Amy stared at her and the girl behind her gave a little squeak, her eyes wide, her hand over her mouth. Then Amy spoke. ‘Oh aye, just to tell him she’s met someone else, I suppose, and she’s dumping him. Well, that’ll be all right by us and by him an’ all, I shouldn’t wonder. If he’d wanted to carry on seeing her, he’d have written, now wouldn’t he?’
Her tone was smug now as if she’d got what she wanted, but it was Myrtle who dropped the bombshell and, at her words, even Amy’s mouth dropped open, whilst the other girl began to cry.
‘It’s not that. She’s had his baby and he needs to know.’
‘But he can’t – I mean – he wouldn’t. He – he’s—’ There was another, longer pause whilst Amy seemed to be searching for something to say. ‘He’s engaged,’ she announced triumphantly at last. ‘To Sylvia here.’ She jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards the girl still standing behind her, but now weeping openly. ‘So you needn’t think you can go putting the blame on our Terry, ’cos your sister’s little bastard is nowt to do wi’ him or wi’ us.’
With that parting shot, Amy slammed the door in their faces.
‘You don’t believe her, do you, Rose? About him being engaged, I mean.’ Myrtle asked as they walked slowly away.
‘Course I don’t. Our Peggy’s been an idiot, but she’s no liar. No, it’s Mr Terry Price who’s the liar and the cheat. Just wait till I get my hands on him.’
‘If you ever do. Those two girls are hiding something. I know they are.’
In the house, their ears pressed close to the door, Amy and Sylvia listened to the departing footsteps.
‘They’ve gone,’ Amy said at last, straightening up. ‘And good riddance.’
‘Oh, Amy, d’you think you ought to have said those things? I mean we’re not engaged and oughtn’t you to have told them the real reason he’s not written to their sister?’
Amy whipped round on her friend. ‘I thought you was in love with our Terry?’
‘I am – I am, but – but . . .’ Sylvia bit her lip. ‘What if they go to Billy’s dad and start asking him questions? He’ll most likely give them an address so they can write to Billy. Because, even though they’re not together, Billy does know where Terry is. And – ’ she dug her friend in the ribs – ‘so do we.’
‘Mm – yeah – maybe I made a mistake there, mentioning Billy and his dad.’
‘And you shouldn’t have made out he might be dead,’ Sylvia went on. Normally she was the quieter, more docile one of the two friends, always looking to Amy to take the lead. But for once she disapproved of what her friend had done. ‘You’ll wish it on him.’
Now it was Amy whose confidence deserted her. ‘Don’t say that, Sylv. Please don’t say that.’
‘Well, let’s just hope they don’t think of going to Billy’s home, that’s all.’
Amy peeped out of the window. ‘No, we’re all right, they’ve gone up the road.’
But if Amy could have heard the two sisters talking as they reached the top of the street, she might not have felt so confident.
‘D’you think we should find this Billy’s dad they talked about?’ Myrtle was saying.
‘Not today,’ Rose said. She nodded back towards the house they’d just left. ‘I reckon those two will be peering out from behind the curtains to see what we do. No, we’ll come another time and come in from the other end of the street.’
‘But we don’t know where he lives.’
‘True, but Amy nodded her head down the street when she spoke about him, so I reckon it’s down there somewhere. Come on, Myrtle, we’d best be getting back. And remember, not a word to anyone, not even our mam.’
‘I won’t, Rose. But I don’t reckon we should leave it there, do you?’
‘I don’t intend to, Myrtle. Believe me, I don’t intend to.’
Thirty-Nine
Rose went about her work with a heavy heart. Peggy had still not given her family any indication about her answer to Bob’s renewed offer and she continued to refuse to care for her child. Rose managed to put on a brave act while she was on duty and not one of her passengers would have guessed at her secret heartache.
But Mr Bower knew. ‘How’s things, love?’
‘All right, Mr Bower, ta for asking.’
‘Would it be all right if I popped round to see Peggy and the little chap? I’ve been having a clear-out and I found some baby clothes the wife had kept all these years. They’re still in good order. I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise. But it seems a shame for ’em not to be used and some of the other girls – ’ Laurence always referred to the clippies as ‘girls’ even though one or two were even older than he was – ‘have been busy knitting for Peggy.’
