by Joan Jonker
The bucket was set down so heavily that water spilled over the sides, forming little pools on the diamond-shaped tiles. But Aggie didn’t see them, she was too busy patting Ada on the shoulder, a huge grin on her wrinkled face. ‘I knew the minute I clapped eyes on yer, girl, that yer were a woman after me own heart. You do those steps for me an’ yer’ll be me bleedin’ friend for life.’
Ada laughed and reached over to straighten the mobcap.
‘Yer look as though yer’ve had one over the eight.’
‘I should be so lucky! No, girl, I like me drink an’ I’ll not deny it, but it’s two bottles of stout a night, an’ that’s me limit.’ She dropped her head and chuckled. ‘Except on a Saturday – that’s when I roll home singin’ at the top of me voice. Not that I can sing, mind yer, ’cos I’m tone ruddy deaf ! But as all me mates are as drunk as me they think I’ve got a voice like a bleedin’ nightingale.’
Ada tutted. ‘I’m ashamed of yer, Aggie! Now will yer get me the necessary cleaning stuff for the steps, otherwise we’ll get no work done.’
Ada was on her hands and knees cleaning under a desk in an office on the second floor when Aggie called. ‘Come on down for a cuppa.’
Surprised, Ada scrambled to her feet. She wasn’t expecting to have a break. Rubbing her hands over her pinny, she ran down the wide staircase. ‘Are yer allowed to make tea?’
‘I dunno, girl, I’ve never asked!’ Aggie handed her a nice white cup and saucer. ‘Never ask a question if yer think the answer isn’t goin’ to be to yer satisfaction. I learned that early on in life, girl.’
‘But who does the tea an’ milk belong to, Aggie? And whose cups and saucers are they? Did yer bring them with yer?’
The older woman winked. ‘If I’d of ’ad cups and saucers like them, girl, they’d have been well pawned by now.’ She shook her head. ‘Everythin’ I’ve used belongs to the office. Mr John supplies them.’
‘But what would Mr Roscoe say if he knew we were stoppin’ our work to have a cuppa? Don’t forget, this is me first day an’ I don’t want to get in his bad books.’
‘Listen to me, Ada Perkins, I’ve known Mr John since he was a schoolboy an’ he wouldn’t begrudge me havin’ a little break. An’ seein’ as you’re me assistant, the same goes for you.’
Ada sat in one of the office chairs and ran a finger along the wooden desk. ‘It’s a beautiful house, isn’t it? Comin’ down that wide staircase I felt like Cinderella goin’ to the ball. It’s as near as I’ll get to it, but it doesn’t do any harm to dream, does it?’
Aggie cocked her head and her voice was sympathetic when she said, ‘Mr John told me yer’ve got yer share of trouble.’
‘You don’t know the half of it, Aggie! If it hadn’t been for Mr Roscoe givin’ me this job, me an’ the kids would be walking the streets in the not too distant future. I’ll be grateful to him for the rest of me life.’
‘He’s a good man, one of the best yer’ll ever meet.’ Aggie tucked her white hair into her mobcap. ‘Have yer ever met his wife?’
Ada shook her head. ‘No! How would I ever meet her?’
‘Well, a little word of warning, girl. If she ever comes when you’re here, make yerself scarce. She’s the most stuck-up, toffee-nosed bitch yer ever likely to meet. Looks down her nose at yer as though yer a piece of dirt. What Mr John ever saw in her, only God knows an’ He won’t snitch.’
‘Go ’way! Fancy that, an’ him being such a nice man!’ Ada put her palms flat on the desk and pushed herself up. If they didn’t get a move on they’d be here until ten o’clock. ‘He must have loved her to have married her. Is she pretty?’
Aggie leaned across the table until their faces were nearly touching. ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, girl, an’ as I can’t stand the sight of her I think she’s as ugly as sin.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Ada sucked in the air through her teeth. ‘Anyway, I’ve got enough troubles without botherin’ about anyone else. But I’ll heed yer warning, Aggie. If she does come, I’ll run an’ stand behind you.’
