A Brighter Tomorrow

by Maggie Ford

  ‘Make sure you scrub ’em absolutely clean. There’s a dishcloth and some wire wool to help you do that. I don’t want nothing found stuck to the insides, you understand? Then let ’em drain a bit before drying ’em. I don’t like wiping-up cloths to end up wringing wet. You understand all that?’

  Ellie nodded. It seemed to be Mrs Jenkins’s stock remark – asking if she understood, like she was some foreigner who couldn’t speak English. She had almost taken offence at it, but then realized this was going to be asked of her for the rest of her stay.

  Happening to glance at Florrie, she saw the girl give a comical grimace, a brief and significant downturn of her chubby lips with her bottom lip thrust ludicrously outward and downward, the lips instantly returning to normal before Cook could notice. Ellie knew immediately that here was a friend and ally and no longer felt isolated as she quickly divested herself of her outdoor things and donned the apron.

  Without a word she hoisted two of the three weighty cooking utensils and with an effort of her thin arms bore them to the sink, depositing the third one on top of them. Having sprinkled a handful of washing soda over them, she poured the boiling water from an equally heavy kettle, needing two hands to do it, and set to work.

  Despite hot water and soda a scum soon formed on the surface as the baked grease and food reacted with them, requiring the addition of more soda. At this rate, she thought, as she scrubbed and scraped, her hands would be chafed red. It was as well they were already hard from her old environment or they’d have been well sore by the end of the day.

  Even so, it was better than being out on the street or bundled into an orphanage. There she’d have had to do as she was told and no argument. Here she was still doing as she was told, but she was free to walk out any time she fancied. She didn’t wish to, of course, but in this lay the difference. And who could say what the future had in store for her here.

  * * *

  ‘How did you get on?’ Ellie whispered as she and Dora lay side by side in the narrow bed with its hard mattress. A similar bed by the other wall of this tiny attic room, leaving just enough space for a body to pass between, held only Florrie. But then the housemaid’s plump girth took up as much room as two slim ones.

  She’d fallen asleep the second her brown tousled hair had hit the unforgiving pillow and was already snoring, a soft, snorting, nasal inhalation followed by a sort of whiffled exhalation.

  Ellie tried to ignore it as Dora whispered back, ‘I like Mrs Lowe. She’s very kind.’

  Again Ellie experienced that earlier prick of jealousy. All she’d seen today was Cook’s broad back or Florrie’s full bosom and broad hips when she bustled into the kitchen to fetch something or other to do with her chores around the house. Not once had Ellie left that kitchen and it looked as though this would be all she’d ever see of the house, except to climb the back stairs to sleep, while Florrie enjoyed the freedom of the whole house and Dora was allowed to trail after her mistress like some little spoiled house cat.

  ‘She gave me a boiled sweet from a dish in her bedroom,’ Dora added to her sister’s silent envy. ‘And I was given my lunch and dinner in the ante-room next to hers where I’d been mending some sheets. How did you get on?’

  ‘All right,’ Ellie snorted tersely and turned over with her back to her sister. She had no intention of discussing her day, having to eat in the same place in which she worked. Even though it was a plate of delicious soup with new bread, Cook saying, ‘One thing, dear, down here we do eat well, all the leftovers from cooking for the master and mistress and I make sure they eat well, don’t you worry,’ this said with a fat, crafty finger laid significantly alongside her stubby nose, Ellie had felt trapped.

  ‘Don’t you want to tell me what you got up to?’ came Dora’s voice.

  ‘I need to go to sleep,’ Ellie answered shortly, dragging the sheet and thin coverlet up over her ears. ‘Goodnight!’

  ‘Goodnight, Ellie,’ came the quiet response and she couldn’t help hearing a ring of bewilderment in it. Poor Dora, it wasn’t her fault, but too late to explain now.

  The next day proved exactly the same as the previous one. Day followed day, each spent endlessly washing up, scrubbing the wooden table free of flour and other bits of preparation, wiping down the side tables, blackleading the kitchen range and eternally scrubbing the flagstone floor. She found herself bitterly resenting tradesmen and carters who came in leaving muddy footprints. The nearest she came to breathing the open air was the small blast that followed behind someone entering through the kitchen back door.

