by Rosie Clarke
22
Maggie left work at the usual time that evening and caught her bus home. She walked to the end of the road and turned into the narrow street where her father’s terraced house was situated. The front step looked neglected and had obviously not been cleaned for a few days. Making a mental note to scrub it the next morning before leaving for work, Maggie went round to the back and entered through the kitchen door. Immediately, she knew that her mother was not here. The range had been left to die down and it was almost out.
Maggie fetched in coke from the shed in the back yard and made up the range. She filled a kettle and put it on the hob. It would take a while to boil because the fire would need time to get going.
Where had her mother gone? Looking around, Maggie thought she must have been out most of the day, because nothing had been cleaned and the ironing was still piled high in the basket. She thought her mother must have left soon after she did, because even her father’s breakfast dish and cup were still in the sink.
‘Muma… where are you?’ she called, but she knew her mother was not in the house. ‘Poppa – are you all right?’
A chill settled over her as she ran up the stairs. How could her mother just go out and leave him all this time? The house wasn’t cold, because it was spring, but he needed more warmth just lying in bed all day and the heat from the range normally kept his room warm.
As she burst into his bedroom, Maggie saw her father sprawled on the side of the bed, his legs dangling over and his head back at an unnatural angle. She could smell the acrid odour of human waste and knew that he had soiled himself; it was probably the reason he’d tried to get up.
‘Poppa… it’s all right, I’ll soon have you clean again…’ Maggie said and went to him, but the moment she touched his hand, she was shocked by the coldness of his flesh. ‘Poppa… no, please no!’ Her cry of anguish turned to noisy tears as she looked at his face and saw the colour of his skin. ‘Oh no, Poppa, my dearest one…’
Maggie knew that she was too late. Her father had died, alone and in pain. He must have been trying to reach the toilet and had slumped over the bed. She saw the empty laudanum bottle lying on the ground near his body and groaned. It had been full when she left him that morning…
Tears cascaded down Maggie’s cheeks. For a few moments all she could do was cry bitter tears and call to her father to wake up, but she knew he wasn’t going to.
She had to fetch help. It was too late for him, she knew, but a doctor must be called, and the undertaker. Drying her eyes on the sleeve of her dress, Maggie went back downstairs and round to her next-door neighbour.
Mr Jones opened the door, took one look at her face and said, ‘I’ll come right away, lass. Your dad, is it?’
‘I think he’s dead,’ Maggie said and drew a shaky breath. ‘I need to let the doctor know and…’ Her voice failed her, but she lifted her head. ‘I think the police ought to come too…’
Her neighbour looked grim. ‘Aye, lass, I reckon as you’re right. Your mother not there again? She’s been out quite a bit lately…’
Maggie nodded, swallowing hard. ‘The range was out…’ she said and saw him frown. ‘Father has soiled himself trying to get out of bed by himself…’
‘You go into the kitchen with my Mabel,’ Mr Jones said kindly. ‘I’ll take a look for myself and then fetch the doctor. He will decide what you need to do next, Maggie lass.’
‘I’ll go back in and wait,’ Maggie said in a whisper. ‘Tell Mabel I’ll pop round later – I don’t want to leave him alone…’
‘If that’s what you want,’ her neighbour agreed and smiled sadly. ‘It’s not your fault, lass. I saw Rob last week and he told me what a good girl you were to him. I’m only sorry I wasn’t here today, but I’ve been working extra hours this week.’
‘Thank you,’ Maggie said.
She turned and went back to her home. The kettle was beginning to boil, so she moved it off the heat and went back up to her father’s room, opening the window a little to freshen the air. For a moment she wondered whether to clean him before anyone came but decided that it was best to leave everything as it was, including the empty bottle.
Maggie tried to shut out the awful suspicions crowding into her mind. No, she mustn’t let herself think such terrible things. Mrs Craven was right when she said the drug had given her father hallucinations. Her mother would never have deliberately given him an overdose and then gone out, leaving him to die alone –would she?
