Two for Three Farthings (34 page)

The sun of late June made its warm, bright conquest of the haze of Walworth to flood Miss Pilgrim's little garden with golden light. The narrow flower beds bordering the small lawn were a marvel of colour. In the tiny timber shed stood the old hand-mower used by Miss Pilgrim to cut the grass. On the lawn the folding table, covered with an embroidered white cloth, was set for tea, with five placings. Effel and Orrice, inspecting the flowers with Jim, were wide-eyed that there were flowers at all, alive and real.

‘Golly,' breathed Effel, itching to pick some.

‘Ain't they pretty, Effel?' said Orrice.

‘Is it a real garding?' whispered Effel.

‘Course it is.'

‘It's an oasis, Miss Pilgrim,' said Jim. That was how she saw it herself, but as her own alone. Not even the ladies of the church who sometimes took afternoon tea with her had ever been invited into her retreat. What she was doing by bringing Mr Cooper and his wards into it, she really did not know, except that she did not intend to make a precedent of the invitation.

‘Even a small piece of ground can be made to look like a gift from God,' she said. The sound of a knock on the front door penetrated to the garden. ‘That will be Alice,' she said, and went to answer the knock. A few moments later she brought Alice through to the garden. Alice stopped and stared.

‘Oh, Miss Pilgrim, oh, crumbs, isn't it lovely?' she said. She was carrying a large cardboard box, its top covered by a picturesque illustration. ‘Hello, Mr Cooper. Oh, don't you look nice, Ethel?'

‘No,' said Effel grumpily.

‘Oh, Horace dear, I'm here,' said Alice. Orrice had his back turned to her in the hope that what he couldn't see might not be there.

‘'E ain't Orrice dear, 'e's me bruvver,' said Effel, still fighting her battle to keep Orrice exclusive to herself.

‘I've brought you something, Horace,' said Alice.

Orrice turned.

‘Oh, 'ello,' he said.

‘Look,' said Alice, and placed the box on one of the kitchen chairs that Jim had helped bring out. He and Miss Pilgrim watched as Orrice advanced cautiously. The boy looked at the colourful illustration. It was of a shining black railway engine thundering along a track. His eyes opened wide. ‘My cousin Edward's grown up now,' said Alice, ‘he didn't want this any more, so I asked if I could give it to you, Horace. You said you've always wanted a clockwork engine set. Look.' She lifted the lid of the box and disclosed clockwork engine, carriages, a tender, a heap of lines curved and straight, and a signal. ‘It's for you, Horace.'

Effel, coming to look, ground her teeth in rage.

‘Orrice don't want it,' she said.

‘Crikey,' said Orrice, and was breathless. Alice beamed at him. In a Sunday white dress with a pink sash, she was a picture of nine-year-old prettiness. Jim saw more than prettiness, he saw a warm and generous little girl, who spoke well but had no side, and whose fondness for Orrice was founded, perhaps, on some instinctive feeling that he was a fresh, healthy and honest boy who liked fun. So did Alice. Whenever his little grin arrived, Alice waited quivering for fun to break out. ‘Alice, you can't give me somefink like this,' he said, ‘it's not me birfday or anyfing.' In his excitement he mangled his English and made Miss Pilgrim sigh.

‘But my cousin said I could give it to you,' declared Alice, ‘I told him we were sweethearts.'

Effel emitted a strangled yell. Orrice coughed.

‘Have you two got chest colds?' asked Jim.

‘Feel sick,' growled Effel.

‘Then go to the kitchen sink, child,' said Miss Pilgrim.

‘Ain't that kind of sick,' muttered Effel.

‘Oh, you want to suck something, Ethel,' said Alice, ‘something like an acid drop or a bit of barley sugar. Horace, d'you want to fix the railway lines together? I can help.'

‘Well, I dunno as—' Orrice stopped as he caught Miss Pilgrim's pained look. ‘Well, I don't know I ought to take your present, Alice. I don't have nothing to give you, and I betcher this is more than one of them half-a-crown clockwork train sets.'

‘Horace, you've got to have it,' protested Alice, ‘you don't have to give me anything, honest.'

‘I think I'd best let Uncle Jim decide,' said Orrice, who was overwhelmingly tempted, but had a feeling acceptance would put him in chains.

‘Well, my lad,' said Jim cheerfully, ‘Alice's cousin doesn't want it, and he's let Alice have it to give to you. And you can always ask her the date of her birthday.' Jim was doing what he could, with Miss Pilgrim's co-operation, to help Orrice improve his social graces.

