Miss Purdy's Class

by Annie Murray

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Gwen eyed her anxiously.

  ‘As it’ll ever be,’ Millie said gloomily.

  ‘The wedding’s still on and everything?’

  Millie rallied. ‘Look – sorry. I’m being such an old grouch. Yes, of course it’s still on. That’s what I’ve come to tell you about – to invite you. It’s going to be the second Saturday in May and I’d love you to come.’

  ‘Oh, how lovely!’ Gwen realized as she spoke that she sounded just a little over-enthusiastic, as if she was humouring Millie. ‘I mean – how do you feel about it?’

  Millie shrugged. ‘What choice do I have?’ She lowered her voice, leaning across the table. ‘I don’t exactly want to bring a bastard child into the world, do I?’

  Gwen was appalled by the bitterness she saw in her friend’s face.

  ‘I just have to be grateful that Lance is prepared to stick by me and do the right thing.’ Millie sat back and fiddled with the spoon on her saucer. ‘We’ll have enough money and the baby’ll have a proper family. I’m lucky really when you think what happens to some people. My mother’s been ever so kind and reasonable, and stuck by me. I won’t be thrown on the streets. What more could I want?’

  ‘Oh, Millie.’ Gwen sat back, looking at her. She could scarcely think what to say to be of comfort. ‘It’ll be all right. You do love Lance, don’t you? You must’ve done to . . . to . . .’ She had been going to say to get into this situation, but she couldn’t finish. Immediately the thought of Edwin came to her. Wasn’t she supposed to love him? And look how she was behaving! But somehow Edwin and her feelings for Daniel felt like two completely different worlds. Edwin was her fiancé, of course he was! But as for love – heaven knew, she hadn’t known what love was until she met Daniel.

  As she spoke to Millie, trying to cheer her up, she was all the time guiltily aware of her hands in her lap under the table. With her right hand she kept feeling the third finger of her left. In the chest of drawers in her room at Ariadne’s house was a little dark blue box, and in its silky interior nestled her engagement ring with its tiny sapphires. She had slipped it off the morning she went out with Daniel. It had been in the drawer ever since, and her finger felt bare and strange – and guilty.

  ‘The other thing I was going to ask you . . .’ Millie hesitated. ‘Mum thought we’d live with her, at first anyway. But Lance is dead set against it. Says we need our privacy and all that. He’s already found us a flat to rent – just the upstairs rooms of a house in Hands-worth. The thing is, it’s still quite a lot of rent, what with me not working, and then there’ll be the baby. So we thought if there were three of us to share, it would all be easier. I just wondered if you’d think of having the spare room. You seem pretty fed up where you are now.’

  ‘Oh, Millie, that’d be perfect! I keep thinking I ought to look for somewhere else, but I’ve been so idle about it. I’m sure that woman’s going to poison me in the end if I stay there – entirely by accident, but even so. And that Mr Purvis creeping about all the time with his flaming trumpet . . .’ She had given Millie a toned-down version of what went on in the Soho Road house. ‘Are you sure you can stand having another person around? Married bliss and all that?’

  Millie looked earnestly at her. ‘Gwen, I think if I don’t have other company apart from Lance, I shall go right off my rocker.’

  ‘Come round to ours and see us, any day,’ Daniel had said as they parted at the tram stop that Sunday.

  She felt dazed, and as if she was dreaming after an afternoon in his arms, with his kisses. They had stood in the woods, wrapped round one another. Daniel was not full of gentlemanly reserve in his embraces, unlike Edwin. He pulled her tightly to him, his tongue feeling its way gently, then more urgently between her lips until both of them were alight with desire, kissing each other’s face, neck, lips, breaking away for a few minutes to walk, before they were drawn together again like magnets. By the end of the afternoon her cheeks were tingling after the chafe of his skin against hers, his dark stubble prickling her, and the feel of his strong body was imprinted on her as if she knew him through and through, had somehow always known him. It was a wrench to separate and to say goodbye. But his invitation to come to the house, to see more of him and his family, was compensation.

  ‘Won’t your mother mind me dropping by?’

