Jimmy was on the lookout for larks from her, but she behaved as if the activity was enough. Mind, he couldn’t stop her talking. She talked all the time.
Eventually and inevitably, her mother appeared on the scene.
‘Oh, hullo, Mummy,’ said Sophy, sweet with innocence.
‘I thought so,’ said Mrs Gibbs.
‘Daddy said I could help as long as I wore the new dungarees he bought for me,’ said Sophy, looking warm from work and the sun.
‘Those dungarees were bought because I seem unable to stop you galloping off into these jungles, to prevent you ruining your clothes and getting yourself scratched to death, not to get in Jimmy’s way. Good morning, Jimmy.’
‘Hullo, Mrs Gibbs,’ said Jimmy, resting the saw.
‘You managed to get here, then?’ said Mrs Gibbs, smiling.
‘Yes. I was late because—’
‘He went after some rotten job,’ said Sophy, ‘for seven and sixpence a week. Seven and six. Mummy, doesn’t that make you want to spit?’
‘Did you take it, Jimmy?’ asked Mrs Gibbs.
‘No, they’d already given it to someone else,’ said Jimmy, ‘but I wouldn’t have taken it, anyway, it didn’t have any prospects.’
‘Very wise. Sophy, come here.’
‘Yes, Mummy?’ Butter wouldn’t have melted in Sophy’s mouth as she came to look up at her mother.
For her daughter’s ears alone, Mrs Gibbs said, ‘What are you wearing under those dungarees?’
‘Oh, just my Liberty bodice and you-knows, Mummy.’ Sophy’s smooth young shoulders were bare except where the wide braces of her dungarees lay over them, covering the straps of her vest.
‘You shocker,’ said Mrs Gibbs.
‘But, Mummy, you can’t wear a frock under dungarees, ’specially on a hot day like this.’
‘Precocious child,’ said Mrs Gibbs. ‘Well, behave yourself now, do you understand?’
‘I don’t know why you think I won’t,’ said Sophy.
‘Jimmy,’ called Mrs Gibbs, ‘if Sophy gives you any trouble, tie her up and sit her in that wheelbarrow.’
‘I’ll do that,’ said Jimmy.
‘Good,’ said Mrs Gibbs, and left them.
It was a day of high summer, and to Jimmy as good as being out in the country. Felled saplings and mown grasses offered all the heady aromas of the countryside. In her delight at being out of doors with him, Sophy curbed her penchant for monkey tricks. At eleven-thirty, Ada brought them each a glass of cool lemonade.
‘Well, thanks, Ada,’ said Jimmy.
‘You haven’t brought any biscuits,’ said Sophy.
‘No, your mother said it would spoil your lunch, Miss Sophy.’ Ada looked at the girl. What a ravishing young creature she was for her age, even in dungarees. And she had her eye on Jimmy all right, Jimmy with his young manly growing-up look, and clear grey ears that looked you straight in the face.
‘That’s all, Ada, you can go now,’ said Sophy.
Ada, recognizing that the girl wanted Jimmy to herself, turned and left. She heard Jimmy say, ‘You shouldn’t speak like that to Ada.’
‘Blessed cheek,’ said Sophy, ‘why not?’
‘Because she’s nice,’ said Jimmy, and Ada went smiling on her way then.
At one o’clock, Jimmy was invited to eat a lunch of cold chicken and salad at a table on the terrace with Sophy and her mother. And Mr Gibbs joined them, Mrs Gibbs insisted. She said she’d divorce him if she had to eat every lunch alone with Sophy the Dreadful, while he ate bread, cheese and pickled onions with the men. Mr Gibbs asked if it was wise to have Jimmy sit down with them. Mrs Gibbs said she liked the boy and that he was good company.
When they were at lunch, she asked her husband why he’d given Sophy permission to turn herself into a labourer.
‘Did I?’ said Mr Gibbs cautiously.
‘So she said.’
‘I’ve been absent-minded lately,’ said Mr Gibbs.
‘Oh, you bought the dungarees in an absent-minded moment, did you?’ said Mrs Gibbs.
‘I get like that sometimes,’ said Sophy, ‘and it makes life jolly trying. I’ve had a trying life altogether, falling down the stairs when I was seven, then getting the measles when I was nine, and having to put up with the war all those years, and now having my headmistress, Miss Mortimer, getting a down on me.’
‘All that lot’s the reason why you’re a monkey, is it?’ said Mr Gibbs.
‘I expect it was the fall down the stairs that did it,’ said Jimmy. ‘I expect she landed on her head. It turns girls a bit funny when they land on their heads. Well, that’s what I’ve ’eard. You just have to be patient and hope for the best, Mrs Gibbs.’