Rose felt tears prickle her eyelids. ‘Oh, that’s so kind of you – and of them.’ Word had obviously got around the depot, but instead of criticizing, the other women were showing their support by sending welcome gifts.
‘Aye well, like I’ve always said, Rose, your Peggy’s not the first lass to get caught and she’ll not be the last.’
‘We’ll all be glad to see you, Mr Bower, but you’ll have to excuse Peggy. She – she’s not quite herself since she had the baby.’
‘It takes some women like that. The wife was like that after our youngest was born. Took her months to really get over it. It’s a big thing, y’know, to have a bairn and specially when . . .’ He stopped and smiled in embarrassment.
Rose sighed. ‘It’s all right, Mr Bower, you needn’t pull any punches, not with me.’
Mr Bower patted her arm. ‘You’re a good lass, Rose, and you’ve surprised me.’
Rose laughed. ‘You mean you thought if anyone was going to get themselves into trouble, it’d have been me.’
‘No, no, I don’t mean that, lass, though I have to admit Peggy was the very last person I thought it’d’ve happened to. No, what I mean is you’ve turned out to be the best clippie we’ve got. In fact, I’d like you to take a new woman under your wing and show her the ropes. Her husband’s been called up and, although she’s a fourteen-year-old daughter, she’s volunteered for war work.’
Rose felt a glow of pride. ‘I’ll look after her, Mr Bower, don’t you worry.’
‘I know you will and, Rose . . .’
‘Yes, Mr Bower.’
‘I just wanted you to know that I do admire the way you’ve never let your family worries interfere with your work. I’ve watched you and you seem to be able to put it all aside and concentrate. Your ticket takings always tally and you’ve a special rapport with all your passengers. They all love you. Well done, lass, well done indeed.’
As she walked home, Rose felt she was walking on air. At one time she had hoped that if women were to be trained as motormen – or motorwomen, she presumed they’d be called – she’d be considered. But now, with Laurence Bower’s unstinting praise ringing in her ears, she decided that she would rather stay as a clippie anyway. All a motorman did was stand at the controls all day. He had very little interaction with the passengers. To Rose, now, that would be very boring.
‘Mr Bower’s coming round later after he’s had his tea,’ she informed Mary and Grace. ‘He’s bringing some clothes for Freddie. And now, where is the little man?’
‘He’s out,’ Grace said shortly.
‘Who with? Mam’s at work and Myrtle’s not home from school yet, so . . .’ Her eyes widened. ‘Not Peggy? Don’t tell me she’s . . .’
‘Sadly, no. Letty’s taken him out in the pram.’
‘Oh, Gran, no. She’ll be showing him to everyone. “This is Peggy Sylvester’s little bastard,” she’ll be saying.’ Rose mimicked Letty’s high-pitched voice. ‘“And I helped bring him into the world. I don’t know what they’d have done without me and my Tom.”’
Grace rattled her newspaper. ‘Be fair, Rose, they did help us and she’s been good since. And as far as I know, she hasn’t done all that much gossiping.’
Rose snorted as she passed through the living room towards
the kitchen. ‘But she’ll be making up for it now, you mark my words.’
But Rose was wrong. Letty was marching down the street pushing the battered perambulator in front of her with as much pride as if Freddie were her own grandchild. True, the neighbours who stopped to peer into the pram knew very well whose baby it was, but seeing Letty with the child was enough to quieten them. If the biggest gossip-monger in their midst could accept the circumstances of the baby’s birth, then they would do no less. In fact, Peggy and her family had Tom Bradshaw to thank for the stillness of his wife’s tongue on the matter.
On the night of the child’s birth, when they’d arrived back at their own home after all the excitement, Tom had wagged his finger in his wife’s face and said firmly, ‘Now you listen here, Letty love. I know you and your friends like a little bit of a gossip now and again . . .’ That was an understatement if ever there was one, the kindly man had thought privately, but he didn’t want to be too hard on his wife. She was a good sort in many ways and she’d come up trumps that night. ‘That there family has enough trouble on their hands. They’ve no man in the house for a start . . .’
