Minerva's Stepchild

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by Helen Forrester


  It was obvious that Father felt his humiliation very deeply. His face was sadder than I had ever seen it. He appreciated, however, the great kindness of this police officer on whom he had no other call than that they had attended the same public school, and he thanked him gratefully for his thoughtfulness.

  "I have tentatively arranged for you to see this man in the Municipal Buildings at ten o'clock next Friday morning," said our friend, standing up and handing Father a slip of paper.

  Father nodded, took the slip of paper and careRilly laid it on the dusty mantelpiece.

  "I don't know how I am going to repay you for all this," he said.

  "Don't mention it," said the plainclothesman cheerftilly.

  "Very glad to be able to help—put it down to the old school tie!"

  The underwear, trousers, jacket, and a shirt arrived in a brown paper parcel, addressed to Father and left on our landing. Armed with five shillings given him for the purpose, Father went to the public baths and found that, indeed, a spotlessly clean bath, towels and soap, not to speak of hot water, were all his for the sum of sixpence. Apparently, he spent so much time in the bath that the attendant threatened to charge him another sixpence or empty the bath if Father did not come out.

  He dressed himself in his clean clothes, rolled up his rags into a bundle, except for his broken-down shoes, which he had, perforce, to retain, dumped the bundle into a litter bin outside the baths, and went for a shave and a haircut.

  When he came home, I hardly knew him. Although the jacket and pants were too large for him and his shoes were a mess, he had an aura of respectability about him that did more for our spirits than anything heretofore.

  The detective picked up Father two days later, and they went together to buy a good ready-made suit, another shirt, a raincoat, and a pair of shoes.

  It seemed to Alan and me that we had got our Father back fi*om the dead, because he now looked to us as he had done before we came to Liverpool, except that he had shrunk considerably.

  Without any difficulty. Father got the clerical post for which he was interviewed—the detective was apparently sufficient reference. He was infinitely better educated and more widely experienced in the business world than the type of clerk the City was normally able to command and, except when it came to running his own affairs, had a clear and analytical mind.

  Though the post was a temporary one, he soon discovered that many of his colleagues had been "temporary" for ten years or more—it saved the impoverished City fi-om having to provide pensions for them.

  He served the city of his birth faithfially and well. Later, he became part of its permanent staff^, and, when his department was taken over by the government as part of the new National Health scheme, he became a civil servant and gradually worked his way upward. He was never very well-to-do again; on the other hand, he was never again reduced to penury, and he managed to enjoy the latter part of his life in a modest way.

  ELEVEN

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  It seemed reasonable to assume that Father's going to work would make a considerable difference to our standard of living and, consequently, to my own life. The hope that had sustained me through all our bad times had been pinned on this one point. Now, at last, perhaps I would be allowed to go to evening school or take some kind of work, and Mother would take her rightful place at home. Life, however, went on exactly as before as far as Edward and I were concerned.

  There was no more money to spend on food than there had been before. Wages were so low in Liverpool that Father did not earn much more than he had received when unemployed; the difference was swallowed up in tram fares, lunches, and cigarettes—and, of couse, the need to keep himself clean and tidy.

  Childish hopes waxed again when Mother began to get more regular employment; she was proving to be an excellent saleswoman and was recommended by one employer to another for moving specially difficult merchandise. If she must work, I argued, she might soon earn enough to employ a girl to look after Edward and so release me. In her case also, however, she had first to meet her expenses and then extend her wardrobe so that she looked decent enough to continue work.

  Father's being employed sparked a desire in my parents to find a better place in which to live. It had been hopeless even to consider this while he was unemployed—no landlord was prepared to rent a house to an unemployed man with seven children. A city clerk was a different matter, and they finally obtained a neat-looking row house with three bedrooms, a sitting room, and a back room. It had no bathroom, and the water-closet was at the far end of a soot-begrimed backyard. Cooking was done on an old-fashioned coal range in the back room. It was unfiamished, and the rent was seventeen shillings a week. It was a great improvement upon our present accommodation. The relief fi*om

  climbing stairs was tremendous, and, of course, we would save ten shillings a week in rent.

  Moving was not difficult, but suddenly it seemed as if we needed everything much more than we had done before.

  There are always sharks willing to oblige the foolish. In their eagerness to become once more established, my parents bought a set of drawing-room furniture and curtains for the whole house on the installment plan. A hint that we needed beds met with a sharp rebuke. An iniquitous system, backed by finance companies, enabled them to buy on credit—a given amount of goods from a limited list of stores at greatly inflated prices. Repayment and interest were collected in weekly installments by the companies' agents. The goods rarely lasted until they were paid for, and the rate of interest was high. This type of indebtedness was very prevalent in Liverpool.

  This plunge into debt meant that Mother had to work, whether she wished to or not, and I had to care for the children. My little faint hope was doused, and dark clouds of melancholy gathered around me. I watched as the heavy weekly payments drained away money urgently needed for clothing and food. Sufficient did trickle down to buy new gym shoes for the older children; but Edward and Avril had the Chariot to ride in, and I did not have to go anywhere except to the shops.