‘It's September the eleventh,' said Alice, on to that in a flash, ‘and you can come to my birthday party.'

‘'E don't want no train set, and 'e don't go to no-one's birfday parties ‘cept mine,' said Effel, utterly green-eyed.

‘Well, Uncle Jim says I best have it, sis,' said Orrice, ‘and Alice did bring it all the way. I got to say thank you, Alice, yer a real sport.'

‘Oh, that's all right, Horace dear,' said Alice, and lifted her face for a kiss. Orrice took a deep breath, closed his eyes, aimed with his mouth and landed a quick kiss on her cheek. The faintest smile touched Miss Pilgrim's lips. Effel trembled with fury. ‘Oh, you are nice, Horace,' said Alice.

Effel let go an old but still telling chestnut.

‘'Oo's a pretty boy, then?' she said.

‘My mum says he's lovely,' declared Alice proudly.

Orrice lifted suffering eyes to Jim. Jim winked.

‘I shall put the kettle on for tea now,' said Miss Pilgrim. ‘And perhaps—' She paused, then made a further sacrifice. ‘Yes, perhaps after tea you and Alice would like to put the train set out on my kitchen table, Horace.'

‘Cor, yer rippin', Miss Pilgrim,' said Orrice, ‘yer the best sport ever.'

‘I doubt it, young man,' she said, and went into the kitchen. The cardboard box containing the train set fell off the chair on which Alice had placed it. Effel had given it a push. Jim took her aside, while Alice and Orrice set the box and its contents to rights.

‘What's it all about, miss?' murmured Jim.

‘Nuffink,' said Effel.

‘Well, listen, lovey,' said Jim, ‘you've got Orrice and you've got me, and you'll always have us. But you must let Orrice have his friends.'

‘Not 'er,' said Effel, mulish.

Miss Pilgrim provided a perfect Sunday tea in the heart of Walworth, in her own little oasis. Alice and Orrice both thought it as grand as it could be. The sparrows came to look, and hopped about on the grass searching for crumbs. Sparrows thrived in Walworth.

There were cucumber sandwiches, thinly-sliced bread and butter, Kennedy's salmon and shrimp paste, pink and creamy, home-made jam, a marmalade tart and the freshly-baked fruit cake. Alice ate happily and healthily, Orrice ate with the typical relish of a Walworth boy, and Effel with snapping teeth. Miss Pilgrim encouraged conversation as usual. Orrice participated only at intervals, for his mind could concentrate on little else except his exciting ownership of a superior clockwork train set. The one problem about that was his feeling of obligation towards Alice. It could mean he'd never get rid of her.

Tea over, Alice said, ‘I heard Horace is going to be put down for West Square. I'm going to try for West Square Girls the year after. Then me and Horace will be able to walk home together, or ride on the tram.'

The folding table lurched. Empty cups and saucers, jam-stained tea plates, the cake-stand and what was left of the cake, and the teapot and the slop basin slithered over the crumpling tablecloth. Fortunately, most of the things landed in Jim's lap, although the teapot hit the lawn and its handle snapped off. Two cups also lost their handles as they clashed. Everyone looked at Effel, Miss Pilgrim exhibiting utter shock. Effel had given the table a violent shove.

‘Effel, wha'dyer do that for?' asked Orrice in dismay.

‘Wasn't me,' said Effel. Miss Pilgrim looked at Jim, who was carefully unloading his lap, his trousers wet from tea remnants.

‘Ethel,' said Jim, ‘go up to your room, and stay there until I come up myself.'

‘Ain't goin',' said Effel.

Jim placed the things back on the table, including the teapot and three snapped-off handles.

‘I'll glue the handles back on, Miss Pilgrim, until we can get matching replacements,' he said, and rose to his feet. He came round to Effel and lifted her from her chair. With his strong right arm around her waist, he carried her kicking and yelling into the house.

‘Oh, blimey,' muttered Orrice.

‘She didn't mean it, Miss Pilgrim,' said Alice.

‘Master Horace,' said Miss Pilgrim, ‘fetch the tray and we'll collect everything up.'

When Jim brought Effel down again fifteen minutes later, Miss Pilgrim was washing up the tea things, and Orrice and Alice were in the garden. Effel was tear-stained. Jim had talked to her at length, and with a great deal of seriousness.

‘Please, Miss Pilgrim, I—' Effel gulped, her head hanging. ‘I'm sorry.'

