The Sunday Girls

by Maureen Reynolds

  ‘I’ve seen Dad, Joe. He looks terrible but there’s nothing anybody can do for him. He’ll sort himself out in time, I hope.’

  Rita wasn’t alone when I knocked and entered. She was standing by the side of the playpen, her arms crossed as if she was feeling the cold through her thin, shabby cardigan. She also looked annoyed. A small plump man was standing in front of the cupboard which was wide open, exposing the wooden shelves which had faded paper on their surface. In one corner lay a few items of food. It wasn’t exactly Mother Hubbard’s cupboard but it was a close cousin. The man had round grey eyes and rosy cheeks and looked well nourished. He looked like an overgrown gnome but, when he spoke, all the chubby cheerfulness of an elf disappeared.

  He squinted at me as I bent over the playpen to pick up Lily, his saucer-shaped eyes now like steel slits. ‘Right, then, you’ll be the daughter of this house,’ he yapped. For such a small man, he had a deep gruff voice – one more suited to a giant in a fairy tale than a gnome. He gave us a ‘holier than thou’ look, licked his pencil and proceeded to write in his notebook. ‘Now, let’s see. What’s your name and the bairn’s name so I can put it in my book?’

  Rita launched herself across the room. Placing her thin body directly in front of him, she turned to face me. ‘This is the man from the means test. He’s come to check if we’ve any caviar in the press. He seems to think he’s got the almighty right to come barging into the house and rake through our cupboards like we’re common criminals.’

  The man stood silent, letting this tirade pass over his chubby head. He poised the pencil over his book and said, ‘I think I asked for your name and the name of the bairn?’ He snapped at me like I was some deaf mute and hadn’t heard his request the first time.

  I was angry – not only at this intrusion into the lives of decent people whose only crime was to be jobless but also at his assumption of my marital status, as if he had been sent ahead from heaven in preparation for the judgement day.

  I glared at him as I hugged Lily. ‘I don’t have to answer any of your questions, mister, but I’ll tell you this – not only am I not married but this isn’t my bairn.’

  His face lit up and I was suddenly reminded of Miss Hood. Perhaps it was the same malicious pleasure in other people’s misfortunes. Like Miss Hood, this was another person who obviously relished their job.

  Although now near to tears at this heavy handed and needless treatment, I put on Lily’s pixie hood in preparation for leaving but not before the last defiant parting shot. ‘You can just score out all your writing because I happen to have a job. I’m a housemaid at Broughty Ferry and I not only support myself but my baby sister here. I’m not on the dole so I don’t get paid a pittance from them.’

  The man jumped forward and, for a split second, I thought he was going to bar the door. ‘Now, just a minute, I think you belong to this house. That you’re supporting the occupants here and I don’t want any messing around.’

  It was at this point that Rita’s son, who had been asleep after his initial bout of temper in the playpen, awoke with a loud wailing cry. He was hungry but the man glanced at him with extreme annoyance. ‘Just be quiet, sonny, till I fill in my forms.’

  This plea fell on deaf ears and he cried even louder. Rita, desperate to get him fed, said quietly, ‘Just tell him where you live, Ann.’

  Much against my will I told him, not mentioning the house next door to Rita’s in case Dad got questioned as well.

  He glowered at me, shaking his head slightly as if it was all a pack of lies. ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said, his officious manner now more pronounced. ‘I think you’re the lassie of this house and, if you’re not, then you’re the lodger and your landlady here is also a childminder.’ The thought of the two misdemeanours seemed to fill him with joy and he turned to Rita. ‘You know what the penalties are if you keep a lodger. Your money will be reduced in lieu of it and, if you’re also taking in bairns to look after, then there will be another reduction.’

  Rita had had enough. ‘Look here, you slimy wee toerag, you officious wee swine, my man fought in the war as a sixteen-year-old laddie to keep folk like you from living under the Kaiser. And another thing – he went for a job last week and do you know what? When he got there, two hundred other men were ahead of him in the queue.’ Although her stance was defiant, I could see she was close to tears. The child was still howling as she marched over to the bed to pick him up.

