by Cathy Sharp
Some time later Alice turned on her side, burrowing down into the lumpy feather mattress. It needed a really good shake because the feathers were old and stuck together, but it was best done out in the yard or the dust would fly everywhere.
Conscious of her sister already snoring and her brothers giggling beneath the covers of the bed they shared, Alice allowed a few tears of self-pity to slide down her cheeks. She was almost out of her mind with worry over Jack, because she hadn’t heard from him since she’d seen the car speeding away into the night. Everyone had been talking about that fire at the boot factory, and Alice had heard that a man’s body had been found. At first they’d thought it might be Julia’s father, because he was the night watchman, but he was all right. So who could it have been?
Alice wasn’t sure Jack had been one of the thieves attempting to rob the factory, but she’d heard Billy Baggins’ brother had been one of them and Alice suspected that Jack would have been the other. The police were looking for Arthur – so was it Jack whose remains lay in a police mortuary, too burned and mutilated to be recognised? Her imagination ran riot because all the paper had said was that the body was unrecognisable.
No, please no, don’t let it be Jack. Yet who else could it have been? Alice didn’t know and nor did anyone else, because the papers called him a mystery man.
Alice felt sick at the thought, because she really loved Jack, even though he’d gone off and left her; she knew he was a rogue, but his smile made her insides go weak and she couldn’t bear to think of him dead.
No. He couldn’t be dead, because Alice would know. Something inside her kept telling her that Jack was alive. It was the only reason she hadn’t given way to grief, because she just knew Jack was still alive. She clung to the promise that he would come back for her, but as each week passed she knew it was more unlikely.
Why was she worrying about Jack rather than herself? Alice buried her face in the pillow and gulped back a sob. Men like Jack could look after themselves; it was Alice who was going to be in all kinds of trouble. For a start she would lose her job as soon as her condition became noticeable, and then she would probably be out on the street, because her mother would yell at her for being a filthy little slut and her father would disown her.
She was going to be on her own, Alice realised, because there was no one she could turn to for help. Nan was lovely but she would think Alice a fool and probably advise her to go to one of those Church-run places where they gave you a home until the baby was born and then took it away from you, giving it to a deserving but childless couple.
Instinctively, Alice curved her arms protectively over her stomach. She wouldn’t have chosen to have this child until she was married, but the idea of being compelled to give it away made her feel sick. It wasn’t as if she’d been raped by someone she hated.
It was too late now. She wouldn’t show much for ages yet; time to make her plans and decide what to do. No one but the sister she shared so much of her life with would have guessed, Alice comforted herself. She still had some of the money Jack had given her so when the time came …
Alice fell asleep with that thought still unresolved in her mind.
‘I love comin’ here,’ Mavis said, her arm firmly tucked through Alice’s as they wandered through the flower market, its busy vendors crying their wares to catch the first of the eager shoppers on their way to spend their wages in the network of narrow lanes and alleys. There was an air of Christmas festivity, because this was the 14th December and people were getting in the mood for the coming holidays, despite the frost that nipped at their noses.
Columbia Road market had started out in the nineteenth century selling all kinds of bits and pieces, but now most of the stalls were offering flowers and plants, sprigs of holly and mistletoe. Even in winter the smell was lovely, Alice thought as she looked at the buckets of huge chrysanthemums, tall lilies and asters. Some enterprising traders were offering twigs and sprays of dried flowers with a kind of snow or glittery stuff on them.
The chill of an east wind reminded Alice that it would soon be time to think about Christmas and she decided that she would volunteer for duty. It wasn’t much fun being at home all day, because Ma would grumble and Dad would probably take the port off to his shed and get drunk by evening.
Leaving the flower market, they walked through a street made up of shops and stalls selling mostly second-hand clothing; there were a lot of Jewish people here and the smell of spicy foods being sold in tiny alleys nearby drifted on the air. Some of the traders spread sheets on the ground and the things they offered were laid out to be picked over by anyone who passed by. People were pulling them about and trying on jackets or anything they fancied.