  ‘No, course not.’ The serious look he gave her further affected her. ‘With the shop there’re always people coming in anyway. And she likes you. Lucy talks about you and Ma’s liked talking to you when you came. She said you were . . .’ He glanced at the sky as if for inspiration. ‘What was it now?’

  ‘Stop teasing me.’ She poked him and he jumped.

  ‘I’m not! I think she said you were very sympathetic.’ He chuckled. ‘Oh – and very frightening.’

  ‘Frightening?’

  ‘No, she didn’t really say that! But come round.’ His face grew serious and he laid his hands on her shoulders. ‘Or I’ll have to come to the school every day and show all Miss Purdy’s class what I feel about their teacher.’

  ‘Don’t you dare! Of course I’ll come. As long as it’s all right.’

  ‘Oh, it’s all right.’ He held her close and kissed her forehead, just close to the line of her little waves of hair. ‘My lovely Gwen.’

  That first week, she had left it for a couple of days before visiting, forcing herself to wait, to be measured in her behaviour, even though there was nothing measured in her feelings. Her emotions were in turmoil. Even in two days she had convinced herself that the walk on the hills was, if not a dream – she remembered it too vividly for that – an aberration, and that when she saw Daniel again everything would be different and the love and closeness would all be lost. He had been doing nothing but play with her. These thoughts almost made her afraid to go again because she could not bear to face the loss of him, the expression in his eyes when he looked down at her.

  On the third day, when she knew she could stay away no longer, he was waiting for her. She caught a glimpse of him outside the gate as she came out of the school and her heart leapt with excitement. She hurried towards him, attempting to look poised and calm in front of the gaggles of children all trying to push through the gate at once, but a delighted smile broke over her face in spite of herself.

  ‘Hello, Miss Purdy.’ Even the sound of his voice brought her up in goose pimples. He was smiling, speaking with teasing formality.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Fernandez.’ They were surrounded by children. ‘Have you come to collect Lucy?’

  ‘That’s right. I don’t s’pose she’ll be first out, though.’

  The Canal Street children dispersed quickly, leaving them standing alone. Gwen saw Lucy emerge from the girls’ entrance with Alice Wilson beside her.

  ‘I thought you were coming to see us?’ Daniel said.

  ‘I am – of course. In fact I was going to come today.’ The children were moving closer. ‘D’you see this little girl, with Lucy? This is Alice. The poor child can hardly see a thing.’

  Daniel looked at Alice’s bedraggled figure. Her plaits were roughly tied and her clothes looked unkempt and messy. Nowadays she looked worse than some of the other children in the school. She didn’t look like the Alice who had arrived in January.

  The girls parted and Lucy walked home with her brother and teacher.

  ‘Miss Purdy’s agreed to come and have a cup of tea,’ Daniel said.

  ‘Have we got anything to eat?’ Lucy asked eagerly.

  ‘Oh, I expect we can find something.’

  Theresa was talking and laughing with a woman in the shop as they walked through, but she broke off and said cheerily, ‘Afternoon, Miss Purdy!’

  On the table in the back, beside the brown teapot and cups, was a plate of homemade tarts. There was also a jam jar with a little bunch of pink tulips in it.

  As Daniel and Lucy were making tea, the bell in the shop rang as the customer went out and Theresa came through to the back, a smil
e on her face.

  ‘That Mrs Harvey’s a character. Always gives me a good laugh, she does.’ She sat down at the table. ‘Help yourself to a jam tart, won’t you?’ Gwen, who was hungry, obeyed eagerly. ‘I hope those children have been little angels today?’

  ‘Well, yours has!’ Gwen laughed. Lucy blushed, carrying a bowl of sugar lumps to the table. ‘She’s as bright as a button. And you’ve been helping Alice, haven’t you? She can’t see what’s on the blackboard, you see.’

  ‘She can’t see anything, hardly at all,’ Lucy said.

  ‘I wrote to her mother weeks ago, suggesting she get the girl’s eyes tested,’ Gwen said indignantly. ‘She doesn’t seem to have done a thing about it.’

  ‘Can’t afford it, most likely,’ Daniel said.

  ‘But she’s one of the best-dressed children in the school. Well, she was.’ There was something about Alice that really perplexed Gwen. ‘I’m not sure what else to do.’

