The Street (11 page)

Alice guessed that the
real bad news
was to do with unpaid rents. It wasn’t unusual for people around here to get in to arrears if they’d had no work. Usually her mum was quite lenient and would juggle figures this way and that for people she liked and who needed a bit of help for a few weeks. She’d been known to lend small items, like blankets, to women to pawn so they could scrape by till something turned up. But Tilly didn’t take nonsense off anybody. Alice knew that often people were tempted to take liberties. They’d use money that had been put by for rent on frivolous things. Billy the Totter turned up each week in Campbell Road before rent-collection day. He’d made it his business to find out when each house manager did the rounds in the hope of getting in first and laying his sticky fingers on the cash before the landlord got it. Alice knew her mother wanted to keep on the right side of her boss, Mr Keane, because she wanted his work.

Tilly’s thoughts were running along the same lines: she didn’t want to lose her job. It was a good one with perks. She took liberties . . . but not too many. She knew Mr Keane had in the past cocked a deaf’n to tales about her. In a roundabout way he’d let her know so long as she delivered the rents due he didn’t care too much how she got them, or how she robbed Peter to pay Paul. Of course he knew that she dipped in and fiddled here and there and had a little flutter with his money to try and make a bit of extra cash for herself; but as long as the figures tallied when the money was handed over he was satisfied.

‘I got the job at the factory,’ Alice ventured in the hope of lightening her mother’s dark frown.

‘Bleeding good job too,’ Tilly retorted. ‘’Cos if I lose me job over this we’ll need your money, every penny of it.’

‘What . . .?’ Alice started to enquire but Tilly soon cut her short and through gritted teeth told her what had gone wrong.

‘Those Robertsons in number fifty-two have gone ‘n’ done a bunk. Bastards must’ve took off early hours of Sunday morning. Nobody seems to have seen them since Saturday.’ Tilly stuffed her hands into her pockets to warm them. ‘Old Beattie who lives a couple of doors away from them reckons the lads had a barrow pulled up outside ready ‘n’ waiting. When she asked what it was for they said they was setting up in rag ‘n’ boning. She didn’t think no more of it, she said, or she’d have come and warned me.’

‘Did they owe a lot?’ Alice glanced across the road at the offending house. Usually she wouldn’t have had the courage to question her mother about any of her business. It would have earned her a clip round the ear for cheek. But her mother had started the discussion, and it seemed that securing her first proper job was passage to being allowed to know such things.

‘They owe a month; but it ain’t just that. I lent Jeannie Robertson a blouse to pawn. Good ’un, it was. Won’t see that no more. But that ain’t the worst of it. They’ve done a runner with every stick o’ furniture that was in the place. All of it Mr Keane’s.’

Alice’s jaw slackened and her eyes grew round. Naturally, it wasn’t unheard of for people to do a moonlight flit around here. But usually they just scarpered with their own measly stuff, and owing back rent.

‘That’s why they hired a cart,’ Alice ventured, and got a sour look from her mother for stating the bleeding obvious.

The Robertsons were known to be a family of ruffians. They were generally avoided as being the lowest of the low in a road where the dregs of society were said to congregate. Two teenage sons had lived with their mother at number fifty-two. Nobody knew where Jeannie Robertson’s husband was, and nobody had cared enough to ask for she was a blunt, unfriendly type. They’d moved from Lorenco Road in Tottenham and had been tenants for about two years. Since that time the boys had been known as violent troublemakers. They’d both been up before the magistrate recently for smashing the windows of St Anne’s church round in Pooles Park. The Lennox Road Mission had also been targeted when the boys were banned from the youth club because of their bad language and behaviour. Alice and Sophy had been warned repeatedly by Tilly to stay away from them, and they had.

‘Get in and take Lucy off Fran’s hands or she’ll be moaning and kickin’ up a stink,’ Tilly directed Alice. ‘Time she got off her arse and bucked herself up a bit,’ she muttered, and set off down the road.

Alice knew then that her mother was well and truly riled. She was never usually out of patience with her sister Fran, or if she was she kept it to herself. Alice felt the criticism was justified. In her opinion it was time her aunt got herself some proper work instead of cadging all the time. It was about time too that Bobbie and Stevie spent more time in their own place. It was a constant crush in the Keivers’ rooms.

Alice entered the dim hallway of her home silently praying that her mum would not lose her job over this. She knew too well what would happen if she did: she’d have to hand over every penny she earned from the factory job and manage to put nothing by for her new life.

As Alice knocked on Fran’s door to collect her little sister she realised why the Robertsons had gone on a Saturday night. They’d known that the Keiver household would be in drunken uproar. Now that Fran was over the worst, the Saturday night singsongs had started up again. The Keivers, and a good deal of the neighbours, wouldn’t have been in a fit state in the early hours of Sunday morning to notice a thing that went on.

