The Women of Lilac Street

by Annie Murray

  ‘Come on,’ Babs said. ‘Let’s get moving.’

  They set off, sloshing through the wet. ‘Can you remember the way, Aggs?’ Babs said.

  Aggie looked around her, uncertain. Luckily she had a better sense of direction than Babs. ‘We’ve got to turn left here somewhere . . . Under the railway bridge.’

  ‘I’m hungry, Aggie,’ May was whinging. ‘And I need to wee.’

  ‘Oh, flaming ’ell,’ Aggie said, cursing the day she had ever had a younger sister. Even Lily was getting sorely on her nerves. ‘Just hang on, May – I’ll help you go under the bridge.’

  This all took some time. Lily stood in silent misery. It felt as if getting home was going to take the whole of the rest of their lives.

  Eventually they got to the end of Kyrwicks Lane. As they turned along Larches Street, Aggie suddenly heard Babs say, ‘Oh, Lordie – look what’s coming.’

  Advancing along Larches Street, Aggie saw her mother, walking side by side with Rose Southgate. Jen spotted them immediately.

  ‘Aggie!’ her voice boomed along the road. Oh, Lord, Mom was feeling better all right! Aggie led the sodden little troop towards their fate.

  Rose Southgate broke free and came running along to them, squatted down and took her wet, sobbing little daughter in her arms.

  ‘Oh, Lily, where’ve you been? Where’ve these naughty girls taken you, eh?’ Aggie could hear that Mrs Southgate was almost in tears herself.

  ‘Aggie!’ Her mother was steaming along behind, seeming frighteningly full of energy all of a sudden. ‘Where’ve you been? We’ve been at our wits’ end – up and down looking for all of you. What the hell do the pair of you think you’re playing at?’

  Reaching Aggie, she boxed her ears firmly. Aggie reeled with the stunning pain and tears sprang from her eyes. Babs stepped back just in case Mrs Green had any thoughts about trying it on her. Her own mother didn’t seem to have noticed she’d gone.

  ‘You’ve had Mrs Southgate that worried!’ Jen scolded furiously. ‘We’ve been all round, trying to find where you’d got to. As if we haven’t got enough to do and Mrs Southgate being kind and helping us. You’re a naughty, ungrateful girl, that’s what you are! Now you say sorry for all the trouble you’ve caused.’

  Aggie did feel sorry, and cold and miserable and her face hurt. She hung her head, crying herself.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Southgate. I never meant to take Lily so far. Only we was playing a game and we got lost . . .’

  Rose Southgate looked appeased and now she had Lily back safely that was all that mattered.

  ‘I know you’re a good girl really, Aggie,’ she said. ‘But you must remember that Lily’s only little – and May as well.’ May, who no one had taken much notice of, was snivelling hopelessly to herself. As if remembering this Jen Green went to her and said, ‘Come on, little ’un,’ and took her hand. Aggie had a strong feeling that if it hadn’t been for Mrs Southgate going out to look for Lily, her mom, like Mrs Skinner, wouldn’t have noticed that she and Babs were not in the street. They both just had so much to do.

  They all walked back to the house, where by now Freda Adams had handed out the dinners. Mrs Southgate took Lily home and Babs ran down to her house to dry her clothes for the second time that day and probably to receive a clip round the ear.

  ‘So where the heck’ve you lot been?’ Freda Adams asked, not sounding very concerned.

  ‘Round the bleeding houses, that’s where,’ her daughter replied, sinking into a chair. Now Rose Southgate had gone she had climbed off her high horse a bit. All she really wanted was a cup of tea and some peace. ‘God Almighty – kids!’

  Thirty-One

  After all the mishaps of the morning, Aggie was keeping out of Mom’s way. Her cheeks were still smarting from the slapping Mom had given her. She and May took refuge up in Nanna’s room. Nanna was sitting up against her pillow at one end of the bed; Aggie, cross-legged at the other, was carding, sewing on hooks and eyes. May was squeezed in by the wall, next to her. May was too young for carding and after all the airing and exercise she had had, she soon slumped down on the bed, eyes closing. As ever she looked gorgeous, with her pink cheeks and dark lashes. No one could ever be cross with May for long.

