Custard Tarts and Broken Hearts (20 page)

‘Don’t argue with me, Nell, you’ve had a shock and you can’t be out in this weather.’ The snow was falling more thickly now, coating the pavements and sitting in fluffy shelves along the window ledges. But Nellie stubbornly refused, as Sam pulled out some silver from his pocket and began hailing a cab. She closed her own hand over his, surprised at its warmth.

‘Is that what’s left of your Christmas club money?’

Sam hesitated.

‘Honest, Sam, I’ll be all right, we’ll just get a tram back. That money’s for your family’s Christmas and Dad didn’t want to spoil Christmas.’ Her lower lip trembled and she realized she had not let go of Sam’s hand.

‘All right, Nell, if you’re sure, come on.’ He led her to the stop outside the station where a horse-drawn tram, covered in adverts for Pears’ soap and Nestlé’s milk, was waiting to leave for Southwark Park Road. The horse’s breath plumed and he stamped his hooves, impatient to be off. Nellie was glad of the warmth inside and was even gladder for Sam’s company. Although they didn’t speak and she often turned her face to the window to hide her tears, she felt comforted by his steady presence all the way home.

Christmas Day dawned, with a sky heavy with the threat of more snow. Nellie and Alice had spent a sleepless night, huddled together in the bed in a hopeless bid for warmth and comfort, neither of which had come to them. Eventually they’d crept down to the kitchen as first light broke.

In their whispered conferences of the night, Nellie had related her father’s words to Alice.

‘I think we should follow his wishes, Al. If it’s the last thing we do, we’ll bloody cook that goose and eat it, even if we choke on it!’ Her sister had nodded her assent, burying her tear-stained face into Nellie’s breast.

‘Shhh, shhh, Alice, he’s a game old bird himself. He won’t leave us, not if he’s got anything to do with it.’

Nellie allowed herself to think of nothing else but giving her brothers the Christmas their father had wanted. They hadn’t woken the boys and she’d decided to keep as much of the accident from them as she could. After she’d arrived home the night before, she and Alice had salvaged an orange and sugar mouse each from the sad remnants of her father’s purchases and put them in stockings for the boys, along with silver sixpences. Then they’d washed the goose till every trace of dust and grit was gone, and found potatoes in the sack, and cabbages. Now Nellie set Alice the task of preparing vegetables as she knelt to light the range. The little kitchen felt so cheerless and empty. Even though their father’s presence had so often been a threatening one, she still missed it. The house only seemed half its true self without him. Her sister’s face looked as grey and bleak as the cold grate. Nellie lit the curled-up newspaper and watched the flames, yellow and orange, dance into life.

‘Come on, Al, love,’ she said, ‘once we’ve got the fire going and the range on, we’ll feel more cheerful, eh?’

Alice nodded and began peeling the potatoes.

Warmth and steam began to fill the kitchen; light crept in through the sash window. Soon tantalizing smells of goose skin crisping and the spicy aroma of Christmas pudding boiling in the copper announced that Christmas Day had arrived, and it wasn’t long before they heard the thud of the boys tumbling out of bed and thundering down the stairs. They burst excitedly into the kitchen, holding their stockings aloft, as Nellie poured tea for them all. Bread and hot sausages were ready for their Christmas breakfast and it wasn’t until they were all seated round the kitchen table that the boys noticed their father’s absence. Nellie forced her face into the false expression of cheer that must last all day.

‘Dad’s a little bit poorly, boys, and he had to go to the hospital, but he says we must have our Christmas all the same. He was very particular about that.’ She smiled encouragingly.

‘Have another sausage each.’ If she could feed their ignorance with food all day she would be happy to, and they accepted her explanation readily – perhaps, she thought, a little too readily. It saddened her to think how her broken father had robbed himself of their love over the years. It could have been so different, if only he’d let them in a bit earlier. She knew they could have formed the closest of bonds, all of them, after her mother died. They could have huddled, like bereft ducklings, around him; instead he had retreated and blamed the world for his loss
.

But while her father was in the hospital, she was head of the house, and she would try to do things differently. She would need all the children’s help and was determined that they would be her allies, never her enemies.

‘Listen, boys, you’re going to have to be the men of the house while Dad’s not here.’ She hesitated. ‘He might not be able to come home straight away. Do you think you can help me and Al with the coal and the firewood?’

