by Anna Jacobs
He perched on a corner of the desk, grinning. “Oh. I thought you’d know all that—being such a superior sort of clerical worker.”
“Sarcasm is unnecessary, Mr. Cardwell. I shall probably know a lot more by the end of the week. Though,” she frowned at the desk, “with this being in such public view, a modesty panel would be useful.”
“Modesty panel?”
“Yes, a board across the front, so that I don’t need to sit with my knees pressed together all the time.” She couldn’t help smiling at his expression.
He bent to study the desk. “I’ll fit something temporary. But we’ll get you a new desk—put it on your list. Item: one desk. Large and imposing, to impress clients. And you’d better put chairs for customers on your list, too. Sometimes they arrive before I’m ready for them, then the lad has to scrabble round to find them chairs from the kitchen.”
Emma picked up a piece of paper and scribbled on it. “Anything else?”
He shrugged. “A plant maybe. A picture for the wall, too. Not the King and Queen! Whatever we need to make this place look more attractive. You’re a woman—you should have a few ideas about that. Don’t sit down!”
She froze, wondering what on earth had got into him now.
“I’ve got a bit of wood panelling which’ll be just right for your modesty panel.” He chuckled. “If you go and get us all a cup of tea, it’ll be finished by the time we’ve drunk it—well, nearly. I’ll give it a coat of varnish just before I go home tonight.”
“Who’s ‘us all’?”
“Me, Walter, Tim—no, he’s out on a job—and young Ned.”
“Right.” Emma walked through to the kitchen, which was in nearly as bad a state as the first time she’d come here. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she put the kettle on and automatically began to clear up. She and Blanche had learned early on in their stay with the Kershaws that the only way to stay comfortable in cramped surroundings was to keep tidy all the time. Now, it was second nature to her.
When banging noises echoed from the front room, she went to peer through the door and found James Cardwell on his knees in front of her desk attaching a cross piece to the legs. A big panel of wood lay on the floor.
He looked up as she came in. “This be all right for a temporary job? Modest enough for you?”
She ignored that gibe. “It’ll be fine, thank you, Mr. Cardwell.”
When she brought the tea, Walter, who seemed to be a man of few words, tasted it cautiously, then relaxed. “Good.” He took a loud slurp.
James grinned. “You’ll win his heart yet, Miss Harper. Great one for his cuppa, is our Walter.”
She sipped her own tea, still feeling like a stranger. “I hope my duties will include more than making cups of tea and lists of furniture?”
“They certainly will. And when young Ned’s arm is better, you can teach him to make a decent brew-up instead. Your time is more valuable to Cardwell’s. Oh, and will you put an advert in the paper for someone to clean here regularly?”
“Well…” She looked at him cautiously.
“Spit it out.”
“There may be no need to spend money on an advert. One of my landlady’s neighbours works as a cleaner. Mrs. Holden has a personal hatred of dirt, though she’s a bit of a gossip.” Lizzie still hated the Holdens, but Emma thought the mother was an honest soul and struggling like many others to keep her unruly family decent. The eldest daughter had just had to get married and young Mary was boy-mad—unlike Lizzie, who was very immature still in some ways.
“Tell her to come and see me, then. Anything to save myself the cost of an advert.”
Mr. Cardwell was mocking her again. He seemed to have a very wayward sense of humour. She wasn’t sure she liked that. “Very well.”
“But before you do, you’d better decide how often we’ll need her services and how much I’m to pay her.”
Emma inclined her head and took another sip of tea.
Walter gave the panel a kick by way of indicating that it was firmly fixed. “Bit o’ varnish tonight.” Nodding to Emma, he put his cup and saucer on the table and shambled out towards the back.
“Welcome to Cardwell’s, Miss Emma Harper!” James said softly, lifting his cup in a mock toast. “I hope you enjoy working here.”
“I hope I do, too.” She wasn’t at all sure about that, but she was prepared to give it a good try. “Perhaps you’ll explain some of my duties now?”
