The Women of Lilac Street

by Annie Murray

  Aggie jumped as her grandmother suddenly turned her attention on her.

  ‘We’ve got to do summat about those flaming boots. You can’t go about in them, like that!’

  Aggie’s rubber boots had split all along the bottom on the outer side of the left foot. They didn’t even keep the wet out and although it was spring, her feet were burning with chilblains. She spent her life pretending to herself that her feet did not exist. But she knew what Nanna had in mind. It’d be another pair of charity boots, the leather as hard as anything, chafing the skin round her ankles. All the rubs in the world with tallow fat only made a bit of difference. The thought of more boots made her feel even sadder. Nothing like the beautiful shoes she dreamed of in her mind’s eye, like Mata Hari’s. Or red and sparkly, with a strap and a delicate heel.

  The next morning, Mom was having one of her bad days.

  ‘I knew I should never’ve gone up the shops for so long yesterday,’ she groaned, after another bout of retching. ‘I knew I’d pay for it.’

  Aggie’s spirits sank. She had thought maybe that yesterday was the start of Mom getting better, but today she was even worse, sallow and sick and so weak that she could barely stand. She sank down in the kitchen, face twisted with nausea.

  ‘I’ve got to admit, Mom,’ she said to Nanny Adams, ‘I don’t know where we’d be without you. At least it ain’t the winter.’

  Winter implied another range of chores like unfreezing the scullery tap and helping Mrs Larkin next door with a bucket or two of water as well as making sure the lavatories could be flushed if the pipes were frozen. They all had to help with that. But now the warmer weather was coming.

  The others had gone out about their various businesses. Every spare moment they had they spent carding, sewing a dozen hooks and eyes on to a piece of card ready to be sold in the shops. It was fiddly work and hard to see at night in the light from the gas mantle. By the time they had finished last night Aggie’s eyes had been red and stinging with tiredness. But even Nanna did it with her twisted hands. They all sat round the table, Aggie and Ann who they taught to do it, and Nanna and Mom, when she was up to it.

  Now though, Aggie knew it was almost time to start on the dinners. May was occupied for the moment, running her hands through the box of hooks and eyes which, it seemed to Aggie, never appeared to go down, no matter how many they sewed.

  She crept to the front window and pulled the curtain aside enough to see out. Agnes Green: Spy . . . A lot of children were playing out. She could see the brothers who had tried the knock-knock trick on Phyllis Taylor’s door pushing a contraption along, an orange crate with some wheels fixed roughly underneath. The street was busy and she watched people walking back and fro.

  A familiar pair of figures came into focus, walking towards the house. Aggie felt an inner leap of excitement. Mrs Southgate and Lily! She was still living on the memory of last Sunday’s visit. When the blind man was playing the piano and they were all singing in the cosy room, with Mrs Southgate’s pretty face looking so happy, Aggie thought she’d died and gone to heaven.

  She watched carefully. Mrs Southgate was carrying a cloth bag – and she was coming to their door.

  ‘Mom!’ Aggie ran to the back. ‘It’s Mrs Southgate!’

  The knocking came then.

  Mom was still at the table, her head in her hands. ‘Oh, Lord love us – what does that one want?’

  Twenty-Six

  ‘You open the door, Aggie,’ Nanna said, so she hurried to do it.

  As she opened the door a little way and peeped out, she saw Mrs Southgate in her hat and coat, looking nervously at her.

  ‘Hello, Aggie – is your mother there?’

  ‘She said for me to see who it is,’ Aggie told her.

  ‘Well –’ Mrs Southgate was holding up the bag and seeming about to explain when Aggie heard her grandmother limping up behind her.

  ‘Out of the way, wench – what does she want?’

  Nanna pushed the door further open and stood on the step with her hands on her hips, a fearsome, stout figure with a thick apron over her black dress. Aggie thought Nanna seemed younger all of a sudden.

  ‘Good morning,’ Rose Southgate said. ‘I was only wondering if – well, I’ve got these parsnips, you see. My brother-in-law grows them and he had some over. I’ve had all I want. And—’

  ‘That’s good of yer, ta,’ Nanna said. ‘If you can spare ’em.’ Her face softened a little. Most people’s faces seemed to soften at the sight of Rose and Lily, Aggie noticed.