  Avril started school in September, and Alan would be leaving it at Christmas, a poignant reminder that everybody was making a little progress except me. Would Edward and I always be chained together? Would our needs always be at the bottom of the family's list? Would I always be hungry?

  My despair was abysmal. I felt I had no one to turn to for comfort or help. Even hours of weeping as I went about my household tasks failed to relieve the depression which engulfed me.

  My father had spent some time talking with Alan about what he would do when he finished school, and it had been agreed that he would try for a job as office boy in a firm where there was a certain amount of training given and where he might sit for professional examinations. This gave him a choice of estate agencies, banking, and shipping firms. A bright fourteen-year-old could do better than his forty-year-old father, as far as choice of jobs was concerned.

  Nobody asked me what I would like to do. My role in life had been silently decided for me: an unpaid, unrespected housekeeper. With all the passion of a fifteen-year-old, I decided that such a life was not worth living.

  A foggy September day saw Edward being pushed in the Chariot along the gently heaving Georges Landing Stage. The Birkenhead ferry was slowly leaving the stage and vanishing into the misty river. The shore hands were coiling up their ropes. Ferries clanged their bells and were answered by fi-eighters sounding their foghorns. At one end ot the landing stage a pilot-boat had just returned fi-om beyond the bar. At the other end a group of customs officers chatted, their raincoats gleaming with moisture. No passengers were waiting for the ferries.

  Carefully, I tucked the cover around the sleeping Edward and made sure that the hood protected him fi-om the wind. I hoped someone kind would find him and take him home and love him. I propped the pram against a post so that it could not roll into the water and left it.

  Very slowly, I approached the c
hain that stopped pedestrians from falling oflFthe edge of the landing stage. When I felt its cold links against my shins, I paused. Some three feet still separated me from the swirling water, invisible for the moment because of the mist.

  I stepped over the fence and took a couple of paces more. I could see the water now. Everyone in Liverpool knew that if anybody fell into the water at the end of the landing stage the tremendous undertow would suck him right under the stage to certain death. It would not take long.

  I was shivering violently, nauseated by the thought of the oily water and the choking death. But it seemed to be the only available way of committing suicide.

  I took a large breath preparatory to jumping.

  A huge paw clamped down suddenly on my shoulders, and a voice behind me said, "And what in the Name o' God do you think youVe doing?"

  The sudden interruption was so terrifying that my knees buckled under me, and another huge hand grasped the back of my dress, and I was yanked bodily back over the fence.

  Supported only by the iron grip on my shoulder, I found

  myself looking up into the rubicund face of the pilot who had just landed. The water dripping off the visor of his cap did not obscure the concern in his eyes.

  "Mother of Heaven, you gave me a fright," he said sharply.

  I must have fainted, because the next thing I remeber was being in a little canteen and having hot tea forced between my lips by a careworn woman in grubby white.

  "Och, you'll be all right now," she said in a rich Irish voice. "Sure, and you frightened the captain out of his wits."

  I put my head down on the table until the world ceased whirling around me. I felt dreadfully cold and so tired that all I could think about was sleep.

  After a minute or two, I straightened up. My rescuer said heartily, "Well, now, you'll be all right. And don't you step over that chain again, young lady, or you'll fall right in." He turned to the hovering waitress, put his hand in his trouser pocket, took out a coin and gave it to her. "Here's for the tea. I've no doubt the gel will be all right in a minute or two."

  He looked down at me, his face beaming.

  "Good-bye, young lady."

  "Good-bye, " I said, "and thank you."

  I drank the rest of the tea gratefully and, at the urging of the waitress, sat for about ten minutes to rest. Gradually, my numbed brain began to work once more. I knew I could not screw up enough courage to go out into the fog and try to jump again.

  I suddenly remembered Edward. It seemed that I would have to go home, because there was nowhere else to go.

  Slowly I got up, thanked the waitress, and went to collect the Chariot. Edward was sitting up and whimpering.

  The children were home when I arrived, slowly dragging the Chariot after me.

  "You haven't got tea ready, " said Avril indignantly, "and Alan can't find a knife to cut the bread."

  Very few people who try to commit suicide really want to kill themselves; their attempt is a last hysterical cry for help. When willing hands are outstretched to aid them and some effort is made to alter the circumstances that drove them to such despair, they will try again to cope with life. I was no exception; two people had

  been very kind to me, and I was extremely touched by the fact. By morning, something of my normal common sense had returned.

  The day was bright and clear. The family dispersed to school and to work. Edward and I were left to contemplate a bare house, except for our shiny new drawing room, which I dusted very carefully from time to time. The few dishes were soon washed, what beds and substitutes for beds we had were soon tidied, and the fire allowed to go out until evening. Though still very exhausted, my spirits rose a little as Edward and I went out to buy food.

  Outside the elementary school a fi-esh poster announced the opening of evening schools that day for the winter session. I contemplated it with a feeling of hopelessness.