‘Mr Keane ain’t pleased but then I expected that. I told him straight: it’s not my fault. We don’t take references around here. I can’t guess any more’n him what the bleeders’ll get up to.’

The relief in Tilly’s face matched Jack’s feelings. If his wife lost her work with Mr Keane, when he was still raking around for a bit of proper pay, it would have been hard on all of them. ‘Is old Keane sending the boys out looking for the Robertsons to get his stuff back? Don’t suppose they’ve gone far.’

‘Doubt he’ll bother unless he wants to stop anyone else doing likewise.’ Tilly shrugged. ‘The stuff they took was only fit for burning. The old table was full o’ worm and the chairs no better. The bed was scrap iron, and no door on the wardrobe. They had that off for firewood day after they turned up. You turned up anything today, Jack?’ Jack shook his head and accepted the cup of tea that Tilly held out to him. ‘I saw Jimmy today,’ he said, hoping to avoid further discussion about his lack of success job hunting. ‘Walkin’ arm in arm he was, with Nellie down Finsbury Park way.’ He shook his head and muttered, ‘Out walking bold as you like with a prossy. What’s he come to?’

‘Nuthin’,’ Tilly stated sourly. ‘That’s what he’s come to. And I ain’t wasting me breath talking about him. Have you been back to Basher to see if he’s got any work coming up in his houses?’

‘I’ve been putting meself in his way every day. Once his Brand Street places have been fumigated he says there might be a sniff of something. Bet he’s sick o’ the sight of me.’

‘Well, I ain’t sick o’ the sight of you, Jackie boy.’ Tilly knew she’d got off lightly with Mr Keane and relief had put her in a good mood. In a rare show of affection she grabbed one of her husband’s arms and rubbed her cheek on his rough shirtsleeve. ‘I still got me job with Mr Keane, thank Gawd, and sooner or later I’ll have them Robertsons for doing the dirty on me, you see if I don’t.’

Jack planted a kiss on top of his wife’s fiery head. ‘You will ‘n’ all, gel, won’t you.’

‘I feel sorry that Fran didn’t find herself someone like you,’ Tilly muttered against his arm. She felt his muscle flex beneath her cheek as he happily registered her compliment. Then a few of his fingers sank into her hair, tilting up her head so their eyes collided.

‘You don’t want to go sweet talkin’ me, Til,’ he growled, his eyes alight with amusement. ‘Not unless you’re prepared for a bit of a lie down in the middle o’ the afternoon.’

She went on tiptoe and kissed him full on the mouth. ‘That’s all yer getting,’ she warned, sliding a teasing finger between their lips. ‘We got one swollen belly in the family ‘n’ that’s enough fer me . . .’ She gave a squeal as Jack tried to wrestle away the hand fending him off. A moment later they’d broken apart and Tilly was rolling up her sleeves and stacking crockery in the bowl.

‘Got a job, Dad,’ Alice announced proudly as she came into the front room. She’d been up the road to the shop with Lucy toddling at her side. Now she put tea and bread on the table and lifted her little sister onto the bed to rest her little legs.

‘More doorsteps?’ her dad asked interestedly. ‘Ain’t you got enough chores to do on a Saturday morning, Al?’

‘And that reminds me,’ Tilly butted in, clattering cups. ‘Beth can take on your doorsteps now you don’t want them, Al. Don’t let nobody else take ’em on. Beth’s plenty old enough to be doing more’n running old Beattie’s errands for a few coppers.’

Alice nodded then resumed her conversation with her dad. ‘I’ve got a proper job. At the toy factory, working full-time.’

Jack laughed. ‘You’re not old enough to work full-time in a factory.’

‘She’s old enough. She got offered the job,’ Tilly said firmly, her eyes clashing on her husband’s. ‘She starts Monday.’

Jack stared in disbelief. ‘She only turns thirteen tomorrow,’ he spluttered. ‘What about school?’

‘She’s finished her schoolin’,’ Tilly stated. The deed was done and it was staying done, no matter what Jack said. ‘She’s learned enough . . . all she needs to know. Now she’s working.’

Jack looked thoughtfully at Alice and for a moment said nothing. ‘You alright with that, Alice?’ he finally asked.

Alice grinned. ‘Yeah, I’m alright with it, Dad. Can’t wait to tell Sarah. She’ll want a job as well. But I got the last one, I think. I turned up right on time, just as Tina Baker told Mr Wright she was leaving.’

‘Well, what d’yer know . . . Keivers had a bit of good luck for a change,’ Tilly muttered wryly.

On Monday morning Alice was up bright and early even though she didn’t need to report to Mr Wright’s office till eight-thirty. He’d said that straight off he’d introduce her to the forelady in charge of her section. She needed to be shown what to do on the first day and get used to the machinery. She’d probably do packing to start while she learned the ropes, he’d told her.