  Rose hesitated. ‘How is Mr Green? Is there any news?’

  ‘Not to speak of,’ Nanna said. ‘He’s going along – in the infirmary.’

  Rose nodded. ‘The thing is, when I came the other day, I asked your daughter – Mrs Green – whether I could be of any help, what with her being poorly . . . I’d be happy to give you a hand. And I brought something else – for Aggie. Only I don’t want to cause any trouble . . .’

  Standing behind her grandmother’s substantial body, Aggie began to feel excited. What had Mrs Southgate brought for her? Had she heard right?

  ‘Well, it’s true, Jen’s feeling very poorly today. And I’m none too quick on my feet . . .’

  ‘I’d be glad of the company to tell you the truth,’ Rose said. ‘With it just being me and Lily at home – it’s company for her as well.’

  ‘All right. I’ve got plenty to get done – you’d better come in.’

  Aggie ran ahead of them. ‘Mom –’ she said in warning.

  Jen Green looked up to see her mother leading Rose Southgate into her back room. A look of dismay passed over her face, but Freda said, ‘It ain’t no good looking like that. Mrs Southgate’s come to help and you ain’t in a fit state to do a thing.’

  ‘It’s nice to have some company,’ Rose assured her, anxious to please. ‘I’m happy to help.’

  Aggie could see that her mother would soon be on the point of having to be sick again. She leaned forwards with a groan.

  ‘You go up and have a lie-down while you can, bab,’ Freda commanded her.

  ‘Thanks,’ Jen muttered and passed out of the room looking terrible.

  ‘Poor thing,’ Rose Southgate said. ‘Is she always like that? I suppose I didn’t have it too bad with Lily.’

  ‘I’ve never seen her take so bad with it before,’ Nanna said. She was rummaging in the bottom of the cupboard for potatoes. ‘Those parsnips’ll do nicely. It could be twins, I reckon.’

  Rose gasped. ‘Oh – d’you really think so?’

  Nanna shrugged. ‘Well, it does happen.’

  Rose turned to Aggie, seeing her waiting on pins to know what was in the other brown paper bag.

  ‘Here you are, dear. I found these for you. I hope they fit and you, and,’ she turned to Nanna, ‘that you won’t mind?’

  Almost reverently, Aggie took the bag. It felt quite heavy. Ann and May were all agog as well and tried to peep in. Aggie hugged the present to her chest, sparks of excitement lighting in her. It was a pair of shoes! Could it be pretty red ones – could it?

  When she pulled them out, the shoes were brown, sturdy leather with laces, and obviously not new. Aggie stared at them, having to adjust to them not being the lovely shoes of her dreams. She stared at them, her excitement dying a bit.

  ‘Your feet have been looking so sore, dear,’ Rose said. ‘And I knew how busy your mother and Mrs Adams were so I thought these might help – to tide you over, sort of thing. I gave them a little polish for you. Oh – and there’s a little pair of socks in the bag as well.’

  ‘Well, say thank you,’ Nanna said, looking very pleased.

  Aggie sat on the floor and pulled the socks and shoes on. They were in quite reasonable condition and gleaming with polish. Though they were on the big side they were well worn in and surprisingly comfortable. It was a treat to have socks on too and her feet suddenly felt a good deal more content. They looked so much better too! The dream of red glittery shoes faded and she
looked up, smiling.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Southgate. They fit ever so well.’ ‘Very good of you,’ Nanna said. ‘She could do with ’em, that’s for sure. I don’t know how we can repay you, though.’

  Rose beamed, seeming really happy to have pleased everyone. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘I just saw them and thought of Aggie. I hope they’ll be comfortable, dear. Now – what needs to be done?’

  Aggie sat on a chair with May on her lap and Lily beside her and they watched as her grandmother and Rose Southgate cooked the stew for the dinners. Ann got bored and drifted off outside in a world of her own. Around midday, there would be a string of knocks at the door as the men came, handed over their couple of bob and went off with a hot dinner sandwiched between two plates and wrapped in newspaper. Aggie often helped to wrap the warm parcels of plates, which would be brought back later empty.

