by Anna King
The potatoes peeled and deposited with the cabbage in a large copper pot, he carried it over to where Maggie was busily sewing and smiling wanly he asked, ‘I’m so hot, Maggie, do we have to light the fire?’
Biting off a piece of thread Maggie looked at him over the pile of garments.
‘Don’t be daft, how can we cook without lighting the fire? We haven’t got an oven any more, now stop being so silly and get it going, or would you rather go hungry?’
‘But it’s too hot for a fire and…’
‘Now stop it, Charlie,’ she snapped impatiently. ‘I’m hot too, you know, there’s nothing I can do about it so stop your moaning and get it lit.’
His shoulders hunched, Charlie turned away and walked slowly over to the grate. Putting the pot on the floor he began placing the cinders a few inches apart at the bottom of the grate and covered them with a sheet of newspaper and a few crossbars of wood. When this was done he took a handful of rubbly coal and slack from the scuttle, scattering them on top and set light to the paper with a lucifer match. Almost immediately a billow of smoke covered him causing him to cough violently.
‘Oh, sodding hell!’ Maggie exclaimed in alarm as the smoke began to waft her way, the black soot settling lightly on the uncovered knickerbockers. Shaking the garments one by one, she pulled the brown paper wrapping over her precious work.
‘I forgot about the smoke.’ Her eyes raked over the white material searching for any trace of soot. Satisfied that she had saved them from permanent damage, she turned her attention to the forlorn figure crouched by the grate.
‘I’m sorry, Maggie, it wasn’t my fault.’
‘I didn’t say it was, did I, you soppy ha’pence? It’s my own fault, I should have realised, never mind, I’ll have to be more careful in future, though.’ Moving away from the table she dusted Charlie down and gave him a drink of water from the pewter jug.
‘Leave the dinner, love, I’ll see to it, you go and sit down.’
‘I’ll do it, Maggie, you have to get on with your work,’ Charlie said, his face anxious, wondering if he’d upset his sister.
‘I’ve done enough for now, I can do some more later on after we’ve had our dinner. And Charlie,’ she added, smiling, ‘how would you like it if I bought a chicken for tomorrow.’
‘Ooh, Maggie, will you?’ he breathed excitedly. ‘We haven’t had chicken for a long time, I’ve forgotten what it tastes like. Did they pay you already? I thought you had to finish them first.’
Placing her finger to her lips she whispered in a conspiratorial manner.
‘There’s two bob in the tin for the gas. I’ll borrow that for now and put it back when I get paid, but don’t tell Liz, mind – I don’t want to give her any excuse to start a row.’
At the mention of his elder sister Charlie’s face fell. Seeing the change in his expression, Maggie cried, ‘Don’t look like that, love, I was only teasing you. Look, come here.’
Turning him round to face her she took his hands and said earnestly, ‘Things are going to be different from now on, I promise. Now I’m earning too, Liz won’t feel so pressured, and like I said, we’ve a lot to be grateful to her for. She’s not the ogre she makes out to be – she’s just tired and unhappy, so be patient with her, eh, Charlie, for my sake.’
‘If you say so.’ Already he was walking away from her towards the sofa and within minutes of lying down he was asleep.
Maggie stood over Charlie, her face thoughtful. All he seemed to do lately was eat and sleep, but then what else was there for him to do? He was too timid to play out in the street with the other children and for this she partly blamed herself. He had always been this way, but since their parents’ deaths he had clung to her more than he had ever done with his mother. She knew she should have encouraged him to go out, but the truth was she preferred to keep him by her side. The youngsters in this area were a rough lot, more like miniature men and women than the children they were, which wasn’t surprising considering their upbringing. Most of them worked after school and had done from an early age, and the girls usually had the added burden of looking after their baby siblings while the mothers worked. With each passing day the realisation of the easy, comfortable life they’d enjoyed was pushed home more forcibly, especially for Charlie. She could only hope that he would grow stronger with the years, but however his character developed, she would always be there for him.
