The Wingless Bird

by Catherine Cookson

  Agnes turned away from her sister and there was a sad note in her voice as she said, ‘He cares for me merely because I’m useful to him, that’s all. And I don’t know how he feels about Mother, either.’ Then quickly turning back to her, she said, ‘But I do know how he feels about you. So I beg of you, Jessie, don’t do anything rash. You know, you’re so pretty you could have anyone, but you’ve got to go and pick one of the Feltons. All I can say is, I pray this is a spasm, one you’ll grow out of. Anyway—’ She looked down on her partly eaten meal and her nose wrinkled before she went on, ‘I’ve got to go downstairs again, and you’d better clear away here when you’ve finished, then go in to Mother and see if you can soothe her ruffled feathers. And that’s another one, you know: she would die of shame if she knew that you were even looking at a Felton, never mind expressing affection for one. Oh my!’ She now flapped her hand as if shooing something away, then went out of the kitchen and onto the landing, and here, as she had before, she stopped, but only long enough to raise her eyes to the whitewashed ceiling as her mind said, Dear God, don’t let anything come of this.

  Her father had gone to his club. Her mother had stopped crocheting, so Jessie said, and was in the sitting room going through a catalogue of curtain material for yet another change at the windows and had decided firmly against anything resembling Nottingham Lace; her mind was now set on drapes with pelmets, so Jessie had whispered to her in the back shop a short while ago.

  The shop bell had tinkled frequently for the past hour, most of the customers having been the ha’penny and penny ones, some of whom were now standing outside at the shop window oohing and aahing at the Christmas goodies displayed there, all entwined with coloured streamers and illuminated by the two gas lamps attached to the side wall of the shop and plopping inside their pretty pink glass globes, while casting a rosy light over all, even over the small faces pressed against the window.

  The shop bell rang; then the door closed with a clatter on two customers, one all of six, the other in the region of four years old.

  ‘Oh, hello Bobby. Hello, Mary Ann. What is it tonight? Tiger nuts?’

  ‘Naw, we’ve both got pennies.’

  ‘You have? Your mother gave you them?’ There was a note of surprise in her voice.

  ‘Naw! The lodger…we got a lodger.’

  ‘Oh.’ Agnes was nodding her head now, and as she did so she was thinking, I only hope your father doesn’t find him there when he comes back from one of his trips. Your mother never seems to learn, poor soul.

  She walked behind the main counter to the flap that could be lifted to give access to the shop itself and, leaning on her forearms, looked down onto her weekly customers and asked, ‘Well then, what is it to be?’

  ‘Divvent know yet.’

  ‘You want to look round?’

  ‘Aye. Coconut ice slabs are tuppence, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, and I don’t think you would enjoy spending all your money on a coconut ice slice. But there are the coconut chips. You could have a pennorth of those.’

  He blinked up at her from his grimy face, and said flatly, ‘Ha’p’orth.’Agnes raised her eyebrows and said, ‘Very well then, a ha’p’orth it is.’

  She moved back along the counter and, picking up a box of the sugared candy, she was about to scoop some into the scales when the shop bell rang again. The sight of the two customers that entered this time stayed her hand holding the small brass scoop that was about to transfer a minute amount of coconut chips to the scale. From the dress of both the man and the woman she realised immediately that they were not only strangers, but class. And if she hadn’t been able to judge this from their dress, she would have from their voices as, one following the other, they said, ‘Good evening.’

  ‘Good evening.’ Her hand tipped the scoop and the chips slid into the scale and when the dial registered much more than half an ounce she didn’t remove any but, taking a paper bag, she blew into it, then, tipping up the scale, she disposed of the coconut chips before saying, ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’

  ‘There’s no hurry.’ It was the man who spoke.

  ‘She wants shoclate taffy.’

  ‘Oh, well now.’ She glanced from her regular customers to the two new ones who seemed to be interested in the proceedings, and she said, ‘Well, now, she won’t get much chocolate toffee for a ha’penny. She’s always liked tiger nuts.’

  ‘You want tiger nuts?’

  When the small head nodded acceptance Agnes, now looking at the boy, said, ‘A ha’p’orth or a pennorth?’

