‘Jimmy seems to have it all worked put, doesn’t he?’ she said, her face set. ‘And as you say, he’s very clever. How many men could find a woman with her own business and able to provide him with a roof over his head. God!’ she laughed derisively, ‘he must think Christmas has come early this year.’
Hearing the scornful words brought Liz’s back straight, and seeing she wouldn’t be able to persuade Maggie she swiftly changed her tack, ‘If you hadn’t given away £20 of our money, we could have afforded our own place, but seeing as you have, it’s only fair that we live here for a while, just until we see how things work out.’
Maggie felt her hackles rise but determined to keep calm she said evenly, ‘For the last time, Liz, it wasn’t our money, and I’m not making any more apologies for giving it back. As for us all living here, the answer’s still no. If your Jimmy’s so clever, he won’t have any trouble finding a place for the two of you, especially if you set up another stall to help pay for it. Now, I don’t want to talk about it any more, we’re late as it is and I—’
‘Oh no, mustn’t be late, must you?’ Liz cut in, her voice sneering. ‘Mustn’t be late meeting your fancy friends, they might decide not to wait, and that would never do, would it?’
Refusing to be drawn further into a row, Maggie calmly pulled her gloves on, saying lightly, ‘I’m not arguing with you, Liz, the matter’s closed. Although why you’d want to live here with me and Charlie is beyond me. You could use the money from our nest-egg to start you off, surely that would be a better idea.’ But even as she said the words she knew the reason behind Jimmy’s planning. From the start he had made it plain he wanted her, and when she had made it equally plain she wasn’t interested, he had switched his attentions to Liz. But still he tried to get close to Maggie at every given opportunity. She had long since given up sitting on the sofa when he was in the room, and had taken to using the armchair to stop him from getting next to her. But that hadn’t deterred him. Now he simply sat on the arm of her chair, his arm accidentally brushing across her chest at every opportunity. Even if she remained standing she would feel his eyes boring into her wherever she went, his gaze seeming to strip the clothes from her body. She shuddered at the thought. Surely Liz must have noticed, or was her sister so besotted she was turning a blind eye to what went on under her nose? Jimmy reminded her of a dog following a bitch in heat, and again she shuddered. The envelope containing the bank-note was lying on the table, and putting it into her bag she walked towards the door. She had decided on this course of action early on; it saved embarrassment if the money was concealed and gave an air of respectability to the meetings.
She was about to open the door when Liz’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
‘It’s all right for you,’ Liz said bitterly, ‘you’ll never have to worry about getting a man. You’ve already got two eating out of your hand. You attract everything in trousers without even trying; the stallholders, customers, even my…’ She broke off, turning her back so that Maggie couldn’t see the tears that had sprang to her eyes. Maggie looked at the rigid back, her mouth open in amazement at the outburst, then her eyes clouded over with pity. So Liz knew about Jimmy, and was still prepared to marry him and bring him here to live rather than take the chance of losing him. Poor Liz, poor, poor Liz.
Putting out her hand she touched Liz’s arm and her voice gentle now, she asked, ‘Why, Liz? Why marry him if you know he’s only…’ She couldn’t finish what she had started to say, but Liz did it for her. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand she turned to face Maggie.
‘Using me? That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it? Well, I’ll tell you why. I’m plain and fat, and he’s the only man ever to take any interest in me, let alone ask me to marry him. It’s probably the only chance I’ll ever get to have a husband and family of my own. Women like me can’t afford to be too particular.’
‘No, oh, no, Liz, you’re being too hard on yourself. You’re not plain, no you’re not,’ she repeated loudly, refusing to let Liz contradict her. ‘As for being fat, well, you lost weight before, didn’t you? You can do it again. You’re worth more than the likes of Jimmy Simms. Liz, don’t throw your life away. There’ll be other men, men who’ll want you for yourself, not for what you can give them, please, Liz, think about it.’
‘I have thought about it, Maggie, and I’ve made up my mind.’ Liz’s voice was sombre. ‘I’m 21 years old, and until Jimmy came along, I thought I’d spend the rest of my days alone. Because, let’s face it, sooner or later you’ll meet someone, that’s if you haven’t already.’ She glanced sharply at Maggie. Seeing the frown that passed over her sister’s face she added good-humouredly, ‘And as for me losing weight, well, I didn’t have much choice, did I? We were all bloody starving if you remember.’