  ‘I’ll see you to the door, Ann,’ she said striding ahead of me with a determined air.

  The man took the hint as well but not before issuing a final warning. ‘I’ll be back to check on this close, mark my words.’

  As he glanced along the passageway towards our house, I held my breath. ‘I never seem to find that occupant in but I’ll be making enquiries about them so you’d better tell them.’

  We stood in silence as he swaggered off down the stairs. When he was out of sight, tears ran down Rita’s cheeks. ‘What a life, Ann, isn’t it? No money and no work and now we’re being hounded like we had robbed a bank or something equally dramatic.’ A weak smile flitted across her mouth. ‘Mind you, not that I haven’t thought about robbing a bank.’

  I knew she was joking because she was an honest woman but I felt sorry for her. She had all this worry on her shoulders but we were all in the same boat. I at least was lucky to have my job and once again I was grateful for Mrs Pringle’s help.

  ‘What job did your man go for, Rita?’

  ‘Well, he heard a whisper that a foundry in Dock Street was looking for a labourer but half the bloody town must have heard the same whisper. There was a huge queue of men already waiting but nobody seems to know who got the job. That’s the worst of it.’

  I nodded sympathetically.

  ‘Never mind,’ she said, wiping the tears away. ‘How did you get on with your dad?’

  I told her about his reluctance to return to the house but I didn’t mention that I had met him in the pub – that would have really riled her.

  ‘Is he getting married to Marlene Davidson?’ she asked.

  I remember the amused look and the huge wink. Maybe during a weak or lonely moment the Merry Widow would succeed but I hoped not. Instead I replied truthfully, not wanting to deceive a good neighbour. ‘Well, he said not to listen to gossip, Rita.’

  ‘Well, we’ll keep our fingers crossed that it doesn’t happen,’ she said as she turned to go back into the house. ‘I’d better get the bairn’s dinner ready or he’ll bring the house down with his girning. The worst thing is, there’s another bairn on the way.’ She patted her stomach, an unhappy look on her face. ‘Tell your granny we’re both delighted.’

  As I went downstairs, I knew she was being flippant. No doubt delight was the last word Rita and her man would use to describe having another mouth to feed in a few months.

  Granny was full of pity for her when I relayed this news to her. ‘What a shame – as if Rita doesn’t have enough to put up with.’

  She was a bit more annoyed about Dad. ‘What a devil he is and has always been. I remember when he was a laddie, the amount of lassies he knew was enormous. Then he met your mother and he settled down but now it looks like it’s all starting up again with Rosie crying every night and now Marlene with her high hopes.’ She shook her head in wonder.

  I saw, in my mind’s eye, Marlene’s white pinched face with its anxious look and Dad’s unkempt and unshaven look and I wondered where the attraction lay. I said so.

  Granny gave me a knowing look and laughed. ‘Never mind, young Ann. Wait till you’re older and you’ll know all about it.’

  Oh, I hope not, I thought. Dealing with Miss Hood was troublesome enough.

  Later, as I pushed Lily along the Esplanade, I was worried about going back to the Ferry and the tyrannical housekeeper. Being at home with my family and friends made me realise what kindly people they were – not like the horrible Lottie.

  Then I saw with dismay that Lily was fast outgrowing eve
rything, including her pram. Although it was still rickety and squeaking with every push, it had been a boon for her and Grandad. He had picked up a pair of dilapidated-looking reins with a faded rabbit embossed on the front and I secretly hoped they hadn’t been purchased from Jumping Jeemy but they kept her securely in the pram which was a blessing because she was now able to lean out and study the wheels or the pavements, both of which seemed to fascinate her.

  The air was fresh and salty as we walked along beside the river. A group of men with home-made, crude-looking fishing rods were hanging over the seawall. They looked as if they were almost willing any passing fish to take the worm bait.

  Beyond them, through the tracery of the Tay Bridge, white puffs of smoke from a south-bound train soared into the air. I turned the pram so that Lily could see the train, hoping that maybe some of the passengers heading out of the city would wave to her. She was such a pretty little girl and I made up my mind, there and then, that, come what may, I would try to like Miss Hood – after all, Lily’s future depended on it.

