by Maggie Hope
To her surprise, Bertie nodded his head shyly and went to Ada.
‘Mind, you’re honoured!’ Eliza laughed. Ada found a piece of wrapping paper and a stub of pencil for the boy. ‘He’s pale, like, isn’t he, Ada?’ Eliza’s face sobered and took on an anxious expression. ‘I should get out with him more, mebbe a bit of fresh air would do him good.’
‘I think he’s all right, though, Eliza, he’s not coughing or anything.’ Ada studied the boy. He was pale and thin, it was true, but she didn’t want to strengthen Eliza’s fears. She looked at Eliza, who was filling a bucket of water at the sink. The very hunch of her shoulders looked dispirited.
‘I wish I still had the little house on the railway line, though. We had a nice garden and plenty of room, it was a good place for bairns to grow up.’
‘You had to leave it, then?’ Ada ventured.
Eliza turned round, twisting the wash-leather in her hands, the possible entrance of Doris Parker into the kitchen forgotten. She had to speak her fears to somebody and it wasn’t fair to burden her auntie in George Street, who had been good enough to put them up until the baby was born. And Ada was a friend.
‘Why, aye, we had. Well, it was a railway house, you, know. When my Albert died it was needed for the man who got his job. And Albert wasn’t killed on the line, though he caught pneumonia working on it. Well, that’s how it is, I had to make way for the new man. I thought I would be all right but when I found out about the new babby –’
‘Oh, Eliza!’ Ada’s heart overflowed with sympathy for the other girl. ‘I’m that sorry!’
Eliza braced her shoulders and turned back to the sink for the bucket of water. ‘Aye. Well, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be without the bairn, or the new one either. I’ll manage till it’s born and then I suppose it’ll be parish relief for a week or two. But I’m not going to the workhouse.’
‘Eeh, no, Eliza!’
Ada was shocked at the thought, they shared the same horror of the redbrick building up beyond the railway station.
‘I’d better get on, then, or I’ll have that one on me back.’ Eliza’s voice was back to normal.
‘Aye. Well, don’t worry about the lad, I can watch him while I do the baking.’ There was nothing more Ada could say, nothing she could do. Eliza went out to the stairs and Bertie lifted his head to watch her go. For a minute Ada thought he was going after her.
‘Here, Bertie,’ she said quickly, ‘I’m going to be making pies. If you’re a good boy you can make a little one for your mam’s dinner.’
Bertie was diverted and spent the rest of the morning earnestly rolling a lump of grey dough, which he never seemed to get to just the right shape so he had to do it over and over again. When Auntie Doris came in, Ada expected a caustic remark about wasting food, but she simply sniffed at the boy and otherwise ignored him.
‘Do you think I look sixteen, Eliza?’
Ada’s friend looked up from her rhythmic turning of the washing-machine handle and considered the slim figure of Ada standing by the set pot boiler. The steam was rising and sticking Ada’s dark curls to her white forehead, and her arms and hands were red with the heat of the water. She was picking clothes out of the boiler with a pair of long, wooden tongs and winding them through the huge rollers of the mangle.
‘Well, I don’t know. You’re only little, pet,’ Eliza answered after a moment. Ada was small for her age and slight, in sharp contrast to Eliza, who was tall, fair and buxom and obviously pregnant. Eliza continued with her turning, round and back, round and back, while suds peeked up through the lid of the machine and the paddles went slap, slap in a steady rhythm, flinging the clothes this way and that.
Ada sighed and looked through the doorway of the wash-house at the blue sky. It was a bright morning in April and crocuses were making a brave splash of colour in the tiny back garden, startlingly blue and yellow against the damp earth. She and Eliza Maxwell were working together in the wash-house which stood just outside the back door of the boarding house in Tenters Street.
‘Well, I think I’m sixteen next month but Auntie Doris says I’m not fifteen yet,’ Ada commented as Eliza finished her turning and stood up straight with a sigh. ‘She says I’m still a bairn and she has the charge of me.’