‘Maggie…’ the pleading note was back in her voice. ‘Please, do this for me. I know I could use the money we’ve saved to tide us over, but… but Jimmy says he doesn’t want to use our money, he’d rather earn it for himself. He’s got his pride, has Jim, all he wants is a chance to make a living. We could move in with Mrs Simms, I know she’d have us, but, oh, Maggie I’d much rather stay here with you.’ Her eyes gazed at Maggie imploringly. ‘Please, do this for me. It won’t be for long, a year at the most. Once me and Jimmy have got a few bob saved we’ll move out, I promise you.’
Maggie looked into the pleading face and sighed heavily. What could she say? Even the thought of living under the same roof as Jimmy Simms caused her stomach to tighten. Yet if she refused and he moved on, Liz would never forgive her. Furthermore, if Liz didn’t meet anyone else then she, Maggie, would feel obliged to remain with her sister for the rest of their lives. Still, if they did move in here at least she could keep an eye on her elder sister. Maggie had a strong feeling that if Liz went ahead with her plans to marry Jimmy Simms, she would need a friend – and what better friend than her own sister? She’d just have to make sure she was never alone with her future brother-in-law.
Tying the ribbons of her bonnet under her chin she looked steadily at the anxious face in front of her and said quietly, ‘Just for a year, Liz, no longer. Charlie’s getting too big to have to share a bed with me, he’s…’
‘Oh, thank you, Maggie, thank you.’ Liz was ecstatic, her round face beaming with gratitude and relief. ‘You won’t regret it, I promise you, you won’t regret it.’
Twirling around gaily she picked up one of the bundles of clothing that lay by the door, leaving the smallest one for Maggie to carry. Their arms full, they left the house. The sun was just beginning to rise as they joined the waiting Charlie on the pavement, and without a word they began to pile the clothes onto the cart.
‘Gawd, I thought you two were never coming out,’ Charlie exclaimed, stamping his feet to keep warm.
‘Would you mind walking on ahead of me, Maggie?’ Liz asked self-consciously. ‘I thought maybe I’d go and see if Jimmy’s awake, you know, to tell him about…’
‘Yes, all right, but don’t take all day about it. I don’t want to have to hang round the market waiting for you, I’ve got my own work to do.’ Maggie cut her off impatiently. She was already regretting her decision, but the sight of Liz hurrying down the street bursting with happiness created in her a feeling of helplessness. She couldn’t go back on her word now, yet the need to release the tension that seemed to be consuming her entire body was overpowering.
Turning to the unfortunate Charlie she snapped, ‘Well, don’t just stand there gawping, we’re late enough as it is.’ Charlie shot his sister a startled glance. It wasn’t like Maggie to be bad-tempered, and why was Lizzie going to see Jim this early? He was tempted to ask what the matter was, then seeing the set look on her face he decided against it. His shoulders hunched, he pushed the laden barrow over the bumpy cobbles, his eyes flickering every so often to the dejected figure by his side. Then suddenly comprehension dawned. Of course, the two gentlemen were going away tomorrow, somewhere abroad so Maggie had said, and
they wouldn’t be back for months. His face cleared. So that’s why Maggie looked so miserable, this was the last time she was going to see them. Whistling under his breath Charlie concentrated on the street ahead. He felt sorry for Maggie, for he knew how much she enjoyed her Saturdays outside the park, but he wouldn’t be sorry to see an end to them. Even though the two men had always tried to make him feel at ease, he had never quite managed to feel comfortable in their presence. It still didn’t explain why Liz had dashed off to see Jim, but he wasn’t bothered about what his eldest sister did. Maggie was the only one who mattered to him.
Maggie trailed alongside the barrow, her forehead furrowed with thought. She had planned to make the most of today, to try and cram as much as possible into the precious hour that would be her last. And now the entire day was ruined. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if Liz left her to set up the stall while she dallied with her precious Jim. She felt her lips tighten in anger and despair. Damn Liz, and damn Jimmy Simms. Why couldn’t he have remained at sea instead of intruding into their lives? And all that tripe about him being too proud to use their money to set him and Liz up was a load of rubbish. Maggie couldn’t see him putting himself out to start a business of his own; more likely he was planning to live off their savings for as long as possible, while she and Liz carried on working. And the way he drank the money they had worked so hard for would soon be gone, and him along with it, if she was any judge of character.