  ‘Ha’p’orth.’

  This word was said in such a way, and accompanied by a look, that told the woman behind the counter that she didn’t know her business, because they’d never had a pennorth of tiger nuts.

  Hurriedly now Agnes weighed out the tiger nuts; then, glancing at the newcomers again, she smiled and said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. Oh, don’t be.’ It was the young woman speaking now. Her voice had a lilt to it as if she were on the verge of laughter.

  Agnes turned her attention to the young customers again, saying, ‘Well, that’s a penny gone. What would you like next? You can have two gobstoppers for a ha’penny. You often have those. And she likes hearts and crosses, or there’s everlasting stripes,’ and she spread her hand wide. The boy, however, took no notice of her but raised his eyes to the bottles on the shelves and said, ‘Acid drops.’

  Agnes did not make the mistake now of asking her customer how much he intended to spend on the acid drops; she reached up and took down the jar and, tilting it, tipped some acid drops into the scale; then, putting the glass lid back onto the jar, she returned the whole to the shelf before once again blowing into a small paper bag and depositing the sweets inside. Now, once more looking at the small boy, she said briskly, ‘Come, make up your mind quick, Bobby; I know you’ve bought a shipping order tonight but there’s this lady and gentleman waiting to be served.’

  ‘Cindy taffy.’

  He would choose cinder toffee, she thought. She moved along the counter to where, beneath it, on a narrow table, there stood a number of trays and, taking up the brass hammer, she broke the edge of the toffee and put four pieces into a newspaper cone that she had taken from a number stacked up by the side of the tray. She also added the crumbs of the toffee, then rubbed her hands on a small damp towel lying on the table by the toffee trays.

  When she placed the paper cone by the side of the three bags she was confronted by a pair of unsmiling eyes and a voice that held condemnation: ‘Ye’ve nivvor weighed it.’

  She now leant across the counter and, poking her face down to the child’s, she said, ‘No, I didn’t, Bobby, because if I had you wouldn’t have got half as much as is in that bag. Now, take that lot and go, get yourselves away.’

  She gathered up the bags and pushed them towards the child; and when he reluctantly handed her the two pennies she said, ‘Thank you very much. I’ll see you next week, I hope.’

  It was the gentleman who seemed to spring to the door and open it to let the two heavily laden customers out. And then, laughing, he looked at her and said, ‘That was as good as a play.’

  ‘More like pantomime, sir; and it’s enacted every week, mostly on a Friday night when they get their pay-pennies. What can I do for you?’

  It was the young lady who now spoke: ‘You won’t remember, of course, I scarcely do, but years ago my grandfather brought me to this shop, and it was at Christmas time too. He was really going to buy cigars at the shop next door, but I saw the sugar mice in the window and he couldn’t get me away until he came in and bought some. I remember he bought a dozen. And I remember, too, those I hadn’t eaten by the time I got home we hung on the tree. And there was a sugar and chocolate cat; and that’s still there; of course, it won’t be the same one.’ She laughed now. ‘There were all kinds of animals; there was a dog too.’

  ‘Oh yes, the dog.’ Agnes smiled broadly. ‘The mould got broken and we never re
placed it. Nobody seemed to want sugar or chocolate dogs, and the cat isn’t so very popular either. It’s the mice everyone seems to go for, I mean the children.’

  ‘Well, I have three children of my own now and I thought it would be nice to surprise them with the sugar mice on the tree, and also the chocolate cat.’

  ‘How many would you like?’

  Agnes watched the young, plump, matronly lady look at the young man, whom she imagined to be the same age as his wife. And when he said, ‘I would say a couple of dozen, because that little tribe just don’t eat, they gobble. And who’s to prevent the grown-ups enjoying a sugar mouse now and again. But will that spoil your window?’

  ‘Oh, no, no; we have plenty in stock. But not so many cats. How many cats would you like?’

  It was the young woman who answered, ‘Six, say?’ She glanced at the man, and he said, ‘Yes; yes, six.’

