by Anna King
Micky nodded. ‘Can’t ask fer more than that, Missus. Ta. See yer in the morning.’
‘Yes, all right, Micky. Take care. ‘’Bye.’ Ellen stood at the door until the slim figure had disappeared into the morning gloom.
‘If yer don’t mind shutting the door, I’d be ever so grateful. Only it’s bleeding freezing fer us old ’uns. The cold gets right inter me bones. That’s if it ain’t no trouble, like.’
The sarcasm in Agnes’ voice was lost on Ellen, whose thoughts were elsewhere. Closing the door, she said absent-mindedly, ‘I’m just going to make some tea. Look after things please, Agnes.’
Agnes glared after the retreating figure. ‘I think I can manage, Missus. After all, I’ve only been doing the job fer 20 years. And I wouldn’t say no ter a cuppa, if there’s one going.’
Her mind still elsewhere, Ellen replied amiably, ‘Yes, of course, Agnes. I’ll bring one out to you.’
Taken by surprise, Agnes mumbled, ‘Oh, right. Yeah, thanks.’
Arthur, as usual at this early hour, was busy baking. Glancing up, he looked at his wife and gave her a curt nod, before returning his attention to the job in hand. Ellen sighed impatiently, then shrugged. So he was still sulking, was he? Well, let him. Putting the kettle on, Ellen thought back to earlier that morning when Mr Dobbs had arrived, his sooty face wreathed in smiles. That was until Ellen informed him his services in unloading and carrying the monthly supply of coal to the basement would no longer be required. Arthur had been present at the time, but instead of backing her up, he had launched into a spate of apologies. Reliving the scene Ellen felt a fresh burst of anger. Watching and listening to the pitiful spectacle, Ellen had cringed. And when Mr Dobbs, his countenance no longer amiable, had begun a blistering attack on Ellen for what he termed an act of treachery, Arthur, instead of making a stand and taking his wife’s side, as most men would have done, had quickly washed his hands of the whole affair, placing the situation squarely on Ellen’s shoulders. Ellen could still feel the shame at seeing her husband, the man who was supposed to put his wife first, humiliating himself. She had thought that hearing Mr Dobbs berate her would have infused some gumption into Arthur. But he had let her down and for that she would never forgive him, nor respect him ever again. Ignoring the bulky form, Ellen set about making the morning tea.
‘Well! Don’t you have anything to say?’ Arthur’s voice cut into the silence of the stuffy room.
Turning to face him, Ellen looked at the plump, red face, filled with self-righteous indignation and immediately went on the defensive. ‘Excuse me, Arthur?’ she answered, her voice deceptively soft. ‘I’m not sure what you mean. Unless of course you’re referring to that embarrassing spectacle you made of yourself this morning.’
Still smarting after being, as he thought, put into an impossible position, Arthur flinched as the truth struck home. His lower lip quivering, he tried to restore his humiliated ego, even though, deep down, he knew full well he had disgraced himself. Not only in the eyes of Mr Dobbs, whose scathing look had said more than mere words could ever convey, but also in the eyes of the one person he so desperately wanted to impress. But instead of admitting his shame, Arthur, like most ineffectual men, tried instead to shift the blame on to the nearest person, and that person was Ellen.
Drawing himself up to his full height he said angrily, ‘You made me look a right fool in front of Mr Dobbs. And all for some little guttersnipe. Huh! It says a lot for me, doesn’t it? How do you think I felt with you taking over the conversation, pushing me out of the way as if I counted for nothing…’
Ellen rounded on her husband, her fierce anger more than a match for Arthur’s feeble blusterings. ‘How do I think you felt?’ she shouted. ‘How do you think I felt having to witness my husband, the one man I thought I could depend on for support, practically grovelling to the coalman, apologising over and over until I felt I would be sick with shame. Even if you didn’t agree with me, you should have stood by me; that’s what husbands do. I wouldn’t have minded you having a go at me in private, but to take Mr Dobbs’ side against your own wife, well that says it all, doesn’t it, Arthur?’
Her voice had risen and Arthur, already humiliated once today, didn’t want everyone in the shop hearing his wife laying into him as well. Adopting a different tack, he put his hands up in a feeble attempt to stifle Ellen’s tongue. ‘All right, all right, love. There’s no need to broadcast our private lives to everyone.’
