The Sunday Girls

by Maureen Reynolds

  Granny tackled Grandad about the missing ticket but he was as puzzled as we were. ‘You didn’t get it caught up in the paper when you made Lily’s plane?’ she asked but he shook his head.

  ‘I’m sure that ticket wasn’t even there when I made the plane. I looked for a bit of string in the vase and I can’t remember seeing a pawn ticket,’ he said.

  In our house, the newspaper was never wasted. Every page was duly cut up into small squares and granny threaded a bit of string through the corners with her huge darning needle. This neat pile then hung from a nail in the outside lavatory. The remaining remnants of paper were then twisted into slender tapers that were used to light the fire and the gas cooker. They resided in an old fancy tin that had formerly held oatcakes and was always within easy reach of the fireplace. After all, matches cost money and granny was a past master at saving her pennies when she could.

  I just knew in my heart that the ticket hadn’t got caught up in any paper. I must have thrust the ticket into my trench-coat pocket without thinking. I always meant to repair the holes in the pockets but I hadn’t got round to it and, as a result, each pocket still sported a large hole.

  I knew I had to face the prospect of never seeing my beloved coat again and the thought depressed me. Granny cheered me up a bit when she said. ‘Go to the pawnshop next Monday, Ann. The old man is sure to recognise you and he’ll take pity on you. I’m sure of that.’

  To make matters worse there was no sign of Maddie that weekend. It was clear for all to see that, along with Danny, Minnie and love, she had added the picture house to her things not to do. Still I was grateful that one problem seemed under control – namely, the fact that my father was now under the pristine roof of Hattie’s house. Whether it would last long was another question but for the time being I was happy with the situation.

  The following Monday found me back again at the narrow close but this time the pawnshop was seething with customers. The queue stretched right down the passageway and almost out on to the Hilltown. They were a motley bunch of tired-looking women, thin-faced men and a gaggle of children who were all in various stages of emotions from running about shouting to whimpering tears and whining incessantly. As a result of this crowd, by the time I reached an empty cubicle, the old man behind the counter looked frazzled. My heart sank when he demanded my ticket.

  ‘I’ve mislaid my ticket but you’ll maybe remember me from two weeks ago. I brought in a coat, shoes and a bag.’

  He started to speak while pointing to the notice that gave dire warning to ticketless customers but I stopped his stream of protest. ‘Please, I think my ticket is in the house but maybe you can have a look for me and you’ll recognise my articles.’

  He began to mutter again but to my delight he trotted away towards the stacked shelves at the back of the office. He returned almost immediately but he wasn’t carrying my goods.

  He gave me a very shrewd glance, opened his ledger and ran a finger down the list of hand-written entries. He looked at me again. He gave another glance at the ledger then came right to me and peered at me closely. He said. ‘According to my ledger, you redeemed your articles a week past Thursday.’

  I gasped in astonishment. ‘I can’t have – I’m at work every Thursday.’

  ‘Well, that’s not for me to know,’ he replied waspishly. ‘Your ticket was brought in and we returned your goods. It’s as simple as that.’

  I was desperate. ‘Can you describe the person who redeemed them?’

  By now, the queue behind me was growing restless. He glanced over my shoulder. ‘Look, lassie, the ticket was handed in and we returned the goods so there’s nothing more to say.’

  With that final sentence ringing through my head, I had no option but to return home.

  Granny was mortified. ‘Somebody did what? Redeemed your coat?’

  I mentioned the holes in my pockets and the fear that I had lost the ticket through my own stupidity.

  Then the door opened and Dad and Bella appeared, looking for all the world like a double act on the stage. In fact, I half suspected Bella to say something outrageous which to my surprise she did.

  ‘I’ve just seen Hattie swanking away to work in her new orange coat,’ she said.

  Granny looked furious while I was merely stunned. Granny snapped, ‘What kind of orange coat?’

  Bella looked pleased at our reaction. ‘Just a normal kind of coat with furry sleeves and collar.’

  Dad butted in, ‘I’m looking for a house or a couple of rooms to rent, Ann. I don’t think I can stay under Kaiser Hattie’s roof any longer. I did hear that there might be some houses on the Hilltown available.’

