by Tania Crosse
For how was it all to end?
*
‘I told you that ne’er-do-well you married was good for nothing!’ Harold crowed triumphantly as he burst into the back room after work one evening a few weeks later. ‘Should’ve listened to me in the first place. Well, you’re in a right old pickle now, my girl.’
Hillie jerked up her head as she placed the sizzling rabbit casserole on the table next to a tray of baked potatoes, and she felt a spike of dread as she saw the delight gleaming in Harold’s eyes. ‘W-what d’you mean?’ she stammered.
‘Got the sack, ain’t he? For falling asleep when he’d been warned about it before.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me,’ Harold almost grinned back. ‘Lover boy’s let you down good and proper, just like I said he would.’
Panic gripped Hillie by the throat. ‘No. I don’t believe you. You’re lying. Luke?’ she questioned, seeking reassurance from her brother as he slunk awkwardly into the room behind his father.
But even as she spoke the words, Hillie knew that Harold wasn’t lying at all. The scene that morning sprang back so vividly into her mind. Jimmy had indeed been out the previous evening, and she’d had no idea what time it was when he’d stumbled into bed. Twice that morning she’d had to wake him and he’d fallen back asleep. She’d needed to push him out of the flat with neither a wash nor breakfast so that he wouldn’t be late for work. And now this.
Daisy and Frances were clambering up to the table, oblivious to the conversation, but Joan and Trixie understood what it meant. Hillie shivered as she saw them exchange glances, and then she met Luke’s anxious gaze. Oh, good Lord. It must be true.
‘Bye, girls,’ a hoarse voice that must be hers, but that she hardly recognised, scraped automatically over the top of Daisy and Frances’s heads. Her limbs moved as if in a dream, or more likely a nightmare, as if she had no control over them, but fortunately they knew what to do. She picked up her handbag and moved towards the door, her heart hammering. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she mumbled, and then staggered down the hallway. She swiped her coat from the stand, but was too poleaxed to put it on. She just wanted to rush home, speak to Jimmy, find out it was all a mistake. Although she knew it wasn’t.
‘Oh, Hill, I’m so sorry—’
Luke had followed her out into the hallway and she caught his voice over her shoulder. But she ignored him and stepped outside, sharply pulling the door to behind her. She couldn’t face his sympathy. She just needed to get out. Gulp at the November evening air. Let the murky drizzle calm the tortured energy that surged through her veins.
Her legs broke into a run.
*
‘Hello, love.’ Jimmy threw her a cheeky smile as he looked up from laying the little table. ‘Thought I’d surprise you and have supper ready. You been running? You look all puffed.’
Hillie stared at him in disbelief. He was acting as if nothing had happened, and her brain swirled in confusion. Had it all been a dream? Had Harold set her up? Bullied Luke into playing along with him? It was the sort of mental cruelty he was capable of. And when Luke had said he was sorry, was that what he’d meant? That he was sorry for falling in with Harold’s nasty game because he was scared to do otherwise? Not that he was sorry Jimmy had lost his job because, in fact, he hadn’t?
Hillie had been close to tears as she’d raced headlong through the darkened streets, almost pushing people out of her way in blind panic. What would happen to them without Jimmy’s wages? It was hard enough for anyone to get a job. Not so hard, so she believed, as in the north of the country where unemployment was rife, but hard, nonetheless. And Jimmy wasn’t exactly going to get a glowing reference from Price’s, was he? They’d have to leave the flat. Go back to some godawful little room with a shared bathroom and toilet, probably with damp paper peeling off the walls, mould on the ceiling and windows that were cracked and loose in their frames, and rattled in the wind.
She could maybe face that. But even if she was lucky enough to get her old job back at the factory with her own reputation of being such a good worker, could she face leaving her sisters to fend for themselves? Or worse, have Dolly Maguire come back to lord it over them? For that was probably what Harold would do, bring the old hag back, deliberately to spite Hillie. It wouldn’t be quite so bad as before, now that Frances was at school all day, but it would still be bad enough. Dolly taking the place of their dear mum. It was unthinkable.