Alice dressed in her good skirt and clean white blouse and was tying back her dark hair neatly when Sophy opened the door.

‘Forgotten something?’ Tilly demanded to know why Sophy had returned home. She’d only set off for work about fifteen minutes ago.

‘Feel bad, Mum,’ Sophy explained faintly. ‘I can’t go to work. Ain’t up to it. I came home ’cos I feel like I’m gonna pass out.’ Sophy rubbed at her belly and grimaced in pain.

Having studied her eldest daughter’s face Tilly decided she wasn’t pulling a fast one. She did look a strange colour. ‘Get yourself in bed for an hour or so then.’ Tilly impatiently flapped a hand at the back room. ‘But you’d better do a shift this afternoon. Y’know your dad’s scraping around for decent work now Basher’s put him off.’ In a temper Tilly started grabbing plates and cups and banged them into the tin bowl. ‘You got yourself into this mess, my gel, you’ll just have to put up with the consequences. Hard lesson to learn, ain’t it!’ she shouted as Sophy slipped away into the back room.

‘I’ll do that, Mum. I’m not leaving yet.’ Alice offered, knowing that her mother was angry with Sophy because of her lost pay and hoping to smooth things over a bit.

Tilly shoved the bowl across the table towards Alice. ‘You can do it ‘n’ all. I’ve got better things to do. Sophy, you watch out for Lucy ’cos Alice’s got to go to work soon.’ Tilly bawled that out as she grabbed her coat then barged out of the door.

Alice smiled at her little sister who was sitting in the middle of the bed. Lucy held out her arms to be picked up and Alice went to her to give her a cuddle. ‘I’m goin’ to work, Luce,’ she whispered into her soft brown hair. ‘And when I get me first pay I’m gonna buy you a present. A big bun?’ she suggested, widening her eyes at her little sister.

‘Chips,’ Lucy said, having removed her thumb from her mouth.

‘Right, chips it is,’ Alice chuckled. At twenty months old her little sister was bright as a button, especially where something nice to eat was concerned. ‘Then when I’m old enough, ‘n’ I’ve got me own place, you can come ‘n’ live with me, Luce. Would you like that?’

Lucy solemnly moved her head up and down, her eyes clinging to Alice’s face, her thumb again between her lips.

A loud groan made Alice swing about with Lucy in her arms. Swiftly she plonked the child back on the mattress and rushed in to the back room. She found Sophy doubled up on the bed edge. ‘What’s up?’ she demanded as Sophy retched dryly.

‘Don’t know . . .’ Sophy gasped. ‘I never had the bellyache like this when I was feeling sick before.’

‘Lie down,’ Alice said and went to try to get Sophy’s legs up on the bed.

‘Don’t want to,’ Sophy moaned and flicked Alice away. ‘I hate that Danny Lovat for this,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s all his fault. He don’t even care. He ain’t even tried to see me, or asked how I am, or nuthin’.’

‘Shut up about him,’ Alice hissed. A knot of fear had formed in her chest for Sophy did look very queer. ‘Just lie down; you’ll feel better,’ she added desperately as Sophy began to wail.

This time Sophy took her sister’s advice and gingerly moved her legs up to the bed edge.

‘What’s that?’ Alice breathed.

‘What?’ Sophy croaked, trying to lift her head from the pillow.

‘There’s wet all over yer skirt. Look.’ Alice pointed at the darker mark on Sophy’s brown skirt. She peered closer then tottered back a bit in shock. ‘Think it’s blood; think you’re bleeding.’

Sophy struggled up and, with an appalled expression, tried to twist about to see the stain Alice had mentioned. Her searching hand encountered the warm, wet place and she drew her palm away covered in crimson. At that moment another cramping pain made her groan.

‘What is it?’ Alice demanded, scared. She knew it couldn’t be Sophy’s time. She knew her mum had calculated from Sophy’s missed monthlies that the baby would be born about July or August. It was only the end of March. ‘Baby can’t be coming, it’s not ready yet.’

The girls looked at each other with panic in their eyes as they remembered what had happened to Aunt Fran when it was her time and there’d been blood everywhere. They knew their Aunt Fran had almost died, she’d been so sick.

‘It can’t be the baby. Ain’t big enough.’ Sophy ran her trembling hand over her small mound of a belly. ‘It must be me monthlies. I’m not pregnant after all,’ she gasped and winced. ‘They must all be coming together ’cos it never hurt like this before or come so heavy. Oh God!’ she gave a muted shriek as she felt a burst of fluid drench her inner thighs. She pushed herself to sit up and scrabbled at her skirt to look between her legs. ‘It’s going all over the place,’ she cried in despair. ‘Oh, Gawd help me! What’s goin’ on?’ Sophy raised her terrified eyes to her sister.

