by Anna King
Then his lips came down on hers. It was merely a touch, but the effect on Ellen was overwhelming. Instantly sober she pulled away, saying in a trembling voice, ‘I’d better get in. Arthur will be worrying. Goodbye, Ted.’
Ted released her reluctantly. Well aware of Ellen’s emotions he touched her lips with the tip of his finger saying tenderly, ‘’Bye, darlin’. See you next week.’
Her legs weak, Ellen let herself into the bakery. Quietly she made her way up the stairs to the bedroom, repeating over and over in her mind Ted’s last words. He had called her darling. She knew the term was used frequently by East End men to any woman. It meant nothing – or did it? Hearing Arthur calling out to her as he came up the stairs, Ellen quickly lay down on the bed. She heard Arthur saying her name, but pretended to be asleep. For what seemed an age Arthur hovered beside the bed while Ellen fervently prayed for him to go. There was no way she could face him, not just now. When he finally closed the door, Ellen peered cautiously over her shoulder, sighing with relief at finding herself alone. Making herself more comfortable on the four-poster bed, she closed her eyes, intending to go over in her mind the events of the day and where she was going to go from here. Her emotions in turmoil, she vowed never again to visit the market. And if Ted came into the shop, she would treat him like any other customer. Yes she would, she told herself vehemently. But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, she knew that come Saturday she would be back in Hoxton, to spend what little precious time she could with Ted.
Chapter Seven
After Micky had delivered Ellen’s fruit and vegetables as promised, he hurried home, worrying as he always did if Molly was all right. He hated leaving her alone. It had been bad enough when he was doing a few hours’ work here and there, but since Ted had taken him on four full days a week she was on her own from early morning until he got home. In all the months he had been praying for such an opportunity, Micky hadn’t thought of what would happen to Molly once he was gainfully employed. As he broke into a run, he pondered on life’s ironies. Here he was, getting what he and Molly had dreamed of since they had run away from the workhouse, yet neither of them had thought of the practical side of Micky working permanently.
Then there was the fear he might come back one evening and find the place they called home demolished and Molly taken into care. If that happened he would have no chance of getting her back. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, there was also the constant worry of the pervert Kenneth Wells hanging around.
‘Molly, Moll, I’m home, mate.’
Instantly Molly’s pretty face peered over the balcony. ‘Ooh, I’m glad you’re ’ome, Micky, it’s really lonely being on me own.’
Scrambling up the rope, Micky gave his sister a hug. ‘I know, Moll, but it can’t be helped. Anyway, it’s not so bad now the days are lighter for longer. And I’ve got a treat fer yer. I got us some pie and mash for tea. Ted gave me an extra tanner, ’cos he ’ad ter leave me looking after the stall on me own this afternoon. It was only fer a couple of hours, but he didn’t ’ave ter pay me extra. I’d’ve done it fer nothing. He’s a good bloke is Ted. Anyway, like I said, seeing as I got a bit extra, I thought we deserved a bit of a treat – you especially.’ Reaching out a hand he stroked her cheek lovingly. ‘You’re a good girl, Moll, and brave. I know it must be horrible fer yer being on yer own all day. It wouldn’t be so bad if yer could go out an’ play, but yer can’t, not with that…’ He stopped abruptly. Molly didn’t need reminding of Kenneth Wells. The poor little cow was terrified of even putting her nose out of the door in case he was lying in wait. Then there was the possibility of a truant officer spotting her. Laying out the hot food, Micky sighed. Gawd, but life was difficult.
They were halfway through their meal when Micky had an idea. ‘Listen, Moll. It’s the Easter holiday next week. How about yer come with me down the market? I mean, no one will notice why you’re out of school, ’cos like I just said, all the schools will be closed down. What d’yer think?’
With a loud shout of pure joy, Molly flung her arms around her brother’s neck. ‘Oh, Micky, d’yer mean it? Will I be able to help yer out on the stall?’