But here was Jimmy, as calm as a cucumber, setting the table, with something sizzling tantalisingly in the pan and steam wafting gently from a saucepan on the other ring. It was all so normal. Had Hillie imagined it, after all? Or fallen for another despicable trick of Harold’s?
She hung up her coat, aware of her hands shaking as she did so. She ignored Jimmy’s last remark and instead consciously rearranged her face into a smile. ‘And a lovely surprise it is, too. Did you… get home early for some reason?’ she found herself probing.
‘No, not especially.’ Jimmy shrugged slightly. ‘I caught the tram ’cos of the rain. And I thought I’d spoil my girl for once.’
Hillie bit the inside of her lip. Rain? It had been drizzling, not proper rain at all. Although it could have been raining harder a little earlier. She might not have known with the curtains drawn, and the pavements had been quite wet.
‘Mmm, that smells lovely,’ she said, forcing herself to receive Jimmy’s peck on the cheek. ‘Be with you in a mo.’
She went into the bathroom, used the toilet and then stared at herself in the mottled mirror over the sink as she washed her hands. Was it her imagination, or did she look pale, her eyes sunken with shock? Had Jimmy noticed?
She took a deep breath and walked calmly back into the living area, sitting down at the table. In the kitchenette, Jimmy was serving up the meal. He carried her plate over in one hand, tea cloth folded over his other arm, and bowed as he placed her dinner in front of her.
‘Here you are, madam,’ he announced with mock servility.
Hillie’s heart squeezed. When Jimmy dropped into his play-acting, it was often for a reason. Was there a reason this time? She watched as Jimmy sat down and began to devour his own meal, but Hillie scarcely noticed what was on her plate. It stuck in her throat as she tried to eat, and she had to take a large gulp of water to swallow down each morsel.
She was only halfway through when she simply couldn’t stomach any more. She felt too sick. She lay down her knife and fork, waiting for Jimmy to notice. He finally looked up, chewing vigorously.
‘What’s up, love? Not hungry?’ he asked casually, then immediately went back to preparing the next forkful to launch into his mouth.
Hillie lowered her eyes. ‘When were you going to tell me?’ she murmured.
She heard the little rush of air as Jimmy snatched in his breath. ‘Tell you? Tell you what?’ he asked lightly, but she could hear the change in his voice as he spoke.
‘I think you know.’
A split second’s silence before Jimmy found his tongue. ‘Oh, what, you mean about Price’s deciding they no longer need me services?’
‘So… it’s true, then? I thought as much. It must be all over the factory. So how long were you going to keep it from me?’
‘We-ell, I was waiting for the right moment to tell you. But now you know, I won’t have to, will I?’ Jimmy went on glibly once more. ‘Anyway, I’m better off without them. They didn’t even give me notice, so I walked out straightaway. I’ve been to see Mr Jackson, and he says he’s happy to take me on full-time, so Price’s’ve done us a favour. I’ll be much better off working for him.’
Hillie felt a flush of icy water pass through her. ‘Oh, Jimmy, a bit of cash in hand is one thing. But… well, I don’t trust this chap. I mean, who exactly is he? All this work and money he’s offering you? What exactly is his set-up? And what about tax and National Insurance?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about all that,’ Jimmy assured her with his usual grin. ‘I’ll make sure it’s all
done proper, and I’ll buy me own stamp at the Post Office.’
But Hillie shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Jimmy. It just doesn’t seem right.’
‘Now don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, and eat up before it gets completely cold. Everything’ll be perfectly OK, just you wait and see. Better than before. We’ll be able to get out of London so much sooner and then I promise you I’ll settle down to a nice little job. Tell you what, would you fancy running a little shop of some sort and we could live over the top? In a village or a small country town? I know it wouldn’t quite be what you wanted, a cottage with roses round the door. But it’d be a good, solid income, and I’ve got loads of contacts for stock.’
