The Pearly Queen

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘We’ve got to put up with it, Betsy.’

  ‘I don’t mind as long as Aunt Edie’s ’ere,’ said Betsy.

  Mother reappeared, an old Gladstone bag accompanying her umbrella. ‘What’s that you’re doin’ out there?’ she asked.

  ‘Peelin’ potatoes,’ said Patsy, finishing the chore.

  ‘I ’ope you’re not goin’ to eat sinfully,’ said Mother. ‘There’s been too much of that.’ She put the Gladstone bag down and opened the larder door. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Liver an’ bacon,’ said Patsy. ‘Dad asked me to get some for supper.’

  ‘It’s gluttony,’ said Mother. ‘I’m goin’ to give it to that poor Mrs Dobson.’ She drew out the plate of liver and bacon. The liver was fresh and shining, the bacon rashers looking succulent.

  Patsy drew a breath. ‘Put that back,’ she said.

  ‘No cheek, my girl,’ said Mother.

  ‘Put it back,’ said Patsy.

  ‘I’ll give you put it back,’ said Mother, and gaped vaguely as Patsy took the plate from her and restored it to the larder, Betsy watching with wide-open eyes.

  ‘We’re not givin’ Dad or Jimmy bread an’ water when they come ’ome from work,’ said Patsy, ‘nor—’ She stopped, feeling it wiser not to mention Aunt Edie. Mother intervened telepathically.

  ‘Where’s your Aunt Edie?’

  ‘Workin’, of course, like she always is this time of day,’ said Patsy.

  ‘She ought to be ’ere. What a selfish woman. I told ’er what ’er duty was. I know me own duty, which is a Christian one, ’elping sinners to repent. I ’ope there’s been repentin’ goin’ on in this house while I’ve been away.’

  ‘Oh, you can’t hear nothing in this ’ouse except repentin’,’ said Patsy.

  ‘I’m pleased to know it,’ said Mother. ‘Well, I’ve got to go now.’

  ‘Shall we give your love to Dad?’ asked Patsy, a little fire in her eyes.

  ‘Who?’ asked Mother.

  ‘Goodbye, Mum,’ said Patsy.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got to go. I’ll pray for all of you.’ She left.

  Betsy looked doleful. Patsy grimaced.

  Aunt Edie arrived just before five-thirty. She had got off early, and having taken her weekend case to work with her in the morning, she came straight from the factory at Peckham. She let herself in using the latchcord.

  There they were, the girls, in the kitchen, the table laid for supper, the potatoes cooking on the gas stove and tinned peas ready to be heated. They smiled to see her, and Aunt Edie warmed to them.

  ‘Hullo, me pets, how’s tricks?’ she said, her own smile cheerful.

  ‘We’re ever so glad you’ve come, Aunt Edie,’ said Patsy.

  ‘We like it you’re ’ere,’ said Betsy, and Aunt Edie hugged them both before getting down to the homely task of cooking the liver and bacon, with fried onions.

  ‘Where’s Jimmy?’ she asked from the scullery.

  ‘Oh, he’s doin’ that work that Mr Gibbs said ’e could,’ replied Patsy.

  ‘And ’e’s been givin’ me an’ Patsy a tanner each every day for goin’ out to look for a job for ’im,’ said Betsy.

  ‘Well, that’s a lovely brother you’ve got.’

  ‘We went into a firm this afternoon that said they’ve got a job for a boy,’ said Patsy. ‘I expect Jimmy’ll be ’ome about the same time as Dad, about six, Aunt Edie. I expect they’ll be ever so pleased to see you. Mum come ’ome for five minutes this afternoon, she took more things with ’er.’

  ‘She’s gone away again, ’as she?’ Aunt Edie’s voice sounded as if it was having trouble getting past her tonsils.

  ‘Yes, I fink so, Auntie,’ said Betsy. ‘She said we wasn’t to eat sinful.’

  ‘I’ll give her sinful,’ muttered Aunt Edie.

  ‘Beg your pardon, Auntie?’ said Patsy.

  ‘It’s all right, darlings, don’t you worry, we’ll have a lovely weekend,’ said Aunt Edie.

  Patsy and Betsy looked at each other. Fancy, Aunt Edie calling them darlings now. She must like them.

  Patsy smiled.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘Snap,’ said Dad.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ asked Aunt Edie.

  ‘We’ve both got two rashers of bacon,’ said Dad.

  ‘We’ve all got two rashers, except Betsy, who only wanted one,’ said Aunt Edie.

  ‘All right,’ said Dad, ‘snap with everyone except Betsy.’

  Betsy giggled.

  ‘Time your dad grew up, Betsy,’ said Aunt Edie, ‘time he started to improve.’