  A week passed. She hadn’t seen hair or hide of her employer or his wife, nor had she been outside the house except to empty slops or pay a visit. She’d stand at the sink and stretch her neck to see over the opaque windowpanes to the clear panes above. That gave her a narrow view of sky and anyone passing along the back alley. She would stand there mesmerized until Cook called to her to get on with her work. She hadn’t seen the sun for a week, the kitchen facing north so that the sun never came round at all. She felt trapped.

  Added to this was a growing resentment when Dora told her one night that she and Mrs Lowe had visited her dressmaker, since Florrie, who usually accompanied her, was having her half-day off. Servants, it seemed, were allowed one halfday per fortnight and one whole day per month. At that rate she’d have to wait ages for her half-day. Even Dora had seen the great outdoors. It wasn’t fair.

  ‘Ellie, there’s someone here to see you.’ Mrs Jenkins’s stem voice made her look up quickly from washing the kitchen floor. ‘I made him stand outside. He says he’s your brother but I don’t—’

  Ellie’s squeal of delight cut her short as she sprang up, almost tipping over the pail of dirty suds in running past her to yank the door open. There stood Charlie. His ready smile faded as he surveyed her in mob cap and apron.

  ‘What’re you doing?’ The question was harsh and sharp.

  It was then she realized she still held a dripping scrubbing brush and that her apron was soaking wet.

  ‘Washing the kitchen floor,’ she said inanely, formal words already smothering what should have been excited reunion.

  ‘Who for?’ came another harsh question.

  ‘I work here. For Doctor Lowe.’

  ‘Scrubbing floors?’

  ‘Not only that,’ she replied, deflated. ‘I work in the kitchen, washing up – that sort of thing.’

  ‘A skivvy!’

  ‘Well… yes. Dora works here too. She does sewing.’

  She broke off, bewildered and angry at this turn of events that should have been full of joy. Instead here she was, being questioned by a brother who’d appeared completely out of the blue.

  She fought the feeling of degradation with a show of outrage.

  ‘What right’ve you got coming ’ere looking at me as if I was dirt?’

  The question was ignored. ‘What’re you doing working for a bloody doctor when you should be at ’ome with Mum? And where are you all living? There’s other people in our ’ouse.’

  Ellie’s face went bleak. He didn’t know. He’d gone off in a temper after that fight with Dad. Now he’d come back to find his family not there.

  ‘How did you know I was ’ere?’ she asked stupidly. It helped give her time to recover from the shock of his having no idea what had happened.

  ‘I went next door to ask. No one was in, but that silly old dear livin’ the other side said you was working at the doctor’s ’ouse in Old Ford Road and I could ask you what’s gone on. She wouldn’t say no more. So ’ere I am.’

  Ellie was shivering. The late-March air was cold on her bare arms, still wet from scrubbing the kitchen floor, and she wasn’t prepared to stand out here to tell him the news that their mother was dead, their father gone, and she and Dora homeless.

  ‘Look, come inside,’ she said.

  As he followed her into the kitchen she said to a flabbergasted Mrs Jenkins that she needed to speak to her brother whom she’d not seen for age
s, inside in the warm, and that what she had to tell him was an important and private matter.

  Stunned by the look on Ellie’s face, the woman gave a curt nod and retired to the hall, leaving them in the kitchen.

  Once alone, Ellie turned to him. ‘Mum died,’ she said bluntly. There was no gentle way to say it. ‘She caught pneumonia and died, three weeks ago. You wasn’t here.’

  She wanted to go on but couldn’t for the moment. She let her voice die away as he stood looking at her in stunned silence. At his shocked stare she had to tell him everything, if only to combat the rage simmering away in her heart against her father, who had walked out on his family.

  She began to relate that while their mother lay ill their father had calmly forsaken her for one of the floozies he’d often knocked about with.

  ‘I don’t know where he is now so I can’t get in touch to tell ’im about Mum. As far as I know, he still don’t know she’s dead and, to tell you the truth, Charlie, I’ve got nothing but contempt for the likes of ’im.’

  As she spoke she felt her blood boil. ‘How could he be so vile knowing how ill she was? He even told her she’d been a drag on ’im for ages – Mum, who’d worked her fingers to the bone for him. He said he was glad to be rid of her and he wanted a life of his own, or something like that. Though I know one thing: if I ever see him again I will kill him!’ She spat out those last words. ‘I really will.’