Bobby nodded eagerly, biting a chunk out of his sausage. ‘An’ I’ll help you with the laundry, Nell. I can turn the mangle.’

‘An’ I can fill the copper!’ Freddie piped up, not willing to be outdone.

Smiling, she went to each of them, gathering them into her arms and pulling Alice close too.

‘We’ll be all right, us lot, won’t we? We just have to stick together.’

She hoped her sister and brothers did not catch the quiver in her voice, or the trembling of her body, as the comforting lie rose from her lips and hung above them in the steam-filled room.

It was a long day, but Nellie waited until the boys had thoroughly tired themselves out before putting them to bed. She didn’t want them giving her sister any trouble. She pulled on her good woollen coat and twined her scarf around her neck. She would walk to the hospital. She had already started to do sums in her head; whatever money her dad had squirrelled away for Christmas was all they had to live on till her next pay day. She would try to see old man Wicks tomorrow; he might see her, even though it was Boxing Day. She would milk as much Christmas kindness from him as she could, though there was no guarantee he would be forthcoming with injury money. Knowing him, he’d be docking money for damage to the cart from her father’s wages. She was just thankful that old Thumper had emerged unscathed, otherwise Wicks would be docking the vet bill as well. No, she would be taking no more trams.

‘You be all right here with the boys?’ Nell asked her sister, who nodded. ‘You’re a good girl.’ She hugged Alice goodbye. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please God he’ll be all right and we’ll just have to get through it till he’s home again. Now don’t forget to wrap the rest of the goose and put it out in the safe, and we can have bubble and squeak with it tomorrow. We’ll have to make do and mend for a while.’

Alice, though still only twelve, knew as well as Nellie did what it meant for her father to be off work. Nellie’s wages alone wouldn’t be enough to feed them and pay the rent.

‘Don’t look so worried. I’m going to see Wicks tomorrow, we might get a sub.’

Nellie gave her another squeeze and went out, catching her breath as the biting cold invaded her lungs. She put her head down and started off down the Neckinger till she got to Druid Street arch. She had always hated the arches beneath the railway viaduct; as a child she had run through them to escape their darkness and the thunderous rumbling of the trains overhead that filled them. This particular arch brought back memories of Ted Bosher: it was around here that he’d spent his days making bombs, while pretending to her he was working at the docks. She shook her head; she’d heard nothing from him and neither had Lily. The weeks had gradually drained her of any longing she might have felt for his voice or his touch, but loyalty ran through her like a strong vein of precious metal and it wasn’t easy for her to abandon his memory. Now this latest trouble brought into clear focus that he simply wasn’t there. His choices had robbed her of her girlish romantic notions and whatever troubles she had to face, Ted Bosher would certainly not be around to support her. She inhaled the freezing air and let its scarifying sharpness scrub all those tender dreams she had for Ted clean away. It felt as if she were cleaning her heart, clearing the decks, getting ready for God knew what almighty battle. She walked quickly through the arch and hurried on down Druid Street, which ran parallel to the viaduct, almost all the way to Guy’s. After twenty minutes’ fast walking she arrived panting and pink-cheeked. Visiting hours had been relaxed for Christmas Day and so she walked freely on to the ward, passing the rows of patients, some with family members who had obviously brought in Christmas treats. The carbolic smell was overlaid with tints of orange and spice and some effort had been made to decorate the ward. She looked nervously around for Matron, but she made it to the end of the ward unchallenged. Her father’s bed was still screened off and she pulled aside one of the screens. The freshly made bed, with its tight-as-a-drum sheets and blankets, was quite empty. She looked over her shoulder in panic, to see Matron approaching. The look of sympathy on her face told Nellie everything.

‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ was all she said. And she put her arm round Nellie, who, in spite of her resolve to be strong, broke down, sobbing. Matron guided her out of the ward past the rows of patients and visitors, each of whose eyes were lit by a common relief that this time the tragedy was not theirs to weep over.