Well, one thing was for sure, the day they got married she was going to take half of the money from the tin box beneath the floorboards and hide it somewhere safe. If Liz was happy to give her share of their nest-egg to him that was up to her, but she’d be damned if she was going to let him get his grubby hands on hers.
So lost in her thoughts was she, she didn’t realise they had arrived at the market until the sounds and smells assailed her ears and nostrils. Keeping her eyes skinned for an opening, she walked down the middle of the road careful to avoid stepping on the squashed tomatoes and fruit that littered the cobbles. Both sides of the road were already filled with stalls and barrows displaying their wares, their owners ready and waiting for the first customers of the day. Some of the more established market traders had canopies placed high over their stalls to protect their wares from the elements, but these were few and far between.
Behind the stalls on the pavement stood rows of open-fronted shops where goods of finer quality could be purchased by those fortunate enough to afford it. Because of the vast selection, Whitechapel Road was one of the busiest markets in London. Passing by a stall piled high with boots and shoes, Maggie made a mental note to get Charlie another pair of boots – he could do with a spare pair. Holding onto the side of the cart, they continued to make their way down the road, their noses wrinkling at the overpowering smell of fish and stale cabbage that seemed to fill the air, while answering greetings from the many friends who called out to them.
Just as Maggie was beginning to panic, Charlie shouted, ‘Over there, Maggie, between Fred an’ Ma Jenkins.’ Quickly they pushed the barrow into the empty space, their cheeks puffed out in relief.
‘Wot ya, Mags, no Liz today, ain’t she well or summfink?’
Fred Thompson grinned at her over the top of his fruit and vegetable laden barrow, a battered cap set on the back of his head and the inevitable cigarette dangling from his lips. Old Fred was a man of indeterminate age, his lined face always cheerful and his voice never seeming to grow hoarse, despite his constant yelling to the crowds that thronged the long, winding street. In spite of her bad mood, Maggie felt herself returning his grin.
‘She’ll be along later, Fred. I’m just going to get the stall ready for her – she shouldn’t be long.’
While Charlie went to fetch the thick plank of wood and four orange crates that served for their stall from the grocery store a few shops down the road, Maggie began to fold the clothing into a tidy pile.
‘Don’t know why yer bothering wiv that, love,’ Ma Jenkins called out to her. ‘They won’t stay that way fer long. Most a the buggers just rummage through the lot fer summfink ter do. Got no respect fer ovver people’s fings, some a them. Lizzie just bungs the ’ole lot on the stall and lets ’em ’elp themselves.’
Maggie’s mouth settled into a grim line. That lazy cow. Liz had promised to lay out the clothes neatly to make a better impression. She might have known her sister wouldn’t put herself out if she didn’t have to.
‘’Ere, don’t look like that, love. It ain’t worth the effort trying ter arrange ’em nice. The people wot come down ’ere ain’t looking fer fancy displays, they just want a bargain.’
‘She’s right, Mags,’ Fred chimed in. ‘And Liz don’t do too bad, yer know. She can shout and ’aggle wiv the customers as well as any of us. She works ’ard, Mags, so don’t be too ’ard on ’er when she gets ’ere, eh? After all, yer wouldn’t like it if she told yer ’ow ter run your part of the business, now would yer?’
The muscles in Maggie’s face relaxed. ‘No, you’re right there, Fred. And look, could you remind Liz to bring home some potatoes and a bit of fruit, we’re running low.’
‘Don’t yer worry, Mags, I’ll put ’em aside now. And it’ll be me best, no rubbish fer me two favourite girls. Yes, missus, an’ what can I get fer yer? I got some lovely Cox’s, came up from Kent this mornin’ they did. Oh, oranges is it? Well now, love, yer won’t find any better than ole Fred’s.’ Fred had turned to a customer, his nimble hands tipping four large oranges into the woman’s basket.
Maggie turned to face Ma Jenkins, her eyes twinkling with laughter. ‘Up from Kent this morning,’ she whispered to the old woman. ‘They must have been travelling all night.’