  She finished her jam tart. ‘That was so nice. My landlady’s cooking is very peculiar. I hate to think what she’d manage to do to jam tarts.’

  Theresa chuckled. ‘Have another one then, my love. I’ve made plenty.’

  ‘No, it was delicious, but I won’t. I’m sure they’ll soon go with all your family – let the children have them.’

  They chatted on about the schools the other Fernandez children attended and Vincent’s first job. At fourteen he had just left school and acquired a job with a coffin maker.

  ‘He has to paint RIP on the side of each one!’ Daniel said.

  ‘Always was good at drawing.’ Theresa smiled.

  Gwen felt relaxed and comfortable sitting in the simple room with Daniel and his mother. Lucy eventually grew bored and after her siblings had come home and polished off the rest of the tarts, she went outside with them. Theresa and Daniel took turns to go into the shop and serve people, and in between they talked about things in the news – Herr Hitler was moving troops back into the Rhineland, and there was talk that the Italians had used mustard gas in Abyssinia – but they avoided discussing politics. Gwen had the impression, with Theresa Fernandez, of a woman who was keenly intelligent and interested in the world around her, but who simply wanted an end to politics taking over her home. She wanted some peace and Daniel, at least for the moment, appeared to respect that. The only mention Theresa made of his activities was to ask if he was going out that night.

  ‘For a bit,’ Daniel said. ‘I’m going chalking up for the meeting on Sunday.’ He looked at Gwen’s puzzled face. ‘Haven’t you seen the signs? We chalk them up all over – for the meetings and that.’

  ‘I haven’t noticed,’ she admitted.

  ‘Obviously not doing a good enough job then, are we?’

  When the shop bell rang again, Theresa got up to go into the shop.

  ‘Do you think . . .’ Gwen asked quickly, knowing it was time she went home. Alice was still playing on her mind. ‘I’m concerned about that girl, Alice. Would it be completely out of place for me to go and see her mother? Perhaps she never even had my letter? It’s just that I think Alice is a clever child and she’s being badly held back.’

  ‘I think you’re very kind to think of it,’ Theresa said carefully from the doorway.

  ‘But wouldn’t you think it a bit peculiar if one of your children’s teachers arrived on your doorstep?’

  Daniel chuckled. ‘Oh yes – we would!’

  Gwen blushed. ‘I don’t mean – I mean it was different, the night I brought Lucy home. There was no one else.’

  ‘And we were very grateful,’ Theresa said. ‘Don’t take any notice of him. You do what you think’s best, Miss Purdy. It’s only a rare person would think of it.’

  ‘Thank you ever so much for the tea, Mrs Fernandez.’ Gwen got up. ‘I think I will go and see them.’

  ‘Can’t do any harm, can it?’ Theresa said and disappeared into the shop.

  ‘I’d better be off as well.’ Daniel stood up. Suddenly she was acutely aware of him, his lean back moving under the white shirt, his hands, the soft edge of his hairline at the back of his neck. As he came towards her, she felt alive in every nerve. He drew her into his arms.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for this,’ he said. She sank against him with relief, as if she had come home, and felt his hand warm on the back of her neck. For a long, taut moment they held apart as if waiting, holding each other’s gaze.

  ‘Daniel,’ she whispered. ‘God, Daniel.’

  Then her lips were silenced by his.

  Twenty-Two

  It was a warm spring morning. Smoke from factory chimneys hung high and still in the air. Gwen had ventured out into the sunshine without a coat, in a pretty floral frock with a soft, swinging skirt, her bag over her arm. That morning, after she had dressed, she leaned down to the mirror, saw her face smile radiantly back. I look so happy! she thought. Have I ever looked like this before? She startled people in the street with her smile. She could think of nothing but Daniel and his loving eyes, and when she might see him again, so that she was full of bubbling excitement and wanted to dance along the road, skipping and whooping like a child. Yet, in a strange way, it seemed to her she had never felt so grown up. She was away from home, deciding things for herself!

  One thing she had decided was that she would get out of the claustrophobic atmosphere of the house in Soho Road and lodge with Millie and Lance. Not that she’d told Ariadne of her plans yet. She didn’t think she would be very pleased.