  ‘Will you excuse me a moment?’ Agnes hurried into the back shop, turned up the gas jet, quickly transferred two dozen sugar mice to one fancy box and six chocolate cats to another; and when she returned with them into the shop they both exclaimed, and it was the young woman who said, ‘What pretty boxes! Oh, they are nice! Aren’t they, Charles?’

  ‘Yes, they are.’ He smiled at Agnes. ‘Do you think we could have some toffee?’

  ‘With pleasure. What would you like? There is walnut, and treacle, and chocolate topped, and, of course, cinder.’ At this they all laughed. Then the young woman said, ‘I know what your choice will be, Charles, the walnut.’

  ‘Yes; yes, I’d like the walnut,’ he said. ‘And I can tell you what your choice will be, too; it’ll be the chocolate.’ Again they were laughing.

  ‘How much would you like? We put them up in quarter pounds or in half-pound boxes.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll have a half pound of each.’

  ‘Oh, that won’t go very far, not when Reg and Henry get their fingers into them. Better make it a pound each.’

  ‘Yes, yes. I’d forgotten about those two.’

  They were looking into each other’s face and laughing as if, Agnes thought, they were alone. They looked happy. She wondered who Reg and Henry were…their children?

  They seemed to have brought another world into the shop. She had noted the young woman’s attire. She was wearing a fur hood and a Melton cloth coat with a huge fur collar. She had fur-backed gloves and high brown-polished boots, not shoes but boots, and from what she could see of them they looked serviceable, as if they really were worn for walking.

  The boxes filled with toffee and tied up with red string, Agnes checked up the account, saying aloud, ‘Two dozen mice, sir, at a penny each, two shillings. Six cats at threepence each, one and six. One pound of walnut toffee, eightpence, and one pound of chocolate toffee, a shilling.’ She looked up, adding now, ‘The chocolate is always dearer. You understand? That will be five shillings and tuppence.’

  The young man put two half crowns and two pennies on the counter, saying as he did so, ‘We’ll take more than the sweets away with us tonight. It’s been a pleasure visiting your shop. And I wouldn’t have missed your last customers for anything. He certainly got his money’s worth, that young man. He seemed to know what he wanted. He’ll make his way in the world all right.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Agnes, without expressing the large doubt in her mind, knowing the kind of family from which young Bobby Wilmore came. But his was one of the many families in the streets that ran off the main road at the bottom of the hill and from whom this shop and the tobacconist’s derived most of their regular custom.

  ‘Goodnight, and a happy Christmas when it comes.’

  ‘And the same to you.’ She nodded from one to the other; then watched the young man open the door and stand aside to allow his wife to pass before him. On the point of following her and still holding the door open, he again nodded towards her and smiled; and she smiled back at him.

  What a nice couple. It was as if they were indeed from another world: a happy world, a free and easy world. The way they talked to each other just went to emphasise this. And they had three children. She couldn’t have been much older than herself, about twenty-five or so. And how old would he be? About the same age, perhaps a little older. And they were both so good-looking, he in particular. His wife was inclined to plumpness but it was a pretty plumpness, a happy plumpness. There was that word again. She seemed to cling to it. Is that what she wanted? That kind of happiness? But where would she find it? Well, there was one thing certain, she wouldn’t find it in Spring Street.

  Her father had once said when discussing classes, if they were all naked you could tell the county man from the commoner because of his commanding tone or his easy insolence. Well, there had been neither the commanding tone nor the easy insolence from that couple; and yet, in a way, she knew her father was right in his summing up of the gentry. Still, she would never see that pair again; her dealings would be with the Bobby Wilmores, either young, middle-aged or old, and their wives or their mothers. She’d had a number of the wives in tonight, all choosing bits and pieces out of their Christmas Club money. But their choices remained either in the storeroom or in the window because her father had made it a rule that the window wasn’t to be cleared until the day before Christmas Eve.

  It was at ten minutes to nine when she decided to close up the shop. Arthur Peeble would put the shutters up next door at exactly nine o’clock. Not a moment before, not a moment after. But there had been no customer in the sweetshop for the last fifteen minutes, and the children had all disappeared from the window. So she went outside and she was in the act of pulling the shutters closed when a voice to her side said, ‘What you up to?’