  I was stunned – first the coat and now this. He had just given up one house and now he was looking for another one.

  He seemed to read my thoughts. ‘I know I was stupid about the house but let’s go and see Rita, Nellie and Joe – they might have heard about a vacant place.’

  I looked at Granny and she was grim-faced. She motioned for me to go with Dad and she turned to Bella. ‘You’ll have to excuse me but I’m going out so I don’t have time to make you a cup of tea and Ann is going with her dad so we’ll see you another time, Bella.’

  Bella was most put out by this offhand dismissal. Still, she had no option but to shift her large frame from the armchair. She muttered to herself as she left. It sounded like dark threats never to cross this threshold again but Granny wasn’t listening.

  ‘You go with your dad, Ann, and I’ll make sure Hattie is in this house tonight.’

  On that note, Dad lifted Lily from her chair and we hurried out on our journey to the Hilltown. As we walked up the Wellgate steps, Dad apologised for the furniture money. ‘It wasn’t all spent on beer, Ann, although that’s what you might think.’ He looked abashed. ‘The truth is that Marlene wasn’t taking any rent from me. I suppose she thought we were getting married but after your visit, when she realised what my true intentions were … well, she not only demanded my rent but also the back money.’

  I looked at him. ‘It doesn’t matter, Dad – it was your money.’

  ‘No, I want you to know the truth,’ he said. ‘I gave Marlene twenty-five shillings and that left me fifteen bob for myself. I thought that was the end of the matter but the rot had set in and we had that big argy-bargy. That’s when she stotted me with the vase.’

  ‘You must have led Marlene to believe you wanted to marry her. She wouldn’t just assume she had a future with you. You must have mentioned the word marriage.’

  ‘I swear to God I didn’t,’ he said firmly. Then he hung his head. ‘At least not when I was sober but maybe she got the wrong idea after I had a few pints of beer.’

  I was sceptical and it showed.

  No doubt desperate to change the subject, he grinned and said, ‘Oh, I meant to mention it – Rita has had a wee lass.’

  Our old neighbours were glad to see us. Joe was standing on the pavement with the usual gang and he immediately pulled out his tin with its numerous cigarette stubs and began to roll a cigarette for Dad.

  I took Lily up the dark stairs. Nellie was in Rita’s house and I was once again shocked to see how thin Rita was and, come to that, Nellie wasn’t far behind her in the weight stakes.

  The baby was being fed and she sucked noisily at Rita’s breast. Her son Jimmy was sitting on the bed with an ancient-looking comic which he was reading upside down. Still, as Rita explained, it kept him quiet and judging from the conversation, that wasn’t very usual.

  Lily ran over and clambered on to the bed beside him. He gave her a scornful glance and proceeded to scrutinise his comic. I looked round the dark room. In spite of it being a bright day outside, the gas mantle was lit and it threw its pale light over the small room. After Granny’s bright kitchen and the even brighter Whitegate Lodge, this room resembled a dungeon. The baby finished her feed and Rita held her upright to pat her back gently and bring up any wind.

  ‘What’s the wee lass called, Rita?’ I ask
ed.

  ‘We’ve called her after me,’ she said wearily. ‘She’s called Margarita.’

  I was taken aback by this lovely name. ‘What a nice name, Rita.You should have mentioned your name and we would all have called you Margarita.’

  ‘That’s what I was afraid of,’ she said, laughing. ‘When I was a bairn, a lot of folk thought I was Spanish. Now, I ask you, do I look Spanish?’

  I had to agree she didn’t. ‘But you’re all keeping fine?’

  Nellie nodded but Rita seemed to be too weary even to nod her head. She said, ‘We’ve got our ups and downs – mostly downs as it happens. As for me, well, I have to give the bairn a bottle as well as feeding her myself because my milk is drying up. Seemingly it happens if you’re undernourished or just damn worn out. Take your pick of these two explanations, Ann.’

  I felt so sorry for them and, although there was no sign of their husbands, it turned out they were still unemployed.

  ‘They go for every job they hear about but there’s hundreds chasing each one. The Caledon shipyard is looking for men but it’s a hit or a miss if you’re hired.’