* * *
The Kershaws celebrated Lizzie’s sixteenth birthday in March 1912 with a cake made by Polly and a few presents. Lizzie felt it appropriate to put her hair up from now on, a sign she considered herself grown-up. She had experimented with hairstyles and, with Polly and Emma Harper’s help, had found a way of fastening her hair neatly on the crown of her head. She was very pleased with the result.
“You look lovely,” Polly said admiringly when her sister came down to show it off on her birthday.
Meg Kershaw stared at Lizzie with a sour expression. “Who said you could put your hair up?”
“I’m sixteen now.”
“Well, I don’t want you putting your hair up yet. You’re too young.”
Lizzie gave her a long, level look, but said nothing.
Meg let out a scornful laugh. “And besides the fact that I haven’t given you permission, it’ll soon fall down and look messy. Your hair always does. Besides, it doesn’t suit you like that, makes your face look even narrower. So you can just take it down and tie it back with a ribbon again.”
“I like it up.” Lizzie stared right back at her mother. “And I’m not taking it down.”
“You’ll do as you’re told.”
“I don’t see why it makes any difference to you. You don’t usually care what I do. You’re just saying that to hurt me.” Fine birthday she was going to have with her mother in this sort of mood.
“How dare you speak to me like that? Who do you think you are?”
When her mother raised her hand, Lizzie stepped back and said quickly, “If you hit me again, I’ll hit you back.” And had to prove that. Which made her mother shriek for Percy.
He came running in from the front room, to find Lizzie, cheeks dead white, with a fierce look in her eyes, standing rigid next to the kitchen table, Polly sobbing quietly in one corner and his mother collapsed in a chair weeping hysterically. He chose to deal with his mother first. “Wait for me in the front room, young lady,” he snapped at Lizzie.
She shrugged and walked out.
“Polly, can you go and play out or something?”
She chose to go upstairs and listen from the landing.
He sat down next to his mother, holding her hand and patting it gently while Meg told her tale. Percy was quite horrified at what she had to say.
When he found Lizzie, sitting in the front room staring stonily into the empty hearth, he burst out, “What on earth got into you? To hit your own mother. Shame on you!” even before he had closed the door behind him.
She didn’t shout at him, or cry, just stared at him.
“Lizzie? Answer me.”
“I will if you’re going to listen to my side of the tale. Or have you judged me guilty and sentenced me to hang already?”
“Anyone would be shocked at a lass hitting her own mother.”
“But not shocked if she hits me?”
“She’s your mother. She has the right.”
Lizzie took a deep breath. “Then perhaps I’d better go and find myself some lodgings, because I’m not putting up with it any more.”
He was bewildered. “Not putting up with what?”
“Mam’s been hitting me for years, Percy, ever since Dad died. You don’t realise how often she does it because she’s a bit careful who’s around when she lets fly. I know she doesn’t like me, though I don’t know why.” She took another deep breath, fighting off tears. “When I turned sixteen I promised myself I wouldn’t let her hit me any more.” Her eyes were bleak and her voice wobbled as she
added, “She has no right to hit me so hard and so often. No right! I don’t do anything to deserve it.”
Percy stared at her. “How often does she hit you?”
“Every couple of days. Hard enough to make bruises, too.” After a moment’s hesitation, she unbuttoned her blouse and showed him her shoulder. A large bruise was just turning yellow. “This one was the final straw, Percy. She had the rolling pin in her hand when she did that. It really hurt and it’s been stiff ever since. I had to tell Mrs. D I’d bumped myself. Mam only hits me when you’re out, and not when our dear lodgers are around, either. So it isn’t just anger, is it? It’s—it’s calculated. She likes hurting me.” When he said nothing, she added, “You don’t have to take my word for it, you can go and ask our Polly. Look at her bruises, too. Mam hits her and Johnny as well, but not as much as she hits me.”
