by Dee Williams
‘You’re very knowledgeable.’
‘Yeah, I am, and I’m too fast and clever fer ’em. This is only a little present, the stall won’t miss it.’ He waggled the toy in front of Freddie.
‘Don’t spoil it, Mil,’ said Pammy. ‘It’s nice when ’e brings Freddie somethink.’
Milly didn’t answer.
‘So,’ asked Pammy, ‘how did yer git on?’
‘I start in the biscuit factory on Monday.’
Pammy grinned. ‘So you’ll be bringing in a decent wage, then?’
‘I hope so. I’ve got to work a week in hand.’
‘ ’Ow much yer gitting?’ asked Pammy.
‘That’s my business.’
‘No it ain’t, not if yer gonna feed us.’
‘I’ve managed to get some scrag ends and a few veg. I thought I’d do a stew for today.’
‘It’s a bit ’ot fer that, but if that’s all yer got, it’ll ’ave ter do.’
Milly was hurt; she’d thought they might have been a little bit pleased. ‘I’ve bought some cleaning stuff as well. I thought I’d have a go at cleaning this place up over the weekend.’
‘Please yerself,’ said Pammy. ‘It’s good enough fer us, but if yer fink it needs a bit of a clean then we won’t stop yer, will we?’ She looked at Bert, who was still playing with the toy he said he’d got for Freddie.
Milly wanted to ask Pammy how she could live in such a place, but she didn’t say anything. After all, she knew she had to tread very carefully.
On Saturday morning Milly found an old piece of sacking to wrap round herself. When Pammy saw her, she asked, ‘Wot yer doing?’
‘I told you. I know you don’t have time to clean up, so I thought I’d do it. Besides, it’ll give me something to do. I don’t want to dirty my clothes, so I found this.’ Although the sacking was stiff and smelly, Milly wasn’t going to mess up her nice clothes. She knew she had to be very careful to keep them clean.
‘There’s one of Mum’s overalls somewhere. I’ll find it for yer when I git back.’
‘Thanks. Where you off to?’
‘Just gonna wheel Freddie round. Might go to the docks and meet Dad ter see if ’e’s got a few pence ter give us.’
Milly thought that their father might not like that; he’d rather take his earnings and give them to the pub, but she didn’t comment.
Milly was on her knees scrubbing the flagstones in the scullery when a man’s voice startled her.
‘What yer doing down there?’ A short, skinny man with a shock of white hair and whiskers came through the door.
She sat back and mopped her brow. ‘Who are you?’
‘I live upstairs. Who are you?’
‘Milly. I live here.’
‘Oh, so you’re the mysterious Milly.’
‘Mysterious.’ She smiled. ‘Never been called that before.’
‘Yer mum used to talk about yer all the time.’
‘Did she?’
‘She told me you’d gorn ter live with some aunt.’
‘Yes, I did at first.’ She wasn’t going to tell anyone where she’d been.
‘Lovely woman yer mother was.’
‘I know.’
‘Sad day when she passed on.’
‘I didn’t know about it at the time.’
‘So what brought yer back ’ere, then?’
Milly was getting tired of everybody asking questions. ‘I lost my job.’
‘Oh. Gotta go to the bog.’ With that he left her.
She shuddered. He didn’t look that clean, and she had to wash it down after him. I just hope he keeps it in the pan, she thought.
Milly cleaned the windows and was tempted to wash the scrappy piece of lace curtain, but she knew it would fall apart. Next week when she got her wages she would go and get a remnant off one of the stalls at the Blue Anchor market. She threw the pile of dead bluebottles out, then set about the kitchen.
The large dresser had fewer crocks than she remembered. She took them all down and washed every one, then cleaned the shelves and put everything back. There were some things that needed replacing, and a nice paper border would look grand. She was standing back admiring her work when her father walked in; he looked at her and went straight back out.
‘ ’E’s gorn ter the pub,’ said Rosie.
‘I thought Pammy was going to meet him.’
‘Must’a missed ’im. It’s hard ter see ’em when they all come out tergether. ’E always goes ter the pub when ’e’s been ter work. ’E’ll come ’ome drunk, so someone will git a bashing.’
‘Why?’
Rosie, who was sitting at the table, shrugged. ‘Dunno. That’s the way ’e is.’ She went back to sifting through the buttons for Bella on the haberdashery stall. She was given a boxful and had to sort them by colour and size, then put them into paper bags. She only got a couple of pence for it, but just like before, everybody had to do something in this family.
Milly looked at the clock that had been on the mantelpiece ever since she could remember. Her mother had always told her it was a wedding present from her sister Doris. She would never find Doris now her mother had died and taken her secret with her.
The pubs were open all day, and she knew her father would run out of money and then be thrown out. Milly knew that she wouldn’t be the one to get a bashing now, so she carried on with her cleaning.
On Monday morning Milly was up first. She didn’t like her father walking in when she was washing. She dressed herself quickly and left.
At the factory there was a lot of laughing as the girls greeted each other.
‘You look a bit lost, love, you just starting?’ asked a woman who looked a bit older than Milly.
‘Yes.’