‘I’m not frightened of her, Ada, never ’ave been. An’ that doesn’t half get up her nose. She thinks she’s only got to snap her fingers an’ we’ll all come runnin’. But she’s got another think comin’ with Agnes Theresa Connelly, ’cos I don’t bow to no little upstart like her. Oh, I know she’d have had me out of ’ere long ago if she’d had her way. Mr John doesn’t know, but I overheard them talkin’ one day an’ I heard her say I lowered the tone of the Square.’
‘She didn’t!’ Ada felt angry for the woman she’d only met two hours ago but knew was going to be a friend. ‘The cheeky madam! If I’d have heard her say that about me I’d have slapped her face – even if it did mean losin’ me job!’
‘I didn’t need to. Mr John told her where to go in no uncertain terms. It was the first time I’ve ever heard him shout at her.’
‘Good for him!’ Ada waved a hand at the cups. ‘Shall I wash these or get back an’ finish the second floor? I’ll have to make it snappy ’cos there’s still the top floor to do.’
‘Uh, uh! Mr John said to leave his quarters for today. Just do the stairs and his landing. He’ll have locked all his doors because he keeps his important papers up there.’
It was half-past eight when Agnes pulled the door behind her and followed Ada down the steps. ‘Yer a blessing in disguise, girl, an’ that’s the God’s honest truth. I don’t feel half as tired as I usually do.’ She tucked her arm into Ada’s. ‘An’ it’s much better for me to work at night. I’m gettin’ too old to be rising from me bed at half-past five every mornin’.’
Ada turned to smile at the woman who felt as familiar as an old friend. Aggie might be getting on in years but she was thin and wiry and could certainly pull her weight. They’d got through all the work and it hadn’t been hard because it was a pleasure just to be in the lovely house. And there’d been plenty of laughter ’cos Aggie had such funny sayings; she had Ada in stitches every time their paths crossed. She was a real character, all right – no wonder Mr John thought so much of her. As they walked arm in arm down the Square, little did they know they were being watched from a window on the top floor. John had stayed behind to finish some paperwork and had heard Mrs Perkins ring the bell. He’d gone on to the landing and was about to make his presence known when he heard the two women chatting together and decided he’d leave them to get acquainted first. He was poised to return to his office when he heard Mrs Perkins offer to clean the front steps and this took him to the window of his sitting room which overlooked the Square. He watched as she got on her knees and began to scrub the wide steps with a stiff scrubbing brush before wiping them clean and then using a whitestone on them. He could feel himself growing angry as she toiled, but couldn’t think of a reason for his emotion. After all, women up and down the country were scrubbing steps every day. Why did he think Mrs Perkins was any different to them? And she had needed the job; it was either that or starve.
John sighed as the chatting couple passed under a lamp and he saw Ada throw her head back and laugh at something Agnes had said. It was then he understood why he’d been drawn to her. With all the troubles she had to bear, she had the spirit and the guts to carry on, and he admired her for that. She was a woman with a warm compassionate nature and she didn’t deserve the cards Fate had dealt her.
John placed the papers in the safe and turned the key. At least he’d helped her, but even with that help her life was going to be one of penny-pinching and drudgery. She was worthy of better than that.
‘The kettle’s on the boil, Mam, an’ I’ll make yer some toast.’ Polly’s eyes were questioning as she took her mother’s coat. ‘How did yer get on?’
‘Marvellous! It’s a doddle compared to me mornin’ job.’ Ada dropped on to the couch. ‘Yer should see the house, Polly, it’s so big! This place would fit into two of the rooms.’
‘Don’t tell me any more until I’ve made the tea an’ toast.’ Polly hastened to the tiny hal
l where she hung her mother’s coat on a hook on the wall, then she passed through the living room and into the kitchen in a flash saying, ‘I can’t wait to hear all about it.’
When she came back into the room she was carrying a plate with a thick slice of toast on it and a mug of tea. ‘There yer are, Mam, get that down yer.’
Ada watched as her daughter pulled one of the chairs from the table and turned it to face her. ‘Aren’t you havin’ any toast, love?’
‘There’s not much bread left, Mam, only enough for in the mornin’. But I’m all right, I’m not hungry.’
Ada split the slice of toast into two pieces and passed half over to her daughter. ‘We’ll share.’
Polly didn’t argue because she was so hungry, she could hear her tummy rumbling. ‘Go on, Mam, I want to know all about the house an’ how yer got on with Agnes.’