Giving herself a mental shake, she set the pot full of vegetables over the fire and returned to the table. Pulling the lamp nearer to her she resumed work, her nimble fingers expertly threading the cotton through the soft material. The next hour flew by, and when the front door banged she gave a nervous start.
‘You made me jump, I didn’t realise it was that late.’
Maggie smiled at the figure standing by the doorway, only to receive a stony glance in return. Laying down the needle and cotton she waited for her sister to notice the jumble of cloth that littered the table: she didn’t have to wait long.
‘Where did you get that lot from?’ Liz asked, her hands pulling at the strings of her straw bonnet. Without waiting for an answer she walked past Maggie and poured herself a drink of water. She grimaced as she tasted the tepid, soot-covered fluid, but she was too thirsty to be fastidious. The heat from the fire seared through her blue-checked cotton dress, and she quickly moved away. The once plump figure, now as slim as her sister, walked over to the sofa only to give an impatient ‘tut’ when she saw the supine figure sprawled there.
‘Doesn’t he ever do anything else but sleep?’ she demanded crossly, her hand pushing back a strand of limp, blond hair from her perspiring face.
Ignoring the angry tone Maggie said plaintively, ‘Liz, I’ve got work. Look, Mrs Casey came down this morning and told me there was some out-work going in a factory in Shoreditch, and I went straight away. What’s the matter with you? I thought you’d be over the moon instead of acting like nothing’s changed.’
Flopping into the armchair Liz stared hard at the earnest face and felt her heart begin to race. Of course she was pleased that her sister had at long last managed to find some work, but for how long? When she’d come in the door and seen Maggie bent over the disordered array of clothing she had experienced a surge of excitement, a feeling that had abated as quickly as it had come. Maggie’s last two jobs hadn’t lasted longer than a couple of weeks, so she wasn’t going to get her hopes up thinking their luck had changed. Closing her eyes she sighed deeply. God, she was tired, tired and depressed. She knew her surly attitude was adding to the misery of their already dismal life, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t possess Maggie’s cheerful, optimistic view of life, always thinking that something good was just around the corner. Instead she preferred to look on the black side, at least that way she could never be disappointed. A sudden loud snort from Charlie brought her eyes open and cautiously she looked over to where Maggie sat, her face mirroring her disappointment at the way her good news had been received. Swallowing hard Liz fought with her troubled emotions. Maybe this time the work would last, maybe the worry of providing for them all was finally going to be shared – maybe. Clearing her throat she asked nonchalantly, ‘So how long is this lot going to last for? I suppose it’s too much to hope that it’s permanent.’
Maggie felt her body relax and the smile return to her lips.
‘The foreman said there’s plenty more – they’ve got a standing order with most of the big stores up the West End.’ She knew she was gabbling, but she couldn’t stop herself, desperate to bring a smile to Liz’s face.
They remained staring at each other across the room, their eyes locked, and then to Maggie’s horror Liz began to cry. Softly at first, and then gathering momentum until her thin shoulders began to heave with loud, heart-wrenching sobs. Thoroughly shaken Maggie hurried to her sister’s side.
Falling to her knees she took hold of the trembling fingers crying, ‘What’s the matter, Liz? Has something happened at work? Tell me, please,
I’ve never seen you so upset, and I thought you’d be so happy to come home and find I’d found work. Come on, Liz, tell me what’s wrong, you’re frightening me.’
Pulling her hands free from Maggie’s grasp, Liz searched in the pocket of her dress for a handkerchief, and wiping her face she answered shakily, ‘I am pleased, oh, Maggie, you don’t know how pleased I am. It’s the relief I suppose, that and the knowledge that we’ll be able to move out of this dreadful place and get ourselves somewhere decent to live.’