Eliza pursed her lips as she considered Doris Parker. ‘Bye, she doesn’t do right by you, lass, and you working all the hours God sends for no pay! Maybe you’re right and the old woman thinks to keep a better hold on you by telling you you’re younger than you are.’ Shrugging, Eliza began wringing out clothes and throwing them into the tin bath by her side. What could she or Ada do about it?
‘Don’t you know? Have you not got a certificate?’ she asked.
‘A certificate? No. I don’t think so.’ Ada was puzzled. ‘Where would I get a certificate?’
‘Why, I think you could get one from the registers, everybody gets registered when they’re born. I had to get Bertie done.’
Ada thought about this. Would she have been registered when she had no father? Once again there was this thing about her birth. Still, she mused, she didn’t have the trouble that Eliza had.
‘Howay now, Bertie, we’ll be using those pegs now.’ Eliza leaned back again with a sigh of relief and held the small of her back with both hands. Bertie looked up from his game where he had the dolly pegs ranged as soldiers along the back doorstep; his face was mutinous. But it was so only for a moment before he obediently began to replace the pegs in their bag.
‘Will you help me with something, Eliza?’
The older girl looked up as Ada put her hand in her apron pocket and pulled out an envelope. Her friend’s face flushed as she asked for help, but though she could make out her name on the envelope she couldn’t read anything else.
‘What is it? A love letter?’ Eliza asked playfully but, seeing Ada’s expression, she went on quickly, ‘Eeh, give it to me, love.’ Wiping her hands on her apron she took the letter.
Of course Ada knew Johnny had sent the letter as soon as she saw it come through the letter box. She knew his hand even if she couldn’t read, anyway, Johnny was the only one to send her anything. He has not forgotten me, she thought, happiness overcoming her embarrassment for a moment. The letter this morning had been a lovely surprise, she thought, as she gazed eagerly at Eliza, waiting to hear what Johnny had written. There had been a long interval since the last one, a card with a picture of Saltbura sands, which had reminded her of Redcar. She had been frightened he had at last forgotten her.
‘My dear Lorinda,’ Eliza said in the funny voice she kept for reading aloud. ‘Lorinda! You know, pet, it’s a pretty name.’ She smiled at Ada, but Ada was impatient at the interruption.
‘I hope you are well and happy and standing up for yourself. You must be quite grown-up now and I would love to see you. Now for the exciting part. I am going to be in Bishop Auckland this coming Wednesday! Please try to get away to meet me, it’s been so long since I saw you. I often think about you and your life with your aunt and uncle.
‘I’ll be coming by the train which gets in at three o’clock. Can you be there to meet me? Do try, for if you are not there I will walk down to Tenters Street and call to see you. I’m determined about it and surely now you are old enough to see whoever you want to.’
Eliza glanced up from her laborious spelling-out of the letter. ‘Eeh, Ada! He’s coming here special, just to see you! You’ll have to get off so you can meet him.’
Ada didn’t answer. Her face was a study in conflicting emotions. Absently she picked up a dish of steaming clothes and dumped them in the tin bath of blue rinsing water. She pulled them back and forth in the water before wringing them out by hand and taking them over to the mangle.
Johnny! she thought, oh, Johnny! He was still the object of her affections even now. She had built him up in her mind, pretending he was waiting to come for her and take her away, but she knew it was all make-believe. How could she be anything to him but a child he felt sorry for? Oh yes,
she would be able to get away to meet him – Auntie Doris would be having her nap at three o’clock – but would he be interested in her when he saw her? He said in his letter she would be all grown-up now, but did he realise it in his heart?
‘Ada! What do you think?’ Eliza had gone over to the doorway and was helping Bertie pick up the pegs. Mother and son gazed at Ada, the fair-haired girl and the thin, dark boy.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Johnny likely won’t even recognise me. And any road, I’ve nothing to wear.’ Ada turned the handle of the mangle and flattened garments fell into the basket with a plop. Eliza eyed her sadly. It was true, Ada had no decent clothes. Drab serge skirts and black shirtwaisters were all that Auntie Doris thought necessary for her. And even those were bought off a second-hand stall on the market.
