The Pawnbroker's Niece

by June Francis

  ‘You won’t be helping him?’

  His expression changed. ‘I’ve someone else to find first.’

  Before she could ask who was more important than the two girls the door opened and in walked Jimmy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jimmy stopped short at the sight of Billy but then advanced towards them, walking jerkily. Rita felt she couldn’t breathe. ‘What are you doing here?’ asked Billy. ‘Have you come to apologise?’

  Jimmy snorted, holding his head to one side as he gazed at their joined hands. ‘I’ve come to ask Rita to marry me. I don’t care what you and Pops say. So don’t you go muscling in on my territory.’

  ‘You’re crazy!’

  ‘Crazy, am I?’ Jimmy did a hop, skip and a jump and bopped Billy on the jaw. Caught off guard he went reeling back against the counter and if Rita had not held onto him he would have slid to the floor.

  Anger replaced her fear of Jimmy. ‘Have you lost your head, you idiot?’

  ‘No! I’ve come to my senses.’ He blew on his knuckles. ‘He’s got hard bones, has our Billy.’

  ‘Get out,’ ordered Rita.

  Margaret appeared in the doorway of the storeroom. ‘What’s going on here?’

  ‘I’ve come to ask permission for Rita to marry me,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last fella on earth,’ said Rita, and making sure that Billy was not about to collapse on the floor she came from behind the counter and slapped Jimmy across the face. He swore, seized her wrists and lifted her off her feet.

  With an angry gasp Margaret reached for the cane. ‘Have you been drinking?’

  ‘I’m not drunk!’ Jimmy was indignant. He released Rita abruptly so that she stumbled and fell against the display cabinet. ‘I want to make an honest woman out of her.’

  Margaret stared at him and then at the recovering Billy. He swore. Rita wanted to leave the shop and never come back. Jimmy grinned maniacally. Margaret looked at her niece. ‘What have you done?’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s not what she’s done. It’s what he’s bloody done!’ said Billy.

  ‘You keep out of this,’ snapped Margaret, bringing the cane down with a mighty whack on the counter. ‘You can both leave.’

  Neither man made a move. Her face set in grim lines, Margaret swished the cane left and right, stinging them on their hands, necks and faces. Rita made a grab for the cane. Margaret wrenched it out of her grasp, and lifting it high, brought it down on Jimmy’s head.

  He swore and stumbled out of the shop.

  Billy faced the angry woman. ‘I’ll go peaceably but don’t take it out on Rita. It wasn’t her fault.’

  Margaret held the cane aloft. ‘I’ll not be taking orders from a Brodie! Get out!’

  He hesitated. ‘Go, Billy!’ urged Rita. ‘I’ll be fine. I hope you find who you’re looking for!’ He went to say something but Margaret advanced on him. ‘Go!’ repeated the girl.

  Sucking his knuckles he left the shop.

  Margaret flung the cane the other side of the counter and stared at her niece. ‘Right, miss! You can tell me exactly what happened yesterday when you went up to that yard.’

  Rita baulked at the very idea. ‘No!’

  ‘Don’t use that tone with me, my girl! It’s a long time since I took the cane to you but you’re still not too old for me to do it again.’ Margaret felt such a sense of failure. She had tried to do her best with her niece, but just like Eve she had gone off the rails.

  ‘If you think I’d let you have a go at me then you’ve another think coming. I don’t have to stay here and put up with being threatened. I’m going.’ She snatched up the phoenix and fled upstairs.

  Margaret, who was feeling the strain of having been on an emotional roller coaster for weeks, lost her temper and rushed after her. ‘You’re just like your mother! You want to have your cake and eat it… Will was the same! He got her pregnant, you know! The heartache I’ve suffered. Well, I’m not going to be left this time to pick up the pieces.’

  ‘You don’t have to because I’ll sort myself out,’ shouted Rita, slamming her bedroom door and placing a chair beneath the handle. She kissed the phoenix before placing it on the chest of drawers. Billy might love Ellen but he liked her, cared enough to give her such a lovely present when he could have sold it.