‘Oh, Agnes is a real character, somethin’ like yer Auntie Dolly. She’s got an answer to everythin’ an’ it’s always funny. She can swear, mind yer, but somehow it doesn’t sound bad coming from her.’ Ada licked her lips and leaned forward to put the plate on the table. ‘I enjoyed that bit of toast, sunshine, it’ll keep me goin’ until the morning.’ She then went on to describe Agnes in detail and recounted the tale about her Saturday-night drinking and singing sessions. ‘You’d like her, Polly, she’s real kind and friendly.’
‘What about the house, Mam?’ Polly had seen the houses in Faulkner Square and had often wondered what they were like inside. Now she was eager for details. ‘Only posh people live in them, don’t they?’
‘Yes.’ Ada nodded her head. ‘I don’t know why Mr Roscoe has his offices there, ’cos from what I could see all the other houses have families livin’ in them. When we were comin’ home, one of the doors was opened by a maid and she had a white lace-trimmed apron on over a black dress, an’ she had a white thing on her head an’ that was trimmed with lace, too! Polly, love, we don’t know how the other half live.’
‘Tell me what the house was like inside.’ Polly leaned forward, eager for every little detail. ‘Don’t leave anythin’ out.’
‘Put that on the table for us, there’s a good girl.’ Ada passed the empty mug to her daughter. ‘Now, where shall I start? Well, there’s black wrought-iron railings in front of the house and very wide steps up to the massive front door.’ Ada took her time and her description was so vivid, Polly could feel herself walking through each room. And she laughed with pleasure when her mother told her about feeling like Cinderella when she walked down the wide staircase. ‘Honest, Polly, the wood the bannister was made of felt like silk under me hands. The only word I can find to describe it is magnificent.’
‘I’m glad it turned out good for yer,’ Polly said. ‘An’ I can tell you enjoyed it by yer face. Yer look so young an’ happy.’
‘Oh, thanks, sunshine! Are yer sayin’ I usually look like a miserable old hag?’
‘Yer know I didn’t mean that!’ Polly said hotly. ‘Yer the best-looking woman in this street.’
Ada remembered Agnes saying beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and she smiled at her daughter. ‘Yer’ll find that Steve, and Doreen, an’ every other kid in the street for that matter, thinks their mam’s the best-looking.’
‘They wouldn’t be right, though,’ Polly laughed, ‘’cos you are.’ The smile slipped and her face became serious. ‘Mam, are we goin’ to be all right for money now? I mean, will yer be able to pay yer rent an’ everything now yer’ve got this job?’
‘We won’t have to worry about bein’ put out on the street, sunshine, but we’re still going to be hard-up. My wages, and what you earn, only comes to about twenty-five bob and that’s not enough to pay all me ways an’ put decent clothes on our backs or good food on the table. But don’t look so downhearted – we’re a damn sight better off than we were this time last week. At least we’re sure of a roof over our heads, a couple of bob for the club woman, pennies for the gas an’ a bag of coal for when the weather’s cold. And even if we can’t buy food that we fancy, we won’t starve. There’s thousands worse off than us, so let’s thank God for what we’ve got.’
‘Yeah, and it’s only till me dad comes home. We’ll be well-off then.’ Polly lowered her head. ‘I wish he was home, Mam, I don’t half miss him.’
‘So do I, love, so do I.’ Ada blinked to clear the blur of tears from her eyes. Oh God, how she missed Tommy. He was in her thoughts all the time, even when she was working. But night-time was the time she dreaded most. The bed seemed so big and empty without him. She longed to feel his arms around her holding her tight, yearned for the nights when their need brought their bodies together with a passion that was a sign of the deep love they had for each other. It had been a long time since they’d made love, and being a passionate woman there were nights when Ada’s body cried out with need.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn’t hear Polly talking to her until her daughter leaned forward and touched her arm. ‘Mam, I asked yer if yer saw Mr Roscoe?’
‘No, he wasn’t there, love. He was probably at home sitting down to his dinner … lucky feller.’