Mavis walked past this clothing, because a lot of it looked as if it were hardly fit to wear. Some of the shirts and underclothing being tossed about even had yellowed stains on them and Mavis wrinkled her nose at the sour smell that came from the bundles.
‘Ugh,’ she said as a man with green teeth and greasy hair thrust a pair of silk drawers under her nose. ‘They stink. Please take them away.’
‘Nuffin’ a good wash wouldn’t cure,’ he chortled. ‘Looking for yer winter furs are yer, me lady?’
‘Ignore him, Mave,’ Alice said as they side-stepped a pile of horse dung that was still steaming and smelled even worse than the stained silk drawers. ‘You won’t find anything much here. It’s much better in Petticoat Lane.’
Mavis had stopped to look at one of the more expensive stalls. She was attracted to a pink tweed two-piece with a large fur collar and inquired about the price from the woman behind the stall.
‘Luverly bit of cloth, that,’ the woman said. ‘I got it off a toff only recent. She said it didn’t fit her ’cos she was expanding …’ She cackled with mirth and held her hands suggestively over her stomach. ‘Wiv her money she’ll be after the latest fashion once she gets shot of the brat. I want two quid fer it if yer interested.’
‘Don’t buy it,’ Alice whispered in her ear. ‘You’ll see better things in the lane.’
‘I’ll give you a pound,’ Mavis offered, ignoring her sister’s advice.
‘Clear orf out of ’ere,’ the woman said, her smiles disappearing. ‘That’s less than I give fer it.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Mavis said and grinned at her sister as they mingled with the ever-growing crowds swelling the lanes and through to Club Row – or, as the locals called it, the Dog Market. Cats and dogs were on sale here and the street attracted many children, who stood watching and admiring the fluffy creatures. Just ahead was the bird market, the noise of which could be heard above people calling out and the rumble of wheels.
From the flower market, they made their way through the commercial dinginess of Brick Lane, where it sometimes seemed that every other building was a sweat shop producing clothes made by downtrodden seamstresses. Here there were stalls selling fruit and vege-tables, the gutters filling up with rotten waste as the day progressed, a stall selling bagels and the jellied eel stall: the sight of the eel flesh in jelly, which eager buyers would sprinkle with vinegar and pepper, turned Alice’s stomach.
In Petticoat Lane there was barely room to move, and Alice reminded her sister to keep her hand tightly on her purse, because there was always a danger of a hand slipping into your pocket to relieve you of your hard-earned wages. The traders were vying with each other, offering what they promised were fantastic bargains. On the crockery stall the man had boxes of blue and white willow-pattern china resting in white straw.
He held up a pile of plates, saucers and cups for his audience to see and tossed them in the air, catching them expertly and with ease which brought a gasp of delight from the crowd.
‘I ain’t offerin’ these fer twenty pound fer a whole dinner, tea, and coffee set, which them fancy shops up West would charge yer. You’d be lucky to get wares like mine for a score I’m tellin’ yer. I ain’t offerin’ ’em fer eight pound or seven or even five …’
‘I s
hould think yer bleedin’ givin’ ’em away,’ one man jeered.
‘Too right, mate,’ the trader came back at him. ‘I’m givin’ them to yer for four quid – the whole bleedin’ lot of ’em. Now who wants me first set?’
‘I’ll give yer thirty bob,’ the same heckler cried. ‘I bet half of ’em are cracked or chipped.
‘Honest Bob never cheats a customer,’ the trader quipped back. ‘If me wares are rubbish I’ll be ’ere next week and yer can bring ’em back. You’re breakin’ me ’eart, ladies and gents. I tell yer what – I’ll give ’em to yer for three quid, now I can’t say fairer than that …’
‘I’ll take one,’ a woman near the front cried out. ‘Me daughter’s getting wed and she’ll like bein’ posh wiv a set like that – not the one you’ve been throwin’ ahbat …’
‘They look good,’ Mavis said. ‘I’m tempted to buy one, but if I do I can’t afford to get a new costume for the weddin’.’