  Charlie had said nothing during all this. Finally he said in a low voice, ‘Where’s Mum buried?’ It was as if he hadn’t taken in a thing she had said, and there came a desire to hurt, to wound, her fondness for her brother flying out of the window.

  ‘It could’ve been in a pauper’s grave for all you care!’ she burst out. But that wasn’t fair. Ellie tried to curb her anger. ‘I didn’t have any money to bury her, but Doctor Lowe who I’m working for now gave me enough to have her buried properly.’

  ‘Why should ’e do that?’ came the suspicious query. ‘What’s ’e got ter do with you?’

  ‘He wrote out the death certificate. I expect he was sorry for us girls.’

  It sounded a lame excuse. She understood her brother’s concern. Why would a man she didn’t know, even a doctor, give her money for the burial of her mother? It would look odd to Charlie.

  ‘I’m working for him to pay it back,’ she lied hurriedly. She too had thought at first that he’d taken pity on her, but now of course she knew there had been more to it. But she couldn’t tell that to Charlie. Already he’d begun to look belligerent.

  ‘What’ve you been up to, to let some man give you money?’

  ‘Nothing!’ she shot back. ‘I suppose he felt sorry for us all on our own with no money. You and Dad was nowhere to be found. We could have ended up in an orphanage. I didn’t know where either of you was, did I?’

  It was a bald accusation and he blinked, but she didn’t care. She was fuming now. ‘So you see, there was nothing in it, like what you think!’

  She knew what he was thinking all right. ‘And that’s why I’m here, working to pay off the debt of Mum’s burial in a half-decent grave.’

  ‘Well it ain’t right.’ Again he hadn’t really been listening to what she was saying. ‘And I ain’t ’aving you and your sister working in the ’ouse of some bloke what gives you money right out of the blue, debt or no debt.’

  ‘So you’d be ’appier seeing us in an orphanage or out on the street?’ she challenged.

  ‘I’ll look after yer. I’ve got money – won it boxing. I’ll pay your debts and take you and Dora away from ’ere.’ Suddenly she realized she didn’t want to be taken away from here. She might be a skivvy but she saw further into the future than Charlie could. What did he have to offer her? He made his living gambling, boxing, earning a bit here, a bit there; they could be on the poverty line for ever, moving from place to place. And when he finally met a girl and wanted to get married, what of her and Dora? At least here she could play on Doctor Lowe’s obsession with her likeness to his dead daughter. It might take time but who knew what it might lead to?

  ‘Look,’ Charlie cut through her thoughts. ‘I ain’t standing ’ere in this bloody kitchen talking about it. I want ter see this employer of yours.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re allowed,’ she said in sudden panic.

  ‘Sod what I’m allowed!’

  Shoving her bodily to the door he opened it and pushed her ahead of him into the dim hallway with its wide stairs. Mrs Jenkins was standing there, a sturdy, rounded body, already prepared to bar his way. ‘Oi, young man,’ came her strident voice. ‘Where d’you think you’re going?’

  But Charlie, six foot tall and burly with it, wasn’t going to let some rotund if infuriated woman stand in his way. With one hand he thrust her aside, the other holding his sister by her upper arm. ‘Where’s this bloody so-called employer of me sisters? I need ter see ’im.’

  ‘He’s in surgery. He’s busy,’ cried Mrs Jenkins, hurrying after him, thoroughly infuriated at being so manhandled. ‘You can’t go in there when he’s in consultation.’

  ‘Can’t I?’ Charlie bellowed. His eyes had followed her brief glance in the direction of a door across the hall. Still hanging on to Ellie, he made for it, bursting through to startle the man’s patient almost out of his skin. But Bertram Lowe had already become aware of raised voices in the hall and was ready for him. From behind his desk he turned to calmly face the intruder.

  Four

  Bertram Lowe looked towards his patient. ‘I am so sorry, would you please excuse us for a moment, Mr Partridge?’ he said in a quiet, polite voice.

  As the surgery door closed, he turned back to take in his slim scullery maid and the burly, well-muscled man still holding her by the arm.

  ‘Now, sir, who might you be?’ he enquired in an unruffled tone.

  ‘I’m ’er brother – that’s what I am.’