Oh, yes. More likely stolen goods, Hillie thought to herself. She didn’t answer. Because she truly didn’t know what to say.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Now, how was she going to make Christmas special for her family, Hillie was asking herself as she scrubbed the butler sink with Vim? The previous year’s Christmas had been somewhat subdued with Nell not yet cold in her grave, and Frances and Daisy still asking for their mummy. But Hillie had tried so hard to keep their minds so full and busy, and given them so much love, that as the months had passed, their memories of the woman who’d held their lives together seemed to have faded. But for herself and the older children, she felt Christmas would always be a bit sad, coming as it did not so long after the anniversary of Nell’s death.
At least money wasn’t so tight that Hillie couldn’t afford to buy some decent presents to put around a decorated tree that she herself would also need to purchase. She’d given up worrying about Jimmy. Her mind was so saturated in anxiety that it really couldn’t absorb any more. True to his word, Jimmy was producing a proper payslip each week. Their savings were growing, hopefully bringing the yearned for move to the country a little closer. It wouldn’t be for years yet, but by then, the girls would be old enough for Hillie to feel she could pass her housekeeping duties on to someone else. And Hillie would insist Jimmy left his connections with Mr Jackson behind, even if it meant he had to work as a farm labourer or some such, and they had to struggle as a result. And yet despite all their logical plans, it still seemed like a pipe dream to Hillie.
She was so lost in thought that the knock on the front door made her jump. Now, who could that be? She wasn’t expecting anyone. She dried her hands on the rough towel as she went down the hallway, her forehead in a slight frown. When she opened the door, she expected to see an adult, Jessica perhaps. But she looked down on a small child who obviously hadn’t thought to put on her coat and was shivering on the doorstep.
‘Trudy! What are you doing here? Oh, come in out of the cold,’ Hillie instructed.
The child stepped inside, unusually for her, a little warily. Worried that Harold might be around, Hillie considered grimly.
‘Now, what can I do for you, love?’ she asked to distract Trudy’s saucer-eyed stare.
‘Mummy said can you come? Straightaway.’
‘Oh.’ Hillie’s frown deepened and alarm bells started ringing in her head. It was a highly unusual request from dear Eva. Trudy was only a few months younger than Frances, but her birthday was just after the cut-off date, so she couldn’t start school until the following year. But she was old enough to take a message from her mum to Hillie. Usually it was an invite to call in for a cuppa, but never anything like this. And Eva would normally have wrapped Trudy up warmly, even if it was only a few doors down.
‘Yes, of course. I’ve got something simmering on the stove. Let me just turn the gas off, and I’ll be with you.’
Hillie nipped back to the kitchen to make sure all was safe and then moved her face into a smile as she let herself and Trudy out of the house. She locked the door behind them, taking the key with her. Ever since she’d thrown Dolly out, she never left the key hanging on its string through the letter box!
‘What’ve you been up to today?’ she asked as brightly as she could as they covered the few yards to the Parkers’ house. After all, if something was up, there was no need to upset Trudy. It was probably just that Eva needed a hand with something, or that she couldn’t tune in the radio, a modern technology she’d never entirely managed to get the hang of!
‘Making paper chains for Christmas,’ Trudy answered with excitement. ‘Mummy cut the newspaper into strips and I’ve been painting them. Only Primrose keeps trying to take them before they’re dry.’
‘Hmm.’ Hillie gave a false chuckle. ‘Little brothers and sisters can be a nuisance, can’t they? Still, I expect you’re looking forward to starting school next year, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ the little girl replied, pushing open her front door that was only ever locked at night. ‘Wish I could’ve started with Frances.’
‘Oh, well, never mind,’ Hillie pacified her, following her into the back room where Trudy at once climbed back up to the table and resumed her painting of the newspaper strips.
Hillie paused for a moment, observing the scene. Primrose was happily playing on the floor with a couple of crude miniature horses Stan had carved for her out of some leftover wood at the factory’s sawmill. Eva, though, was standing motionless, one hand at her throat and the other resting on the table next to her. Her normally ruddy face was grey, her gaze fixed on Old Sal sat in her chair next to the fire.
Hillie knew at once and her heart dropped.
‘I-I can’t wake her up,’ Eva gulped without turning her head.