‘They have now,’ Letty had countered, smiling broadly.
‘Eh?’ Tom had blinked, momentarily side-tracked. ‘Oh aye, I see what you mean. Anyway, what I’m saying is this, they need a bit of neighbourly support, not a lot of tittle-tattling going on behind their backs.’
‘I won’t, Tom,’ Letty had promised him solemnly. ‘That family’s always been nice to me. They’ve never snubbed me like some of the snotty-nosed buggers round here have.’
‘There you are, then. They need our support now.’
Letty had nodded. ‘And they’ll get it, Tom.’
She had continued to ‘pop’ round to Grace Booth’s house whenever she could and she’d always been welcomed. And so it was that Letty was out wheeling Freddie in the pram when Myrtle came running down the street, anxious to be home in time to give her nephew his tea-time feed.
‘Oh, hello, Mrs Bradshaw. Is that our Freddie you’ve got in the pram?’
Letty beamed. ‘Now who else would it be, lass? The bairn you an’ me brought into the world.’
Myrtle smiled. ‘It’ll be time for his feed soon.’
Letty turned the pram around and they began to walk back together.
‘Your Peggy any better, is she?’
Myrtle shook her head. ‘Still won’t have much to do with him. She’ll feed him now and again, but only if Nurse Catchpole calls and insists.’
‘You should get your mam to take her to the doctor. It’s natural for a new mother to feel a bit low sometimes after the birth, but this has been going on too long now. Summat ought to be done. Best thing you could do is to get her out in the fresh air. Encourage her to get some exercise. Best thing for her.’
‘I think she doesn’t want to come out and face the neighbours.’
Letty gave a click of exasperation. ‘Silly girl. She’s nowt to worry about.’ Letty’s grin widened. ‘I’ll see to that.’
‘I’ll tell Mam what you’ve said – and thank you, Mrs Bradshaw.’ Myrtle smiled sweetly at her and neatly took over pushing the pram, manoeuvring it up the short front path and pulling it backwards up the steps to the front door. She parked it at the side of the hallway where it usually stood, pulled down the hood and gently picked Freddie up. ‘There, there, my little man,’ she crooned. ‘Did you have a nice walk with Mrs Bradshaw? I bet you’re hungry now, though, aren’t you?’
The door from the living room opened. ‘Oh, you’ve got him,’ Rose said and there was no hiding the disappointment in her tone.
‘It’s my turn to feed him,’ Myrtle said.
‘That’s all right. I’ll do his last feed tonight after I’ve bathed him.’
Myrtle grinned. ‘If you can prise him away from Mam, you mean.’
Rose pulled a wry face and then smiled. ‘Too true,’ she murmured.
‘Where’s Peggy – as if I need to ask?’ Before Rose could say a word, Myrtle went on as she carried Freddie into the living room. ‘Mrs Bradshaw says we should get Peggy out or take her to the doctor, or both.’
‘She won’t go.’
‘I know that and I said so. I told her that Peggy couldn’t bring herself to face the neighbours and do you know what Mrs B said?’
‘I couldn’t begin to guess.’
‘She said she was a silly girl and she’d no need to be afraid of facing them – she’d see to that.’
‘Did she really?’
Rose was thoughtful as she mixed the baby’s bottle. As she handed it to Myrtle, she said, ‘You know, I think Mrs Bradshaw’s right. Peggy’s done enough moping about in this house. It’s high time she got out and mixed with folk again.’
Myrtle took the bottle and touched Freddie’s lips with it. Eagerly he began to suck. When she could see that he was settled happily, Myrtle looked up at Rose. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know, but I’ll think of something. Mr Bower’s coming round tonight to see her. That might be a good start.’
‘She’ll not come down to see him.’
‘We’ll see,’ Rose said, with a glint in her eye.
Myrtle smiled down at Freddie. ‘Your Aunty Rose is on the warpath. Watch and learn, little one.’
Forty
‘Come through, Mr Bower,’ Rose invited, leading him into the living room and offering him the armchair on the opposite side of the hearth to her grandmother.