‘Come with us. You’ll have ter see Mr Forest and he’ll tell yer where you’ll be working.’
Milly followed this woman, who seemed to know everybody. Once inside the building she called out, ‘Mr Forest. I’ve got . . . ’ She turned to Milly. ‘What’s yer name, love?’
‘Milly.’
‘I’ve got Milly here.’
Mr Forest strode towards them smiling. ‘Good to see you’re on time. Thanks, Sally,’ he said to Milly’s companion. ‘Now, come with me and we’ll see how you get on in the biscuit room. You have to watch as the biscuits come along and make sure they are all perfect. If they’re not, pick them out.’
Milly panicked. ‘What if I miss one?’
‘You’re not alone. What you miss, someone further down the line will spot.’
All morning Milly watched the hundreds of biscuits that passed her. She was getting quite quick at spotting the wrong ones, but her eyes felt as if they would never close again.
When the hooter went for lunch and the machines stopped, she stood looking bewildered.
‘Come on, love. It’s lunchtime,’ said the young woman who was working just along from her. ‘Did yer bring a sandwich?’
Milly shook her head.
‘Well you just remember termorrer. It’s a long day ter go without a bite ter eat.’
‘I will.’ Milly sat on the wall next to the girl, who was about her own age.
‘Here, have one of mine.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Come on, don’t be daft. Me name’s Rita, but I don’t like it when people call me Reet.’
‘I’ll remember that.’ Milly smiled as she took the doorstep Rita offered her. ‘Thank you.’
‘I like the way you talk. I’m always trying to talk nice. I think it helps you to meet the right people. Mind you, you have a bit of a job round my way meeting anyone nice.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Belina Road.’
‘I know that, it’s near to where I live in Winter Street. I was always frightened walking round there with all the trains overhead.’
‘I know. Those arches are a bit low.’ Rita smiled. ‘Perhaps we can walk home together?’
‘I’d like that,’ said Milly. She was ple
ased to find someone to talk to.
When the hooter went for them to start work, Rita said. ‘I’ll meet you outside when we finish.’
Milly nodded.
At the end of the day Milly walked home with Rita. She had been on her feet all day and her eyes ached. This was so different to anything she had done before. Tears began to slide down her cheeks. She was living in a house she didn’t like, with her father constantly watching her, and now she was doing a job she wasn’t happy with. But what else could she do? This was her life now, and she knew she had to accept it.
Chapter 21
FOR MILLY TIME moved very slowly as the days rolled into weeks. Next week it would be her seventeenth birthday. She hadn’t told anybody; she knew the family didn’t even think about Christmas, and birthdays were just forgotten.
Despite everything, she was reasonably happy. She was still sleeping in the kitchen, but had managed to buy herself a small feather mattress, which was taken during the day into the children’s bedroom. She also got a cardboard box to put her clothes in, as she was fed up with the girls at work asking her what she carried about in her cloth bag. One of them joked that she must have the Crown Jewels in there the way she guarded it. She always told them she had to get shopping for some of the neighbours, but she was sure that they didn’t believe her. On the whole she kept herself to herself, and the only person she really talked to was Rita, who worked next to her.
Every morning before she left home, Milly would carefully check her precious clothes, then tie the box with a ribbon. She threatened Bert with his life if he looked inside and took any of her belongings and pawned them. Her money and her prize possession, her bracelet, was with her at all times. Although she’d felt guilty at taking the bracelet when she left the Greens, she’d thought it was best that Richard didn’t have to answer any awkward questions. Most evenings when she was in bed she would hold it and think of him. She would never forget him, and deep down she knew that she would love him for ever, although it would be a fruitless love. She didn’t care, though; she knew she had to have a dream of some sort.
The house was now cleaner and the family were better fed, and now and again they even had a treat of broken biscuits that Milly got very cheap from the factory.
In a funny way Milly had made friends with old Bill who lived upstairs. He was a pot man at the Rose and Crown pub up the road, and on Saturday afternoons after he’d finished his shift he would often come down and talk to her while she cleaned. He told her about his life and family and how they had fallen on hard times. His wife had left him and taken his six kids back to her mother’s in Essex. He asked her why she’d left her job and come back home, and she always told the same story about the family going abroad, although she did wonder if he believed her when one day he said, ‘Young Bert said you pinched somethink from yer boss, is that right?’
Milly didn’t answer.
‘I know, you don’t wanna talk about it.’
‘You don’t want to believe everything you hear from Bert.’
‘Your Bert’s a bit of a toerag.’ He moved closer. ‘He wants ter watch it. He could end up in front of the beak before he’s much older.’
‘I know.’
‘You do speak ever so nice. They must have been nice people you worked for.’
‘Yes, they were.’ Milly was very aware of how she spoke, and was determined not to slip back into her old ways.
On Saturday afternoons after she’d been paid, Milly did the shopping on her way home from work. She always went to the market for food and the odd thing she could get at a reasonable price; she wasn’t going to waste her money on luxuries. Once home, she would don her mother’s wrap-round overall and get down to the cleaning. Pammy never thanked her and her father never commented; in fact he hardly spoke to her at all, which pleased Milly. There were a few more crocks on the dresser now, and better food to put on the mismatched plates. On Sundays Milly would go to church. She felt safe there, and she needed to pray for her mother and for Jane.