  The next morning, when I turned up at Whitegate Lodge, my resolve faltered when I saw the housekeeper was as sour-faced as usual. I knew it was going to be an uphill struggle either to like her or ignore her.

  I inwardly dreaded another hefty shove from her and I tried hard not to cringe every time she passed by. But, thankfully, for some unknown reason, she ignored me and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I gathered up my housemaid’s box and began my morning chores. Later, I was sitting down to lunch with Mrs Peters, who said I was to call her by her first name, Jean. As we were eating, Miss Hood skulked in and lifted a tray without her usual snide or sarcastic remarks.

  ‘What’s the matter with old sourpuss?’ Jean asked, astonishment written all over her face. ‘I know – you’ve threatened her with yon big bread knife, Ann!’

  I laughed although I was a bit shocked. ‘Oh, I’d never do that.’

  Jean laughed. ‘Och, I’m just kidding you. But I will say this – I bet she’s had an earful from Mrs Barrie about how to treat you.’

  Just prior to Miss Hood’s appearance, Jean had been telling me how she arrived at the Ferry. ‘Well, it was like this. Three or four of us young lassies used to come here to the beach every Sunday during the summer months to have a wee paddle in the water but mainly to find a click.’ She saw my puzzlement and explained. ‘A click – you know, a young man. In those days I was quite bonny and slender even though I say it myself. I didn’t have this.’ She patted her ample stomach and I was reminded of Rita and wondered how her pregnancy would go.

  The cook continued, ‘Well, one Sunday we got in with this group of folk on the beach and, after a lot of sand throwing and general banter, Will and I started to go steady. His father had a wee joiner’s business in Long Lane and they lived above the workshop. The business wasn’t big enough for two families so we stayed in Dundee at Dallfield Walk. We got a house right next door to my mother and Will landed a good job at the docks as a stevedore – at least it was a good job if the boss picked you to unload one of the ships but it wasn’t so good if you didn’t get picked. Of course, we were never blessed with bairns …’ Her face clouded briefly but then she became her usual cheery self again. ‘Oh, well, that was a long time ago so there’s no use lamenting over it. Then, twelve years ago, Will’s father died and his mother followed a couple of months later. So Will inherited the business and the house – him being the only child – so here we are.’

  ‘Do you ever go back to visit your mother?’ I asked. I thought she could maybe visit Granny and Lily. I felt so sad for her. I had seen the flicker of unhappiness when she mentioned her childless state. On the other hand, I could well imagine Rita saying, ‘Lucky you!’

  ‘Hardly ever,’ she said. ‘My mother is dead as well and we never seem to have the time. Anyway, I love it here at the Ferry. The air is so fresh and tangy and not like the jute smell in Dundee.’

  Then Miss Hood put her head around the door and snapped at us, ‘Mrs Barrie is expecting visitors tonight. She wants the lounge fire lit at four o’clock and you will be required to work an extra hour tonight to serve refreshments when they arrive.’ She glared at me before stomping off, looking as if she had lost a half crown and found a tanner.

  Jean looked at me over the rim of her cup but she was as nonplussed as I was. It was the first time I had heard of these visitors but, whoever they were, their visit was certainly arranged quickly. One thing I had learned while working in the house was the fact that the social calendar was usually well mapped out in advance. Because of this, I was full of curiosity – as was the cook. As she was leaving, she whispered furtively, ‘You can tell me who the visitors are tomorrow. Maybe it’s film stars!’ She stopped and gave this notion another thought. ‘No, it’ll not be film stars because they would stay for a meal and this lot are just having refreshments. Oh, well, you can tell me all about it tomorrow, young Ann.’

  She was no sooner out the back door than I was sent to the lounge to plump up the fat feather cushions and draw the curtains. I had lit the fire as instructed and once again I let the beauty of the room wash over me. It looked so different at night with the glowing red flames in the ornate fireplace. A selection of lamps dotted around the room also added to the cosy glow, shedding light on the silver photo frames and reflecting off the shiny polished furniture.

  Then there were the books, all now lovingly dusted, and, although I still admired them daily, I hadn’t borrowed another one since that awful night when Miss Hood had accused me of stealing one.