It was a moment before he could form any words, so shocked was he by the size of that bruise. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Lizzie shrugged. “What would you have done?” She waited for a comment, but now he was the one staring into the empty fireplace. “Shall I move out? I’d have done it before but,” her voice faltered, “I don’t think I’m earning enough to pay for decent lodgings.”
He raised his eyes and she was astonished to see them full of tears. “You don’t need to move out, Lizzie. This is your home. I’ll tell Mam I’ve given you a thorough scolding, but that you’re unrepentant. I’ll suggest she asks me from now on if she wants you punished.” He broke off and held out his arms. “Oh, Lizzie love, I’m sorry.”
She nodded, but did not go to hug him. He wasn’t going to tell their mother she was wrong, he was just going to try to stop the beatings. Well, she’d done that already by hitting her mother back. They both knew it. She’d wept about the situation so often, usually sitting out in the lav, that she seemed to have no tears left now. “I’ll do my best to keep the peace, Percy. But I’ll hit her back if she lays one finger on me again. I mean that.”
He came across, pulled her stiff body into his arms and gave her a long hug, rocking her to and fro, and though Lizzie held herself stiffly at first, after a moment she leaned against him and then the tears came.
“I thought…” She sobbed against him. “… I thought you’d agree with her. I thought you m-might turn me out.”
“No, love. You’ve every right to be here. I just try to keep her as happy as I can.”
When Lizzie had dried her eyes, she said quietly, “It’s not fair on you, either. You’re stuck with her now until she dies, because she won’t marry again. Who’d have her? You should be finding yourself a nice girl and getting married.”
“We both know I shan’t be able to do that.”
She sighed and clasped his hand for a minute. “Life isn’t very fair, is it?”
“No. But at least we have enough to eat and a decent roof over our heads, which is more than a lot of other folk have. Pilby’s have let a few chaps go lately, but the foreman told me I’m all right. And Mam keeps this place nice for us, you’ve got to give her that. So we’ve a lot to be thankful for. And you are happy at work, aren’t you, Lizzie love?”
Her face brightened a little. “Yes. Very happy. Me an’ Jack have a bit of fun together. Mrs. D doesn’t mind us enjoying ourselves an’ chatting, so long as the work gets done.”
“I saw you in the park with him last Sunday—with Polly walking behind. It looked like … are you getting a bit fond of Jack?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. “Maybe. I don’t know. I feel older than him sometimes, but we’re good friends and that’s enough for me at the moment. And I’ve got Polly as well as Jack. Me and her are right good pals now.”
Percy looked relieved. “I’m glad for you. Friends are a help.”
“Well, you should know. You’ve got Sam.”
“Yes.” But he had been a bit distant since Percy let him down on that deal. He changed the subject. “It’s been a rotten birthday for you.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s been—useful.”
But from then on her mother did not speak to her at all unless she had to. And Lizzie couldn’t pretend that didn’t hurt. Before there had been occasional patches where her mother hadn’t been so bad with her, but now things were always hostile.
All in all, what with Sam and the situation at home, Percy found it a relief to go out to evening classes. It was his main source of pleasure now and he found that he had not lost his love of learning. Emma had been right about that. He told her so as they walked to and from their classes together.
“I like to keep my brain alive,” she said as they walked back through the moonlit streets.
“Aye.” But his thoughts were on her: her slender ankles, soft hair and dainty ways. She always looked lovely. But he had no right even to think that. So he tried not to look at her too often. And he didn’t think she knew how he admired her.
* * *
Still upset about his mother’s attitude to Lizzie, Percy mentioned the incident to Sam.
“You’ll never change your mam. The best thing your Lizzie could do would be to find herself a chap an’ get wed,” Sam said at once. “Then she’d be able to leave home.” He felt rather angry that Mrs. Kershaw had been bashing the lass he still intended to marry.
“Oh, Lizzie’s found herself someone. But she’s in no hurry to wed him.”
“She’s found herself a chap?”