‘If you took that home Ma would go on somethin’ awful,’ Alice said. ‘She would probably pinch bits out of it for herself. Leave it for now, there’s plenty of time to buy things for your home.’
‘Plenty of time for me,’ Mavis agreed and her gaze narrowed. ‘But what of you, Alice? How much time before you have to get wed?’
‘I don’t know,’ Alice admitted and her cheeks flushed. ‘I’m late but that doesn’t mean …’
‘Alice, you fool,’ her sister said, taking hold of her arm to steer her away from the stall where the buyers were now scrabbling to buy the trader’s bargains. ‘Let’s go and find something to drink and sit down and talk.’
‘What about your new costume? If you leave it all the bargains will be gone.’
‘I might go back and get that costume with the fur collar. It was nice, Alice, but too expensive. If she comes down to thirty bob I’ll buy it – if not, I’ll wait until next week and see what I can find.’
Alice nodded, feeling glad to get away from the crush around the china stall. Two women were fighting over the last set now, punching and kicking each other as they squabbled.
They found a stall in Cheshire Street selling brightly coloured glasses of fruit cordials, strawberry, orange, pineapple and all kinds of exotic mixtures, but the two sisters went for the hot blackcurrant, and then bought a bag of hot roasted chestnuts. They found a bench at the side of the pavement and sat down, watching the flow of life as it passed by: a mongrel dog hunting in the gutters for abandoned food; children playing with hoops and one small boy on roller skates wobbling all over as his sister followed him, crying and telling him it was her turn now. There were all kinds of people here: Jewish people; people with dark skins; others with Asian clothes and black eyes, and the good old Londoners in all shapes and sizes. A Pearly King was gathering a small crowd about him as he played a squeeze box and collected money for charity; some people had begun to hurry home clutching heavy bags of shopping.
Mavis looked at Alice. ‘It was that Jack Shaw did you down, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Alice admitted, glancing away from the accusation in her sister’s eyes. ‘I kept saying no, Mave, but he wore me resistance down. I fell for him, like the fool I am, and in the end I couldn’t resist him. He promised to marry me. We were goin’ away …’
‘You didn’t tell me any of this?’
‘Jack made me promise not to. The people he works for … he knows too much about them. They wouldn’t let him walk away so he had to get his money together on the quiet – but somehow they found out and they tried to kill him. I was in the car when they did it …’
‘Alice!’ Mavis was shocked. ‘You weren’t hurt?’
‘Jack told me to get down and he drove off like a madman. He dropped me outside St Saviour’s and went speeding into the night. I haven’t heard from him since.’
‘And you won’t,’ Mavis said. ‘His sort are all charm and no substance. They promise you everything and then let you down – leaving you in trouble.’
‘You don’t know that, Mave.’
‘He hasn’t let you know he’s all right. Do you really think he is going to risk his neck by coming back for you?’
‘He said he would tell me where to meet him. Jack loves me, he wouldn’t let me down. If I hadn’t told him I was havin’ the kid he wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to sell up. It was my fault they nearly got to him …’
‘Don’t blame yourself, love. Jack was a bad ’un. Dad warned you enough times. He’ll go nuts when he finds out the truth.’
‘Maybe he won’t have to … if Jack sends word or …’ Alice’s mouth went dry. ‘I don’t know what to do, Mave. What can I do?’
‘You could get rid of it,’ her sister said. ‘They say if you sit in a hot bath and drink gin …’
‘Old wives’ tales,’ Alice said. ‘I know one of the girls who used to work with me tried it but it didn’t do the trick. She went to one of them places to get rid of it in the end …’
‘You mean back-street abortionists?’ Mavis looked at her in horror. ‘They’re butchers, Alice. You mustn’t do that whatever happens. Promise me you won’t. Me and Ted will help you. I’m not sure what we can do, but we’ll help if Ma chucks you out.’
‘Thanks.’ Alice finished her hot blackcurrant drink. ‘Come on, Mave. Let’s go and see if that old witch will let you have the costume you want for thirty bob.’