‘Ah, yer can laugh, Maggie, but ’e’s the best in the business is Fred. Why, ’e could sell a pair a frilly drawers ter a nun if ’e put ’is mind ter it.’ The wrinkly face stared up at the young girl as if daring her to contradict her words.
Smothering a laugh with the back of her hand, Maggie leant towards the old woman. ‘And where did your cakes and biscuits come from, Ma – Harrods?’ she teased the indignant woman.
‘I’ll give yer ’Arrods, yer sarky little cow. I bakes me own, an’ well you know it.’ The black, crochet shawl she always wore over her head and shoulders slipped, revealing wispy white hair. With a swift movement the elderly woman pulled the edge of the shawl back into place over her head. Maggie looked at the stall laid out with cakes and biscuits of every description, her eyes lingering on a box of chocolate-covered cakes.
‘Sorry, Ma, only joking, I wish I could bake, it would save me having to buy them.’
‘Listen ter her. First she insults me, then tries ter do me out of a living,’ Ma retorted quickly, her natural good humour coming to the fore. The two women were still laughing when Charlie returned, the wooden plank held awkwardly under one arm, while manoeuvring the four stacked boxes along with his foot.
‘Mr Ball says he’s putting ’is price up ter a shilling a week. He says ’is back yard’s getting too crowded, an’ if we want ter leave the stall there in future, we’ll ’ave ter pay more.’
‘A shilling a week!’ Maggie and Ma exclaimed in unison.
‘Why that old skinflint, yer bit a wood and boxes can’t take up that much room. Yer ain’t gonna pay it, are yer, Maggie?’
Maggie shook her head angrily. ‘No I’m not. We’ll load them on the barrow in future and take them home with us. It was handy having them stored – it’s awkward loading them onto the barrow with the clothing, it makes the barrow harder to push. I didn’t mind paying sixpence a week, but I’m definitely not paying a shilling. It’s daylight robbery, the tight old sod.’
Another outburst from Ma was interrupted by the arrival of two woman at her stall. Giving Maggie’s arm a reassuring squeeze she turned to her customers.
Ten minutes later the makeshift stall was covered with an assortment of dresses, blouses and skirts and still there was no sign of Liz.
‘Where th
e hell has she got to? She promised she wouldn’t be long. If I have to stay here all…’
‘Ere she comes now, Maggie. You ain’t gonna start a row, are yer?’ Charlie asked anxiously.
‘No, I won’t start a row,’ Maggie muttered, her teeth clenched.
‘Sorry, Maggie, I didn’t mean to be so long. You’d better get started or you won’t get much work done today.’ Liz was standing by the stall, her face dreamy as she remembered the time spent with her Jimmy. Charlie looked at Maggie’s face and quickly grabbed hold of her arm, steering her away from Liz.
‘Come on, Maggie, we’d better get going,’ he pleaded, knowing that if he didn’t put some distance between his sisters there would be an argument. Darting a baleful glance at Liz’s back, Maggie called out her goodbyes to Ma and Fred before striding off down the road. Gripping the handles of the now empty barrow a relieved Charlie followed the retreating figure.
Twelve
In sharp contrast to Maggie’s mood, Harry was feeling positively euphoric as he studied the contents of the letter before him.
‘Good news I trust, sir?’ enquired Benson who was standing by his side, a large silver coffee pot in his hand.
‘Indeed it is’, Harry replied happily, the smile on his lips almost splitting his face into two. Putting down the letter he pointed to a small document lying on the table and said, ‘You see before you a man of property, Benson. What do you think of that, eh?’
‘I’m very pleased for you, sir’, the old man answered gravely, his looks belying his words. ‘Will you be requiring breakfast, sir?’ he added solemnly. Looking into the weathered face, Harry contained the urge to burst into laughter. The lack of enthusiasm in the butler’s face and voice came as no surprise to Harry. Compared to a judge and a doctor, a man of property must appear to Benson a very lowly trade indeed. For a moment Harry felt his spirits dampened, then he shook his head and smiled. Every man had his calling, and he had never been destined to spend his days enclosed between four walls, no matter how exciting or worthy the occupation. He was very proud of his father’s and Hugh’s profession, but their kind of life wasn’t for him. Now, finally, he had found his own niche, and he knew there would be many eyes on him waiting to see how he handled his new-found responsibility.
A Handful of Sovereigns Page 15