‘And what happens when patience goes through the roof?’ asked Mrs Gibbs.
‘I suppose you just have to grin and bear it,’ said Jimmy. ‘And get the roof repaired,’ he added.
Mrs Gibbs smiled. Jimmy was very good company. He went back to his work after lunch, and Sophy was again allowed to join him. She was frisky in the afternoon sun, helping Jimmy to pile dry leaves into a wheelbarrow. Jimmy was using them to rim the foot of the huge bonfire. Nothing untoward happened until Sophy chose to enjoy a diversion. The young hoyden came out in her, she showered Jimmy with leaves, then darted away in escape. She leapt on to a pile of stripped tree trunks on the edge of the clearing. The top trunk rolled, Sophy leapt off and ran forward. Her feet tangled themselves in a bed of chopped undergrowth. Jimmy rushed the wheelbarrow towards the rolling trunk. The trunk struck it, the wheelbarrow jumped and turned over, spilling a river of leaves. Jimmy was thrown over with it. Sophy was on her hands and knees. The fallen wheelbarrow stopped the progress of the trunk, a foot in diameter, only inches from her. She pulled herself free and ran over to Jimmy, who lay on his back.
‘Blessed earthquakes,’ she said, ‘would you think that rotten log would have chased me like that?’
‘Well, it was behavin’ itself until you jumped on it,’ said Jimmy. ‘Who tripped me up?’
‘The wheelbarrow did it. Jimmy, you’re not hurt, are you?’
‘Don’t know yet,’ said Jimmy, and climbed to his feet. ‘Well, I think I’m still alive.’
‘Gosh, I’d have caught it if you weren’t,’ said Sophy. ‘You won’t tell Mummy, will you? She’ll fuss like anything.’
‘I’ll just tell her I’ve had a bit of a tryin’ day,’ said Jimmy, ‘but I think your dad’ll want to know how that log got there. It’s too heavy to roll back to the pile.’
‘Oh, I’ll tell Daddy it just rolled off, which it did, didn’t it?’
‘Best thing, I suppose,’ said Jimmy. ‘He’ll get the men to move it. D’you want to go an’ do some quiet readin’ now?’
‘I should say not,’ said Sophy. ‘Jimmy, you just saved my life again.’
‘All right, send me a postal order.’
Sophy bubbled into laughter.
Mr Gibbs paid Jimmy at the end of the day and told him that if a job didn’t come along, he at least had months of work here, which Jimmy thought cracking.
Ada saw him out. ‘You’re gettin’ ever so brown,’ she said.
‘Give me best wishes to Percy,’ said Jimmy.
‘Who? Oh, you dotty thing,’ said Ada. ‘See you Monday?’
‘I don’t know I’ll live that long,’ said Jimmy, ‘not now you’ve broken me heart.’
‘You’re a joker, you are, Jimmy.’
‘I’m kind to old ladies as well.’
‘I bet. What d’you think of the young madam?’
‘Well, I’m thankful I’m still able to walk,’ said Jimmy. ‘Still, she’s pretty, and lively too, and game for anything that’s a laugh.’
‘Oh, you’re fallin’ for her, are you?’ said Ada.
‘What’s the use? So long, Ada.’
‘’Bye, Jimmy.’
By evening, Aunt Edie had done the week’s washing and cooked the supper. The family marvelled at her, she did everything so cheerful
ly. Over supper, Jimmy said it didn’t matter about that job being taken, he wanted one that had prospects, anyway. And he was all right for the time being, working up at Anerley for Mr Gibbs. He’d give Dad something out of the wages Mr Gibbs was paying him, something towards family expenses. Dad said just put it aside as savings for the moment.
‘Yes, that’s sensible,’ said Aunt Edie.
‘Betsy,’ said Jimmy, ‘I’ll take you and Patsy for a walk after supper, and we’ll see if the toffee-apple shop’s open in King and Queen Street.’
‘I like toffee-apples,’ said Aunt Edie.
‘Bring you one back, then,’ said Jimmy.
Out he went with his sisters after the washing-up had been done, leaving Dad to his daily paper, while Aunt Edie went into the yard to lift the washing off the line. Dad went out to help her.
‘I can manage,’ she said.
‘So can I,’ said Dad.
‘It doesn’t need two of us.’
‘Halves the work, though,’ said Dad cheerfully. ‘’Ello, what’s this pretty thing?’
‘Eyes off, if you don’t mind,’ said Aunt Edie. ‘I brought some of my own things to put in the wash. Go an’ read your paper.’