THIRTY-SIX
The next morning, Mark Adderbury delivered the tree to be dressed, though the presents would be hung just before Father Christmas arrived on Christmas Eve, to prevent prying fingers. It was a lovely big fir and caused a lot of excitement when it was carried in and set up in the hall, from the staff as much as the children, most of whom had never seen such a beautiful one.
Sally and some of the other girls had just finished decorating the tree when Andrew Markham walked in. They had been debating whether to put a star on top, as Father Joe thought proper, or a fairy as some of the girls wanted.
‘Oh, a star is much nicer,’ a voice said from behind her and Sally swung round, a feeling of delight sweeping through her as she saw who it was. ‘I think we should all remember the story of Christ’s birth, even though we like to have fun and indulge ourselves with presents, special food and lots of good things.’
‘Yes, I think the star is best,’ Sally agreed and handed it to him, standing back to watch as he went up the steps and placed it on the tallest point. ‘Lovely. We are so lucky to have such a wonderful tree. Mr Adderbury bought it for us. We all contributed to the decorations and found bits and pieces we could bring – and there are going to be lots of sweets and small gifts for the children.’
‘It’s all very exciting. I understand the carol service and party here is to be held on Christmas Eve? And the big party at the church hall is on Tuesday 23rd?’
‘I do hope you will pop in to see us on Christmas Eve?’
‘Yes, I can promise that,’ he said, and as their eyes met Sally’s heart leaped in excitement, because the look in them seemed to promise so much. ‘My last appointment is for the afternoon and then I have nothing until after the Christmas holidays.’
‘Are you going anywhere exciting?’
‘To my aunt’s house, for dinner and tea on Christmas Day; it’s very quiet but she looks forward to it. I dare say she will try to keep me there over Boxing Day but I have lots of people to visit, people I hardly ever manage to meet because they live in the country. I’ll be away three days and then it is back to work for me.’
‘You’re very busy,’ Sally said, a note of envy creeping into her voice as she added, ‘It must be wonderful to have your skills. Not only the surgery and the medical stuff – but the books and puzzles too.’
‘The books I do for pleasure and the hope they may help a child. I’m fond of children, Sally. I should like at least three or four of my own …’
‘Yes, I love them too and one day I want a family.’ Her cheeks were warm as she met his teasing look.
‘We must go
out soon and talk about things,’ Andrew said and Sally wondered what that look in his eyes meant. It was almost as if … but she mustn’t read too much into it, because although he’d taken her out a few times that didn’t mean he was thinking of marriage … and yet something told her that it was exactly what he was thinking of and her heart began to race wildly.
‘Yes, I should like that,’ she said softly, hoping that he would suggest a time soon when they could meet, but to her disappointment he just smiled.
‘Well, I must not keep you from your duties,’ he said. ‘I have people to see and things to do – but if we do not meet again I shall see you on Christmas Eve.’
Sally nodded, feeling uncertain as she watched him leave the room. For a moment there she’d thought he really meant something important, that his talk of having children was a message just for her, and yet he hadn’t arranged to see her again. Why? She gathered up the tissue and newspaper that had been used to wrap the glass balls and bits of tinsel for the tree. The box would go to the cellar out of the way until it was time to take the decorations down, but that wouldn’t be for several days yet.
As she passed the schoolroom she heard the sound of children’s voices raised in song. Father Joe was getting his little choir in good shape and the carol service was something to be looked forward to, along with the present giving and the food. Christmas at St Saviour’s was going to be rather special this year, and much of that was because of Angela’s hard work.
Angela had been a little subdued when she looked in on them earlier and Sally wondered why. Angela had worked tirelessly to make things nice for them all. It was strange that she’d seemed almost uninterested when she saw they were decorating the tree; it just wasn’t like her and Sally wished she’d dared to ask what was wrong.
Beatrice sat at her desk looking through the most recent list Angela had given her some days ago. Some of the ideas here were good despite her own reluctance to change things at St Saviour’s. One she thought particularly interesting was about the team leaders Angela wanted to select. Each group of children would have a leader and that leader monitor behaviour and activities.
