing say when she asked for money, she wondered? She wasn’t asking for charity. It was a puzzle as to why the ladies hadn’t offered to pay Babs before. Lizzie felt within her rights to ask, but even so, she didn’t like having to.
The gates of the rope factory were closed. A queue of men stood at the entrance waiting for work. Times were hard and the poor and hungry waited days on end for work. Bert was lucky to have the job at the shop. Would she rather see Vinnie lined up here or working for the bookie? Ma had always said you couldn’t feed a family or pay the rent on principles. Was that why she had always accepted Vinnie’s money?
Hailing House was a large red-brick property set back from the road. Twice weekly it opened its doors to the community. Men, women and children queued on the pavement outside for their bowl of soup. ‘The Slummers’, as the ladies were known, returned to their country seats at the weekend, having done their good work.
Lizzie had gone to the House with Ma, to attend the sewing classes. It was a treat to be welcomed by Alice the maid and escorted to the sewing room at the back of the House, where all the women of the island would gather for the busy sessions.
Lizzie walked up the wide, spotlessly clean steps. She gave two sharp raps on the brass knocker. When the door opened Babs stood there.
‘What are you doing here?’ Babs demanded. She wore a blue corduroy dress and a pair of shiny black patent shoes. Her red hair was pulled neatly back from her face and tied in a ribbon.
‘I thought you helped in the kitchens,’ Lizzie burst out. ‘‘Why are you dressed like that?’
‘None of yer business,’ Babs retorted. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’ve come to see Miss Hailing.’
‘Well you can’t. The ladies are very busy.’
‘Well then I’ll wait.’
‘You can’t do that either. Not looking like that.’
‘What did you just say?’ Lizzie stared at her sister.
‘You’re a disgrace coming here,’ Babs hissed. ‘Look at the state of you. I could lose me job over this, you selfish cow.’
‘Elizabeth, is that you?’ A voice called from inside.
Babs spun round. ‘Miss Annabelle!’
Annabelle Hailing appeared, dressed in a fluffy grey jumper and cardigan. A row of pearls hung round her neck. She wore an elegant wool skirt over silk stockings and fashionable leather shoes.
‘Lizzie ain’t stopping, Miss Annabelle,’ Babs said quickly. ‘She was just passin’. I happened to see her from the window and thought I’d say hello.’
‘I’m sure you’ve time for a cup of tea, Lizzie,’ Annabelle said, opening the door wide. ‘Please come in and leave your coat with Barbara.’
‘Oh, I won’t stop long.’
‘Barbara, tell Alice we have a guest. A pot of tea for two would be very welcome. Oh yes, and some of Cook’s excellent sponge cake, I think. We’ll sit in the drawing room by the fire.’
Lizzie followed Annabelle, ignoring the look of horror on Babs’ face. Why had Babs said she had seen her outside? And what was she doing all dressed up in uniform?
The drawing room had high white ceilings and long, elegant windows. A red velvet couch stood in one corner. The deep red material was the same colour as the drapes. A rose-coloured rug lay over the floor, its edges laced with a fringe. Lizzie thought it looked as though someone had carefully combed it out each day. The antique furniture was all highly polished and sparkling.
‘How is the family?’ Annabelle asked as they sat down in the large fireside chairs.
Lizzie explained about Pa’s depression and a little bit about Danny sailing for Australia and finally leading to her job at Flowers.
‘Oh, I can understand now why you and Flo didn’t come to the Christmas party,’ she said. ‘You must have been very busy indeed.’
Lizzie stared at Annabelle. They had never been invited to the party. Or had they?
‘Ah, here’s tea.’ Annabelle smiled. Though Alice had grey hair, she had a fresh, round face. On the tray were white bone china cups, saucers and side plates, silver forks and spoons wrapped in napkins. On the silver stand was a delicious looking sponge cake.
When Alice had gone, Annabelle cut the cake. ‘I can assure you, Cook’s recipe won’t come anywhere near the high standards of your friend Lil.’
Lizzie wasn’t thinking about cake. She was furiously planning what she was going to say to Babs. It was because of Babs they hadn’t gone to the Christmas party. But what came next was the biggest shock of all, as she heard Annabelle continuing, ‘As you know, Barbara has been asked if she would like to replace Alice, who is retiring. And because Barbara has taken so well to the job, Felicity and I thought it only fair to increase her wage . . . perhaps another two shillings, to four shillings a week?’
&nbs
p; Chapter Thirteen
‘James will drive you home,’ Annabelle insisted.
Lizzie tried to smile but she was furious. Babs had been earning two shillings a week since Ma died. And she had never said a word. The devious cow.
‘I’ve two parcels for you,’ Annabelle was telling her. ‘My young nieces have grown out of their clothes. I thought they might be of some use.’ She rang the bell and Alice appeared. ‘Tell James to bring the car to the front of the house, please, Alice.’
They walked to the front door. ‘James will carry the parcels for you.’
‘Thank you,’ Lizzie said as she left. James was waiting by the big black motor car. He opened the door and she climbed in.
Lizzie had never been in a car before, let alone one driven by a chauffeur. If she could stop being so angry, she told herself, she might enjoy it.
The seat was real leather. The windows were gleaming. The car didn’t seem to be moving it was so smooth. The streets went whizzing by. Everything smelled new.
‘Are you comfortable, Miss?’ James looked in the driving mirror.
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘If you want to open the window, you just turn that handle on the door.’
She wound down the window but soon closed it as the smell of the pickle factory poured in. The dock gates flashed by, then row upon row of dirty houses. When James brought the car to a halt Lizzie glanced at the neighbours’ windows to see if anyone was watching.
James opened the car door and helped her out. ‘Where would you like the parcels?’ he asked.
‘Inside the front door, thank you.’
Just then Flo rushed out from the house. ‘Lizzie, who’s that? What’s he got? What’s in them parcels?’
Lizzie put her hands on Flo’s shoulders. ‘Some new clothes from the ladies.’
‘Did you have a ride in that car?’ Flo squeaked. ‘Can I have one too?’