Coming nearer he laid a tentative hand on Ellen’s arm, his face now sheepish, but Ellen, who once would have relented, now shook off the offending hand with disdain. ‘There you go again, Arthur. Thinking of yourself as usual. All you’re worried about is saving face, but I think it’s a bit late for that, don’t you?’
The colour in Arthur’s face deepened, and it had nothing to do with the heat of the kitchen. His stomach churning, he tried once again to pacify Ellen. ‘Please, love, let’s leave it, eh? I mean…’ He uttered a small, nervous laugh. ‘There’s no point in going on about it, is there? I mean, it’s done now, so let’s forget about it, all right, love?’
Ellen’s gaze remained stony. In their short married life, there had been plenty of times she had kept quiet, or given in, just to keep the peace and to keep Arthur happy. But that had been when she was still in awe of the man who had saved her from the workhouse and was willing to be a pliable and good wife. But things had changed. She had changed. With a sudden start of awareness, Ellen knew that her life would never be the same again.
Arthur, too, was experiencing the same emotions, and felt a surge of blinding panic. What he had always feared now seemed to be in danger of happening. His feverish mind turning this way and that, he tried to think of the best way of defusing the situation. Should he be compliant and ask Ellen’s forgiveness? Or should he do what he should have done that morning and make a stand? To be the strong man Ellen wanted him to be. The silence in the stifling room was becoming unbearable, then Arthur made his decision. Unfortunately it was the wrong one. Adopting a manly stance, he said firmly, ‘Now then, Ellen. I think I’ve been very patient with you over this sorry affair. I let you humiliate me in front of a very close friend, just to keep you happy, but no more. In future the running of the business will be mine and mine alone. You may continue to serve in the shop, if you wish, but you will disassociate yourself from making any decisions and you will also sever all ties with the boy. There’ll be no more encouraging the boy to come here for hand-outs in return for some small job that could easily be done by either you or Agnes.’ Well into his stride, Arthur began to pace the room, his hands clasped behind his back.
He should have looked instead at his young wife to see her reaction to his words. But he was too far into his new persona to notice the danger signs in Ellen’s face. ‘I know it will be difficult for you, so I think it would be wiser if you stayed upstairs tomorrow and let me deal with the lad. Don’t worry, I’ll let the boy down gently. Now then, why don’t we kiss and make up.’ Stretching his arms wide he smiled, ‘Come here, you silly little thing. Come and give me a cuddle, and we’ll forget all about it.’
Her entire body seething, Ellen, not trusting herself with what she might do or say if she stayed here a moment longer, shot Arthur a withering look, and said, ‘You know what you can do with your cuddle, Arthur. Oh, I’m getting out of here. I can’t bear to be in the same room with you.’ Grabbing her coat from behind the back door Ellen shrugged her arms into the heavy sleeves, for once not noticing the stifling heat of the kitchen.
Behind her Arthur hovered anxiously. ‘Hang on, love. Where d’you think you’re going at this time of the morning?’ Frantic now, he began gabbling. ‘Now look, love, there’s no need for this. You’re blowing the whole business out of proportion.’ Unthinking, he grabbed hold of Ellen’s arm. With an angry twist she broke free and without bothering to look back, she strode out of the back door into the dark alley.
Never in her life had Ellen walked the streets in the da
rk, either in the morning or at night. Yet it would have taken a brave man to accost her in the mood she was in. Gradually, her anger turned into a new emotion, a feeling of elation, but more than that, for the first time she felt a rush of self-respect. No longer would she be dependent on Arthur; she didn’t need him anymore. She knew now she was well capable of looking after herself. But the feeling of euphoria was short-lived and quickly replaced by a wave of shame. Her footsteps slowed as a wave of remorse swept over her. Poor Arthur. It wasn’t his fault. After all he had done for her and this was the thanks he got. Her steps dragged as reality returned. She had to go back. There was nowhere else for her to go. She had no one to turn to. Even if she had, she would never be so cruel as to just walk out without a word. She owed Arthur more than that, much more.
‘We must stop meeting like this.’ A deep voice cut through her thoughts.
Her head coming up sharply, Ellen felt her body relax when she saw who the man was. With a genuine smile, she said merrily, ‘Good day, Mr Parker. And how are you this fine morning?’
