The Street (10 page)

‘Bastard!’ Tilly hissed through stretched lips.

‘Why didn’t you tell me if you knew?’ Fran wailed.

‘You’ve been ill; too poorly to bother about that slimy . . .’

‘Shut up!’ Fran wailed. ‘He’s a man . . . got needs; ain’t his fault I got ill and can’t do me duty.’

‘Is that what he told you? You’ve let him grind you down, you silly cow,’ Tilly said fiercely. ‘Can’t you see what he’s doing? He’s
glad
when you feel useless, he’s hoping you’ll do everything he tells you to. He’s hoping you’ll end up as his fuckin’ slave. You can’t let him do that to you, Fran,’ Tilly emphasised with a thump of a fist on the tabletop.

Fran turned away and, lifting her pinafore, scrubbed her face with it. But she said nothing.

‘When’s he done
his
duty?’ Tilly roared, incensed by her sister’s apathy. ‘Did he tell you that while you was struggling to bring his daughter in to the world he had Nellie Tucker up against the wall in an alley? Did he tell you that he knew for hours that you was in labour but he wouldn’t come home?’

‘He said no one could find him to tell him in time.’ Fran turned a wide-eyed, disbelieving stare on Tilly. ‘He said Jack caught up with him after it was dark.’

‘Yeah . . . Jack did,’ Tilly agreed caustically. ‘But Alice told him when he was up the corner gambling, at about midday. After that he made sure he wouldn’t get found. He made himself scarce alright.’ Tilly picked up Lucy and wobbled her back and forth on her hip. She sighed and stared at the ceiling. She hadn’t wanted to bring a fresh lot of tears to her sister’s eyes. ‘Let’s get out of here for a while. You up to a walk to the shop?’

Fran shook her head miserably. She took her pinafore up to her face again, scrubbing at her wet cheeks.

‘Yeah . . . you are . . . come on; let’s get you out for a walk ‘n’ if I see him or Nellie fuckin’ Tucker they’ll get what’s coming to ’em.’

‘You reckon that’s where he’s gone?’

Tilly nodded and buttoned Lucy into her coat to avoid her sister’s anguished stare.

‘Come on, let’s get out of this dump, just for a while,’ she said forcefully.

Fran knuckled her teary eyes. ‘Ain’t got no money for the shop.’

‘Me neither,’ Tilly confessed with a wry grin. ‘Old Smithie’ll let us have a few odds ‘n’ ends on the strap. Then come dinnertime I’ll use me few bob on a few drinks round the Duke. Might cheer you up a bit.’ She helped Fran ease her arms into her coat. ‘Jack’s got no more work with Basher after this week. Thing’s’ll be tight again with us.’ They went out onto the dark landing. ‘But now Sophy’s bringin’ in a wage packet that’s something.’

The two women started a slow descent of the stairs, Tilly encouraging her sister to lean heavily on her rather than use the rickety banister. As they neared the bottom, Alice appeared on the landing above.

‘Not gone off to school yet?’ Tilly yelled angrily at Alice.

‘I’m going now,’ Alice called down. ‘I’ve been sitting with Sophy ’cos she’s got belly ache and been sick.’

‘Poor little cow still being sick?’ Fran asked Tilly as they emerged into the dismal atmosphere of Campbell Road on a grey morning. There was no sign yet of spring arriving.

‘Thought she’d got past all that throwing-up stage,’ Tilly said with a frown. As Alice emerged behind on the pavement her mother turned to her.

‘Is Sophy getting herself up and off to work?’

‘Dunno, Mum,’ Alice replied. ‘She reckons her belly aches bad. But she wasn’t sick that much. ’S’pect she’ll be off soon.’ With that Alice slipped past and trotted off to school.

The sisters linked arms and started towards the shop.

Halfway up the road they spied Margaret Lovat coming towards them. Tilly scowled at the woman.

Margaret turned her head and avoided her eye. Tilly Keiver was the landlord’s rent collector. Margaret had lived in Campbell Road long enough to know that Tilly bore grudges. She’d expected the cow to have them put out on the street. But the Lovats still had a roof over their heads and she wanted to keep it that way.

After the confrontation between the Keivers and the Lovats that fateful Sunday morning in January an uneasy truce had settled between the families. An unspoken agreement had been reached with Sophy too. Not that any family discussion had ensued after the uproar on that day. The crisis with Fran losing the baby and being so ill had pushed all thoughts of Sophy’s pregnancy to the back of everybody’s mind for some days afterwards.