  ‘That’s it, little ’un, you have yourself a bit of shut-eye,’ Nanna said fondly. She was also, painfully, carding with her crooked hands. She put the work down for a moment, reached under her skirt for her little hip flask and took a generous swig.

  ‘Ah!’ She winked at Aggie. ‘That’s better.’ Screwing the top back on, she fixed Aggie with a sudden, sharp gaze.

  ‘Where were you off to, this morning, the four of yer?’

  Aggie looked at her grandmother, her saggy cheeks and piercing but kindly eyes. She didn’t want Nanna to go to work next week. She wanted her here, always. And now, she wanted to tell her the truth but it all sounded a bit silly.

  ‘We . . .’ She looked closely at the hook she was sewing on. ‘We went for a walk.’

  ‘With Mary Crewe?’

  Aggie’s head shot up. How did Nanna know that?

  ‘Not with her!’

  ‘So Mary never asked you to come with ’er?’

  ‘No! It was just . . . We . . .’

  ‘Dorrie Davis said you was walking along behind her. I mean, I know that one’s a nosey bint but she has her uses.’

  Aggie sighed. She didn’t have to tell Nanna everything, did she, not about Mata Hari and Agnes Green: Spy?

  ‘We just wanted to follow her. She goes off, you know the way she does, and we were going to follow and see where she went. But she went so far, and she was walking so fast, we all got tired and May and Lily were mithering and then it started raining . . .’

  Nanny Adams was chuckling, her substantial body heaving up and down.

  ‘Oh, dear, oh, dear! Bit off more than you could chew, didn’t yer? No, you’d never keep up with poor old Mary.’

  She was silent for a moment, peering at her needle. The sky had darkened and the rain was pouring down again, spattering off the roof into the yard.

  ‘I know everyone calls her Mad Mary these days. But shall I tell you where she goes, poor thing?’

  Aggie abandoned the sewing and was all ears. ‘How d’you know, Nanna?’

  It was Freda’s turn to sigh, a long, sad breath. ‘Oh, everyone knows, who’s lived around here for a bit. I’ve known Mary for years and years, since she was, well, older than you, but not by much. I saw her grow up.’

  Aggie frowned. ‘How old is she, Nanna?’

  ‘Oh, let’s see now – she’d be a few years older than your mother, maybe as much as ten years. Mary must be getting on for forty-five . . .’

  Aggie was astonished. She thought of Mary Crewe as a really old lady, more like Nanna.

  ‘Quite pretty she was then, though you’d never guess it now. She had good hair, long and thick, and a nice figure. She was well built, a strong wench, popular with the men. By the time she was seventeen or eighteen a husband came along for her and after they was wed they moved away. I don’t know exactly where to – somewhere off the Hagley Road, I believe. Any road, soon there was quite a few children by all accounts, four or five. Now I don’t know exactly what happened next, whether her old man died or ran off and left her, but soon Mary was left on her own, with a babe in arms and a clutch of others and not in good health. Old Mrs Jenks, her mother, had died and I don’t know whether the rest of the family washed their hands of her or whether they never knew till it was too late. That sister of hers, Eliza, was too young then to do much, though she’s made up for it now, bless her, taking her in the way she has. Mary was too poorly and down in herself to work and they were getting to a pitch where they was starving. She had nowhere to turn.’

  Aggie listened, mesmerized. It was hard to imagine Mary Crewe as a pretty young woman. Nanna was looking across at the window and the steely sky, remembering.

  ‘Sometimes, you look at other people you’ve known, and even when your
own life’s been terrible hard at times, you think, Well, I could’ve been like so-and-so – things could be worse. I lost my husband and two sons, but when I think about Mary Crewe, then I know life’s cruel – bitter cruel for some, that it is.

  ‘Mary did the one thing left to a destitute young woman with kiddies to feed: she turned to the corporation looking for help. She took herself to the workhouse door, hoping for a bit of kindness, that they’d be fed and sheltered and that she’d be able to get back on her feet. They even took the babby off her. Mary was too low in herself to have any milk left for it. Any road –’

  Nanna became suddenly brisk, brushing bits of cotton off the front of her dress, as if she couldn’t bear to think about what had happened next.

  ‘One way or another, Mary never saw them kiddies again – not one of them, not even the babby. Now I reckon one or two of them must of died in there. What happened to the older ones, where they sent them, no one’ll ever know now. Poor old Mary’s never been right since. She never got wed again – no one’d have her, wrong in the head like that.