  She started as she looked at her father. ‘Oh, you did give me a fright. And what’s the matter? Why are you home so soon? It isn’t even nine yet.’

  ‘No, I know it isn’t and you’re closing up before nine, aren’t you? Here, give it to me.’ He pushed the lock through a link of chain, turned the key, then said, ‘Get yourself inside; it’s enough to freeze you. We’re going to have snow, if you ask me anything.’

  Inside the shop, the door bolted and the blinds drawn, she asked again, ‘What’s brought you back so soon? You’re never home before ten. Have they thrown you out of the club?’

  ‘No, they didn’t throw me out, miss; I got fed up with the chatter. Anyway, I thought I could be doing better things here, and I wanted a hot drink and I was feeling a bit peckish. I didn’t have much before I went out. What’s trade been like?’

  ‘Oh, about the same except for two strangers who happened to pop in, county types.’ She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Bought five and tuppence-worth altogether.’

  ‘Did they now? Five and tuppence-worth. A shipping order.’

  ‘Well, it’s bigger than anything that’s been taken today, or yesterday, at one go.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I was only kidding you. By the way, did you make the order out for me for tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes. There it is.’ She pointed along the counter to the till.

  He passed her and picked up the sheet of paper. ‘Why do we want everlasting stripes again?’ he said.

  ‘Well, we are down to one box and they always go very well in the winter; anything with liquorice in like that.’

  ‘Three dozen candy rock assorted! I hope you sell them. Liquorice allsorts. Well, you’ve only got two boxes down here; I would have got another one. Sherbet dips, hearts and crosses, wine gums, jelly babies. Aye. Aye, jelly babies; they go. Hundreds and thousands…Oh, marshmallows. Now, they stuck last year, didn’t they?’

  ‘They went eventually.’

  ‘Candy walking sticks. Ah well, what with the candy rock, I don’t think they are good for stocking. Sherbet dips…not in the winter, not as many, anyway, as you’ve got down here; three boxes.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you make the list out yourself, if there’s so many things wrong in it?’

  ‘Now, now, now. That’s no way to talk to your father.
What’s got into you?’

  ‘It’s more like what’s got into you, Father. I’ve always made the list out and you’ve never queried it before, well not like that. And as I’m in the shop most of the time and know what goes and what doesn’t, I think you should stick by what I say or get somebody else in who’ll do it better.’

  As she went to flounce past him, he checked her, saying again, ‘Here! Here! What’s got into you?’

  ‘Nothing’s got into me, Father. It’s what’s got into you. Yes, I repeat, what’s got into you. If I was of a probing nature I would say there’s something worrying you. And what’s brought you home so soon? It’s never happened before…well, not for a long, long time. But I’ve been taught to mind my own business, so I won’t need an answer to that.’

  ‘That’ll be the day when you mind your own business. Anyway, talking about changing tempers, yours has been in and out with the tide these last few months. We were talking earlier on about you marrying. Well, if you don’t want to marry, what do you want to do?’ Then suddenly closing his eyes and clenching his fist and bringing it down on the counter, he said, ‘Whatever you want to do, for God’s sake! Aggie, don’t tell me you want to walk out of here, because I can’t do without you. I’ve got so many things on my mind; but when you’re here running things, well, I know everything’s all right. And this is our livelihood. So never say you want to walk out. Anyway—’ He turned towards her again. His hand was open and there was a touch of laughter in his voice as he said, ‘What would you do? Where would you go, if you don’t intend to go into some other man’s house?’

  She did not immediately come back with an answer, but looked at him steadily for some seconds before she said, ‘That’s why you think you’ve got me here for good, isn’t it, Father? But there’s plenty of places I could go. Remember, Miss Carter wanted me to go pupil-teaching and then take a teacher’s course, well that’s one thing I could do; it’s not too late, I’m only twenty-two. Or, I could run somebody’s business, couldn’t I? I’ve had plenty of experience for that. Oh’—her lips curled—‘you saying you couldn’t do without me, Father, doesn’t cut any ice. Goodnight.’