Then when things seemed to be getting back to normal Jack had got Tilly on her own for a quiet chat. What he’d had to say had been short and to the point, and he’d been in the sort of mood that Tilly knew well. She might get her way on some things with him, but on this she wouldn’t. So she’d listened and just grunted at the end of his speech.

‘Sophy’s made her decision over it all,’ he’d stated firmly, ‘and it don’t seem bad to me. No wedding, no abortion. Welfare’ll get the kid as soon as it’s born and that’ll be the end of it. Fresh start for her and better for the baby ‘n’ all. So that’s how it’s going to be. Right?’

‘Al!’

On hearing that brusque summons Alice emerged from the back room. She was pushing Bethany in front of her and continued plaiting her sister’s long brown hair whilst looking enquiringly at her mother.

Tilly continued pouring tea for each of her nephews. Despite their dad having up and left them in relative safety some weeks ago Bobbie and Stevie still liked to keep to the routine of spending most of their time with their cousins upstairs despite the crush of bodies. When in their own home their mother seemed to be always bawling; either at them or into her pinny.

‘Your birthday soon, Al,’ Tilly stated.

Alice smiled. ‘Oh . . . yeah . . . it is.’

‘You’re getting older, growing up.’

Alice nodded and looked wistfully into space for a moment. In just a few more days she would be a teenager. She focused again on her mum, a bit puzzled as to what had brought about this odd chat. At this time of the morning her mother was usually keen to get all the kids out from under her feet and off to school. Sophy had already left for work.

‘I was talking to Annie Foster yesterday,’ Tilly said. ‘She’s got a new job round in Thane Villas. The toy factory’s takin’ on.’

Alice raised her eyebrows. It was always interesting to know where work was available but she didn’t see what it had to do with her. Annie Foster was a lot older than she was and not one of her friends. In fact since Annie’d bolted round into Playford Road to escape her brutal stepfather she’d only seen her about on odd occasions.

‘Annie says they want people bad and aren’t asking too many questions.’

Suddenly Alice had an inkling of what her mother was getting at. But she’d made a mistake in calculating her age. She gave her a grin. ‘I’m thirteen soon, mum, not fourteen.’

‘Yeah . . . I know that . . . but who’s gonna know how old you are if they ain’t taking birth certificates? You look a bit older than you are. You look a lot older than Sarah Whitton, fer instance.’

Alice stared at her mum; slowly she realised she was serious. ‘What about school?’

‘What about it?’ Tilly turned from the table and stuck her hands on her hips. ‘Staying on at school ‘n’ doing it all by the rules ain’t done Sophy no good. Look at the mess she’s got herself in.’

‘I ain’t getting meself in that sort of mess, ever,’ Alice said emphatically.

‘No, you ain’t!’ her mother replied with equal force. ‘What you’re getting, miss, is a full-time job.’

Tilly gesticulated with a thumb at the boys and Bethany to get off to school.

At the doorway Bethany turned back. ‘Can I get a job too, Mum?’ she asked plaintively.

‘Wish you could, Beth,’ Tilly sighed. ‘But ain’t sure we’d get away with that one. Now off you go.’

With a grimace of disappointment Bethany followed her cousins.

‘You can stop home today,’ Tilly told Alice once the door had closed. ‘See if you can bump yourself into Annie at dinnertime outside the factory and find out all about it. She might know the name of the charge-hand doing the hiring.’

Having got over her astonishment Alice considered what her mother had said. It took little more than a minute for her to come to the wondrous conclusion that she didn’t mind one bit starting full-time work before she was supposed to. She didn’t even mind that the factory her mother was referring to was where Louisa Whitton – so it was rumoured – had gone mental. In fact excitement was tightening her stomach and curving her mouth into a surprised smile. Very shortly she might be properly grown up, earning good money, and wearing new clothes instead of cast-offs from Billy the Totter or from the rag shop.

Alice didn’t always agree with what her mum did or said but on this she thought she was right: what was the point in staying at school for another year, till she was fourteen? More schooling wouldn’t help get her a better job round here. She’d just be a year older . . . a year poorer. Her address would still be Campbell Road so she’d get shown the door by most employers unless she lied and said she lived elsewhere. It’d be a wasted year; a year spent just scrubbing doorsteps or rubbing brasses for measly half crowns at the end of a very long shift. And then you had to fight to get your clients, and keep them. Having mulled it all over in her mind for a few minutes Alice realised she was thankful her mum had made mention of it. The sooner she started earning, and saving, the sooner she could get herself out of The Bunk. And that was her dearest ambition. It’d gnawed away at her ever since she could remember.