  ‘I see.’ No two siblings could have looked more unalike. ‘And what is it you want?’

  Mrs Jenkins appearing at the door, all flustered, stopped whatever his visitor was about to say. ‘I tried to stop him, Doctor Lowe…’

  He cut her short with a wave of his podgy hand. ‘That’s quite all right, Mrs Jenkins. Thank you. You may carry on with your duties.’

  ‘Do you want me to call for assistance, sir?’ she asked, eyeing the big man.

  ‘No, it’s quite all right, thank you.’

  As the woman left, he cast his pale gaze back to the pair. ‘Now then, can I help you?’

  Charlie took a deep breath in through his nose, his initial belligerence fading a little. ‘I want to know what this one’s doing ’ere.’

  ‘As you can see, she is employed as a kitchen maid.’

  ‘Scullery maid! Skivvy! I bet you ain’t even paying ’er any wages.’

  ‘Of course I pay her.’

  ‘And what about what she says she owes you?’

  ‘She owes me nothing.’

  ‘Then what the bloody ’ell are you up to with ’er? I’m her brother and I’ve got a right to know what you’re up to. If you think you can—’

  ‘My good man,’ Doctor Lowe interrupted. ‘If you are suggesting there is something underhanded in my employing this girl and her sister in my establishment, I assure you, you are entirely mistaken.’

  ‘Then what you want with ’em?’ Charlie bellowed. At that moment he looked and behaved so much like her father that Ellie leaned back from the hold he still had on her arm. But she stayed quiet in case a word from her would make matters worse.

  Doctor Lowe remained completely unruffled. ‘I happened to be in need of staff replacement and the two girls were looking for work, so I engaged them. There is nothing strange about it, as you appear to imagine.’

  Some of Charlie’s bombast again deflated a little, though he continued stubbornly, ‘Then we’d better see what me other sister says. Where is she?’

  ‘She is with my wife, upstairs in our living quarters.’

  ‘Right! We’l
l see what she says,’ Charlie said, letting go of Ellie at last to make for the door, yelling out, ‘Dora, come down ’ere! I want yer!’

  But Mrs Lowe had already come out of her room, having heard raised voices and Dora’s name being yelled. Dora’s hand in hers, she descended the stairs slowly. Seeing the small, plump, motherly figure and the trusting way Dora held her hand, Charlie’s belligerence faded.

  ‘I’m sorry, missus; I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  The woman didn’t reply, but Dora let go the hand and ran down the rest of the stairs to him, suddenly filled with emotion, tears in her eyes.

  ‘Charlie! Oh, Charlie, we wondered where you was. Something awful happened while you’ve been away.’

  ‘I know.’ His voice had grown softer. He put both arms around the thin frame. ‘Ellie told me. I’d ’ave given anything to be ’ere, but I didn’t ’ave no idea.’

  ‘We was in such a state,’ Dora said, going into an instant torrent of words. ‘There was only me and Ellie with Mum when she died and we didn’t know what to do. Dad and you was gone and we ’ad no money and no one to care for us. We didn’t even ’ave enough for a grave and we was already way behind with the rent and had an eviction order weeks ago ’cos Mum was ill and we didn’t know where you or Dad was. We was at our wits’ end and no one could take us in because they ’ad kids of their own. If Doctor Lowe hadn’t helped us out I don’t know what we’d ’ave done.’

  Hardly coming up for breath she told the rest of the story in as fast a flood as before, ending with, ‘He’s been kind to us and so ’as Mrs Lowe too.’

  Ellie found her voice. ‘We don’t want to leave ’ere, Charlie. We’re both all right ’ere. If you take us away, where are we going to live? In digs? I know you ain’t got no proper job. But I’m working now. I can hold up me head and earn me own living.’

  ‘As a blooming skivvy,’ Charlie repeated, confused but on the defensive still. ‘A scullery maid.’

  ‘If she does well while in my service,’ Bertram Lowe put in, ‘she will inevitably rise in status, with higher pay. But if they want to go with you, Mr Jay, I shall not stop them.’ Charlie seemed taken off guard. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he muttered awkwardly. ‘I suppose it’ll be orright. But I intend to hang around a bit, just to see ’em orright and be ’ere in case they ain’t.’ His blue eyes flared for a moment, a warning if things didn’t go all right; but Ellie was ready for him.