Perhaps Tomorrow

by Jean Fullerton

  Freddie spotted Mattie and a broad smile spread crossed his face.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs M, I didn’t hear the knocker-up,’ he said, saluting his fellow delivery men with a tap of his cap.

  ‘Again,’ Mattie replied.

  ‘Once me head hits the pillow I’m dead to the world.’ He winked at her. ‘How’s that fine boy of yours today? I said to Pete only yesterday, “I swear he has the look of his father about him more each day.” Didn’t I, Pete?’

  Mattie laughed. ‘Munching bread soldiers when I left him an hour ago.’

  Freddie sidled over to Mumble, the number two cart horse, who blew through her nose and shook her head at him. He collected her harness from the peg and threw the broad leather girth over the mare’s back, untied her halter and led her into the centre of the yard.

  ‘Don’t you worry yourself none. I’ll have this rig out in half a mo,’ he said, casting his gaze around to include the other three men in the conversation.

  Mattie bit her lower lip. It was the fourth time he’d been late in two weeks and she really ought to say something, but he was popular with the housewives – a little too popular for some of the husbands’ liking, maybe. He pulled in custom and right now she needed that. Besides, he was family, and he always managed to put a smile on Queenie’s face.

  Mattie went over and stroked Mumble’s soft muzzle. ‘Can you get back for the hay delivery?’

  ‘For you, anything,’ he said, as he clipped Mumble’s nose bag on.

  ‘And pop in on Queenie before you leave. It will cheer her up,’ Mattie said.

  A boyish grin spread across Freddie’s face. ‘Consider it done, sweetheart.’

  Sweetheart! Mattie gave him a questioning look. She tried to run a friendly yard but not even Eli called her anything but Mrs M.

  ‘Right, Eli, open those gates,’ shouted Pete, putting his foot on the running board of his wagon. ‘And I’ll get—’

  But he was stopped by a loud, nerve-jarring grinding, then the sound of splitting timber as the cart lurched sideways. The front wheel sprang from the axle and rolled across the yard. The sacks loaded on the back tumbled off, sending chunks of coal bouncing across the yard. Samson, the horse between the shafts, squealed and kicked out wildly as the weight of the cart pulled him down.

  Mattie sprang forward and caught the flaying reigns. Her nails dug into her palms but she held on and tried to steady the young horse.

  ‘Get him out!’ she screamed as the cart toppled towards her.

  Billy and Eli dodged between the flaying hooves and tore frantically at the harness to set the terrified horse free, Billy bracing himself against the horse’s flanks to try to keep him upright. Samson reared again and lifted Mattie off her feet.

  ‘Help!’ she screamed.

  ‘Lend a hand, man,’ Eli bellowed across the yard at Freddie.

  After a moment’s hesitation Freddie started forward then stumbled on the scattered coal.

  ‘For the love of Blazes,’ Eli spat out, as he let go of the harness and dashed around to catch the reigns. ‘I’ve got the boy, Mrs M,’ he said, winding them around his hands. ‘You move away before you’re hurt.’

  Mattie let go and stepped back just as Billy released the girth buckle. Samson reared up dragging the traces through Eli’s hands. He kicked out and one iron-clad hoof smashed into the old man’s forehead. Eli plummeted to the floor. Samson jumped and kicked a couple of more times before trotting across the yard to his stable. Mattie dashed over to where Eli lay lifeless on the ground with Billy and Freddie on her heels.

  She knelt beside Eli and untied his necktie to staunch the blood pouring from the gash in his forehead.

  ‘Is he dead?’ Freddie asked as he bent over her.

  Eli groaned and his eyes flickered open for a second, then closed again.

  ‘Praise be to the blessed Virgin,’ Mattie whispered crossing herself three times. She looked up at Freddie. ‘Quick. Run and fetch the doctor from Chapman Street.’

  Chapter Four

  Josie Nolan wrapped the tea cloth around her hand and pulled down the front oven door. She reached in, slid out the baking tray and put it on the table. The two children on the other side leant forward, their eyes fixed on the dozen fragrant tarts so hot that the jam was still bubbling. Mickey’s hand shot out to take one but his sister Annie caught it before he could. Annie and Mickey were her husband Patrick’s children by his first wife, but as neither child could remember their real mother she was their mother in all the ways it counted.