Knowing she must fight such suspicions, Maggie sat on a chair next to her father and stroked his head. ‘I’m so sorry, dearest one,’ she whispered as the tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘I did love you and I’m sorry I left you alone all day. I should have stopped here with you…’
Maggie wasn’t sure how long she sat there alone with her father, but it wasn’t long enough. Suddenly, the doctor and her neighbour were there and then the doctor had sent Mr Jones to summon the police. They arrived and took notes, asking Maggie endless questions about what time she’d got home and where her mother was now.
‘I don’t know where she is,’ Maggie answered honestly. ‘I caught my usual bus home at ten minutes to six and it must have been nearly half past when I got in. The range was out, so I made it up and put the kettle on – and then went up to my father…’ Her voice broke on a sob.
‘I think you should take Miss Gibbs next door,’ the police constable said to her neighbour. ‘Get her some hot sweet tea and feed her. We’ll finish up here and bring the key round…’
Maggie protested but she was overruled and taken to sit in the warm kitchen next door, where Mabel Jones gave her a doorstep of bread and dripping and a mug of hot tea with about three sugars in it. She could hardly force the dripping down, but the hot tea was welcome and she gratefully accepted another one.
‘It’s the shock, that’s what it is, love,’ Mabel said and looked distressed. ‘A lovely man, your dad, Maggie. Every day he went to work he had a smile and a wave for us – and if there was ever anything he could help with, he was there.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Maggie dabbed at her wet cheeks. ‘He was lovely and I loved him.’
‘Aye, you would,’ her neighbour said. ‘I told yer ma I’d look out for him if she let me know she was goin’ somewhere, but she’s too proud, that mother of yours.’
‘I don’t know how she could leave him,’ Maggie sobbed. ‘It’s my fault. I should have stayed home and cared for him…’
‘No, of course it ain’t, love…’
‘Muma was tired from looking after him on her own…’
‘The money the firm awarded him could have paid for a nurse,’ Mabel told her and shook her head. ‘A thousand pounds is a lot of money, Maggie. Your ma didn’t need to do everythin’ herself and so I told her – she told me to mind me own business…’
Maggie stared at her in shock. ‘They paid my mother a thousand pounds? I didn’t know any compensation had been paid…’ Her mother hadn’t mentioned a word and nor had her father and that must mean he didn’t know!
‘Yer dad paid into a fund at work and the firm had to pay the same – insurance it was and your ma got the money a month ago…’
Maggie felt the anger stir inside. Her father need never have been left alone. Any of the women in the lane would have sat with him and helped to keep him clean and comfortable for a few shillings a week or even better, Maggie could have stayed home to help – and her mother had kept the news of the compensation to herself… Why had she done that when she could have made life easier for all of them? And why had she chosen to go off and leave him all day?
23
‘I’ve asked Miss Hart if we can have the junior from the dress department for a few days,’ Mrs Craven told Beth the next morning. ‘Miss Gibbs sent word that her father died yesterday and she needs to be at home for couple of days…’
‘Oh, poor Maggie,’ Beth said, feeling her eyes sting with tears of sympathy. ‘I know she thought the world of him and she must
be so upset.’
‘Yes, I am sure she was,’ Mrs Craven said and looked sad. ‘This is where we miss Sally. We don’t actually need four of us all the time, but there’s no doubting it was easier if someone was off sick or gone to lunch.’
Beth nodded, but her thoughts were with the young girl who must be grieving for her father. She decided that she would go round to see Maggie after work, to show they were thinking of her.
June Brown was duly sent round from the dress department and Mrs Craven showed her the counter Maggie served from. It was the easiest of the three and so she settled into it soon enough and Beth noticed that she made several sales during the morning, though one young man entered the department, took a look at the scarf counter and left again without asking to see anything.
Fred came up with a box of new hats during the morning. He winked at Beth and whispered to her, ‘I’ve got some news for you,’ he said. ‘Pop down for a minute on yer break and I’ll tell you.’