Grace lowered her paper and smiled at their visitor. She’d become quite fond of the quiet little man, who often seemed to find an excuse to call at their house. And now she thought she knew why. On his last visit she’d seen the way he looked at her daughter. Well, Grace thought, Mary could do a lot worse for herself, but whether Laurence Bower would be willing to take on their family of women was another matter. And then her smile broadened as she remembered. They were no longer just a female household now; they had Freddie. Tonight Laurence was carrying a large cardboard box, which he balanced on his knees. ‘What have you got there, lad?’
Rose turned away, chuckling at hearing Mr Bower called ‘lad’, but then her grandmother had the advantage of age, which let her get away with saying things others dared not.
‘Baby clothes, Mrs Booth. I found some the wife had kept. They’re still in good order – no moth holes – though maybe they could do with a good wash. And then some of the girls at work have been busy knitting.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ Grace murmured.
‘I’ll just fetch Peggy down,’ Rose said.
Grace glanced up, raised her eyebrows in surprise, but said nothing.
Rose ran upstairs, determination in every stride. She flung open the door to see Peggy sitting at the dressing table idly brushing her hair. ‘Right, mi lady, I’ve had enough of this. Mr Bower has come to see you. He’s brought you some things for the baby and you’re going to come downstairs and see him.’ She grasped Peggy’s arm.
‘No, Rose, I can’t. I won’t.’
‘You can and you will.’
Rose was stronger than her sister and though she tried to resist, Peggy found herself hauled to her feet and being propelled out of the bedroom. Briefly she tried to cling to the door frame, but Rose prised her fingers free and pushed her to the top of the stairs. ‘Now, unless you want me to push you down, get going.’
‘Rose, I—’
‘Go!’
Mr Bower got up as the two sisters entered the room. Grace’s face was a picture and Rose dared not meet her grandmother’s gaze or she would have burst out laughing.
‘Peggy, how nice to see you. How are you?’ Mr Bower held out his hand.
‘I’m – fine. Thank you,’ Peggy murmured as she shook his outstretched hand.
‘And the baby? A boy, I understand. Is he doing well?’
‘Yes – yes – thank you.’
Laurence held out the box and explained what it contained. Peggy took it from him, but m
ade no attempt to open it.
‘Let’s have a look, then, Peg.’ Rose nudged her and Peggy smiled thinly, but undid the string and opened the box.
‘Three little coats and hats to match,’ Rose enthused. ‘Aren’t they lovely? Oh, and a beautiful shawl.’ She held it up for everyone to admire.
‘My wife knitted that just before John – our eldest – was born,’ Laurence said rather wistfully as he reached out to touch the shawl.
‘I’ve never learned to knit,’ Rose said.
‘Hasn’t got the patience,’ Grace sniffed.
‘Oh look, do look, Peg, there are more little jackets and leggings to match.’
‘Now Peggy here, she’s a good little knitter,’ Grace said and added pointedly, ‘if she puts her mind to it.’ Peggy had lost interest in knitting since Freddie’s birth.
‘I expect you’ve got a lot to do with looking after a little one now,’ Laurence said. ‘But if you ever did want to come back to work, even if it was only for part time, we’d be pleased to have you, Peggy.’
Peggy gaped at him. ‘You – you’d have me back?’
‘You were one of my best clippies, but, of course, if you don’t feel you’ve the time.’
‘Of course she’s got the time,’ Grace put in. ‘We all take turns in looking after little Freddie. It’d do her good.’
Peggy glared at her grandmother, but the older woman took no notice.
‘Right then, if you’d like to come down to the depot whenever you feel ready, we can discuss your hours.’ He stood up. ‘I’d better be going.’
‘Oh, but you haven’t had a cup of tea,’ Rose said.
‘Please don’t trouble. I’ve only just had my tea and I wouldn’t want to take your precious rations. I’ll say goodnight then, Mrs Booth.’
Grace nodded and smiled and then picked up her newspaper as Rose showed Laurence out. ‘Give my regards to your mother,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I’ve missed her.’
‘She’s gone shopping with Myrtle. No doubt they’ve had to queue for hours.’
Laurence pulled a sympathetic face and stepped out into the summer evening.
The Clippie Girls Page 27