Percy was surprised by the sharpness of Sam’s voice. “Aye. It came as a bit of a shock to me, too. They grow up quickly, don’t they?”
Sam nodded and forced a smile to his face. “Yes, they do. Er—who is he?”
“Jack Dearden. And it’s nothing definite. They’re just good friends at the moment. They’re both a bit too young to get serious. But they look happy together. I saw them in the park.”
“I should think they are too young. Why, I can still remember her walking along the top of that wall.”
Percy chuckled. “Aye. Silly little fool. But she seems to have settled down a bit lately. Perhaps putting your hair up is good for your brain.”
“Mmm.” Sam liked the way wisps of soft black hair always fell down the nape of Lizzie’s neck, however hard she tried to pin it up neatly. She was getting a womanly look to her now—at last!
He made an excuse to leave the pub early that night and went for a walk round the silent park to think things over. Of course, he wasn’t supposed to be in there at that hour, but he often scaled the gates at night. You couldn’t have a quiet think in the house when Gran was around, nor could you think at work during the day. And Gran was failing lately, getting that shrunken look to her that he’d seen before when an old person was sliding gently towards the end of life.
I’ll wait a bit and see what happens, he decided as he strolled past the little boat pond, too immersed in his own problems to notice the beauty of the moonlight shining on it. Yes, I’ll see how Gran goes an’ I’ll keep an eye on Lizzie. No use rushing into things. Percy may be wrong about the lass courting Jack Dearden. He’s not all that smart where people are concerned. He’s better with his books and figuring, that one is. Sam chuckled. Why he wants to go to classes to learn about looking after money, I don’t know. He’ll never have any, that’s for sure.
But Sam would. Had quite a bit of cash hidden away already. It made him feel good to know it was there if he ever needed it. And no one had ever caught him at his “night job,” because he was very careful indeed and didn’t do places too often—even more careful than Josh, who was a wily bugger.
A little later, as he climbed back over the park wall, he nodded and said aloud, “But I shan’t wait much longer for her. She’s mine an’ she allus has been, an’ no one else is havin’ her.” He didn’t know why he continued to feel so strongly about Lizzie, but he did, so that was that.
* * *
By July of that year, Eva would have spent three years at secondary school, which would qualify her to start training as a t
eacher. She talked things over with Alice Blake, who had recently had some very good news, and then she asked Percy to speak to them both before she approached their mother.
He walked out to the teacher’s little house on the Saturday afternoon, saw Eva’s bicycle standing against the wall and found his sister cosily installed in the sitting room, looking more at home than she ever did in Bobbin Lane.
“Take that chair, Percy. It’s the one we always give to gentlemen callers.” Eva and her teacher exchanged smiles. There was obviously some joke between them about this.
“It’s very comfy.”
Alice smiled at the earnest young man. “A cup of tea, Mr. Kershaw?”
“Thank you. That’d be very nice.”
“And try one of these little cakes. They’re Eva’s speciality.”
He waited for them to tell him what they wanted. He had already guessed it must be be something that would cause more trouble with his mother. Since the confrontation with Lizzie, Mam was quick to take offence at anything and everything, and he’d noticed Polly’s cheek looking reddened once or twice. He’d have to speak out about that if it went on, because Polly wasn’t a naughty little lass. But it was hard to take your own mother to task. Well, he found it hard, anyway.
He accepted the cup of tea, ate a couple of cakes and waited.
“It’s about my future, Percy,” Eva said at last.
“I thought it might be. Time for you to start training as a teacher in the autumn, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’ve done three years of secondary school, and now I have to apply to become a pupil teacher—I can get a small bursary for that, which’ll help. Then after a year as a pupil teacher, I’ll need to go to training college. That’ll—well, it’ll cost more money. And the brewery won’t help any more, nor will Mrs. Pilby.” Alice had asked them.
He suppressed a sigh. “We’ll find the money somehow.”
Miss Blake cleared her throat. “There is an alternative, one which will take the burden off your family and give Eva a better chance to learn how to teach.”