Maggie felt her body stiffen in alarm, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of what to say. The thought of moving hadn’t crossed her mind, for although she hated the basement as much as Liz and Charlie did, she was wise enough to know that despite what the foreman had told her, out-work was unpredictable; knowing this, it would be foolhardy to think of moving. They were only paying five shillings a week here, as opposed to the 12 shillings they would need to find every week for a larger flat. If they took the chance and she lost her new-found job they would be back where they started from. Raising her eyes she looked at Liz and saw the tremulous smile hovering on the thin lips and the look of hope, long since dead come back into the blue eyes. Knowing that what she was about to say would wipe the smile from the face before her, she swallowed painfully and stuttered.
‘I think it would be better if… if we waited a while, Liz, just in case. I mean, I know I was told there’s plenty of work, but… but we can’t take the chance, not yet. Look, what if we carry on living on your wages for the time being and save mine. That way we can build up a little nest egg, and if the worst comes to the worst and I lose this job, at least that way we’d have something to fall back on while I looked for something else.’
Liz sat motionless, her body churning with disappointment. What Maggie said made sense and yet… oh, God, how much longer would they have to live in this ghastly place, how much longer could she bear it without going mad? ‘Liz? What do you think? Don’t you agree it’s better to wait for a while before making a decision. It won’t be forever, and I won’t stop looking for a permanent job, somewhere where I’ll be guaranteed a regular wage, and when that happens we can leave here and find somewhere decent to live.’
Her voice filled with pleading she waited for an answer, and when Liz moved forward in the chair she jumped back, bracing herself for the outburst she was sure was forthcoming.
‘You’re right as usual,’ Liz said gruffly, her voice thick with disappointment, ‘but I hope something turns up soon, ‘cos, I’m telling you, Maggie, I don’t know how much longer I can go on. I hate it here so much my stomach turns every time I walk through that door.’
Getting to her feet she turned towards the bed adding, ‘I think I’ll have a bit of a sleep before dinner, wake me when it’s ready.’
Maggie watched as Liz pulled the mattress from the wall and laid it on the floor. A few minutes later, as she lifted the pot of vegetables over the fire to warm up, she heard the faint sound of weeping coming from the far corner of the room. She would have felt better if Liz had gone for her – that reaction she could have coped with. But this attitude of acceptance and defeatism, so unlike her normally argumentative sister, had left her feeling out of her depth. All her earlier happiness evaporated, and with a heavy heart she turned towards the fire. Her head bowed over the evening meal she began stirring the contents with a large wooden spoon, and when the first tear dropped into the meagre stew she made no attempt to stop herself from crying, but continued stirring.
Five
‘Here, Maggie, what do you think?’
Maggie lifted her head, her lips breaking into a wide grin at the sight of Charlie posing in a pair of white knickerbockers, his hand resting coyly on his hip.
‘Very nice, they suit you. Tell you what, I’ll buy you a pair for school, how would you like that?’
Charlie’s smile faltered for a moment, then seeing the glint of laughter in his sister’s eyes he chuckled loudly.
‘Eh, you frightened me for a minute, Maggie. If I went out in these, I wouldn’t get as far as the corner before getting knocked black and blue.’ Carefully stepping out of the frilly garment, he put it back on the table and picked up another pair that Maggie had laid to one side. Pulling his chair nearer to the lamp he began the process of tidying up the loose threads and checking to see that the seams were straight and the tiny stitches unbroken. This was termed ‘finishing’ and for this Maggie received an extra penny per pair, making their total earnings 12 and sixpence a week.
The sight of her brother hunched over the table, his eyes screwed up in concentration, his tongue protruding slightly between pursed lips, brought a feeling of warmth and well-being to Maggie’s body. It was good to see him so content and happy, and the knowledge that he was earning a wage had instilled a sense of pride in him and finally dispelled his fear of being sent to the workhouse.
Her fingers moving rapidly, Maggie once again blessed the day Mrs Casey had knocked on the door, for without her intervention and the ensuing work that had followed the timely visit, Maggie doubted if the three of them would still be together today. In spite of what Liz had said about not leaving them, the constant strain and worry of providing for a family would eventually have proven too much for her. Thank God that worry had now passed.