  Because of this, I decided not to mention Dad’s job as I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. I hoped that Dad had done the same with his pals. Although we were grateful to the Pringle family, I always felt guilty about their help. Instead, I mentioned we were looking for another house. ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard but Dad’s no longer living at Marlene’s house.’

  I saw from their amused expressions that they had heard every nuance of the sordid saga over the smashed vase. Nellie’s face brightened and Rita laughed. ‘Aye,’ said Nellie, ‘it was the main gossip on the Hilltown and Ann Street for days on end. Believe me, Ann, it fair cheered up our dismal lives as there’s nothing as stimulating as a good-going fight.’

  I hadn’t realised it had been a fight as such but Rita laughed again. ‘Och, don’t listen to Nellie. Although they had a good ding-dong, it was hardly a fight – more of a shouting match with Marlene doing most of the shouting.’

  Mentally, I could have given Dad a good kick but I put on a brittle smile. ‘What a pity we gave up this house but, if you hear of anything, will you let me know?’

  Nellie said, ‘I did hear through the Hilltown gossip that there is an empty house near the top of the hill – number 226, I think – and the factor has his office in Commercial Street.’ She turned to Rita. ‘Do you know the factor’s name?’

  Rita said she didn’t.

  Never one to give up easily, Nellie made a couple of suggestions. ‘You can maybe go to the close and ask some of the tenants who the factor is or else you can go to Commercial Street and just visit all the factors’ offices and ask about this house.’

  I was on the point of leaving when a loud screech came from the bed. Lily was trying to prise the comic away from Jimmy’s grubby fist. He held on to it with a grim look on his face while Lily was equally determined to remove it. I knew it was time to go and I promised to let the two women know the outcome in our search for a house. As I went downstairs, I couldn’t help but think how life had moved on. During all the years I had lived in the close, I hadn’t noticed the dark and gloomy interior but now I realised just how depressing it was.

  On the way back to the Overgate, I mentioned the house at 226 Hilltown to Dad and he promised to visit the factor – after all, he was starting work at the beginning of August and we would be able to pay the rent.

  Hattie was waiting for me when we arrived. Granny looked livid and for one heart-stopping moment I thought she was ill but it was anger that suffused her face with a deep red colour.

  ‘Well, explain yourself, Hattie,’ said granny as soon as we walked in.

  I noticed my coat, bag and shoes lying on the bed.

  Hattie looked quite cool and slightly arrogant – almost as if being found with someone else’s clothes was an everyday occurrence for her. She frowned at me. ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I redeemed your coat out of the goodness of my heart, to save you paying the money out of your wages, and what do I get? Nothing but aggravation from Granny.’ She pointed a finger at Granny who almost choked with anger.

  ‘Don’t you give me that nonsense, Hattie,’ she said. ‘Out of the goodness of your heart never entered your head. No, you always wanted and even coveted Ann’s coat and you were determined to get your hands on it – one way or another.’

  Hattie’s coolness evaporated now that she was faced with her mother’s wrath. She turned an appealing face to me. ‘Honestly, Ann, I thought you were going to keep the coat pledged for the full six months and I thought to myself, what a waste. Surely it was better being worn and out in the fresh air rather than being stuffed in that awful pawnshop beside lots of grubby things. I was just going to wear it for a couple of weeks then turn up here with it. That way you would have saved yourself seven shillings plus the pawnbroker’s interest.’

  Granny was still angry. ‘Even if you were feeling like Lady Bountiful, Hattie, you could have redeemed it and brought it straight here to Ann. Why all the secrecy? Tell us that?’

  As usual Hattie had her answer. ‘Oh yes and what would you both have said about that? “No thank you, Hattie. We can manage, Hattie.” That’s what I would have heard from you both.’

  A sudden tiredness swept over me and I wanted this argument to stop. ‘All right, Hattie, thank you for redeeming my coat but it’s a pity you didn’t stop to think how worried I was because I thought I had lost the ticket. But, now that it’s back, we’ll say no more about it.’