  Gwen waited at the tram stop. When she was out on the streets a part of her mind was always on the lookout for Joey Phillips. After the day when she thought she caught a glimpse of him looking into the playground, there had been no sign of him. What happened to children like Joey? she wondered as the tram drew to a stop. She flinched as a shower of sparks fell hissing from the wires above. It was as if Joey had melted away into the streets.

  The first lesson was arithmetic and they were starting to learn long division. Though there were a few children like Lucy Fernandez who were very sharp and picked up things straight away, a lot of them were struggling. Gwen watched as the class copied the sums down from the blackboard. Jack Ellis’s head was bent, his hand clutching his pen far too tightly. He snapped a nib off almost every week and dug holes in the paper. Gwen sighed. Jack was ever so dense. It would be a long time before he got the hang of this.

  She walked along between the desks, noticing that even now some of the children cringed as she passed, used to being cuffed and whacked for getting a sum wrong.

  ‘No, Ron.’ She leaned over Ron Parks, whose tongue was out, almost touching his nose in the effort to concentrate. There was a slug of snot on his upper lip and around him hung an aura of grime and sweet stickiness. ‘You have to carry that one down. Yes, down there. Then how many times does twelve go into one hundred and fifty?’

  Ron’s brow furrowed, then his face lit up with inspiration. ‘Seven?’

  Gwen walked back to the front. ‘Let me hear you all say the twelve times table!’ she commanded. The children obeyed, droningly. She went through the sum on the blackboard.

  ‘If twelve twelves are one hundred and forty four, how many do we carry over?’

  Joan Billings timidly raised her hand. ‘Six?’

  ‘Very good. Now try the next bit.’

  She went to the desk where Lucy sat beside Alice Wilson.

  ‘Have you got the sums copied down all right, Alice?’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’ Alice squinted up at her. Her face was forever screwed up with the effort to see and it made her otherwise sweet face look tense and sly.

  ‘And did you do the sums by yourself?’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’

  Gwen looked at Alice’s page of numbers. The girl had understood and worked it all out straight away. But if she hadn’t had Lucy to help her she would have looked dimwitted and slow.

  At breaktime Gwen went into the staffroom, determined to have a word with Lily Drysdale. As soon as she walked in, however,
she could sense a strange atmosphere. To her surprise, Mr Lowry was sitting drinking a cup of tea. Usually he hardly ever mingled with his staff, but instead kept himself aloof up in his office. The problem was obvious. Mr Lowry was sitting beside the new teacher, Charlotte Rowley. Across the other side of the room sat Agnes Monk, whose entire body, not just her face, seemed to consist of one gigantic glower.

  ‘I’m delighted to hear you play the piano as well,’ Mr Lowry was saying.

  Miss Rowley, dark-eyed and inscrutable, stared back with cold politeness and Gwen saw her lean further away from him, drawing her skirt closer round her primly set knees. This only seemed to provoke Mr Lowry to try harder.

  ‘Do you play any other instruments?’ Gwen heard him say as she walked past with her cup of tea. Miss Monk was reading her book, her face and neck an angry red. On the noticeboard above her head was pinned a sheet of paper headed ‘Empire Day Pageant’.

  Lily Drysdale was sitting to one side of the room, knitting what appeared to be baby clothes. The delicate rows of white stitches looked incongruous in her big hands. Gwen saw that her fingernails were stained with green.

  ‘Hello, dear,’ she said as Gwen sat beside her. She gave a wry smile suddenly and leaned in closer, whispering, ‘Trying to keep away from the love triangle as well, are you?’

  Gwen was so startled she didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Er, yes!’ She blushed too easily, as ever. ‘But I came to ask you something too.’

  Lily laid her knitting down on her lap. ‘For my niece’s baby,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Oh how lovely.’ Gwen felt faint surprise that Lily had family and infant relatives like anyone else.

  ‘What is it, dear?’

  Gwen poured out her worries about Alice Wilson and how her eyesight was holding her back. ‘I just can’t understand why her mother doesn’t do something about her,’ she finished indignantly.

  ‘You have to remember, they’re probably living on very slender means,’ Lily pointed out. ‘I find that paying a call is often the thing.’