  Betsy cast a look at Patsy. Patsy winked.

  ‘I don’t know what the world’s goin’ to do with some dads, do you, Aunt Edie?’ said Patsy.

  ‘Drown ’em,’ said Aunt Edie, and Patsy thought their aunt looked kind of specially attractive this evening. She had a lovely blouse on, with a high crinkly collar and pearl buttons down the front. It showed she had an awfully nice figure. And her hair looked as if she’d just had it styled.

  ‘You’ve got room for improvement, Dad,’ said Jimmy, who was getting tanned from his outdoor work.

  ‘That’s what me old sergeant-major kept tellin’ me,’ said Dad.

  ‘Not him again,’ said Aunt Edie.

  ‘“Corporal Andrews,” he kept sayin’, “it’s me painful duty to hinform you you’ll cop it if you don’t keep yer ruddy noddle down. You get it shot off by Johnny Turk and I’ll put you on a charge for bein’ careless while on duty. There’s room for improvement,” he’d say.’

  ‘Well, you must have improved, Dad,’ said Jimmy, ‘or you’d be sittin’ here eatin’ liver and bacon with no head.’

  Aunt Edie burst into laughter. Everyone looked at her. ‘Now what’ve I done?’ she asked.

  ‘Nice you’re here, Aunt Edie,’ said Jimmy. ‘I’ve been thinkin’. About that Bermondsey firm, Patsy. I think I’d better go straight there in the mornin’. Then if I get the job, I’d best go up to Anerley an’ tell Mr Gibbs I’m fixed up.’

  ‘For seven an’ six a week?’ said Dad. An unusual frown creased his forehead. ‘Daylight robbery. It’s near to forty-five hours a week at tuppence a ruddy hour.’

  ‘Still, it’s a job, Dad.’

  ‘Yes, if it’s not a dead end one, Jimmy lad,’ said Dad, ‘and Bermondsey’s full of jobs like that. I’m goin’ to leave it to you to make up your own mind about it, but I want you to know we’re not too badly off. I get a decent wage an’ grocery perks into the bargain, and besides – no, well, I’ll leave it to you to decide.’

  ‘I think your dad means you’re bringing ’ome good money from Mr Gibbs,’ said Aunt Edie, ‘that you’re earnin’ four bob a day and that you’ll be earnin’ it for weeks.’

  ‘Yes, you could give yourself a bit of time, Jimmy,’ said Patsy, who wanted her brother to have the kind of job that could make him hold his head high among the young men of Walworth.

  ‘Well, tell you what,’ said Jimmy, enjoying his supper, ‘I think I’ll call on the firm and see if there’s decent prospects. Yes, I’ll do that. I don’t suppose I’ll ever build railways or undergrounds, and I don’t suppose I’ll ever play centre-forward for Tottenham ‘Otspur, either – not that I wouldn’t like to, I would, in fact, I’m fond of football – where was I, Aunt Edie?’

  ‘Gettin’ there,’ said Aunt Edie, who was discovering exactly how much she loved Jimmy and his sisters.

  ‘Yes, gettin’ nearly up the chimney,’ said Patsy.

  ‘What’s Tot’nam ‘Otspur?’ asked Betsy.

  ‘I’m sorry for you, Betsy, if you don’t know about Tottenham ‘Otspur,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘I can’t know everyfing,’ said Betsy, ‘not when I’ve only been goin’ to school a few years.’

  ‘Bless yer, me pickle, you’re good enough for me just as you are,’ said Dad.

  ‘Well, I was sayin’ that even if I never get me name in the newspapers, I’d like a job with some prospects,’ said Jimmy.

>   ‘Right,’ said Dad, although with things as they were, he thought good prospects hard to come by. ‘You stick to that line of thought, Jimmy. By the way, Patsy, didn’t yer mum say anything at all about how long she’d be away?’

  ‘No,’ said Patsy.

  Aunt Edie gave silent vent to her anger by grinding a piece of liver into annihilation.

  ‘Oh, well,’ said Dad. ‘How about a tram ride to Peckham Rye on Sunday afternoon, an’ takin’ a picnic tea with us?’

  ‘Wiv Aunt Edie?’ asked Betsy.

  ‘Oh, I think we could always find room on a tram for Aunt Edie, yer know,’ said Dad.

  ‘I’m honoured, I’m sure,’ said Aunt Edie.

  ‘That’s settled, then,’ said Dad. ‘We’ll take Jimmy’s cricket bat and get Aunt Edie to do some wallopin’.’

  ‘Who’s goin’ to bowl to me?’ asked Aunt Edie.