  ‘Mary’s been trying to get those kiddies back ever since. You’ve seen her, tramping halfway across Birmingham to the old Archway of Tears. Been seen there many a time, Mary has, begging them to give her back her children. Not that anyone listens, nor ever did. But that cloth you see her carting about done up in her arms – that’s all poor old Mary’s got left of that babby of hers, and all she ever did have after she trusted them to that place.’

  Aggie stared at her, trying to take in all this adult tragedy.

  ‘So you see – Mary may be crazy in the head, but all she deserves is a bit of kindness.’

  ‘We never meant anything bad to her,’ Aggie said, stricken. ‘It was just a bit of a game. We wanted to know where she was going.’

  ‘I know you never meant no harm. And I don’t s’pose old Mary ever knew you was there. But now you know. Some lives have that much sadness in them and that’s one that’s had more than most.’

  Somehow after that, all Aggie wanted to do all day was to make up for it, even though really she had not done anything very wrong, or not intended to. She kept thinking about Mary Crewe and seeing her, with her scruffy old clothes and greasy hair, and chain smoking, through new eyes. Most bad things she had heard about in her life had been something to do with the war, like Mr Best in the house opposite and all the people like Nanna, who were left grieving for husbands and sons and brothers. But this was something else. What Nanna had told her stayed closely with her. But that afternoon something else happened that, for the moment, wiped all thoughts about that morning right out of their minds.

  It was tea time and some of them were round the table for bread and a scrape of jam.

  The rain had stopped and it had turned into a sunny, newly washed evening. Aggie noticed with relief that Mom seemed to be in a better mood now than earlier. John was jubilant, having sold a couple of pails of horse muck. At this time of year, anyone with a patch of land for growing veg was very keen to get hold of some.

  ‘There was this bloke, waiting there with a shovel when one horse came along, but I nipped in quick and got there before him!’ He laughed. ‘You should’ve seen ’is face!’

  ‘You never sold him it, did you?’ Aggie asked.

  ‘Nah . . .’ John said.

  ‘I was the one picked it up,’ Silas said.

  ‘No, you wasn’t – you weren’t even there!’ John was outraged. He reached across and cuffed Silas. ‘Fibber!’

  They were about to break away and start wrestling on the floor.

  ‘Knock it off, you two!’ Jen scolded, bringing her tea to the table. She was just on the point of sitting down, and Aggie had a piece of bread halfway to her mouth, when they heard a rattling of the back door handle, then a cautious knock. Silence fell.

  ‘That can’t be Dulcie . . .’ Jen said. She would have ‘cooee’d and just come in.

  ‘Probably kids, playing about,’ Nanna said. They’d been too distracted to see anyone pass the window.

  ‘Anyone in?’ a man’s voice shouted.

  Frowning, Jen went to the door, opened it and then gave a huge gasp, her hand going to her mouth. ‘Oh, my Lord!’ she cried.

  ‘I come upon ’im just along the road back there,’ a voice said. Aggie didn’t recognize the man’s voice. ‘Thought I’d better give ’im a hand.’

  Jen reached out her arms. ‘Oh, my . . . What’ve you gone and done? Get in here, quick.’

  The family’s gaze was fixed on the door as he came in. Their eyes widened all at once. It was a sight Aggie would never forget.

  ‘Dad!’ It was John who broke the astonished hush. ‘It’s Dad!’

  Their father, thin as a skeleton but grinning from ear to ear, dressed in a motley collection of pyjamas, coat, rug draped round him and some sort of old slippers, shuffled into the room, held between Mom and a man called Mr Purvis from up the street.

  ‘’Ello, everyone!’ Tommy wheezed.

  ‘Oh, my word, Tommy Green!’ Nanna said, sounding amused, appalled and confused all at once. ‘What in heaven’s name’re you doing here?’

  ‘Dad!’ Aggie kept saying, and they all did. ‘Dad!’

  ‘There you are, pal,’ Mr Purvis said kindly, as he and Jen deposited the invalid on the chair she had vacated. ‘Well, I’ll leave yer to it.’

  They remembered to thank him and then they were alone, all together as a family again. Jen could not contain her emotion. She put her arms round her husband’s shoulders.