  Margaret tried to open the door but to no avail. She opened her mouth to tell her niece to take the chair away, only the shop buzzer sounded. She hesitated but a shout decided her. She told Rita that she would deal with her later and hurried downstairs.

  Those words decided Rita. She took some underwear, a couple of jumpers and a skirt from the chest of drawers and wardrobe. Then she counted her savings. She didn’t have much because she had bought the dress for the dance. Still, the money should get her part of the way to Cardiff; she would walk the rest.

  She crept downstairs and placed her change of clothing in a shopping bag before donning her best winter coat and hat. She drew on her gloves and left.

  Buoyed up by a sense of adventure and relieved to be escaping something she really didn’t want to face up to, Rita walked briskly in the direction of Berry Street. She hurried down Renshaw Street and past the Adelphi Hotel, to enter Lime Street station by its rear entrance. Then she faced her first setback. The train which would have enabled her to make the connections to reach Cardiff that day had departed and there would not be another until tomorrow. The price of a ticket also came as something of a shock.

  At the look on her face, the teller suggested she took a train to Warrington, which was due in a quarter of an hour, change for Chester, then catch the Shrewsbury train. ‘Nice place, Shrewsbury. Worth a look and you’re more than halfway. You’ve time to go on to Ludlow, if you like, which is another nice place — has a castle, and Broad Street is reputed to be one of the handsomest thoroughfares in Britain with real old buildings.’

  Rita cut him short just in case he was about to extol the attractions of every place on the way to Cardiff. ‘I’ll take a ticket to Ludlow.’

  She went and looked at a map of the railway system of the British Isles and saw that she had a good way to go after Ludlow, but she was wearing stout shoes so should be OK. She did have another problem, though; due to leaving in a hurry she did not have her mother’s address. She knew that the boarding house was situated in Tiger Bay and that was all. But she had a tongue in her head and could ask around when she arrived there.

  After Rita changed at Chester, she allowed herself to think about what had happened in the shop. Surely after her reaction to Jimmy’s advances yesterday he should have known how unwelcome his proposal was. Thinking afresh of those times they had spent together, it was obvious he had no idea the kind of person she was at all. Thank God Billy had turned up when he did. She thought of the beautiful red and gold phoenix he had given her and wished she had brought it with her. She had never received a gift like it in her life and would have liked to be able to show it to her mother. It was something else for her to be grateful to Billy for and her heart ached. If only he wasn’t in love with Ellen; if only he didn’t just see her as a kid needing rescuing from a big bad wolf.

  She sighed and hoped that her aunt would not sell the phoenix. Perhaps she should drop her a postcard and explain that it belonged to her and that one day she’d be back for it. What Margaret had said still smarted. Rita was not like her mother and she had never had her cake and eaten it. Eve might have, and Mr Brodie, but not her.

  Having reached the point of mental and emotional exhaustion, Rita yawned and her eyelids drooped. She fell asleep, not waking until the train arrived at Shrewsbury.

  As she stood on the platform waiting for the train to Ludlow she remembered it was here that Sam’s aunt lived. Why had he never written? If only he had she could have visited him. They’d been mates and it would have been good to see him again. Perhaps he was dead! She did not like that idea; there had to be another reason why he hadn’t been in touch.

 
The train came in and Rita climbed aboard. By the time she arrived in Ludlow it was almost dark. The air was cold and crisp and she was glad of her warm clothing. Which way to the town centre? She gazed up and down the unfamiliar road. She felt so alone. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten since breakfast. ‘Food first,’ she muttered.

  Remembering what the ticket seller had said about Broad Street she asked directions from a passer-by. It was quite a walk from the station but at last she arrived there. The street sloped steeply, and she set off in search of a fish and chip shop. For a moment she forgot her troubles in the pleasure of seeing a different town. The Angel Inn had a bow window with leaded panes on the first floor, jutting out above the pavement. She imagined gentlemen in doublets and hose, drinking ale and eyeing the ladies in silken gowns.

  At last she found what she was looking for and, after a short wait, emerged with a vinegar-soaked newspaper package and a bottle of ginger beer. Fish and chips had never tasted so good. She ambled along the street, listening to the different accents of the passers-by. Desperate men were on the move, tramping the roads of Britain looking for work. As she passed a side street there came the sound of raised voices and she stopped.