  ‘Betsy,’ said Dad. ‘She’ll bowl you some dollies for wallopin’, then we’ll put Jimmy on to get you leg before.’

  ‘Wait a minute, Jack Andrews,’ said Aunt Edie, ‘what’s leg before? You’re not gettin’ me playin’ cricket with me skirts up on Peckham Rye.’

  ‘Auntie, you don’t ’ave to show your legs,’ said Patsy, ‘it’s just if the ball hits you there.’

  ‘Don’t take any notice of that, Aunt Edie,’ said Jimmy. ‘Of course you have to show your legs, or the bowler won’t know where they are.’

  ‘What?’ asked Aunt Edie, who could do a lovely pearly knees-up but knew little about cricket.

  ‘Only to your knees,’ said Jimmy, ‘it’s not fair on the bowler otherwise. You can tuck your skirts up, Dad won’t mind—’

  ‘I bet he won’t,’ said Aunt Edie.

  ‘I won’t, either,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘Jimmy Andrews,’ said Aunt Edie, ‘d’you think I was born yesterday?’

  ‘Glad you weren’t,’ said Jimmy, ’you’d ’ardly have any legs at all if you had been.’

  Betsy giggled. Patsy shrieked. Dad coughed. Aunt Edie looked him in the eye.

  ‘That boy of yours,’ she said. ‘I’m goin’ to have to watch him this weekend.’

  ‘Oh, I watch ’im all the time, Aunt Edie,’ said Patsy, ‘but it don’t do me much good.’

  They enjoyed an entertaining evening. Patsy had meant to go out and join some street friends, but stayed in because there were lots of laughs with Aunt Edie there. Aunt Edie was in lovely form, so was Dad. His jokes made her give him laughing looks, except that Patsy thought she pulled herself up every so often to say something like, ‘That’s enough of that, Jack Andrews, we don’t want to ’ear any more about Arabian concubines, if you don’t mind.’ It was as if she was reminding herself she mustn’t come between Dad and Mum, that it wouldn’t do for her and Dad to get too familiar with each other. Fancy her not being married, thought Patsy, she’d have been a lovely mum herself.

  ‘Well, I don’t know any more I could confess, Father,’ said Mother Magda, who had recounted much of her ways of obliging nice gentlemen.

  ‘All that you have confessed is now a closed book, except to the Lord, my child,’ murmured Father Peter, ‘and be sure that by confession and repentance He will absolve you in the end.’

  ‘Oh, won’t ’E absolve me now?’ asked Mother Magda.

  ‘Be sure His absolution will come when you have achieved the blessedness of self-denial. Shall we go into the other room, sister, and pray?’

  ‘Oh, do we ’ave time before I go to bed, Father?’

  ‘An hour, my child, an hour.’

  In the other room, his bedroom, she said, ‘Shall I lie down?’

  ‘Do so, yes,’ said Father Peter, and she placed herself on the bed. He said a prayer for her, and she said amen.

  ‘How do you feel after confession, sister?’

  ‘Oh, it’s give me a terrible temptation to sin.’

  ‘We shall fight such temptation together, it’s the only true way to reach eventual purity of mind and body.’

  ‘Oh, I’m chronic about gettin’ to be pure.’

  It was hardly a curative hour. There was such a lot of that which made sin dreadfully enjoyable.

  When Aunt Edie came down the next morning, Saturday, Dad was in his cap, jacket and hard-wearing corduroy trousers. He was just about to leave for his morning’s work.

  ‘What about your breakfast?’ asked Aunt Edie.

  ‘Had it. Cup of tea and a slice of toast. Thanks for bein’ here again, Edie.’

  ‘Yes, off you go, then, I’ll see to the children’s breakfast.’

  ‘Bless you, old girl. So long.’

  ‘Don’t call me old girl.’

  She left a little later to go to her own work for the morning, and she meant to inveigle her boss into letting her off early. Then she could make a start on the week’s washing as soon as she got back. Patsy said she’d prepare a light midday meal.

  Jimmy went off to Bermondsey, but found the job for a runabout tea boy had gone. It had been filled yesterday afternoon, subsequent to Patsy’s call on behalf of her brother. All the same, Jimmy asked the foreman if the job had had prospects. Prospects? Course it had, the men would always want their tea and there’d always be running about to do. Jimmy said he didn’t think that amounted to prospects, more like a blank wall. ‘Hoppit, cocky,’ said the foreman.

  Jimmy hopped it, and with no regrets. It was nearly ten o’clock when he reached the handsome house in Anerley. Ada opened the side door to him.

  ‘Oh,’ she said in relief. ‘We thought – oh, you’ve come, then?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve arrived, Lady Ada,’ said Jimmy, ‘I—’

  ‘Cheeky again, are we?’ said Ada. ‘No wonder you make the young madam giggle. But you’re late as well as cheeky. You’ll cop it.’