Miss Pilgrim dried her hands and did what was surprising to Jim. She went down on one knee in front of Effel. She placed her hands on the girl's shoulders and regarded her in compassion.

‘Child,' she said, ‘it's easy to upset a folding table, but it's not so easy to bear the consequences. That's an unhappiness, isn't it? We all make mistakes on impulse. Regrets are more lasting. And how silly to think you are going to lose your brother to Alice. I told you that before. You will learn, Effel, we all learn, we have all had our wrong moments as children. There, a few broken handles don't amount to much. It's far more important for you to know you have a very protective brother and a kind guardian. And you are a brave little girl, Ethel. There.' She actually kissed Ethel, then straightened up. Ethel stared, her eyes misty.

‘I'm not goin' to be given just bread and water for a week?' she said with a gulp.

‘Bread and water?' Miss Pilgrim looked shocked. She cast a glance at Jim. ‘Bread and water?'

‘Not this time,' said Jim.

‘I should hope not,' said Miss Pilgrim. ‘Ethel, go and join Horace and Alice in the garden, go and make friends with Alice.'

Effel escaped. Miss Pilgrim regarded Jim severely.

‘Really, Mr Cooper, bread and water indeed,' she said.

‘The threat was the only thing I could think of,' said Jim, ‘she's a little terror.'

‘How very perceptive of you,' said Miss Pilgrim scornfully. ‘They're all little terrors in Walworth, but most of them grow up to be honest and hard-working. I'm afraid I must blame you as much as Ethel for what she did. You've been too indulgent and not firm enough. I don't mean harshly firm, I mean sensibly firm. You've failed to give her clear lines as to her behaviour, and although I have your permission to be corrective, your lack of firmness has undermined me.'

‘Well, I'm damned,' said Jim.

‘You will be, Mr Cooper, if you address me like that. You must let Ethel know precisely where she stands in regard to discipline. You should never allow her to be disrespectful to you, to start with. You are a very civilized man, and it's to be hoped you will help to make Ethel and Horace just as civilized. Mr Cooper, why are you looking at me like that?'

‘It's the first time I've been dressed down by a young woman,' said Jim.

‘Young woman?' Miss Pilgrim seemed affronted.

‘Well, of course you're a young woman still.'

‘Nonsense. I am a little past thirty. Now, while I dry these tea things, perhaps you would clear the table so that Horace and Alice can put the train set together and enjoy themselves for half an hour before Horace takes her home and I can spend a quiet evening at my embroidery. What is the matter with you now, Mr Cooper, what are you laughing at?'

‘God knows,' said Jim. ‘Probably at myself.'

Horace was walking Alice home. Jim and Effel were sitting at the table in the garden, Miss Pilgrim having said they might stay there as the evening was so fine. She had joined them herself, bringing her embroidery out to work on it there. Effel was looking at Jim forgivingly, because he was about to read to her from one of her Ragamuffin Jack books.

‘Ragamuffin Jack was a very happy chap

Who laughed the whole day through,

He had a fat jolly mother

And a very skinny brother

Whose nose had turned dark blue.'

‘I know why, I know,' said Effel excitedly, ‘Ragamuffin Jack did it, 'e tells 'is mum 'e couldn't find no pink paint, so 'e used blue.'

‘I'd like to find that out for myself,' said Jim, and continued reading, much to Effel's pleasure. It took her mind off Orrice walking Alice home.

Orrice and Alice were midway to Crampton Street. Behind them were Higgs, Cattermole and Stubbs, close cronies.

‘Oh, dearie me, ain't they sweet?' said Higgs loudly.

‘I dunno who's the sweetest,' said Stubbs.

‘I don't even know 'oo's Alice and 'oo's Wivvers,' said Cattermole.

‘Yes, yer do,' said Higgs, ‘'e's the one wearin' 'is farver's trousers.'

‘Yer sure 'e ain't the one in a frock?' asked Cattermole.

‘Well, I'll tell yer,' said Higgs, ‘no, I ain't sure.' He raised his voice in the Sunday evening quiet of Amelia Street. ‘Oi, Wivvers, is that you wearin' a frock?'

‘Horace, they're horrid,' said Alice, ‘don't let's take any notice.'

‘I ain't goin' to, not till I get you home,' said Orrice, ‘then I'm goin' to bash 'em.' Higgs, Cattermole and Stubbs had been following them since they turned the corner of Wansey Street.

‘You're not to,' said Alice.

‘Eh?' said Orrice.