  ‘That’s fine, then,’ said Granny, going over to the stove to put the kettle on. ‘We’ll say no more about it and we’ll just have to take your word that you were going to return it. I mean, if Bella hadn’t spotted you wearing it, then we would never have known where it was.’

  Hattie spluttered, ‘I might have guessed it was that nosy old besom that started this.’

  Meanwhile, throughout all this dialogue between Hattie and us, Dad had sat quietly at the fire. Hattie suddenly spotted him. ‘And another thing, Johnny – how long have I got to put you up?’

  It was now his turn to be angry. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, Ann and I were looking for a house today and I’ll go and see the factor tomorrow so it shouldn’t be for much longer.’

  It was obviously Hattie’s day for upsetting everyone but she was determined not to back down, even when she knew she was in the wrong. ‘That’s fine, then. After all, the neighbours are beginning to wonder how long you’ll be staying.’

  We were all speechless but, on that note, she swept out of the kitchen.

  Granny shook her head. ‘She’s feeling guilty – that’s why she’s acting like a spoilt brat.’

  Dad laughed. ‘She is a spoilt brat but we all have to be grateful for her influence with the Pringle family. After all, Ann has her job and I’ll soon have mine. Those poor pals of mine on the Hilltown have no hope of anything and they’re not even getting enough to eat.’

  I turned to him. ‘It’s the same with Rita and Nellie. Rita is so thin, Granny, and she’s trying to feed the baby. It breaks your heart to see people having to live like that. This damned government should be put on the same money as the poor population and then they would maybe get jobs organised for the working classes.’

  ‘Hear! Hear!’ said Dad. ‘So three cheers for the wonderful Hattie.’

  We all laughed – even Lily who didn’t know what she was laughing at but she wanted to join in.

  13

  Dad got the key for a house in July. It was on a Monday, a week before Lily’s birthday, when he arrived at the Overgate, brandishing a large key. He was holding it aloft like some victorious trophy and his face was flushed with excitement. Granny and I looked at his animated expression with amazement. After years of seeing him being so downhearted and listless, the change was spectacular.

  ‘I’ve been going round all the factors for weeks now and it’s worked,’ he boasted. ‘It’s not the same house
Rita and Nellie mentioned but it’s in the same close – number 226 Hilltown.’

  Granny was so pleased for him. ‘Oh, that’s great news, Johnny. You must be so happy that everything’s working out for you now.’

  If Granny was pleased then I was delirious with joy. ‘When are we moving in, Dad?’

  Dad laughed. ‘As soon as possible – living with Hattie these few months has been a real trial, I can tell you.There were times when I would gladly have proposed to Marlene just to escape!’

  Granny laughed but her voice held a gentle reproof. ‘Now, Johnny, it’s not as bad as that. And your sister did put you up when you were homeless.’

  Dad didn’t seem to be abashed at this reproof and he laughed again. ‘I know but it’s such a relief to be leaving. Now I know how prisoners feel when they’re released from jail.’ He continued, ‘The rent for the house is six shillings a week and I think I can just manage that until my job starts.’

  Mr Pringle had said the job would start in August but so far there had been no more word about Willie retiring. Deep down in my heart, I prayed that nothing would happen to change this plan. I was frightened to count Dad’s chickens.

  ‘Let’s go and see the house now, Ann.’ He looked at granny. ‘You come as well, Mum. Are Lily and Dad out somewhere?’

  I nodded. ‘Aye, they’ve gone for a walk along the Esplanade.’

  Dad nodded. ‘Och, well, they can see the house another day.’

  We set off in happy spirits and, for the first time since Lily’s birth, Dad was full of plans. The house was one stair up and we all thought it was wonderful. It had three rooms and, although they weren’t large, they weren’t tiny either. They were a bit like Goldilocks’s third choice – just right. A lovely small bay window overlooked the street and the Shakespeare bar in particular. At this time of day, the bar was quiet but it would be busy at weekends. Still, I liked the sound of voices and the general hubbub of daily life on the streets.

  Although I loved the Ferry, I could never get used to the silence and the sound of the wind and sea. We inspected the flat and the minuscule toilet which was situated on the stair. Another bonus was the postage-stamp-sized drying green that lay to the rear of the building.