  ‘Is Mr Gibbs shirty about me not bein’ here on time?’

  ‘We thought you’d give us up,’ said Ada. ‘Mr ’Odges said he was grieved that some young gents could turn out disappointin’.’

  ‘I wouldn’t give people up without sayin’, or without a good reason,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘There, I said you wouldn’t,’ smiled Ada. ‘You’d better go through, Mr Gibbs is on the terrace, I don’t suppose he’s spittin’ nuts and bolts yet.’

  Jimmy went round to the terrace, where Mr Gibbs, brown-faced and husky-looking in shirt, trousers and belt, his sleeves rolled up, was listening to his precocious daughter.

  Sophy was saying, ‘Let that be a lesson to you, Daddy, giving work to boys who don’t turn up, what a rotter, doesn’t it make you want to spit? Wait till – oh, look, he’s here.’

  Mr Gibbs turned. ‘Sorry I’m late, Mr Gibbs,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘Blessed cheek, where’ve you been all this time?’ asked Sophy.

  ‘Thought we’d lost your services, Jimmy,’ said Mr Gibbs.

  ‘Well, it was like this,’ said Jimmy, and explained exactly why he was late. He finished by saying, ‘I had to go after the job, Mr Gibbs, I like what I’m doin’ for you, I could do work like this all me life, but—’

  ‘Understood, Jimmy,’ said Mr Gibbs. ‘The firm called it a job, did they? I know about jobs like that. Don’t fall into one of them, or you’ll disappoint me. On the other hand, you might come back at me and ask what’s the alternative these days. That’s the big problem, lack of real jobs, isn’t it? It’s our government, Jimmy, they won’t accept they can get the economy moving by funding a countrywide building programme – houses, new roads, improved roads and more railway systems, as well as new schools.’

  ‘Daddy, you boring old thing,’ said Sophy. ‘Anyway, can I help Jimmy now he’s here?’

  ‘I think you’d better ask your mother,’ said Mr Gibbs.

  ‘But you’ve already said I could help as long as I wear my new dungarees and the gardening gloves. Oh, come on, Daddy, you can’t expect Jimmy to do everything by himself, you don’t want him to go home looking as if you’ve slaved him to death, do you?’

  ‘It’s not a good idea, no,’ said
Mr Gibbs.

  ‘Then I won’t be a tick, Jimmy,’ said Sophy, darting away.

  ‘Let your mother know what’s happening,’ called her father.

  ‘Yes, I will if I see her,’ called Sophy, ‘but she’s ever so busy this morning, so if I don’t see her I won’t actually go and interrupt her.’ She disappeared. Mr Gibbs smiled.

  ‘I’ll get on, shall I, Mr Gibbs?’ said Jimmy. ‘I think I can finish that clearin’ today, I’ve only got a few big branches left to saw up. That’s if I can cope with any problems that might come along.’

  ‘Problems?’ said Mr Gibbs. He smiled again. ‘Yes, I see. Well, I must get back to the men.’ Off he went, very much as if it was wiser not to hang around and not to ask about problems. He knew that his irrepressible daughter had a new interest, Jimmy. Jimmy’s company was her current hobby. It might last the summer out. Then she would find something else. It was all part of the years of growing up, when girls like Sophy were butterflies. There was no point in trying to turn a thirteen-year-old girl into a steadfast woman. Sophy would acquire that quality later. It was a quality that her mother had.

  Jimmy set to with a saw, a long sharp saw. The ashes of burned bonfires marked the clearing. One bonfire, only half-built, was to be completed and piled with light sawn branches, to be burned tonight. That would finish this clearing, and on Monday he would start on another. The work really exhilarated him, and he was beginning to see factory work as dull and boring.

  Sophy arrived: clad in brown dungarees and wearing thick gardening gloves, she looked like a young female navvy. Her spirits high, she set to, holding each small branch firmly while Jimmy sawed them from the main branch. She carried each one to the bonfire to chuck it on. Jimmy called to her to just put them down beside the mound, he’d come and place them on later.

  ‘I can put them on as good as you,’ she said.

  ‘Well, if you could I’d let you,’ said Jimmy, ‘but you can’t, so I won’t. It’s no good just chuckin’ them on, you have to build a bonfire, not knock it about.’

  ‘Cheeky impertinence you’ve got,’ said Sophy, but her spirits were high and she did as he wanted. She was biding her time, of course, waiting until she could trip him up and jump on him. She liked his impertinence, his challenging way of dealing with her, and gave no thought at all to the fact that he came from a cockney family.