‘What’s it like in church?’ asked Rosie one Sunday morning as she watched Milly getting ready.
‘Very serene.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Calm and tranquil.’
Bert laughed. ‘I bet yer go there ter confess yer sins.’
‘You use such lovely long words,’ said Rosie.
Milly smiled at her.
‘I’d like ter go ter church,’ Rosie said.
‘I’ll take you one Sunday if you like.’
‘I’d like that, but I ain’t got nice clothes like you.’
Although Milly was determined to save some of her wages, as she knew that one day she would move on, she said, ‘Look, when I go to the market on Saturday, I’ll see if I can get you a coat.’
Rosie came up to Milly and hugged her.
The following Saturday Milly went to the market and bought Rosie a second-hand coat and shoes.
‘Here’s a present for you,’ she said when she got home.
‘A present for me?’ Rosie’s eyes were shining.
‘Well if I’m going to take you to church one Sunday, you need something decent to wear.’
Rosie held up the green coat with a black velvet collar. ‘Cor, Mil, this is smashing.’ She quickly put it on. ‘And look, it fits.’
‘The sleeves are a bit long. I’ll turn them up for you. What about the shoes?’
‘I’ll grow inter’em. I can put some paper in them fer now.’ She walked proudly round the kitchen. ‘It’ll be nice not ter have wet feet when it rains.’
Milly could remember the days when she had to put cardboard in her own boots to help keep her feet dry; not that it ever did, for once the cardboard got wet, it disintegrated, making a soggy, uncomfortable mess inside her boots. She sighed and watched Rosie parading around in her new coat and shoes. She held her young sister’s shoulders and looked at her. ‘Now, Rosie. I don’t want you wearing this coat or these shoes to go street-raking. These are for when I take you out. And don’t let Bert take them to the pawn shop. Understand?’ Rosie nodded her head vigorously.
Looking down at the little girl’s head, Milly knew that a nit comb was the next thing she had to get her.
On Sunday morning as they walked to church, Milly smiled at Rosie to see how excited she was as she skipped along. At the door the vicar gave Milly a nod, and once they were inside, Rosie’s large brown eyes were full of wonder as she clutched Milly’s hand very tight, looking all around her. Milly remembered the thrill she’d got the first time she went to church herself. She would be forever grateful to Jane for showing her another life; a life she’d loved but one that would never come again. She choked back a sob, and Rosie looked up at her and smiled.
When they got home, Rosie couldn’t stop telling everyone about her morning, but nobody was interested.
Life for Milly was the same day after day. Her father only spoke when necessary, and she didn’t go out of her way to make conversation, not after the time she had asked him why he had Pammy in with him at night. Milly still shivered when she remembered his rage.
‘Dad, don’t you think it’s wrong to have Pammy sleeping in your bed?’
He put down his paper and looked at her. ‘Wot did yer say?’
Bert was out, and Pammy had taken Freddie into the bedroom to get him to sleep. Rosie and Iris scampered to their room.
‘Just you remember this is my house,’ her father said, jumping up and pounding his chest with his fist. ‘And wot I do in it is my business, d’yer hear? I like Pammy, she’s a good kid and she looks after Freddie. She won’t bugger orf like you did. So keep yer nose out, and if yer don’t like it, you can always bugger orf again. We managed wivout yer before and we can do it again.’
‘But it’s wrong.’ The anger in his eyes worried Milly, though she knew he wouldn’t hit her, but this needed to be said.
He came up close to her. ‘What you did when you buggered orf, I don’t care, but I can tell yer, keep yer nose
outa my business, ovverwise you’ll feel this.’ He started to undo his wide leather belt.
‘Wot’s going on in ’ere?’ said Pammy, bursting into the kitchen. ‘Yer gorn and frightened the life out o’ the kids.’
‘Ask ’er.’ He sat in his chair and picked up the paper.
‘All I said was that I don’t think it’s right you sleeping with him.’
‘I told yer before, Mil. I like it. I like being cuddled and warm in a proper bed, so mind yer own bloody business.’
Milly could see that Pammy was also very angry. One day she would tell her sister to take care, but would she listen to her? She didn’t think so, but she had to try; she was concerned about Pammy and worried at what could happen to her. But for now she just had to wait.
Milly was reasonably happy at work, and for the past month had been walking home with Rita. At first she had been wary when Rita asked about where she’d worked before coming to the factory.
‘I went away to work with my aunt, who was a domestic in a big house.’
‘That must ’ave been interesting.’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘What made you leave?’
‘The family went abroad.’
As time went on, Milly found that she was laughing again and enjoying Rita’s company. Rita, who was the same age as Milly, told her all about her own family. Her mum stayed at home as her father did shift work; he worked the machines in a newspaper printer’s. He had managed to get her older brother John in there as well. The print union was very strong and you had to have connections.
‘You’ll like John, he’s good-looking and a real laugh.’
Milly only smiled. She didn’t want any man in her life; she was still in love with Richard. As Rita was always nicely dressed, Milly could tell that the family were quite comfortably off.