  Nanna sat herself down on a chair and it was Rose Southgate who nipped about the place, fetching and carrying and helping chop and stir. She seemed very content to be there.

  ‘I could come most days – any time you like,’ she said.

  Nanna looked up at her. ‘Ain’t you got enough to do, then?’

  ‘I’ve got my own house to keep, of course,’ Rose said. She was peeling one of the parsnips she had brought. ‘But I’m very quick at it. I suppose I’m just a fast worker – and I used to be in service, you see.’

  ‘Did you? I’d never’ve thought it,’ Freda Adams said.

  Rose laughed. ‘Why not?’

  Freda looked at her, in a considering way. ‘Now you say it, I don’t know. I s’pose I saw you as a bit of a lady – too good for service, for being someone’s skivvy. Is that where you was till you married?’

  Rose paused for a moment to push her hair back with her arm.

  ‘And after. We only came here a year ago after the man died who I worked for and the house was sold. The old man – he was Professor Mount, a very clever person, and a widower. I’d been there years and he let us live upstairs and carry on working for him.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Nanna said.

  ‘His wife, Mrs Mount, before she died, she taught me to embroider a bit. So I make a little bit of money selling things I make.’ She turned to the girls. ‘I could teach your Aggie if you like. Then she’d always be able to make a little bit, when she needed to. If she takes to it, that is.’

  Aggie bounced with excitement. ‘Oh, yes – can I, Nanna?’

  Her grandmother looked hesitant. ‘We’ve nothing to give yer, what with him being taken bad . . .’

  ‘No, that’s all right. I’ve got some spare bits and pieces. It doesn’t need to be anything fancy at the beginning, just learning the stitches. I’ll teach Lily as well.’

  ‘Well – if you’re happy with the idea,’ Nanna said, smiling suddenly, ‘that’d be nice, wouldn’t it, Aggie? That’s very good of you, Mrs Southgate. I used to be able to sew quite well – but now look at me.’ She held out her swollen-knuckled hands.

  Rose looked pained. ‘They look like hard-working hands.’

  ‘Ar – they’ve been that all right,’ Nanna said. She did not mention that they were about to be again.

  But she found herself telling Rose Southgate something about her life. Aggie sat listening, keeping very still, as they seemed to have forgotten the children were there. Nanna talked about her Sidney. ‘He died in an accident,’ she said, not divulging the whole truth to Mrs Southgate, that Aggie’s grandfather took his own life. She talked about the struggle to bring up her four children alone and Rose looked very sympathetic and said she’d lost her mother young and how their father had not been able to manage and how her sister had been given away . . .

  And suddenly without warning she was weeping over the vegetables, tears running down her smooth cheeks. She reached into her sleeve for a handkerchief.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry! I never meant to do that. I’ve barely even thought about little Maud for years but talking about it brought it all back.’

  ‘That’s a terrible thing,’ Nanna said and she struggled to her feet. ‘Come on – let’s brew up a cuppa. We could all do with one now. You dry your eyes, bab, and we’ll try and think about summat more cheerful.’

  By the time the dinners had all been handed out, Rose and Freda Adams were getting along very well.

  ‘I must be off now and get a bit of dinner for me and Lily,’ Rose said. ‘But I’d be happy to help any day if Mrs Green’s not well. It’s been nice.’ She spoke shyly. ‘Nice to be in a proper family, I mean.’

  Then she turned to Aggie. ‘If you like, you could bring May over again on Sunday. I think Mrs Wood might be coming again and she could play for us.’

  Aggie looked at her grandmother. ‘What about Sunday school?’

  But Rose had thought of that. ‘If you don’t want to miss it, you could come along afterwards, couldn’t you?’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Freda Adams said.

  ‘Can I, Nanna?’ Aggie said. ‘If I take May?’

  ‘Your little friend, Babs, isn’t it? She could come too if you like,’ Rose said. ‘And one of these days we’ll start on that sewing, all right?’

  Aggie could feel herself prickling with excitement. How she loved Mrs Southgate! When she was grown up with a house of her own, she was going to fill it with children and feed them all cake.