Humming a tuneless song under her breath Maggie let her mind wander back over the past six months, her facial expressions changing from solemnity to happiness as her thoughts leapt back and forth. As she had feared, the work hadn’t been as constant as the foreman had promised. Sometimes she had gone days without any work at all, and even when it was available she lost two hours a day going to fetch it and bring it home. She also had to provide her own cotton and needles, and although these items weren’t expensive, it was still money she could have used for other things. Then there were the days she’d had to stand for three hours or more waiting in line with a crowd of other girls and women to get her bundle of cloth, not knowing if she would be sent away empty handed. Those times had been the hardest to bear. But now at long last their luck was beginning to change. Hugging herself in silent glee she thought back to the events of that morning. She had stood in the line as usual, but when she’d handed over her completed work, instead of the foreman allotting her another bundle, he’d told her to stand to one side until he’d seen to the remainder of the queue. Her heart thumping wildly, she had complied.
When the last of the women had left and the foreman had asked her if she’d be interested in working full-time in the factory, the relief had been so great her legs had nearly given way under her. His complimentary remarks on the neatness of her work had washed over her, and when he’d asked if she knew of anyone who could sew as well as she did her excitement had known no bounds. Jabbering like an idiot just released from Bedlam, she had put Liz’s name forward and watched in a fever of agitation while the man wrote both their names down in a large, black ledger. It didn’t matter that she would be losing Charlie’s money – the wage for a factory worker was two shillings more than an out-worker. What was more important was the peace of mind, knowing that starting from next week she would be earning a regular wage. That was worth more to her than the few extra bob that Charlie had been earning.
It seemed ironic that the hand-sewing skills that had brought the foreman’s attention upon her would no longer be required, as the factory workers all used sewing machines, but what odds? Her dexterity with a needle had served its purpose, and she’d soon get used to the machines as she was a quick learner. More important was that once she was safely installed at the factory she would be able to keep her ears open for any vacancy that was going. For no matter how many times Liz told her she was all right where she was, Maggie would never rest easy until her sister was out of the matchbox workshop, and the dangers it entailed.
During the time she had spent working at home, she’d managed to save nearly £6. There hadn’t been a week gone by that Liz and Charlie hadn’t begged her to use the money
to get them out of the dark, cramped, smelly flat they refused to call home, but she had remained firm. She’d come back empty handed too many times to risk spending her precious savings, but now that worry had been lifted, hopefully for good.
Now she was waiting for the front door to open, to see Liz’s face when she told her the good news. With Christmas only six weeks away, it couldn’t have happened at a better time; and if their luck held, they might be able to find another place to live before then. Laying down her needle she stared over Charlie’s bent head, her eyes focusing on the blazing fire. Oh, if only they could, it would put the seal of happiness on the events of the day. Picking up her needle once more she resumed work, her mind spinning with plans. If she worked late tonight, she would be able to start looking for a place tomorrow. It would have to be somewhere nearby as she didn’t want to take Charlie out of his school. There were plenty of big houses divided into flats in this area; the problem would be in finding one that was both clean and reasonably cheap.
For a moment doubts began to creep into her mind – maybe it wouldn’t be that easy finding somewhere else? The flat they had once occupied on the top floor had been taken over the same day they’d moved down here, the new occupants expressing relief at having found two clean rooms that suited their pockets. A niggle of fear crept up her spine and impatiently she shrugged it off. She’d find somewhere, if she had to knock on every door in the neighbourhood. She wasn’t about to be knocked back now. The first thing she would do once they were installed in their new home would be to buy a Christmas tree and decorate it with the coloured balls and baubles she’d kept stored in a cardboard box under the dresser. She’d also make sure it was placed so that it was the first sight they saw when they came through the door, just like her mum had always done.
So wrapped up in her thoughts was she that she didn’t hear the front door opening until Charlie, lifting his head from the piece of white material, his fist rubbing at his red eyes said tiredly, ‘Hello, Liz.’