Hillie stepped forward, her pulse rattling. Her mum had been the only experience of death she’d ever had, and then, the kind lady doctor had been there. But now she had to take a hold of herself. Be practical as well as strong. Especially for dear Eva whose own generosity knew no bounds.
Old Sal’s head was slumped forward, eyes closed for all the world as if she was asleep. Hillie, though, couldn’t see her chest moving. She placed her fingers under the old lady’s wrinkled jaw, just as she’d seen in films at the cinema. Nothing. And when she felt Old Sal’s brow, it was already cold and hard, like marble, despite being by the fire.
‘Oh, Eva,’ Hillie said so quietly. ‘I’m so sorry. She’s gone. A little while ago, I think.’
Eva’s face crumpled as she nodded slowly. ‘I know,’ she croaked. ‘I just hoped… I didn’t notice. I-I thought she’d been asleep a long time, even for her. I should’ve… been holding her hand.’
Hillie came over and, pulling out a chair, gently pushed Eva down onto it. ‘You couldn’t have known,’ she whispered. ‘She went peacefully. In such a happy home. You couldn’t have done more for her, Mrs P.’
‘Eva. Please.’ The older woman turned glistening eyes on her. ‘You and me, we’ve been through quite a bit together, ain’t we? Even before you was born, really. I’m sure Nell would’ve approved.’ She attempted a wry smile as she fought off her tears, and sadness pierced Hillie’s heart.
‘Yes. Eva,’ she agreed, nodding her head. ‘Can I make you a cuppa?’
‘No, it’s all right, love. I’ll get one meself in a minute. I need to stay here with the little uns. But I’d be grateful if you could do the necessary. Go to the undertakers’. And we need a doctor for the certificate, don’t we? And… and Stan. Perhaps they’d let him come home early.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course,’ Hillie replied, her brain whirring into action. ‘I’ll leave my key with you in case Joan gets back from school with everyone before I do. I’ll just pop home to get my coat and then I’ll bring the key back here.’
‘Yeah, of course, ducks. I just wish…’
She broke off, choking on her words, and Hillie patted her hand.
‘Yes, I know.’
But the girl didn’t know, Eva thought to herself, cross that in her grief she’d nearly let it slip. What she’d secretly wanted all along. Hillie was like another daughter to her, and she’d longed to welcome her into the family officially. But it was too late. Had been for a while. And it could never be.
And
Eva must keep that secret longing hidden safely in her heart for always.
*
When Hillie turned the corner back into Banbury Street with Gert and Stan, the light was already fading from the cold, damp, miserable day. Outside Number Eight, a horse stood patiently between the shafts of a black-painted cart with white lettering on the sides. Hillie hadn’t known how much money the Parkers might have to spend, so had chosen the cart, which was cheaper than the motor-driven hearse. With no spare room to hold Old Sal for the few days until the funeral, her body had to be taken away. It was the same firm who’d provided Nell’s coffin and other services, so Hillie knew the old lady would be treated with respect, be it cart or limousine.
The gentleman in the office had offered to telephone for a doctor to certify the death before they removed Old Sal’s body. At no extra cost, he’d said when Hillie’d explained that she didn’t think the family had much money to spare. He’d remembered Hillie from her own mother’s funeral just over a year previously. How could you forget a beauty like that? he’d thought privately. Such dignity, too. And the way the brewery had stepped in with the decorated dray-cart had been remarkable. He wondered if they’d do the same for this old lady who’d lived on the street even longer.
Hillie had been met with equal understanding when she’d gone into the offices at Price’s. It seemed so strange, walking into the factory again. She went straight to find Belinda, who’d been promoted to working in Personnel.
Her friend’s face folded into compassionate lines when Hillie told her the sad news. ‘Oh, no, not dear Old Sal? She was such a character.’
‘I know. Poor Mrs P’s going to miss her terribly. And after losing her best friend last year,’ Hillie added almost under her breath as she lowered her eyes. And then she felt Belinda’s hand on her arm.
‘Yes. Your mum,’ the other girl said with feeling. ‘You go and find Mr Parker, and Gert, too. I’ll square it with the powers that be here.’