  ‘Well,’ Freda Adams said. ‘I don’t see why not.’

  Rose and Lily walked the two doors back to their own house. Rose was in a good mood, with a warm sense of satisfaction. It was true what she said to Freda Adams – it was good to be in a proper family. Her own household never felt like that. Old Mrs Adams had a reassuring, motherly way with her that Rose craved, having lost her own mother. And she had felt able to be helpful to poor Jen, with all her babies. Maybe Jen would feel a bit more friendly herself too, one day. She could see that it was pride that made Jen the way she was. And Rose, for all her prettiness, was not well practised in making friends. She had spent too many years in isolation with the Mounts to be used to it.

  And it had been good to be in company because while she was alone with Lily, her mind was flooded with one thought – Arthur King. At least this morning had taken her mind off it a bit, pleasurable as it was, the gnawing, prickling hunger that filled her day after day, and the anxiety that accompanied it. Her thoughts were overwhelmed by this man. She saw his face everywhere, heard his voice. What on earth was she doing? Why could she not keep her feelings under control?

  Twenty-Seven

  The following day, Rose found a little note that had come through the front door. She was sweeping the hall when she saw it and stood her broom by the wall, bending to pick it up, her heart quickening.

  Opening it, she saw handwriting that she did not recognize. It was looping, neat, but wayward on the page, the lines diverging away from each other. The address at the top was in Oldfield Road:

  Mrs Southgate – it has only occurred to me now that this Sunday is Easter Day and that you may not have thought of this when you kindly invited me to tea. I wondered if you might prefer to postpone for a week – much as I should be disappointed! But of course that would be quite all right and still leave something to look forward to if the following Sunday were more convenient.

  Yours sincerely,

  Arthur King

  Rose clasped the note to her chest, her heart pounding. Of course she had forgotten about Easter as well. She could make something special – a simnel cake, perhaps?

  She went into the parlour to find something to write with, then stopped, staring into the cheerless fireplace. Would Harry decide to stay at home as it was Easter? It seemed very unlikely – she was scarcely able to interest him in Christmas festivities, let alone any other date in the church calendar. She had better check, though, just in case.

  But he wouldn’t be home until later – he was finishing off a job in Acocks Green. And she was burning to reply to Arthur’s note now, would not be able to settle to anything else until s
he had done so.

  ‘What’re you doing, Mom?’ Lily asked, as Rose sat to write. She could only find a pencil, but that would have to do.

  ‘Nothing,’ she snapped, jarred by the child’s intrusion into her thoughts. ‘Nothing you need to know about anyway. Go and find something to do for a few minutes.’

  Lily went away quietly, looking glum. Rose tutted. There was never a moment’s peace! Poised to start writing, she remembered that Arthur had said that his landlady had to read his post to him. She must be careful what she said. She wrote a polite note saying that she was almost sure that his coming on Sunday would be perfectly all right, and that if there was any problem she would let him know as soon as possible.

  She managed to find an envelope, addressed it and sealed her note into it. She thought for a moment, then went and opened the front door and looked along the street.

  It was wet again, a mizzling rain, and a lot of the youngsters were outside. She could see the younger Green children in a cluster, the two little lads, whose names she could not remember, with a bucket, looking as if they were setting off to scout for something, and their sister, Ann, tagging along with them, looking miserable.

  ‘Ann?’ she called as they came near.

  The girl came to her, looking worried instead now, gripping the edge of her grubby cardigan.

  ‘It’s all right, dear. Is your sister Aggie about?’

  ‘ ’Er’s indoors,’ Ann said, wringing the right side of her cardigan between her hands. She seemed unable to stand still. She was like Aggie, with her carroty hair, only paler and somehow less well defined. ‘Shall I get her?’

  ‘If you could, please,’ Rose said.

  Ann looked doubtfully at her, then went to her house. A moment later, Aggie appeared, stepping along proudly in her new shoes. They did look better, Rose thought gladly. They’d cost her half a crown in the pawnshop, but it was worth it, the poor child.

  ‘Aggie – would you like to earn yourself a twopenny piece?’