Beth smiled and nodded, wondering what it could be. She had to be patient and wait because June had asked for the first lunch break and Mrs Craven went next, leaving Beth in charge. Fortunately, no one wanted to see jewellery or bags while Mrs Craven was gone and Beth had only two customers for the hats. June sold another scarf, but Beth noticed she didn’t write it down afterwards and went to her.
‘Did you forget to cross that scarf off the stock at the back of your book?’
‘I didn’t know I had to,’ June said and looked sulky. ‘I haven’t crossed anything off. We don’t do it that way in my usual department…’
‘Let’s have a look in the receipt book…’ Beth checked and saw that she hadn’t written anything but the word ‘scarf’ and the price. ‘How shall we know which items you’ve sold?’
Maggie would not know what had gone when she returned to work, which made nonsense of all the hard work they’d done setting up the stocklist. Feeling annoyed on behalf of her friend, Beth checked the price of the scarves sold against the prices. She had to go through several drawers before she discovered that a green silk and a blue plaid scarf had been sold. She drew a line through each and showed June what she’d done.
‘Please make sure to do it in future,’ she said and went over to the jewellery counter as two customers entered.
After serving them with both bangles and two brooches, Beth returned to her own counter, where a lady was waiting, looking impatient.
‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting,’ Beth said, ‘but we’re short-handed just at the moment…’
‘That girl hasn’t had a customer all the time you’ve been serving. She deliberately ignored me…’
‘Perhaps she was worried about making a mistake,’ Beth said, but knew that June was still sulking. She served her customer and debated whether to say anything, but Mrs Craven returned then and so she decided to leave it to her supervisor. However, June had a customer almost immediately and Beth noticed that she wrote the sale in the back of the stock book afterwards.
‘You may go to lunch now, Miss Grey,’ Mrs Craven said.
Beth hesitated but went without speaking to her supervisor. After all, it wasn’t her place to discipline the young girl and she’d already put her back up by telling her what to do. Since June might be asked to serve in their department again in the future, Beth didn’t want to make an enemy of her.
Fred had the kettle boiling when she arrived. His attitude was such that she knew something had happened and when he beamed at her, she felt a little thrill of pleasure.
‘You’ve had some good news,’ she said, sensing what it must be.
‘Aye, miss, I have,’ he said. ‘My boy is alive. Jack is on the list of survivors on board the Carpathia…’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful news, Fred,’ Beth exclaimed. ‘I am so glad!’
Fred had been certain that his son would have died, as so many others had on the Titanic. She wondered what Jack Burrows’ story was, how he had survived when more than half the passengers and crew had drowned but didn’t ask. Fred would tell her when he knew the whole story, for the moment she would just celebrate the news with him.
‘I thank God for it, miss.’
‘Do you know when he will be home?’
‘They say the survivors will be taken to America. No doubt they’ll want his testimony, to know how he escaped from a bitter grave. Jack will find another ship and work his passage home, as soon as they say it’s all right for him to leave. If I’m lucky, he’ll send me a telegram. I ain’t heard from him yet, but I saw his name in the list of survivors.’
‘I’m so happy for you,’ Beth said and recalled her dream of being rescued from icy waters by a man she’d hadn’t seen clearly but had known was Fred’s son. She didn’t tell him of her dream because he might think she was making it up, but she’d known somehow that Jack was alive.
‘The paper I read says one of the stewards from the Titanic saved several passengers’ lives,’ Fred went on as he passed her a mug of hot sweet tea. ‘Half the boats only had a few people in them when they were launched and this steward dived into the water and pulled some women and a little boy to safety. They said the steward’s name was Jack – I think it might have been my boy…’ Fred’s eyes glistened with tears. ‘He’s a champion swimmer, always has been – and he did a course in lifesaving…’
‘Oh, Fred…’ Beth swallowed her tears. It was so close to her dream that she was overcome. ‘You must be so proud…’
Fred nodded and sipped his tea. ‘I thought he would go down with the ship if there wasn’t enough room for everyone, but he’d go in after a child or a woman – that’s my boy all over…’ He smiled at her proudly. ‘Both of them are like little fishes in the water, my boys.’