  Then hopelessness gave way to a slow burning anger. I would try once more to go to school. Perhaps if Father and Mother were faced with 3. fait accomplie, they would give in. I therefore took Fiona and Alan into my confidence at teatime, and they agreed to help with Edward and Avril while I was away and to cover up for me if my parents noticed my absence.

  When both parents went out to the library, I slipped away to the school and joined a crowd of youngsters moving slowly through the entrance.

  A young teacher asked me, as I stood uncertainly in the hall, what courses I wanted to take.

  I was aghast. I had no idea what courses to take. All I wanted was to continue my education fi-om where I had left oflP nearly three years earlier.

  "I'm not sure, " I managed to mutter. "I know I need to learn arithmetic. "

  She pointed to an open doorway farther down the hall. "Trv-bookkeeping, ' she said kindly.

  I didn't know what bookkeeping was, but I was so scared of the shifting, staring young people crowding around me that I bolted down the corridor and turned thankfully into a classroom holding about a dozen boys and girls and a young lady teacher.

  The classroom, with its walls of frosted glass and varnished wood, had enough desks to swallow about fifty children; four electric lights hanging from the ceiling failed to illuminate it

  adequately, and the bare wooden floor was gray from years of tramping boots.

  As I came through the door, the teacher looked up, and a pall of silence fell upon the gathering. The mouths of the neatly clad, well-scrubbed young people fell open. Then a well-curled blonde began to giggle, and a derisive grin spread through the class.

  Tears of realization welled up. I must have been a horrible sight, with greasy hair draggling round my shoulders, septic acne sores all over my face, hands with dirty, broken nails, an ancient cardigan with huge holes in its elbows, and no blouse. Red blotches of bug bites were clearly visible on my naked legs and thighs, and my toes stuck out of the holes in my laceless gym shoes.

  I fought back my tears. I was made of better stuff than the children before me. My family had been fighting England's battles while theirs were still serfs fit only to keep pigs. I would show them.

  Lifi:ing my nose into the air, I stared calmly back at them. Gradually, the grins were replaced by uneasy looks, and they began to talk to each other again self-consciously.

  There ought to be a special medal for understanding teachers. I don't know what prompted the small, perfumed occupant of the teacher's podium to come down from her perch, put her arm around my shoulders, regardless of the fact that I was obviously verminous, and say sweetly, "Do you want to take bookkeeping, too, my dear?"

  She was visibly taken aback when I answered her in my clearest English: "I had hoped to learn arithmetic, ma'am. Do you teach it?"

  She recovered herself and guided me to an unoccupied double desk at the front of the class, as she replid. "No. This school has only commercial courses—it is assumed that you will have done the necessary arithmetic already in day school. "

  The other children were again staring at me, and she turned to them and said sharply, "Please fill in the forms I have given to you. I will take them in a few minutes. " She turned back to me. "Now, " she said, "what kind of arithmetic do you want to learn?"

  I explained my lack of algebra, that my academic training had come to an end at a chapter called "Compound Interest,' and that was as much as I knew.

  she sat casually on the desk in front of me and looked me over thoughtfully.

  "When did you leave school?" she asked.

  I explained about leaving school when I was twelve and the subsequent glorious six weeks I had enjoyed just before my fourteenth birthday, and about Edward and Avril and the family.

  "I see, " she said, drawing her pale blue cardigan more tightly around her. "Do you want to train for any particular occupation?"

  An occupation seemed so far away, so unattainable, that I said hastily, "I haven't thought of anything special—except that I would like to be able to help the hungry, unemployed people around me."

>   She smiled at this and suggested that I should take the standard commercial course, in which she taught bookkeeping. In addition, she would guide me through a basic course in arithmetic and algebra, which I could do as part of my homework.

  "If you take the commercial course, it will form a basis for several different ways of earning a living," she said practically.

  I agreed because it seemed that I had no choice, and at least she had opened a tiny door of hope for me. Yesterday there had been no hope; today there was a faint gleam.

  She lent me her pen, and I filled in the form she gave me, while the other members of the class handed theirs in, had them checked, and were told to report back two nights later to commence their instruction.

  When the classroom had emptied, I went to the teacher's desk and handed in my form.

  "Fine," she said cheerfiilly. "Now, that will be half a crown; and here is a list of books you will need. They will cost about ten and sixpence. "

  I was stunned. My tiny-hope door slammed shut. I managed to gasp out, "I didn't know there was a fee for evening school—I thought it was like day school—provided by the city. So—so I haven't brought any money. "

  The amounts were tiny, but they might just as well have been hundreds of pounds, because I did not have them.

  The teacher was collecting her papers, and she replied, without looking up, "Well, never mind. Ask your mother to give you the fee for next time—and you can get the books fi-om any

  bookshop sometime during the week. Now, be here on Thursday at seven thirty, remember."

  "Yes, ma'am," I said heavily. "Good night—and thank you."

  I turned and marched out.

  As soon as I was outside the school, I rushed to a comer behind a buttress of the building and, putting my face against the damp, red bricks of the wall, I cried hopelessly and helplessly until not another tear would come.

 

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