‘I tell you what’ – Eliza had an idea – ‘you come back with me tonight. I have a good dress, a pretty one. I know it will be too big for you but we can alter it –’
‘Oh, Eliza, I can’t take your dress!’ Ada protested.
‘Get away, man! I’ll never get into it anyway, not since I had the bairn. An’ after the next one.’ She glanced fondly at Bertie before going on. ‘Slip down tonight after the washing-up. Bye, you’ll look lovely in my blue.’ Eliza took up the peg bag and walked down the yard to the clothes lines. ‘Now we’d better get on or this lot will never be finished.’ As far as Eliza was concerned, it was settled, Ada would wear the blue dress.
Busy as they were with the washing and ironing, the day was bright with excitement for Ada. She had never been out with a boy; she was curiously young for her age in spite of the attentions of Uncle Harry or maybe because of them. The only boy who held any interest for her was Johnny and it was so long since she had seen him that his image was blurring a little. She began to look forward to Wednesday and her meeting with Johnny with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.
Ada lay in bed that evening too excited to sleep. The letter from Johnny had made her think back to her life when she had first come to the house in Finkle Street. It had been so hard! And the ache for her grannie had never gone away, it was still there but now it was a sadness at the back of her mind, not the overwhelming misery it had been at first. It was Johnny who had helped her then. And now he was actually coming to see her! Ada hugged herself at the very thought, smiling secretly. She would recognise him immediately, she told herself, oh aye, she would. Even though her memory of him was slightly blurry. And even though he was a grown man now she would know his friendly grin, his bonny red hair. Funny that his colouring should be so like Uncle Harry’s and yet so different, she mused. A familiar cloud descended on her mind at the thought of Uncle Harry. Had she locked the door? Maybe she hadn’t, thinking about Johnny an’ all. Jumping out of bed, she ran to the door. Yes, it was locked, of course it was; she always locked it, she didn’t even have to think about it.
The Eden Theatre showed cine-variety now, she thought, her mind wandering. Ada was sorry she had not been allowed to go and see the shows even though she was often offered complimentary tickets. But now there was the new Hippodrome opened and besides the ‘Lantern coolers’ on at the Eden, there were variety acts from the Hippodrome and sometimes the Parkers got people from there. Like Professor Naughton.
‘Ma’s an old slave driver, so she is,’ Professor Naughton had murmured to her once. ‘Don’t let her get you down. Why, you’re pretty enough to go on the stage yourself, dearie.’ Professor Naughton was billed as an ‘Original Eccentric Comedian’. Auntie Doris had come into the dining room and found him showing Ada magic tricks.
The trouble was, the artistes went away after a week or sometimes two, though some of them came back ‘by popular request’. And they usually came back to the boarding house in Tenters Street, for, though they weren’t too fond of Auntie Doris and Uncle Harry, they did like the good food and clean beds. Even though Auntie Doris, or Ma as they all called her, charged a penny extra for salt and pepper on their dinners.
Ada turned over onto her back and laced her fingers behind her head. She peered out of the tiny window of her room at the clouds chasing across the sky. The wind was freshening. Oh, Lord, let it be fine on Wednesday, she prayed. What would she and Johnny do if it rained? She sighed and looked round the room as the moon came out from behind a cloud and filtered through the threadbare curtains. She looked over at the door as she heard footsteps on the stairs, but it was only a lodger going into the room below on the first landing.
She began thinking about Uncle Harry, now greyer and smaller somehow, but Ada knew how strong his hands still were. She remembered the feel of his hands, hard and hot and hurting, and she shivered. Ada had become very good at leaving a room if there was no one else there and Uncle Harry came in. And she locked her door every single night, though so far she didn’t think Harry had tried to get in.
Now Ada stretched luxuriously and yawned. The clock in the hall chimed distantly, two o’clock. She knew she had to get to sleep but her mind ran on, back to her favourite subject. Maybe Johnny would know whether she was sixteen or only fourteen as her aunt maintained. She would ask him, she thought. She turned over on her side and fell asleep.