Micky held her for a few seconds before gently disengaging her arms from the stranglehold she had on his neck. ‘Hang on, mate. You can come with me, but yer won’t be able to work with me.’ Seeing the joy fading from the heart-shaped face, Micky said softly, ‘Look, Moll, just think about it for a minute. No one knows about you. If I’d told Ellen and Ted I had a sister, it’d be all right, but if I suddenly turn up with you in tow, they might become suspicious and start asking awkward questions.’
Molly, her face solemn, said timidly, ‘They might not, Micky. You could always just say you’d never mentioned me ’cos yer didn’t think about it.’
Shaking his head Micky answered, ‘Nah, that wouldn’t work. It’s been bad enough lying to Ellen and Ted that I’ve got a mum. I’ve got really friendly with both of them and they’d know something was wrong if I suddenly produced a sister. They’re not stupid, Moll. Maybe neither of them would wonder why I’d never mentioned yer, but I don’t think they would. Besides, now things are looking up, why take the chance?’
‘Well, what am I gonna do all day down the market?’ Putting the last morsel of pie into her small mouth she said excitedly, ‘What if yer said I was a mate of yours, an’ yer was looking after me during the school holidays while me mum was at work?’
His mouth full, Micky stared at his sister in amazement. She might be only eight, but she had the sense of a girl twice her age. Ellen and Ted wouldn’t question Molly’s presence if he followed her suggestion. Why hadn’t he thought of it himself? Her idea was perfect.
Grinning widely he said, ‘You sure yer only eight, Moll? Yer ain’t a woman midget, are yer?’
Molly looked back at him in surprise. ‘Don’t be silly, Micky. You’ve always said if someone wanted something badly enough there was always a way round it. And if yer can’t tell anyone I’m yer sister, then it’s obvious yer could say I was just a mate you was looking after during the school holidays.’
Micky could only look at Molly in awe, mingled with pride and relief. Give her a few years and his sister would be able to look after herself – she might even end up looking after him too. Chuckling quietly Micky gave Molly an affectionate hug.
With the problem of the Easter holiday out of the way, the two youngsters talked until the evening turned into darkness. As always, her stomach full, her mind at rest, Molly was asleep by nine o’clock, leaving Micky to his dreams.
He now had nearly two pounds saved, enough to get them a room in a boarding house. Yet even though he was sure Ted would keep him on, after so long of worrying about money, Micky was afraid to touch his savings in case something happened and he lost his job. Then he looked down at the sleeping Molly. So young, so vulnerable, so brave, never complaining, other than of her fear of being left alone. In that instant Micky made up his mind. On Monday he would take Molly with him to work. And once the school holiday was over he would look for a room, preferably with a landlady who didn’t ask awkward questions. A frown crossed his forehead. That was something else he had to sort out. At some point he would have to get Molly into a school: he didn’t want her growing up without any education. But that particular problem wasn’t pressingly urgent. Even if he waited until he was 16, legally a man, he could still get Molly four or five years of schooling.
His head reeling with all the difficulties he had to deal with, Micky pushed everything to the back of his mind for the time being.
The minute he did that, his thoughts turned to Ellen. And as always, his stomach began to churn and he could feel his cheeks burning.
Even if he was older, he still wouldn’t have a chance with her, not with her being married. And even if she wasn’t, he knew he hadn’t a hope in hell with Ted in the picture. He had seen the way they looked at each other and, each time he witnessed the growing affection blossoming between them, he experie
nced pangs of jealousy. Angry with himself, he punched his pillow. He was fond of both Ellen and Ted and at the same time he was jealous and for that alone he felt guilty. Ted had been good to him, as had Ellen. It wasn’t fair for him to resent the man who had given him a job when no one else would. Not only that, Ted had bought Micky another change of clothes from the second-hand stall. And now Micky had a regular wage coming in, he was able to buy Molly two cotton dresses from a similar stall at the other end of the market. Both of them slightly faded, but to Molly, who had always been so particular about her appearance, the dresses could have been brand new, so delighted was she with them. They could even afford a bath every week, so what was he moaning about?
To take his mind off things that were so painful to him, Micky instead turned his thoughts to finding accommodation. No matter what lodgings he found Molly would still have to stay out of sight when he wasn’t around, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about her, not once she was safely installed behind a proper door that locked. But for the next couple of weeks she would be with him every second of the day; more importantly she would be able to roam the market without fear and be able to smell and savour the spring air, instead of the fetid odour that pervaded the derelict house.