  ‘Oh, my God, Tommy Green, what’ve you gone and done?’ She burst into tears. ‘Oh, just look at the state of you!’

  Aggie found tears running down her own face and she could see that even John was struggling not to cry. They hadn’t had any idea when they might see their father again and there he was suddenly!

  Nanna poured Tommy a cup of tea. ‘Here you are, lad, get this down you.’ Tommy took it between his bony hands and drank desperately. He was shaking.

  ‘What’ve you done?’ Jen repeated. ‘You must be soaked! They never sent you home, did they?’

  Tommy shook his head, swallowing the sweet tea despite his shivering. The whole family were hanging on his every word.

  ‘I walked out. Couldn’t stand it there no more. Not that they weren’t good to me. It was comfortable like, but I want to be here, with all of you, not stuck in some hospital and left there to . . . Well, till I sink or swim.’ He swallowed.

  ‘Oh, Tommy . . .’ Jen couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him, held his shoulder as if he might vanish. ‘The state of yer! But you’re not wet. How’ve you managed to come all this way without getting soaked?’

  Tommy looked down. ‘I missed the worst of the rain. I was on the bus when it came down . . .’ He stopped to cough and this took some time. Then he went on. ‘I had to sneak out, of course. Lucky they’re so keen on fresh air – always on at you to get out in it. Bloke in the next bed gave me a hand, said ’e thought ’e wouldn’t be leaving the place standing up so he gave me these old slippers . . . I had a few coppers with me for the bus . . . And I was just coming along when I met Mr Purvis . . . Any road.’ Exhaustedly he raised his head and smiled round at his children. ‘Couldn’t live without the sight of your ugly mugs, could I, eh?’

  Aggie felt a big smile spread across her face.

  May 1925

  Thirty-Two

  ‘Mom?’ Lily’s soft voice insisted. ‘MOM!’

  ‘What is it, Lily? Don’t shout at me like that.’ Rose was crossing Lilac Street holding Lily’s hand. They had been to the Greens’ house to offer help but Rose hadn’t felt especially welcome. The old lady, Mrs Adams, was out at work now, the children, except for May, were at school and Jen seemed to be back on her feet, so Rose’s help was not needed.

  ‘It’s nice of you to ask,’ Jen said, politely enough. ‘But we’re all right. I can manage now, thanks.’ Rose saw that Dulcie Skinner, Babs’s mother, was there in the background, so she ret
reated, feeling sad and out of place. Jen already had her friends – she didn’t need any more. Rose would miss her chats with old Mrs Adams. She gathered that Tommy Green had discharged himself and come home. Standing at the front door, she had heard some muffled coughing from upstairs. Jen seemed very happy that he was here, Rose noticed. She loved her husband, it was clear. What must that be like, Rose found herself wondering, actually to love your husband – really love him? This thought brought her back, as all others did these days, to Arthur King. Her Arthur as she thought of him . . . Lily’s prattling ruptured her thoughts almost like a physical pain. ‘When’s Aggie coming back?’ ‘I’ve told you,’ she said as they reached their door. ‘Aggie’s at school – she’s a big girl. When you’re a bit older, you’ll go to school too.’

  As they went into the house, Rose found herself wishing guiltily that that day had already come. Up until now, Lily’s presence had been such a joy to her. Harry was no sort of companion and her daughter had become her all in all, her affection and company. But now there was Arthur.

  She could have spent every hour daydreaming about him, about his lovely face, the vulnerable expressions she saw registered there, the tender way he spoke to her and held her. Since that Sunday afternoon when they had first shown their feelings to each other, he had been to the house twice more and there was no hiding how they felt about each other.

  ‘I find I can’t think of anything else,’ he admitted bashfully. ‘Nearly all day, in my imagination, I’m here with you. Even when I’m in the middle of tuning, of talking to someone even, I’m with you, my arms round you.’

  It was the same for her, all day, every day, that tension and longing.

  But she was frightened and ashamed of how she had let this happen. As she cut some bread for Lily’s and her dinner, her mind spun round. Arthur was starting to talk about coming to see her at other times.

  ‘Lily – stop clattering that spoon!’ Her nerves were in shreds.

  How could she tell Arthur now that she was a married woman, when he believed her to be a widow? He would know her as a liar. But if she was really a widow, what reason could she keep up for him not coming round? There would be no bar to their relationship.