‘I didn’t know pillow cases were like this,’ said Dad.
‘Leave it be,’ said Aunt Edie, ‘it’s not a pillow case, and you know it.’
‘Can’t be, now I come to give it a proper look,’ said Dad. ‘It’s got holes both ends.’
It was a waist petticoat, Aunt Edie’s. She gave him a look. He gave her a grin.
‘D’you want your ears boxed, Jack Andrews?’ she said.
‘Lace too,’ said Dad, ‘it looks a bit sinful to me.’
Aunt Edie, suppressing her true feelings, said, ‘I suppose Maud wears flannel, does she?’
‘Couldn’t say,’ said Dad, unpegging sheets. ‘I ’aven’t seen anything of Maudie’s for years.’
‘Well, all those years you were away in the Army, you didn’t see anything of her, either.’
‘You could say that,’ said Dad.
Suspecting what he really meant, Aunt Edie said through gritted teeth, ‘Time you stood up like a man, Jack Andrews, and gave ’er a good hidin’.’
‘Now, Edie—’
‘I’ve a good mind, next time I see ’er, to do it for you. It’s all very well bein’ peaceable, but what about your kids? What do they think about you lettin’ their mother walk out on them and not liftin’ a finger to stop her?’
‘Best way,’ said Dad, his arms full of dry washing.
‘Easiest way, you mean.’ Aunt Edie gave him another look. A man like him, she thought, still healthy and vigorous, and that wife of his probably hadn’t let him touch her since little Betsy was conceived. She hadn’t liked having a third child, especially a whole four years after Patsy was born.
‘The kids’ll manage, Edie,’ said Dad pacifically.
They probably would too, thought Aunt Edie, because of him. They liked their dad, they knew about the war and were proud of him. He took the dry washing in. She followed with an armful. They placed it in the tin bath for her to go through when she was ready to iron. Dad sat down at the kitchen table and picked up his paper again.
‘Sorry,’ said Aunt Edie abruptly.
‘What for?’ asked Dad.
‘Sticking my nose in.’
‘Well, I like it,’ said Dad. ‘You always did ’ave a good-looking nose, Edie old love.’
‘Oh, blow you, Jack Andrews,’ she said in an angry little way.
‘What for?’ asked Dad again.
‘Never mind,’ she said, ‘just never mind.’
Lily Shaw, button-eyed and a growing young busybody, latched herself on to Jimmy, Patsy and Betsy as they crossed from Manor Place into Browning Street.
‘Where yer goin’?’ she said. ‘I’ll come with yer, I ain’t doin’ nothing else. ’Ere, we ’eard yer Aunt Edie’s stayin’ with yer again.’
‘I expect everyone’s heard,’ said Jimmy. ‘Dad’s been standin’ in our doorway shoutin’ it through a trumpet. He doesn’t want anyone not to hear, like the people in Crampton Street and the Walworth Road. Still, if they didn’t, perhaps you’d go round an’ tell ’em, Lily.’
‘Yes, it wouldn’t be right if there was people who ’adn’t heard,’ said Patsy.
‘Oh, I’ll ask me mum,’ said Lily, ‘she’ll be pleased to oblige yer. ’Ere, don’t Jimmy look all brown, Patsy? Where’s ’e been goin’ to?’
‘Oh, ain’t you heard?’ said Patsy. ‘Betsy, fancy that, Lily’s not heard about our Jimmy.’
‘Crumbs, what a shame,’ said Betsy.
‘Don’t bein’ all brown make Jimmy look ’andsome?’ said Lily. ‘Come on, where you been goin’, Jimmy?’
‘Tell you what, Lily,’ said Jimmy, ‘I’ll get Dad’s trumpet out tomorrow, and holler it through that.’
‘Oh, would yer, Jimmy?’ said Lily. ‘I ain’t never seen yer dad’s trumpet.’
‘I ain’t neiver,’ said Betsy.
‘Mind, you could tell me now, if yer like, Jimmy,’ said Lily, ‘only me mum’s been sayin’ where’s that Jimmy Andrews goin’ off to every day. Well, we ain’t ’eard you’ve got a job yet. ‘As ’e got a job, Patsy?’
‘’Ave you got a job, Jimmy?’ asked Patsy.
Browning Street was quite balmy in the evening sunshine.
‘Have I got a job, Betsy?’ asked Jimmy.
Betsy thought as she trotted beside her brother. ‘’E’s met a girl,’ she said.
‘What girl?’ asked Lily jealously.
‘’E met ’er in ’Yde Park,’ said Betsy, ‘she’s ever so pretty. ’Er name’s Soapy. Or somefing like that.’