Ted Parker tipped his hat back further on his head to see better, thinking at first he had mistaken Ellen for someone else. But the light from the end of the alley reassured him that this bright, seemingly carefree woman was indeed Ellen Mitson. Yet the change in her compared to yesterday’s encounter was so marked that Ted wondered if she was unwell.
‘You all right, Mrs Mitson? You seem different today. Has something happened?’
Ellen was standing so close to the man their breaths mingled in a fog of white mist. The semi-darkness covered them like a cloak and Ellen felt again the pull of attraction. In spite of the fact they were in an open space, that the dawn was just breaking and the sound of people’s voices as they set about the start of a new day floated all around them, never had Ellen experienced such a feeling of intimacy. Gathering her wits, she spoke crisply. ‘I’m fine, Mr Parker, but thank you for asking’. Ellen had to tip her head to see Ted’s concerned gaze.
‘Well, in that case, I’d best get off, else I’ll miss my tram.’ Again tipping his hat, Ted Parker made to walk on, puzzled by the sudden change in Ellen Mitson. Moments later his eyebrows rose in amazement when he felt himself being halted in his tracks by a small but strong hand on his arm.
‘You own your own stall, don’t you, Mr Parker?’
Thoroughly confused now, Ted looked down into Ellen’s enquiring eyes. ‘Yeah, that’s right. But what…’
Linking her arm through his, Ellen smiled broadly. ‘I was just wondering if you could do me a favour, Mr Parker. Oh, and please call me Ellen… Ted.’
Feeling more confident than she had ever felt in her life, Ellen hugged the muscled arm tighter as she walked with Ted towards the tram stop, chatting away as if she had known the handsome man all her life.
Her newly-found confidence would have been shaken if Ellen had known she and Ted Parker were being sharply observed by a pair of malicious eyes.
Chapter Four
Agnes, her weathered face alight with mischief, handed over a penny change to the last customer from the early morning rush. ‘There yer go, Edna,’ she said. ‘Sorry yer had ter wait, but Miss Fancy Pants decided ter take herself off somewhere.’ Tapping the side of her nose Agnes winked, leaned over the counter then, lowering her voice, she added, ‘Now I’m not one ter gossip, Edna, am I?’
Edna Brown, a regular visitor to the bakery, shook her head in agreement, while privately wondering who Agnes thought she was kidding. Everyone knew Agnes blandly was the worst scandalmonger in the district. But not wanting to miss out on a bit of juicy gossip she said vigorously, ‘Nah, Agnes, yer ain’t like that. An’ yer know I can keep a secret. Come on, woman, spit it out.’
Looking over her shoulder towards the kitchen to make sure Arthur wasn’t in earshot, Agnes preened herself and said gleefully, ‘Seen her with me own two eyes I did. I’d just popped out ter see if the milkman was in sight, ’cos I was gasping ter a cuppa, an’ what d’yer think I saw?’ She paused, relishing the moment, a moment she’d been waiting forever since that little madam had turned her world upside down. ‘Her ladyship, walking down the street, as bold as brass, with that Ted Parker. Arm in arm they was, talking and laughing for all the world to see, like they was a respectable couple walking out, and poor Mr Mitson, not knowing anything about what his wife’s getting up to.’
Edna Brown looked at Agnes with distaste. She didn’t like her, not many people did. Yet Agnes had once been popular, always good for a laugh and a chat – until young Ellen had arrived on the scene. Now Agnes was a bitter, middle-aged woman, whose only enjoyment in life was in trying to put young Ellen down at every possible opportunity. But Agnes hadn’t finished yet.
‘I don’t know what ter do fer the best, Edna. I mean ter say. Should I tell Mr Mitson what’s going on, or keep quiet? What would you do in my place?’
Engrossed in their conversation, neither woman heard the tinkle of the bell heralding another customer in the shop until an icy voice, dripping with scorn, snapped angrily, ‘I know what I’d do, Agnes Handly. I’d keep me bleeding gob shut, before someone does it fer yer, yer spiteful old cow.’
Both women jumped as the familiar voice filled the bakery.
Whirling round, Agnes opened and shut her mouth like a fish out of water. ‘Oh… sorry, Nora, I didn’t see you there,’ she spluttered, her face reddening in the force of Nora Parker’s anger.