After a moment of petrified stillness, mesmerised by the bloody mess spreading on the bed, Alice fumbled at the end of the mattress to find the rags they used for Lucy’s nighttime nappies. She started ineffectually to dab at her sister’s legs but as she did so another surge of blood soaked her hands. ‘There’s loads of it,’ she whispered, horrified.

‘It’s been in there for months . . . it’s all been in there . . .’ Sophy howled. ‘I weren’t pregnant; I’ve been all swollen with all me monthlies,’ she moaned. Suddenly a pain took her knees into her chest. ‘Can’t stand it, Al,’ she whimpered. ‘Why don’t it stop? That’s enough . . . it must be. Where’s Mum? Get Mum for me,’ she pleaded. ‘Look at the state of it . . . she’s gonna kill me . . . the mattress’s had it now.’

Alice’s hands were covered with crusting blood as she yanked the bottom sheet up and tried to bundle it beneath her sister’s thighs and in between her legs to try to staunch the flow. ‘I’ll get some washing water,’ she panted and flew into the front room. She dragged Lucy away from the door where she was stretching for the handle and plonked her quickly back on the bed. That rough handling from her favourite sister made Lucy start to cry.

Alice upturned the crockery her mother had stacked in the bowl clumsily onto the table then she raced outside to the tap on the landing. A groan from Sophy made her speed back quickly with the bowl only half filled with water. Some of it slopped over the sides with her jerky movements.

‘It hurts, Al,’ Sophy whimpered. ‘Where’s Mum?’

Alice tried to find a bit of clean cloth but practically all of it was now soaked with blood. She grabbed at a piece that had a clean edge and dipped it into the water then frantically set about wiping her sister’s legs. Another gush of blood made her efforts wasted.

Alice shot back and for a moment just stared at the red pool that had formed beneath Sophy’s hips. She was frightened and had no idea how to help her sister. ‘I’ll see if Aunt Fran’s in,’ she gulped. ‘If she stays with you ‘n’ Lucy, I’ll find Mum.’

Sophy’s frightened eyes clung hungrily to Alice’s face. ‘Alright,’ she whispered. ‘If you can’t find Mum . . . d’you know where Dad’s gone?’

‘He’s looking for work down the market,’ Alice said. She quickly tried to reassure Sophy who’d started to sob. ‘Mum won’t be far. She ain’t been gone long.’ She plunged her bloody hands into the bowl to get the worst of it off before dashing into the other room. She tried to quieten Lucy’s howls with a few soothing words before flying out and down the stairs to Aunt Fran’s. She hammered on her aunt’s door with both fists. She called to no avail. With tears of frustration starting to her eyes Alice swore and dithered on the spot, unsure whether to bolt back up the stairs and see how Sophy was or to go out immediately to try and find her mother. She continued down to the street and darted searching looks here and there hoping to spy her mum close by. She didn’t but at that moment Margaret Lovat came out of next door.

At first Margaret made to ignore Alice. It was the way they all went on now since Danny had got Sophy pregnant. Didn’t look . . . didn’t speak. But Margaret had never had a quarrel with Alice, and from her harassed demeanour the older woman could see she had trouble.

‘Somethin’ up?’ Margaret asked, hesitating on her walk to the shop.

‘Sophy,’ Alice breathed. ‘She ain’t pregnant after all. All her monthlies have come together and it’s gone all over the place and Mum’s gone out.’

Margaret blanched. ‘Where is Sophy?’ she demanded.

‘On the bed in the back room,’ Alice gasped. ‘Can you just stay with her and keep an eye on Lucy while I find me mum? She’s gotta come back and see to her ‘’cos I don’t know what to do.’

‘Well I was . . .’ Margaret began. She stepped past Alice. ‘Go and find Tilly as quick as you can,’ she said. ‘Quick as you can!’ she repeated urgently as Alice succumbed for a moment to her shock and stood riveted to the spot. ‘I’ve left my lot up there on their own,’ Margaret explained. ‘I was only going to get a drop o’ milk.’

Alice nodded vigorously and jerking into action she hared off along Campbell Road. Thankfully her mother hadn’t got too far at all. Alice spied her in a dim hallway of a house opposite talking to Beattie Evans; no doubt they were tearing strips off the Robertson family.

Frantically Alice beckoned her mum and Tilly, sensing her agitation, rushed out straight away.

‘Sophy’s not well, Mum,’ Alice blurted in a cautious whisper. Despite the urgency of the situation she was still conscious of keeping her family’s privacy. ‘Her monthlies have come after all and she’s bleedin’ all over the place. Mrs Lovat’s with her.’