  ‘Not yet, Mickey, or you’ll burn your fingers, won’t he, Mam?’ Annie said, looking up at Josie.

  ‘That he will. Your Aunt Mattie will soon be here so, Mickey, go and see if Gran needs a hand bringing in the washing. Annie, be a love and pop up and fetch your brother,’ Josie said, thinking that her three-year-old son, Rob, should be waking from his afternoon nap.

  Both children dashed out of the kitchen on their errands, and just as Josie popped the last tart on the plate, she heard a knock at the front door. She took off her apron, hung it on the kitchen door and hurried down the hall to answer it.

  ‘Mattie!’

  There wasn’t a time when she didn’t know Mattie. They had sat together as tots mothering their rag dolls, and though Josie was married to Mattie’s brother, in truth they were more sisters than sisters-in-law. Josie remembered Mattie’s wedding day, her eyes sparkling with love and happiness as she practically danced down the aisle. There couldn’t have been a happier bride in the kingdom than Mattie Nolan on that fine June morning.

  Mattie was holding Brian and shifted him on her hip. ‘I swear this child puts on a pound a day.’

  Josie tickled her nephew under the chin. ‘If he eats like his Uncle Patrick I shouldn’t wonder at it. Come in and put him down.’

  Brian turned his head into his mother’s shoulder but laughed at his aunt. Mattie lowered him to the floor and took off her bonnet. She removed her son’s top coat, revealing his gingham smock and dark drawers underneath. Having gained his freedom, Brian toddled to the bottom of the stairs and sat down on the step. He started playing with the toy soldier he’d brought with him.

  ‘Is Pat home?’ Mattie asked, hanging up her hat and coat on the hall stand and laying Brian’s over the top.

  Josie shook her head. ‘He took the Laughing Girl out early this morning but he knows you’re coming. He should be here soon.’

  Josie hugged her friend and kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Josie,’ Mattie said, the warm tone in her voice matching her words.

  ‘I just wished we lived around the corner like we used to.’

  ‘So do I,’ Mattie replied, ‘but only if we could live here in Stepney Green.’

  ‘Auntie Mattie!’ Annie called from the landing above.

  The women looked up and Brian clambered to his feet as he saw his cousin Annie making her way down the stairs, carrying her brother Rob.

  Josie opened the parlour door. ‘In you go and make yourself comfortable while I get the tea.’

  Josie went to the kitchen, where her mother-in-law, Sarah, was by the table folding up the sheets she’d just brought in from the garden.

  ‘Mattie’s here,’ Josie said, taking the tea caddy down from the shelf above the range and spooning the dry leaves into the tea pot.

  ‘How does she look?’ Sarah asked, setting the last of the sheets on the top of the basket.

  ‘Tired.’

  Sarah took off her overall and hung it next to Josie’s apron. ‘With a lively child, poor Queenie to look out for and a business to run, I don’t wonder at it. Perhaps, next week I’ll go over on Friday as well as Tuesday to give her a hand.’ She flexed her hands and the bones cracked.

  Josie glanced at her mother-in-law’s swollen knuckles and at her puffy ankles.

  ‘She’d appreciate that but don’t over-do it,’ Josie replied.

  Sarah slowly made her way to the dresser and started to collect the tea cups
. Josie took them from her. ‘You go and see that grandson of yours.’

  A tender expression spread across the older woman’s face. ‘Ah, well – I will. But mind that tray’s not too heavy, you know.’ She glanced down at Josie’s growing stomach.

  ‘Go away with you, Ma,’ Josie laughed.

  By the time Josie nudged open the parlour door with her hip and carried the tea tray in, the children had already emptied half the toy box and were deeply involved in a made-up game while Mattie was busy chatting to her mother, who was sitting in her usual chair by the fire with her knitting already in her hands.

  Josie noticed that although Mattie was smiling, her eyes didn’t have their usual spark and there were dark shadows beneath. Her mouth, too, had a tight, anxious quality about it and her shoulders sagged as if they were carrying the weight of the world, or at least the burden of a struggling coal yard, upon them.

  ‘There we are,’ Josie said as she placed the tray on the table. She gave everyone a cup of tea, then picked up her own and took a sip of tea.