  The doorbell clanged loudly and I went into the hall but Miss Hood scurried ahead of me to open the door, bestowing on me a look of utter distaste, almost as if a beetle had crossed her path. When the door was opened, I almost fell over in surprise as Maddie burst in along with a flurry of raindrops and a gust of cold wind. She was followed by her parents and I heard them tell the housekeeper that Hattie was looking after Joy for the evening.

  The change in Miss Hood’s manner was astonishing to say the least. She didn’t exactly curtsy but she fawned, for the want of a better word, over them. Maddie gave me a quick wink before being ushered into the lounge by Miss Hood.

  I was still standing slightly dumbstruck when Miss Hood reappeared and snarled quietly in my ear, ‘Go and bring the tea tray, you stupid girl.’ She then swept regally away towards the door, just behind Mrs Barrie who was leaning heavily on her stick.

  Before entering the lounge she snarled again, ‘I’ve been asked to join the company tonight.’ A gleam of smugness was visible in her pale eyes.

  Being well aware that Mrs Pringle had found this position for me, I hoped desperately that I hadn’t done anything wrong in the job. Something must have happened for them all to appear so suddenly. My mind was churning with worry as I manoeuvred the heavy tray on to the table beside one of the sofas.

  ‘Ah, here is Ann, my lovely new housemaid,’ beamed Mrs Barrie while the housekeeper tried to keep her social smile intact.

  I could see she was finding this difficult and, in other circumstances, it would have been comical but I knew she would exact her punishment at some future date.

  I was also aware that Maddie was gazing wide-eyed at me but I daren’t look at her in case I burst into laughter.

  Mrs Barrie leaned towards Miss Hood, ‘That is all we’ll need tonight, Ann. Perhaps Lottie can remove the tray later, once we’ve finished our tea?’ She looked at the housekeeper with a smile and Lottie nodded, like an old dowager dishing out favours. ‘Well, that’s fine,’ said Mrs Barrie. ‘Just finish off now, Ann, and we’ll see you tomorrow.’

  I murmured my goodnights and escaped up the back staircase to the sanctuary of my room. From the window, I saw the Pringles’ Baby Austin car. Its gleaming paintwork, highlighted by the street lamps, was peppered by raindrops.

  A sudden light footstep on the stair made me whirl around in alarm but it was Maddie. She carried a large bag in her hand.

 
‘Hullo,’ she said brightly, ‘are you surprised to see me?’

  ‘Maddie, what’s the matter? Am I losing my job?’ Fear had added an edge to my voice although I tried hard to control it. I was remembering Miss Hood’s queer silences. Maybe she had succeeded in putting forward all her complaints about me – real or imaginary.

  Maddie’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘For heaven’s sake, Ann, of course you’re not losing your job. What makes you think that?’ She was puzzled.

  ‘It’s Miss Hood, Maddie. She hates me and is so nasty to me.’ I then told her everything, holding nothing back.

  I also got her to promise to keep quiet. ‘I need this job Maddie and after all she is the only nasty person here. Mrs Barrie and the cook are lovely people.’

  She looked angry, her blue eyes darkening with disgust. ‘I always thought she was a creepy-crawly sort of a person and I’ve never really liked her.’ She laughed. ‘Maybe we should call her Miss Creepy-Crawly.’

  Getting into the spirit of the conversation and now so thankful that my fears were unfounded, I put on a pseudo posh voice. ‘Can you creep down here Miss Crawly or maybe you would rather crawl into the kitchen Miss Creep?’

  We both sat on the bed and laughed so much that my sides ached. I looked at Maddie. ‘Well, what did bring you here so suddenly tonight?’

  ‘We often come to visit,’ she explained. ‘Eva is my godmother and one of my mother’s oldest friends. I never got much of a chance to see you on your day off so I persuaded my parents to come tonight. That’s why the housekeeper is having tea with them – so we can have our private chat.’

  I was suddenly amused. ‘What a fuss Miss Hood made over this visit, Maddie. In fact, the cook thought you might turn out to be film stars and the housekeeper was almost dancing with delight.’