They turned into King and Queen Street. People were at their open doors, catching the evening air and gossiping. Street kids were about, coming from the East Street market. Not all the stalls had packed up for the day. The kids were carrying specked or overripe fruit stallholders had let them have.
‘’Strewth,’ said Lily, ‘fancy ’aving a name like Soapy, and I bet she ain’t as pretty as I am. What yer all goin’ down ’ere for, are yer goin’ to the market?’
‘What we goin’ down here for, Jimmy?’ asked Patsy.
‘Well, now you come to ask,’ said Jimmy, ‘I forget.’
‘Toffee-apples,’ said Betsy.
‘Are yer well orf, then?’ asked Lily.
‘Not yet,’ said Jimmy. The shop was open and there were trays of upside-down toffee apples in the window. Jimmy bought a dozen for sixpence, gave two to Lily and carried the rest back home. Lily was ecstatic, her long pink tongue going rapturously to work on the darkly golden toffee. She wanted to come in with them when they got back home, but Patsy said their dad wasn’t having visitors this evening, he’d got a bone in his leg that was playing him up. It was one of his wounded bones, she said, and it would get a headache if visitors came in.
They all enjoyed the toffee apples, Dad and Aunt Edie as well.
Sunday was cloudy and not as hot, but they enjoyed the day. Aunt Edie, busy, cheerful and mothering, did roast beef with Yorkshire pudding for dinner, and another apple pie. Everyone had seconds of the apple pie, except Dad.
‘I suppose your Dad doesn’t like it,’ said Aunt Edie.
‘You ’appen to have given me a slice as big as my loaf of bread,’ said Dad.
‘Well, fancy that,’ said Aunt Edie, ‘I didn’t know there was anything as big as your loaf of bread, Jack Andrews.’
Dad roared with laughter. Betsy burst into giggles. Aunt Edie gave Dad one of her old-fashioned looks.
‘Aunt Edie, you’re funny,’ said Jimmy.
‘So’s my apple pie,’ said Aunt Edie.
‘I think I’ll ’ave seconds, after all,’ said Dad. ‘Seems a shame to let that last piece sit there all by itself.’
‘You don’t ’ave to have it,’ said Aunt Edie.
‘I’ll ’ave it,’ said Dad.
‘You sure?’ said Aunt Edie. ‘I mean
, if you don’t like it—?’
‘Me old sergeant-major once said—’
‘I’ll give you your seconds up your waistcoat if you bring that old sergeant-major of yours in again,’ said Aunt Edie.
Dad roared with laughter again. Patsy and Jimmy joined in. Betsy giggled through pie and custard.
‘You’re a born pearly queen, you are, Aunt Edie,’ said Jimmy.
‘Here,’ said Aunt Edie and served Dad the last piece of apple pie.
Dad looked at it. ‘Is that all?’ he asked. ‘You sure you ain’t robbin’ me, Your Pearly Queenship?’
Aunt Edie brought the house down then. She leaned across the table and pushed a spoonful of custard into his mouth. She did it as if she wanted to do it, as if suddenly she couldn’t resist the fun of it.
Then she was laughing.
Crikey, thought Patsy, our mum was never like this.
Later, they all took a tram to Peckham Rye, Aunt Edie carrying a shopping bag containing food for a picnic tea, Dad carrying a carpet bag containing an old primus stove, a tin kettle, a teapot and a large bottle of water. The sun came out and the warm afternoon light flooded the Rye and the rooftops of Peckham. Patsy thought Aunt Edie looked a picture in her large white Sunday hat and full-skirted white dress. Cockney women had a great liking for white on summer Sundays, as if they were in defiance of what smoky London could do to it. They dressed their daughters in it, and wore white blouses themselves.
Jimmy brought his cricket bat and ball, with stumps, and despite Aunt Edie saying she hadn’t played cricket since she was a little girl, she had to play this afternoon. Everyone insisted. Betsy wanted to bat first, so they let her. Patsy bowled underarm to her, Betsy aimed to biff it and missed. She lost her balance and fell on the stumps.
‘Out first ball, you pickle,’ said Dad.
Betsy wasn’t having that. Nor was Aunt Edie. ‘It ain’t fair,’ said Betsy, ‘I’ll scream.’
‘So will I,’ said Aunt Edie.
‘What a palaver,’ said Dad.
So Betsy had another go. Her biff connected this time. But Jimmy caught her out. Betsy yelled in disgust.
‘You’re in, Aunt Edie,’ said Patsy.
The Pearly Queen Page 19