* * *
As Micky thought about his future, Ellen was doing much the same thing. Seated in her dining room with Arthur fast asleep in the armchair opposite her, Ellen put down the book she had been trying to read and leant her head back against the winged armchair.
The alcohol she had consumed earlier had long since worn off, leaving her with a throbbing headache and a guilty conscience to match. What had she been playing at leading on Ted like she had? She was now feeling deeply ashamed of her behaviour. Looking across at the sleeping man Ellen felt a surge of affection for her husband. She owed him so much, he deserved better. If only they could get away for a holiday. Oh, that would be marvellous.
For not only would it do Arthur, who to her knowledge hadn’t had a holiday in the past 20 years, a power of good, it would also take her away from the temptation of Ted Parker. Excited by the notion, Ellen visualised her and Arthur, just the two of them, enjoying some time together, with nothing or no one to disturb them. Then common sense set in, ruining her plans. Arthur would never agree to close down the bakery for a weekend, never mind a couple of weeks. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to take a holiday, he was comfortably well off, but being the type of man he was, he’d be afraid of losing the loyal custom he’d accumulated over the years.
Arthur stirred, yawned loudly and smiled tiredly. ‘Sorry, love. I don’t seem able to stay awake once the day’s business is over; must be a sign of old age creeping up on me.’
Quickly taking advantage of his words, Ellen left her chair and came and sat by his feet, resting her chin on his lap. Staring up into the plump face she said earnestly, ‘Arthur, why don’t we have a holiday? God knows you deserve one. What do you think, Arthur? Why, a couple of weeks by the seaside would do you a world of good.’ Looking up at him anxiously Ellen felt her spirits drop at the look of agitation that crossed his face.
Running a shaking hand over his chin he replied, ‘You know I can’t just take two weeks’ holiday, Ellen. I mean who’d look after the business? No, I’m sorry, love. It’s out of the question.’ Seeing the look of resignation on Ellen’s features Arthur added kindly, ‘Please, love, don’t look like that. I’d love to go off for two weeks with just the two of us, but you must see it’s impossible.’
Angry and frustrated, Ellen went back to her chair, her face sullen with disappointment.
‘Look, Ellen, what if we had a weekend away? I could prepare the bread on Friday and leave it to rise overnight, like I always do and, if Agnes agrees, she can come in early Saturday morning and put them in the oven. As for the cakes, Agnes can make those by herself. In fact I could ask her to stay overnight, it would make it easier for her. I’d have to offer her extra money of course, but I’m sure she’d love the chance of running the place by herself. Then we can get away after the shop closes on the Friday we plan to go away and stay until Sunday night. I know it’s not what you wanted, but at least that’s better than nothing… Ellen… Ellen, love, say something.’
Staring at the wall, Ellen said dully, ‘Forget it, Arthur. It wouldn’t be worth the effort. By the time we got anywhere, we’d be lucky to have a couple of hours before it was time for bed. We’d have Saturday, but you’d want to get an early start on Sunday morning, so as you’d be back in time to prepare the bread for Monday. No, forget I said anything. If we can’t get away for a proper holiday, then I’d rather stay at home.’
Judging by the set look on Ellen’s face, Arthur knew he had found himself in a no-win situation, so he did what he always did and took the line of least resistance. Yawning excessively, he stood up and stretched.
I think I’ll have an early night, love. That’s if you don’t mind?’ He peered at the downcast head, a sure sign his wife was not in the mood for talking.
‘I’m sure I’ll manage without your company until bedtime.’ She glanced up at the mantel clock, adding scathingly, ‘Though that’ll be some time yet, seeing as it’s only just on eight o’clock. Still, I’m sure I can find something to occupy me. I can read my book, or if I get really desperate, I could always ask Agnes up for a cup of tea and a chat. She is still downstairs, isn’t she? She always stays late on Saturday to give the shop a good clean, all ready for Monday morning.’ Throwing her head back she uttered a mirthless laugh. ‘Good God! I must be desperate for company.’