When she’d been about five her mum and dad would sometimes take her and Sophy on a trip out to a posh area in Highgate or Hampstead to do a bit of busking to earn cash. Alice could still remember the first few times she’d seen those wonderful big houses that had gardens with grass and flowers out front instead of muck stuck to iron railings. She remembered the scent of coloured petals and of the fine ladies who’d bend to press pennies into her small, outstretched hand while her mum rattled a tambourine and did a jig with Sophy, and her dad played a whistle.

They had not often trekked the miles there for Sophy and Alice quickly flagged during the tramp. But her mum would encourage her tired little legs to keep going by saying the rich pickings to be had off toffs would get them a fish ‘n’ chip supper. They didn’t always get what they’d been promised if they passed a pub on the way home and their mother had a thirst and all the pickings in her pocket.

The memory had started in Alice a profound longing to have a place that was neat and tidy and had flowers growing. As she’d got older, and her dream expanded to include a husband and children, Alice had realised she must have a decent man too . . . not a man from around here. She didn’t want a layabout or a gambler or a drinker or anyone who squandered precious money that was destined to give her children a different life to the one she’d known. She wanted a man like her dad . . . who really deserved to have done better for himself, or so Alice thought. And probably he would have done if he hadn’t married her mum . . .

But, there was a fly in the ointment that Alice could see and she felt a surge of resentment on remembering it for it was spoiling her daydream, and her blossoming plans for her new life. She cast a look on her mother, wondering if she had overlooked it too.

‘What about the school board man?’ Alice ventured. ‘There’ll be trouble if I bunk off for so long. I ain’t even thirteen for a few more days.’

‘I’d say the school board man’s got more on his plate than to worry about the likes of you,’ Tilly briskly replied. ‘By the time you get took on somewhere you’ll be more’n thirteen anyhow. By the time the school reports you absent you’ll be thirteen and quite a bit. Ain’t worth their while to make a song ‘n’ dance over it. I know for a fact that Geoff Lovat next door ain’t done more’n a couple of days’ schoolin’. He’s been working almost since the day they turned up last year. School board man ain’t bothered him.’

Alice knew that was true. Geoff had done full-time work at thirteen – when he could get it. He’d done a bit of casual sweeping and so on down the coal yard; he’d been on a market stall with Danny when they’d had enough to invest in a barrow of their own for a few weeks. He’d also gone with Billy the Totter on his rag ‘‘n’ bone round till Billy reckoned too much stuff was going walkies. Geoff would go anywhere at all where he’d get a wage packet and no questions asked about his age, or whether he was bunking off school and likely to attract trouble. Like Danny, he was able to get work easily because he looked a lot older than he was and had the height and physique of a man.

‘I’ll get round to the factory gate and hang about dinnertime,’ Alice promised her mum.

‘Yeah, do that. If nothing comes of it we’ll keep looking.’

‘Ain’t doing the rag shop though,’ Alice said quickly.

Tilly raised her eyebrows at her daughter’s obstinate tone. ‘Best find yourself something quick then,’ she replied. ‘You’re out to work now and that’s that.’

Alice huddled into her coat and pulled the collar up to keep the breeze from buffeting her cold face. She looked again towards the iron gate as a few women hurried out, gossiping. They were no doubt rushing home for a bite to eat at dinnertime before their afternoon shift started. But there was no sign of Annie Foster. Alice had already decided that if she didn’t ambush her here, by the factory gate, she’d make the effort to find her in Playford Road. She was out to work now. Definite.

Another bunch of young women emerged from the old brick building and Alice felt a surge of relief. She recognised Annie; she stuck out because of her glasses. As the women stepped onto the pavement Alice called out. Annie changed direction and came over to her with a wave for her friends who’d headed off the opposite way.

‘Thought you might turn up. Your mum said as you might be interested in gettin’ a job,’ Annie said without preamble.

Alice nodded. ‘They still taking on?’

‘I think they’re pretty much done. You’ll need to be quick.’ Annie took a glance up at the wall where the board for vacancies had been pinned. It had gone. ‘I know that Tina Baker’s had enough. She’s just put in her notice. She’s leaving Friday ’cos she can’t keep up and earn enough. It’s piecework so it ain’t easy money. Right boring too, it is.’

Alice nodded her understanding. ‘Don’t mind. It’s a start.’