‘It was such a terrible disaster, but if some are saved we have to thank God for it.’
‘Aye, that we do, miss,’ he said and smiled. ‘There’s the hand of God in it, sure enough.’
Beth sipped her tea. She didn’t tell him about Maggie’s father dying. Fred had seen Maggie with her, but they weren’t friends and it would only dim his happiness. She would tell him another day perhaps.
After she’d drunk her tea and eaten the rock cakes she’d brought to share with him, Beth returned to the department. June was serving at her own counter and it wasn’t until later that she noticed a red hat was missing from the glass cabinet behind her. She checked her stock book and saw that it had not been crossed off, though it was there in her sales book, just a hat priced thirty shillings. Crossing it off her stocklist, she waited until June was free and went to tell her about it.
‘You forgot to cross that hat out in my stock book, Miss Brown.’
‘So what?’ June said. ‘You knew it had gone, so what does it matter?’
‘Because if I hadn’t noticed, I might have thought it had been taken…’
‘No one can tuck a hat like that in their pocket,’ June said rudely. ‘Anyway, that’s your job. I didn’t want to work here. I like where I work…’
‘As a junior, you can be asked to work anywhere,’ Beth said and frowned at her. ‘Just because you don’t cross stock off like this in your department, doesn’t mean it isn’t a good idea.’
‘You’re a fusspot,’ June muttered sourly.
Beth would have said more but had to return to her own department because two customers were ready to be served. They both wanted hats for a wedding and took almost half an hour to choose them. Beth was tidying up afterwards when Mrs Craven came up to her.
‘Miss Brown complained that you’ve got it in for her, Miss Grey – will you tell me what you were saying to her earlier please?’
Beth hesitated because she didn’t like going behind June’s back, but she had to answer her supervisor. ‘I asked her to cross something off when she sold it, that’s all…’
Mrs Craven nodded. ‘I’ve reminded her to do that for her own counter twice this morning. I think Miss Brown has an easier time where she normally works. In future, report any laps
es to me and I will deal with it.’
‘Yes, Mrs Craven. I thought she would listen and learn from it – as we all did…’
‘I shall speak to her myself,’ Mrs Craven promised and went back to her own counter.
Beth got on with her own work. She fetched two fresh hats from the stockroom and made the necessary adjustments to her records. She didn’t much like the new junior and hoped that Maggie would be back sooner rather than later.
There was no one in Maggie’s house when Beth arrived that evening, so she went next door to try to find out where the girl was staying. A middle-aged woman with a plump, smiling face opened the door to her and nodded when she asked for her friend.
‘Come in, miss,’ she said and stood back to allow Beth to enter. ‘Our Maggie is the kitchen with my husband and son. The men have been working on the docks all day so you’ll have to excuse the way they look…’
‘I didn’t want to disturb you,’ Beth said. ‘I just came to make sure Maggie was all right and offer to help if I could…’
‘Beth!’ Maggie cried and jumped up as she saw her. ‘Thank you for coming round. I’m staying with Mabel for a couple of days – my mother has… I don’t know where she is…’ her voice caught on a sob. ‘She’d been gone most of the day yesterday and she hasn’t come back…’
‘I’m so sorry…’ Beth put her arms about her and gave her a hug, feeling her tremble. Maggie was clearly very distressed and she was glad she’d come. ‘I’m sure she is safe somewhere… but you don’t know where?’
‘It’s my belief she took your father’s compensation money and went off with her fancy man…’ Mabel said and then gasped as Maggie looked at her in shock. ‘Sorry, love, I didn’t mean to say that… but she did have another man…’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ Maggie said, clearly devastated by the blunt statement.