The newcomer looked at the woman behind the counter, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of Agnes’ body from top to toe. As usual, Agnes was dressed in the drab brown skirt and black shiny blouse she always wore in the shop. Her hair, scraped back from the plain face was a dull brown, liberally streaked with grey strands. For a split second, Nora Parker felt a spark of sympathy for Agnes. Everyone knew of her feelings for Arthur Mitson, but even 20 years ago, Agnes Handly had been a plain woman, and the passing years hadn’t been kind to her. What chance had she against the youth and beauty of Ellen Mitson? Then Nora remembered the vindictive words she’d overheard, and any sympathy she might have had for Agnes disappeared in a renewed rush of anger.
Hugging her thick black shawl tight to her chest she snapped, ‘That’s bleeding obvious, otherwise yer wouldn’t have been shouting yer mouth off about my Ted. And I’ll tell yer something else, Agnes Handly.’ The short, stout woman bristled furiously. ‘My Ted could ’ave any girl he wants. He don’t ’ave ter go sniffing round a married woman, like some men. So you mind what yer say in future, understand?’
Caught out, Agnes had no choice but to try and bluff her way out of the awkward situation. ‘Now, ’ang on a minute, Nora. All right, so I shouldn’t ’ave been talking about your Ted, but I know what I saw and—’
‘I don’t give a monkey’s what yer think yer saw. If my Ted was with young Ellen, then it was all perfectly innocent. Not that you’d think that way. Yer’ve ’ad it in fer that young girl from the start, an’ we all know the reason why… don’t we?’
Caught between the two sparring women, Edna Brown stood back to enjoy the spectacle of Agnes getting a taste of her own medicine, but her enjoyment was short-lived.
Desperate for some kind of diversion, Agnes turned on the hapless bystander. ‘Is there anything else yer want, Edna?’ Edna Brown squirmed uncomfortably before shuffling grudgingly out of the warm bakery.
Left alone, the two women eyed each other, neither willing to give ground. ‘Well, d’yer want something, or is this just a social visit?’ Agnes, back in control once more, glared at the equally angry woman on the other side of the counter.
Still fuming at hearing her beloved son’s name muddied, Nora Parker wrestled with her conscience. There was nothing she’d like better than to tell Agnes Handly where to stick her bread, but Arthur Mitson’s bakery was the best one in Hackney Besides, it wasn’t as if her custom was lining Agnes’ pockets, and she had no quarrel with Arthur. Squaring her shoulders, she said waspishly, ‘No, it ain’t a social visit. If I was wanting a bi
t of company, I wouldn’t come ter you for it. I’ll ’ave a large cob, and half a dozen buns… please.’
Her face sullen, Agnes wrapped the bread and buns and was placing them on the counter when Arthur came through from the kitchen into the shop, a worried frown on his face.
‘Have you seen Ellen, Agnes? Oh, hello, Nora, I didn’t see you for a minute. How are you?’
Shooting a warning glance in Agnes’ direction, Nora Parker answered pleasantly, ‘I’m fine, thanks, Arthur. And yourself?’
Forgetting his troubles for the moment Arthur smiled. ‘Oh, same as always, Nora. Hot and flustered.’ Not one for idle chatter, Arthur trailed off self-consciously.
Her heart going out to the kindly man and knowing Agnes would stick her poison in at the first available opportunity Nora said casually, ‘I saw your Ellen a little while ago, Arthur. Me an’ my Ted met her outside about… Ooh, ten, fifteen minutes ago. She said she fancied a bit of fresh air, so my Ted offered ter stay with her. He’s like that, my Ted. Didn’t want ter leave Ellen on her own, not round these parts, even if it did make him late fer work. Not that it matters what time he gets ter Hoxton, seeing as he’s his own boss, like yerself, Arthur.’ She smiled at Arthur with genuine kindness. Seeing the look of relief that crossed the plump face, Nora shot a gloating look at the seething Agnes thinking, ‘That’s scuppered your plans, yer spiteful old cow.’
The bell over the shop jingled again and all eyes turned to the door as Ellen entered the bakery. Sensing the strained atmosphere, Ellen looked from one face to the other, her conscience stabbing at her like a knife. Nora quickly came to her rescue.
‘Hello, love. I was just telling Arthur ’ere how me and Ted met yer outside and stopped fer a bit of a natter. I hope he walked yer back before he went ter work.’