  ‘Are things any better at the yard?’ she asked Mattie.

  ‘No.’ She looked bleakly at Josie. ‘In truth it’s getting worse each day. And with Eli still off . . .’ For a brief second Mattie’s chin wobbled but she steadied it.

  A twinge of guilt tugged at Josie. She asked Patrick only last week to drop by Mattie’s yard to see if she were all right. He said he would but got caught upstream when the tide turned.

  Patrick had helped his sister by looking over Maguire’s books for a few months before Brian was born, while Eli ran the yard. At that time they’d turned a small profit and once she’d weaned Brian, Mattie took over running the business. She had to: Queenie and Brian depended on her and without the yard they would have been not only homeless but destitute.

  It was hard, but when had Mattie ever been afraid of grafting? So, despite having a babe in arms and an addled mother-in-law, Mattie had learnt all about the coal trade from scratch. Josie doubted she could have done what her friend had to keep Maguire & Son’s afloat for three years. And it was the devil’s own luck that just as things were looking up the price of coal suddenly increased. Several of the smaller yards had already been bought out by Huggins down by Blackwall, who had also been trying to take trade from the other surviving yards like Mattie’s. Her position wasn’t helped by the fact that she was a woman trying to operate a very male-orientated business. She found out very early on that in business there was no such thing as chivalry.

  ‘You know Patrick will come by anytime you need a bit of help.’

  ‘I know, but when would he have the time? You told me a few weeks ago he’d had to hire another boat to keep pace with the demand. What with waiting for wind and tide to shift his cargos he barely has time to sleep, let alone ruin his eyes trying to understand my scribbling.’

  ‘He would come by if you needed him,’ Josie told her. ‘At least you’ve got Flashy Freddie.’

  Mattie’s unhappy expression deepened. ‘He’s not much help.’

  Josie’s eyebrows rose. ‘How’s that? The way he was telling it to Patrick last week it sounded like he was all but running the yard.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure. He’s jolly enough with customers, but since Eli’s been off Freddie struts round the yard ordering Billy and Pete about. Twice I’ve asked him to be back in time to give a hand with Morris’s delivery and each time he’s trotted in just as all the work was done. He doesn’t fill his order book in properly so it takes me double the time to tally it up. He’s always very sorry, he says, and gives me his stock cheeky grin, but when I’m trying to make three wagons do the work of four it’s not funny any more. And he’s still turning up late. I was going to have a word with him but . . .’

  Josie saw the start of a tear in Mattie’s eyes. She reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand.

  Mattie gave her a fearless smile. ‘Don’t you fret, Josie love. Things are looking up. I’ve got the discount from Morris that I’ve been after for months and Mr Stebbins himself is coming by to look over my books to see if there is anything to be done.’ Her smile widened. ‘So, who knows? I might be taking a house around the corner from you yet.’

  Mattie brushed Flossy’s dappled rump as the mare crunched her way through a bale of hay. The horse kicked her iron-shod hoof on the cobble and shook her head, happy to have a day free from pulling a coal wagon. Mattie, on the other hand, felt quite the opposite at having a cart standing idle.

  She wiped her forehead with the back of her forearm and eyed the piles of coal at the end of the yard. It was already June but the weather had been as hot as August for two weeks. The trade always dipped this time of year but since Easter the demand for all grades of coal had nearly halved. So much so that she hadn’t needed to restock the yard this week.

  The gate creaked open and Kate walked in. She was dressed in her serviceable cotton work gown and had her hair tied back. She was as tall as Mattie at five-foot-three inches but her own generous curves were without the soft roundness of motherhood. Unlike Mattie, Kate had her mother’s colouring, with hair as golden as ripe corn. Her eyes were like her mother’s too, more green and gold rather than Mattie’s deep shade of brown. She’d lived with Mattie since Brian Maguire had died. In recent weeks the ten shillings she gave Mattie for housekeeping was sometimes the only reason Mattie had food in the cupboard

  ‘Have I missed Ma?’ Kate said, setting the metal hoop on a chain that served as their yard bell spinning as she passed.

  ‘Only just. She went back on Billy’s cart about half an hour ago. She said she was sorry she couldn’t stay until you came home but then she’ll see us both at Mass,’ Mattie replied.