Tuesday morning dawned cold but clear. In spite of missing sleep, Ada’s heart was light as she ironed a mountain of shirts and sheets and tablecloths. Eliza came into the kitchen carrying the bucket she had just emptied in the yard drain and took it over to the sink to refill it. Tuesday was the day she scrubbed the front steps and polished the brasses.
‘Bye, it’s a wonder what a letter from a lad’ll do!’
Ada looked up at her friend’s joking remark. She had been smiling softly to herself and humming a tune without realising it.
‘Better not let Doris see you or she’s sure to think something’s up,’ Eliza observed as she added a ladle of hot water from the boiler to the cold she had already run into the bucket.
Ada grinned wryly. ‘Don’t worry, I’m used to covering up now. I’ve done it all me life!’
‘Never mind the old witch,’ Eliza said quickly. ‘You don’t want to let the thoughts of her spoil your day tomorrow. I hope you have a grand time, pet, you don’t get many good times.’
Doris Parker came into the kitchen from the front of the house and glared suspiciously at the two girls. ‘Howay then, the pair of you, get on with your work!’
Ada bent her head over the pillowcase she was ironing and forbore to answer.
Chapter Six
Wednesday came at last and, with her aunt safely upstairs for her lie-down, Ada hurried round to Eliza’s house and changed into the blue outfit. With Eliza’s good wishes ringing in her ears, she sped up to the station in time to meet the three-o’clock train.
She heard the hoot of the engine and saw the smoke rising in the distance as it came slowly round the bend from Shildon. She stepped forward anxiously. The wind was biting though the day was bright, but it was not only the cold that made her shiver.
She looked down at the pretty dress which had been Eliza’s wedding gown. It was the nicest thing she had ever worn. Its tight sleeves were puffed at the shoulders and its formed bodice accentuated her tiny waist and swelling breasts above the billowing, full skirt. She would never be able to thank Eliza enough for the dress and the matching light jacket.
The train was drawing into the station. Ada’s breast rose and fell quickly and her pulse raced as the engine came to a halt. There was a hissing of steam and all the rowdiness of the porters shouting and doors banging as people jumped onto the platform. Ada couldn’t see Johnny anywhere. She was sure she had looked at every passenger who got off the train and she stood quite still until every last one had left the platform, but nowhere could she see the gangling lad with the bright-red hair and green eyes.
The excitement died from her eyes and a great weight of disappointment settled on her. Sadly she sat down on the bench outside the station master’s office and stared unseeingly at the hard concrete of the platform. Her expressive fa
ce portrayed her feelings exactly.
So it was that Johnny saw her as he climbed down from the first-class carriage. An air of authority sat on him as naturally as did his well-cut clothes; his broad shoulders were encased in Harris tweed. Ada had become a woman since last they met but there was no mistaking those strikingly beautiful violet eyes set in the rose and white face. Those eyes were now suspiciously wet.
‘Lorinda.’
The sound of her name, spoken so softly in that well-remembered voice, brought her leaping to her feet, her face vitally alive in her gladness. The contrast with the moment before was striking. There he stood before her, her Johnny, a man now, broad and dependable, his bright eyes laughing and causing a confused melting feeling in her stomach.
Involuntarily her arms went out to him. Then, suddenly shy and gauche, she dropped them again to her sides and veiled her eyes with her long lashes. Her voice was a mumble as she greeted him. What would he think of her, being so forward?
‘Hello, Johnny.’
Johnny was having none of it. He took her by the shoulders and kissed her soundly on one cheek and then the other before holding her away from him and laughing down into her face.
‘Is that all you have to say to me? After all this time?’ he teased, grinning widely.
Ada laughed shyly. ‘How are you, Johnny? You look so fine, I thought it was a gentleman, I didn’t recognise you. I thought you weren’t coming!’
‘Not coming? I said I was coming, didn’t I? And guess what I’ve brought for you!’ Laughing he gave an exaggerated bow and held out a bag of pear drops.
‘Oh, Johnny! Pear drops! Fancy you still remembering how I liked pear drops!’ And it just goes to show you still think of me as a child, said a small, warning voice in the back of her mind but she quickly pushed it away.