Sheepishly Arthur said, ‘I thought you two were getting on better lately.’
‘Huh! You mean she’s making an effort. She doesn’t like me any more now than she did when I first arrived. But, yes, if she’s willing to make the effort, then I suppose I should do the same and give her the benefit of the doubt… Oh, go to bed, Arthur. You’re making me nervous hovering there like a lost soul.’
Tentatively Arthur moved forward to kiss Ellen good night, but Ellen was in no mood for his embrace, which she made evident by turning her head sharply, leaving Arthur’s pursed lips landing inches from her ear. Dispirited, Arthur gave up trying to make amends and left the room, grateful for some time to himself.
The door had barely closed after him when there came a tap on the dining room door. Without looking up Ellen called out, ‘Come in, Agnes.’
Agnes entered the room. ‘I just come up ter say I’m leaving. Everything’s done downstairs.’ As she spoke, Agnes’ eyes roamed the room. It was a modest size and comfortably furnished. The walls were papered with red and gold flock wallpaper, which complemented the dark red carpet. A highly polished cabinet took up most of the far wall. In the middle of the room stood a table big enough to seat six people, its mahogany surface covered by a green baize, tasselled tablecloth. There were various knick-knacks on the shelves, and on either side of the elaborate fireplace were two dark green, velvet armchairs. The mantelpiece itself held an assortment of figurines, that had once belonged to Arthur’s mother. The centrepiece was a beautiful, gold-edged clock that had been in the Mitson family for over a century. Agnes had been in this room countless times over the years, yet each time seemed as if it was the first. It was a room she had once imagined would be hers and Arthur’s.
Ellen watched Agnes’ face closely, trying to imagine what was going through her mind. ‘Thanks, Agnes. It’s good of you to stay behind on Saturday.’
Agnes shrugged. ‘It’s what I’ve always done. Anyway, I’m off now.’ Her eyes darted to the closed bedroom door. Ellen could plainly see the disappointment mirrored in Agnes’ eyes as she realised she wouldn’t be seeing Arthur now until Monday.
In a moment’s compassion Ellen said quietly, ‘Why don’t you sit down for a minute, Agnes? I was going to make a cup of tea. Maybe you’d like to join me?’
Taken by surprise by the unexpected request, Agnes hesitated, but only for a few seconds. There was nothing or no one to hurry home to.
She had been living on her own since her mother’s death 15 years ago. Which was why she stayed in the bakery for as long as she could, especially on Saturdays, in order to put off returning to the dreary terraced house to spend yet another lonely evening on her own. Lifting her shoulders she said, ‘Yeah, all right. Ta, Ellen.’
‘Well, come and sit down then, Agnes. Make yourself at home while I put the kettle on.’ When Ellen had left, Agnes walked across the room, her steps slow and awkward, half expecting that Ellen was making fun of her and would return and retract the invitation. Seating herself in the chair Arthur had recently vacated, she perched uncomfortably on the edge. There was much Agnes disliked about Ellen, but she had to admit the young woman wasn’t of a spiteful nature. If she had been, then she, Agnes, would have been given her marching orders long since. With this thought in mind she removed her black shawl and wriggled her bottom further back in the velvet chair.
‘Here we are.’ Ellen came bustling into the room carrying a silver tray. ‘I’ve brought some cakes too. I hope you’re hungry. I know I am.’ Setting the tray down on the occasional table between the armchairs she said brightly, ‘Help yourself, Agnes. Don’t stand on ceremony.’
Ellen poured out the tea, then held the china cup to Agnes. Amiably she said, ‘Actually, Agnes, I wanted to ask you a favour.’
Agnes, having just taken a sip of the hot beverage, spluttered and began coughing. ‘A favour! From me?’ Her initial thoughts returning, Agnes laid down her cup and asked suspiciously, ‘You ’aving a laugh at me, Ellen? ’Cos if yer are, then it’s a rotten trick ter play. Pretending ter be all friendly an’…’
‘Just a moment, Agnes,’ Ellen interrupted quickly. ‘You know me better than that. I know we’re not the best of friends, but I would never make fun of anyone out of spite.’