  ‘You snivelling little faggot! Give me it or I’ll let you have a taste of my knuckles.’

  ‘Let me go! How can I reach it if yer keep a hold on me like that?’

  Sam! It couldn’t be, thought Rita. But the second voice sounded so like his that she decided to listen a bit more.

  ‘I don’t trust you. You’d be off like a rocket if I let go of you. Let me have that rucksack and see what else you’ve got in there. Share and share alike! That’s what I said when I allowed you to come with me.’

  ‘I didn’t wanna go with yer. I’d rather be on me own. I got this loaf meself. I don’t need you.’ The accent was unmistakably Liverpudlian, but was she right about its owner?

  Rita turned into the narrow street, hugging the wall on her left. A few yards ahead she could see a bearded burly bloke with his arm about the throat of a youth. She caught the gleam of a knife and got such a shock that she ran towards them. She swung her shopping bag and caught the man a blow on the side of his head. ‘Pick on someone your own size, yer big bully!’

  ‘Get off!’ He rubbed his head and stared at her before abruptly thrusting his victim against her and grabbing the package of chips out of her grasp. He stalked off.

  ‘Well, he had a nerve,’ said Rita, holding the youth away from her so she could get a better look at him. He was really scrawny but there was no mistaking that thin face. ‘It really is you!’ she said gleefully.

  Sam was more cautious. ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘Of course you know me. Let’s go into the main street where it’s lighter.’ She linked her arm through his left one.

  He looked at her askance, clutching his rucksack tightly. ‘Yer do remind me of a girl I knew but yer couldn’t be her.’

  ‘It could. It’s me!’ she said happily.

  His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. ‘Bloody hell! Is it really you, Reet?’

  ‘Really! From now on, Sam, I’m going to believe in miracles.’

  ‘What are yer doing here?’

  ‘Going to Cardiff to visit my mam and baby brother. I didn’t have enough money to take me all the way so I’m shank’s ponying the rest of the way.’

  He held up a hand. ‘Stop right there! What happened to yer rich aunt?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ She hugged his arm. ‘Are you hungry, Sam?’

  ‘I’m always hungry.’

  ‘Fancy some chips?’

  He grinned. ‘Yer on. And this story, long or short, I’d like to hear it.’

  ‘You first. Why didn’t you write?’

  ‘I was too ashamed. I wasn’t wanted, was I? Me aunt’s fella said he didn’t need another mouth to feed so he turfed me out. I’ve been on the road ever since, finding work where I could and begging when I couldn’t. Did some of me pavement drawings. I didn’t write because I felt I’d failed you. Besides where would you post your letters to me? The nearest hedge to his majesty’s highway, Shrops?’

  Her heart was wrung with pity. ‘Oh, Sam, fancy being on the road in all weathers. How have you survived?’

  ‘Plenty of us out there. I’ve had to learn a trick or two or I’d have gone under.’ He grinned, revealing two chipped front teeth. ‘It pays sometimes to be small and weedy. Plenty of farmers’ wives want to feed me up. I chop wood or feed the hens, help mend a fence…in return I gets a nice bacon butty or even a chop sometimes…as well as a cup of char. If yer’d like me company I could go your way. I’d prefer putting some miles between me and Blackie back there.’ He indicated the alley with a jerk of his head. ‘He used to be a posh nob until he lost all his money. So if you don’t mind?’

  ‘Mind! You’re manna from heaven, Sam.’ They had arrived outside the fish and chip shop so went inside.

  Several hours later Rita had changed her mind about Sam being a blessing. He was a slave driver, setting a cracking pace. She was footsore, the muscles in her legs and hips aching. She could have curled up in the hedgerow and slept for a week but he seemed set on walking forever. Eventually she dug in her heels and told him that she could go no further.

  He looked about him at the rolling hills, hoary with frost where sheep huddled together. ‘No good stopping here — too open, too cold. We’d freeze to death. There’s a derelict place a couple of miles on.’

  A couple of miles! She groaned. ‘I’ve got blisters.’