‘Yeah,’ Annie said wryly. ‘It’s a wage packet come Friday.’

‘Who shall I ask for?’

‘Mr Wright’s the manager. He ain’t bad actually. I’d get in there now if I was you, before they stick the vacancy notice back up on account of Tina quittin’. Also it ain’t so mad busy over the dinnertime.’

Alice nodded, glancing apprehensively towards the ugly, squat building. She took an inspiriting breath.

‘Don’t say your proper age if he asks,’ Annie instructed kindly. ‘But he might not ask. He never did when I got took on. But then I’m older than you and I look it.’

Alice nodded again and muttered her thanks. Nervously she brushed down her coat to remove rain spots. She took another deep breath, about to move towards the gate but Annie stopped her.

‘’Ere, is it right what I heard that your Sophy’s in the family way?’

‘Who told yer that?’ Alice demanded rather roughly. Immediate, instinctive loyalty to Sophy and her family had made her sound aggressive.

‘Tommy Greenfield. He found out off his sister Pam. Me ‘n’ ’im are walking out together.’

‘Oh yeah? Well, you want to watch him,’ Alice said gruffly. ‘Or he’ll have
you
in the family way. Remember poor Maisie?’ She threw that caution over her shoulder as she walked on without answering Annie’s question.

Once inside the building Alice felt her confidence rapidly disappearing. The noise of machinery was thudding away somewhere out of sight. She sidled further in and passed a wall, the top half of which was a glass panel. She glanced in to see a couple of wooden desks jumbled with boxes of files and paperwork. A man looked up from where he was writing to frown enquiringly at her.

Alice froze. She’d hoped for a few private moments to get her bearings before someone spotted her. Determinedly she gripped the door handle and poked her head in. ‘Excuse me. I’m looking for Mr Wright.’

‘Well, you’ve found him. What are you after? A job?’ he asked bluntly.

Alice nodded.

‘Well, come in then and sit yourself down.’

Alice slipped through the door and after fidgeting on the spot, wondering which chair to choose, she sat on the closest.

‘Not there. Here.’ Mr Wright tapped a chair that was adjacent to his own.

Swiftly Alice did as she was told, aware that the fellow’s eyes were on her. But he didn’t look unfriendly; in fact he had quite a pleasant sort of face even though he was almost bald. He looked quite smart too in his dark suit of clothes. She guessed he was about as old as her dad.

‘What’s your name and how old are you?’

Alice’s heart sank. Straight off, the first question he’d asked, when she’d been sure he might be more concerned if she came out of The Bunk. ‘Alice Keiver and I’m fourteen,’ she blurted but could feel her face heating because of the lie she’d told.

‘Fourteen, are you?’

‘Me friend Annie Foster recommended me to come and get a job,’ Alice said quickly, for she’d heard the suspicion in his voice. ‘She’s been took on recently and said as you had vacancies. I work hard.’

‘Know Annie, do you? Well, I can’t complain about her. She does her quota and more.’

‘I can do that too,’ Alice promised eagerly.

Simon Wright gave a half smile. That sort of enthusiasm rarely lasted long in places like this. He guessed she was lying about her age but not by much. Alice Keiver could pass for fourteen, delicately built though she was. He often saw girls close to school-leaving age who couldn’t be patient and wait those last few months. Usually he’d play it by the book. But the factory had a large order to meet and they’d be one short again with Tina leaving on Friday. At least with the younger girls they were glad of the work. At the beginning they expected less and did more than their older colleagues to keep their jobs.

‘I’m not going to say it’s the easiest work, or the most interesting, but you’ll get your pay packet end of Friday’s shift without delay. Ten shillings to start.’

Alice nodded eagerly.

Simon Wright picked up his pen. ‘I need some details from you, Alice. Address?’

Alice gulped then quickly said, ‘Campbell Road. But I’m moving soon . . . soon as I can.’

On turning into Campbell Road on her way home from the factory Alice stopped humming and waved frantically. She’d spied her mum marching purposefully down the road. Alice put on a spurt and went to meet her and tell her the good news.

As Alice got closer she slowed to a walk again and some of her high spirits evaporated. She could see her mother’s expression now and read from it that something was definitely not right.

Tilly’s lips were compressed tight and her blue eyes were narrowed dangerously. As her daughter reached her Tilly snapped out, ‘You’ll have to get inside and take Lucy off Fran. I’ve left her with your aunt while I’ve been doing me rent collecting. Now I’ve got to go and see Mr Keane and give him some real bad news.’