John slipped the key from the lock and closed the door behind him. It was nine o’clock and Maureen would probably go into one of her sulking moods because he was late. His arm was stretched to hang his coat on the wooden coatstand when he heard his wife’s high-pitched laugh. Oh, dear lord, Maureen had visitors again. He felt like putting his coat back on and returning to Faulkner Square, but his eyes were tired with staring at figures all day and he didn’t relish driving in the dark. So, pulling down the front of his waistcoat and making sure his tie was straight, he opened the lounge door with a smile on his face and a greeting on his lips.
‘Oh, it’s you!’ Then Maureen remembered she had guests and her manner changed completely. Rising from her chair she came towards him and pecked his cheek. ‘Your dinner’s in the oven, darling, keeping warm. Be careful when you get it out because the plate will be hot.’
The uncomfortable silence of the visitors was enough to inflame John. He wouldn’t start an argument with her in front of them, he’d bide his time until they’d gone. In the meanwhile though, he had no intention of allowing himself to be made a fool of. ‘I’m sure your guests won’t mind you leaving them for a minute to see to your husband’s dinner. After all, I’ve been working all day and can’t be expected to come home and wait on myself.’
Maureen was facing him and he could see hatred and anger in her eyes. And when she spoke it was through clenched teeth. ‘It’s impolite to leave guests, darling, and I was brought up never to be impolite.’
‘Maureen, I’m very tired and have no intention of debating the issue. I’m going up to the bathroom for a swill, and when I come down I’ll expect my dinner to be on the dining-room table. Is that understood … darling?’
John came down to find his dinner and the evening paper laid out on the table in the front dining room, plus a full pot of coffee and his box of cigars. He gave a tight smile. This was his wife’s way of saying he wouldn’t be welcome in the lounge. He’d been naughty and had to be punished. But she needn’t have worried because he was in no mood to sit making polite conversation. He wasn’t really hungry so he only ate part of the meal, but he had two cups of coffee whilst reading the paper and enjoying one of his favourite cigars. He could hear the hum of voices and occasional laughter, and in his mind he could see his wife posing with a smile on her face, the perfect hostess.
It was eleven o’clock when he heard the front door open and farewells being called, but he didn’t stir. He knew his wife would come barging in and accuse him of humiliating her in front of her guests. So he was ready when the door burst open.
‘How dare you!’ She was beside herself with rage. Her face was contorted as she screamed at him, ‘If you ever humiliate me in front of my friends again you’ll be sorry.’
‘Why? What will you do to me, Maureen? Stop my pocket money like you would a child? But you c
an’t do that, can you, because I’m the one who gives you pocket money. So I’ll be interested to know what you can do to make me squirm.’
Her nostrils flared, Maureen was too filled with anger to see she was flirting with danger. John was usually so placid, too eager to give in rather than face her wrath. It never entered her head he could change, that she had at last gone too far. ‘Oh, there’s plenty of ways of making you sorry you made a fool out of me. For instance, how would you like to have to cook your own meals, make your own bed or iron your own shirts? And that’s only the beginning, the list is endless.’
‘But you don’t do any of those things for me, anyway, so what difference does it make?’ John spoke quietly and calmly. ‘Mildred does all the housework.’
There was a look of triumph on his wife’s face. ‘Precisely! And Mildred does as I tell her. She works for me.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve been under a misapprehension all these years.’ John picked up a cigar and slowly bit off the end. ‘I was under the impression that I paid Mildred’s wages.’
It was at that moment that his wife began to have second thoughts. She was no longer sure of her hold over him. ‘Well, of course you pay her wages, but she works for me.’
‘She works for you simply because I’ve been prepared to pay her wages! You have no money, so if I didn’t pay her she wouldn’t be working here, would she? And you would have to do the cooking, make the beds and see to the ironing … isn’t that the reality of it, Maureen?’
‘But I pay her out of the housekeeping allowance you give me.’ Maureen could feel the ground slipping beneath her feet. Why hadn’t she kept her stupid mouth shut?
‘And a very generous allowance you’ve been enjoying since we got married.’ John motioned to a chair. ‘Sit down, Maureen.’
‘But I’m tired, I wish to go to bed.’
‘Sit down, Maureen!’
‘Look, I’m sorry about asking you to get your stupid dinner out of the oven. I really didn’t think it would upset you like this. But is it so important that we discuss it now? Surely it will keep until tomorrow when I’m not so tired?’