  He turned a smiling face on her. ‘You’ll survive.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you had a cruel streak, Sam.’

  ‘I can promise yer a hot drink when we get there.’ He patted his knapsack. ‘Always carry the makings of a fire.’

  She stumbled on, wincing at every step.

  ‘Now what happened to ol’ McGinty?’ asked Sam.

  Telling her story helped Rita to forget her sore feet for a while. At last they reached a house with no roof but at least some of the ground floor rooms were intact. She huddled in a corner, watching Sam produce a candle, matches, and kindling. Soon he had a fire going and was boiling water in a tin.

  Tea sweetened with condensed milk and tasting of smoke warmed her up nicely and sent her off to sleep. She woke to find herself covered with an old army blanket. It was daylight and Sam had the water for their morning tea on the boil. Needing the lavatory, she got to her feet with difficulty and stumbled outside.

  When she returned he produced a poke of newspaper. ‘It’s grease. If you rub it on yer feet it’ll stop them getting worse. I’ve some lint and sticking plaster, as well.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘It stinks.’

  ‘Mutton fat, but it’ll do the trick. I’ll put it on if yer don’t want to touch it, Miss Fusspot.’

  She accepted his offer and found having her feet rubbed amazingly soothing. They drank tea, but there was no food. She was hungry but saw no point in complaining.

  They set off and it was hard going, but the countryside was pretty with gently rolling hills. It was so peaceful that Rita was able to set her worries aside. She suggested they buy bread at the next town. Sam said that she could save her money; he knew a farmer’s wife near Hereford, but she would have to stay out of sight because she looked too well fed.

  That afternoon they dined on bread and cheese and windfalls.

  By evening Rita was exhausted and wishing herself back in Liverpool. That night they slept in a barn. The next morning they breakfasted on scrambled eggs. She did not ask where they came from but demanded they take things easier that day. He told her that they would make for Abergavenny but do it in two days instead of one. ‘With a bit of luck we could be in Cardiff by the weekend.’

  Rita pulled her hat down further. The wind was sharp and was nipping her ears, and she put her best foot forward.

  Sam entertained her with anecdotes of his adventures on the road. ‘I was almost shot by a farmer! He
accused me of stealing one of his chickens. He was a liar. The nearest I got to them was pinching eggs.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re a terrible fella, Sam.’

  He grinned. ‘I like to see yer laugh. Yer know I’d never hurt yer, Reet?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ she said softly.

  ‘I’d like to punch that Jimmy on the nose for trying it on with yer.’ Sam glowered. ‘He always fancied himself. His stepbrother sounds a nice bloke, though.’

  ‘He is,’ said Rita, and fell silent.

  Sam took the hint and told her about the writer he had met, who had told him that he was a vanishing way of life. ‘He wanted to put me in a book. He thought me a real tramp and was willing to pay me, so I took his money and made a few stories up for him.’

  Rita was amused. Sam had obviously gained confidence since he had left home and taken to the highways and byways of England.

  Sometimes they walked along with other men, who spoke of their concern for their wives and children back home. Some were so poorly dressed that she could have cried for them. Despite having lived with her aunt for more than two years she had not forgotten what it was like to be deprived of so much that made life worth living. She remembered what her mother had said about the government having promised a land fit for heroes after the war. It was a long time coming.

  She told Sam about the travelling theatre and the play she had seen. He was fascinated and asked after every twist and turn of the plot. She thought of how Jimmy hadn’t been interested at all.

  They had reached the Brecon Beacons and that night it was very cold; the only place they could shelter was in the lee of a wall. Rita insisted they shared the blanket and they huddled together. Sleep did not come to either of them but she did not fear Sam would get amorous. She trusted him. It was comforting, though, to be held in his arms and to rest her head on his shoulder.

  It rained the next day and the going was arduous. Neither talked. At last they reached Abergavenny. Exhausted, cold and wet she told Sam enough was enough. They found the bus station and discovered there was a bus that would take them to Pontypool where they could get another bus to Cardiff. She pawned her spare clothing and, with the money she still had left, it was enough to buy two bus tickets for the following day.