  Kate looked over to the empty cart. ‘Any news of Eli?’ she asked, patting Flossy’s neck.

  ‘He’s better but still in bed. Doctor’s orders.’

  Kate gave her an anxious look. ‘So there’s been no number-one delivery again today.’

  Mattie shook her head. In readiness for Mr Stebbins’s visit she’d spent several hours last night going through the accounts. She didn’t want him to have to untangle her scribbled notes so she’d rewritten the last two months’ income and outgoings into two neat columns.

  ‘I got them all to take out extra sacks this morning and Pete and Billy have done the same with the afternoon round,’ Mattie told her. ‘But Freddie’s not back yet and it must be past three now, if you’re home.’

  Kate twirled a stray lock of hair around her finger distractedly. ‘He’s probably been held up.’

  Again, thought Mattie.

  ‘He’s forever being stopped for a chat. You know what a lark he is,’ Kate added, wistfully.

  The gate creaked open again and Muffy clip-clopped into the yard, trailing the empty cart with Freddie walking alongside. He had taken his coat off, rolled up his sleeves and undone his collar. Kate’s gaze ran over him and the colour rose in her cheeks.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs M,’ he called, taking his hat off and sweeping a bow. ‘You’re looking very natty this afternoon.’ He ran his fingers through the hair on his chest slowly, with his eyes fixed on Mattie. ‘And Miss Kate, too, of course,’ he added, his gaze flickering over her briefly.

  Kate giggled and blushed. Mattie looked at her sister uneasily. Kate was friendly with young Alfie Lennon, the son of one of their old neighbours in Walburch Street but Mattie would be the first to admit that Alfie could never in a dozen years be described as dashing.

  ‘The hay delivery has been and gone,’ Mattie said, wondering why he was staring at her with such a daft expression on his face.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs M. I was held up in Turner Street.’

  He slapped Muffy’s rump and she ambled over to the water trough and stuck her nose in, taking the cart with her. Freddie followed and slackened her girth a notch. His eyes flickered over Mattie again.

  ‘But don’t you worry none,’ he said. ‘By the time the old girl’s had her fill, I’ll have this lot’ – he kicked the sa
cks of coal waiting to be taken on the afternoon round – ‘on board and ready to go.’ He grasped hold of the first bag and heaved it on to his shoulders. Kate’s eyes followed his every move.

  Mattie looped her arm though her sister’s. ‘I think Queenie’s just making a cuppa.’

  ‘Tell ’er her favourite nephew will be in to see her before he knocks off,’ Freddie called as Mattie marched Kate across the yard and into the kitchen.

  Queenie was already peeling potatoes for tea. ‘Oh, it’s your sister,’ she said, smiling at Kate. ‘Are you staying for tea?’

  Kate played along happily. ‘If I may.’

  Young Brian stretched his arms and Mattie picked him up. ‘And did you enjoy seeing Granny Sarah?’ she asked, kissing his soft cheek.

  It felt hot under her lips and her heart lurched. There had been two children ill just around the corner in Somerset Street only last week. The summer fever would be upon them in a week or two, rampaging through the tightly packed neighbourhood.

  She looked at Brian more closely and her racing heart slowed. The redness was only on one cheek. ‘I think one of his back teeth is coming through,’ she said setting him back on the floor.

  Queenie nodded and slid the kettle back over the flames. ‘You look like you need a cuppa.’

  ‘I certainly do. What about you, Kate?’

  Kate didn’t answer.

  ‘I saw Alfie Lennon’s ma in the market,’ Mattie added.

  ‘Mmm,’ Kate replied, staring through the coal-speckled glass into the yard.

  Mattie raised her voice. ‘She thinks you’re a nice girl.’

  ‘Oh! That’s kind of her,’ Kate said, continuing to study the coal heaps.

  ‘I thought I might drop in on Patrick and Josie on Saturday, Kate, for a bit of tea. Do you want to—’

  ‘I’ve dropped my handkerchief,’ Kate said, spinning around. ‘It must have fallen out in the yard.’

  Mattie spotted a corner of white cotton poking out from between the buttons of her sister’s bodice. ‘It’s—’

  ‘I won’t be a mo.’ Kate tore open the back door and disappeared.