16

Six Bob Short

No matter how many times she did the sums, the result was always the same: six shillings short. For the want of six shillings a week they might all end up in the workhouse, or if she chose to pay the rent, instead of buying food, they might simply starve. Her choices were becoming terrifyingly simple and every mathematical effort brought her back to the same dead end: she could find no way to make the figures add up to more. Nellie turned over the piece of paper and began again. Sitting at the kitchen table by the light of a candle end she fought her lonely battle with shillings and pence. She worked out their outlays to the last farthing. Eight shillings for rent; twelve and six for a very little meat, potatoes, bread, jam, sugar, tea and milk; two and six for coals, wood and soap: twenty-three shillings was the very least it would take to keep the four of them. This was six shillings more than their income and even so it didn’t include a penny for new clothes, or boots for the boys, who seemed to be growing like bean plants. God forbid she ever got ill and couldn’t work; in that event any choices would be taken completely out of her hands. Dad’s penny policy had buried him and had given them the breathing space they needed, while the remainder had paid January’s rent. At least 1913 had brought one good thing with it – Alice had turned thirteen and could start work at Pearce Duff’s, for the girl’s wage of six shillings a week. Nellie’s wage was now eleven shillings and she blessed the memory of Eliza James every day for that. But she banged the table in frustration; seventeen shillings a week was still not enough.

Something had to be done and done quickly, or they’d all end up on the streets; she would not even contemplate the workhouse, which loomed like an ogre at the edges of her imagination and filled her dreams with nightmare visions of the boys being torn from her arms. So, for the moment, her only choice was to pay the rent next week and if she had to live on bread and tea, so be it, at least the others would be fed. A knock on the door interrupted her brooding. It was past ten o’clock and late-night callers were not usual. Alice and the boys were in bed, so she crept to the front door and called softly through the letterbox.

‘Who’s that?’

‘It’s me, Lily!’ came the unexpected reply.

Nellie opened the door quickly. ‘What you doing here this time of night? I thought you were going out with Jock.’

Lily bustled in, bringing the cold night air, which hung damply to her coat. She was buzzing with an almost tangible excitement. ‘I was – but I had to come and tell you first, love, he wants us to get married!’

Her friend did a little pirouette in the passage and Nellie dragged her into the kitchen.

‘Gawd, Nell, it’s like the black hole o’Calcutta in here. Why are you sitting in the dark?’

Nellie quickly went to light the gas lamp. She didn’t want to dampen Lily’s excitement with tales of her own troubles, but her friend was quick enough to register the paper covered in sums on the kitchen table.

‘Oh, Nellie, don’t tell me things are so tight you can only afford candlelight? Didn’t Wicks help you out?’

Nellie shook her head. ‘Not a penny from him, but Dad’s workmates had a whip-round, and then there was the penny policy come out, but that’s gone now. But listen...’ she scooped her workings off the table and scrunched it into a ball ‘...we’re not talking about my troubles now. Tell me all about it, start to finish!’

‘He only asked me tonight, but to be honest it wasn’t a surprise. Well, I knew he was keen, Nell, right from that first night we met, it was on the Christmas Eve . . .’ Lily hesitated, as if unsure whether to go on or not.

‘Is that why you’ve said nothing?’ Nellie reached out and hugged Lily across the table. ‘Life has to go on, Lil.’

‘I know, but it didn’t seem right to be talking about my happiness when you’ve been going through it like this.’

Nellie was secretly grateful for her friend’s delicacy, not because she wouldn’t have been pleased for her but because she might not have been able to show it. Now, as the details emerged of Jock and Lily’s whirlwind courtship, Nellie remembered her own dreams. Suddenly she felt a resurgence of the young girl she’d been only the year before. The flush of romance Lily had brought in with her and the excitement in her bright eyes took Nellie out of her dire situation, and with that relief came the inner assurance that everything would be all right – she would find a way.

‘Now I must go and tell me mum,’ said Lily, getting up and throwing on her coat.

‘Give her my love,’ Nellie said as she saw her friend to the door.

‘Who knows, Nell, might be you next, eh?’

But as she looked into her friend’s eyes Nellie saw a shadow dim their brightness and without being told knew Lily was thinking of Ted and what might have been. But she felt impervious to his memory; whatever power he had to dazzle her had been largely driven by her own long-vanished naivety. Ted might have robbed her of trust, but he certainly hadn’t dented her hope, her strength or her resolve. She felt bold enough to ask, ‘Have you heard from him?’