by Maggie Hope
‘Oh, I’m sorry, it’s none of my business, is it? I was just interested, that’s all.’
‘That’s all right, miss.’
‘Oh, do call me Virginia.’ A thought had just occurred to her and impulsively she came straight out with it. ‘I know! I’ll teach you.’
Ada thought about it, picking up her empty basket and holding it against one hip. Girls like Virginia never saw any problems, she realised, not even the basic one of having to use all your time and energy in earning a living. But it would be lovely to learn to read and write.
‘I haven’t the time,’ she replied at last, her voice dismal. ‘I have to work.’
‘No, no, you must have breaks. Just half an hour a day at least? Oh, come on, Ada, why not?’ Virginia was all enthusiasm, she quite fancied herself as a teacher.
‘Because I have to live, that’s why not!’ Ada burst out, then immediately regretted it, for she couldn’t afford to lose a customer. ‘I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. But I do have to go now. I’ll be back tomorrow to do the ironing.’
Ada turned to the kitchen door. It was time for her to go on to her next customer in Elvet, where a pile of ironing awaited her.
‘They know nowt,’ she said hopelessly under her breath, feeling the world on her shoulders. A world altogether different from that of Virginia Gray.
‘Ada! Wait a minute,’ Virginia called after her. ‘Look, I’m sorry if I offended you. But do try and come.’
Ada stopped walking. Bye, she desperately wanted to read and write. If she could write she could send Johnny a letter. There would be no harm in writing to him. Maybe if she started a little earlier every morning and hurried between houses, and maybe if it didn’t rain too often, so that the clothes dried on time … This might be the only chance she got, should she throw it away? Ada turned in her tracks and lifted her chin. She would do it, she determined.
‘All right, miss.’ Resolutely she looked at Virginia’s triumphant smile before faltering. ‘But are you sure? I mean, is it allowed? Your family might not like it.’
Virginia laughed. ‘They won’t mind. They’ll be only too happy I have something to interest me. I’ll see you tomorrow then? What time do you think?’
Ada considered, working out her day. ‘I’ll be doing the ironing here in the afternoon. I’ll try to get here early, maybe by half past eleven. I can bring a sandwich if that’s all right. Is that all right, miss?’ Ada felt presumptuous, stating a time.
‘Lovely. Well, I’ll see you then, Ada. And don’t forget, it’s Virginia, not miss.’
As Ada went indoors, Virginia returned to her seat on the garden bench, pleased with herself. She was tiring already – she soon tired after her illness earlier in the year – but she felt a warm glow: she was doing something for someone else, it was a lovely feeling. It must be how Daddy feels when he cures people, she thought, relaxing against a cushion. That was why he didn’t mind being called out during the night or in the middle of a meal. And wouldn’t he be pleased with her for being so unselfish?
Ada went on to her next job with hope springing within her. She bought a penny dip in the market for her lunch and sat in the sun munching happily, savouring the taste of beef fat and gravy. The dip was especially nice today, she mused, the bread bun was soaked in gravy.
She leaned back against the wall, licking her fingers clean, and smiled softly to herself. She was happy, and it was a lovely day. The sun warmed her and shone off the bronze statue of the man on horseback in the middle of the marketplace. The stallholder glanced more than once at her small face so full of vitality and her huge violet eyes. She looked no more than fourteen, sitting there on a stone jutting out of the Town Hall wall. Her snowy white shirtwaister was open slightly at the neck, revealing the smooth, white skin of her throat.
Ada was oblivious of him. She was dreaming about the lovely letter she would write to Johnny, telling him she was seeking her fortune in Durham City. He would come to see her and they would walk along the river path by the racecourse and they would have a grand time –
Ada stopped dreaming with a jolt. She’d been away with the mixer there, she thought, Johnny wouldn’t come to see her here. What did a fine gentleman like Johnny Fenwick want with a washerwoman, and one who had been taken down at that? She stood up, the dreams fading from her eyes. Here she was wasting time when there was so much to do. She hurried away down the hill to Elvet. There was still that mountain of ironing to do before she got her two and sixpence to pay the rent.
Chapter Nine
That July, Johnny wrote again to Ada. He had recently acquired a spanking new car and was enormously proud of it. It was a Lanchester open tourer, very useful to him in his work, for Fred relied more and more on him to do business which in earlier days he had always done himself. Johnny had grown assured and knowledgeable about the business in the last few years; he had all the information he needed at his fingertips.
‘You need a car,’ Fred had said one day when Johnny missed his last train home and had to stay the night at Coventry. Johnny travelled around the country a lot now that Fred himself stayed at home more. So now there was the Lanchester for medium to short journeys. Of course, Johnny still had his heart set on designing but for the moment he was fully employed as a sales manager.
He thought about Ada when the car was delivered. How she would love it! He often thought about Ada now, his little Lorinda, and the things she had said that spring afternoon in the Bishop’s Park. Even a simple pleasure like that walk in the park had made her eyes sparkle as brightly as the sun on the water of the stream. He could hear her happy laughter now. How she would love to ride in the Lanchester! I’ll write and tell her I have to visit the forge in Auckland next week, he decided. If he got his business done early he could meet Ada and take her out to lunch.
‘What is it making you smile like that?’ Dinah asked, her voice arch. The family were gathered in the drawing room after dinner one evening. The air was filled with the fragrance of night-scented stock, for the windows were open to the garden which was ablaze with July flowers.
‘Eh? What do you mean?’ Johnny came back to the present, wrenching his thoughts away from Ada and how delighted she would be when she saw the car. ‘Oh, nothing, I was just thinking of something.’ He turned back to his letter.
‘Someone, more like!’ Dinah laughed and winked at Fred. ‘Only a lass can make a lad smile like that. Now, who is it? Aren’t you going to tell us all about her? Someone you’ve met on your travels, is it?’
‘Leave the lad alone, Dinah! He’s entitled to some privacy.’ Fred defended his brother idly but he too had noticed Johnny’s glowing face as he wrote the letter.
‘It’s all right, Fred,’ said Johnny. ‘It’s nothing like you think either, Dinah. I’m just dropping a line or two to Ada. You know, the little girl I told you about, the one I got to know in Bishop Auckland. I thought I might see her when I go to the forge next week. I can give her a spin in the Lanchester, she’ll like that.’
‘That car! You think everyone will love it the way you do yourself. Nasty noisy thing. You wouldn’t get me in it, I can tell you, not for anything.’ Dinah was thoughtful for a minute as she returned to embroidering an ornate ‘F’ on a lace-trimmed pillowcase.
‘Surely, though, Johnny, this girl must have grown up by now? It’s almost six years since you left Bishop Auckland, nineteen hundred and four, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, that’s true, of course.’ It was Johnny’s turn to look thoughtful. Ada was growing up, even if she was still only five foot nothing. He pictured the trim little figure in the blue dress she had worn that afternoon: she was definitely rounded in all the right places.
‘Johnny? She is grown-up, isn’t she?’ Dinah had that speculative look in her eyes and Johnny hastened to scotch any idea she might have about any romance between him and Ada.
‘Yes, Dinah, I suppose she is. But I still think of her as a vulnerable little girl in need of a friend. Well
, I’ve told you about her dragon of an aunt.’
‘Hmm.’ Dinah sounded sceptical. Johnny was going to argue the point but he saw she had returned her attention to her needle. Oh, well, he thought, it doesn’t really matter.
Leaning against the side of the Lanchester which he had parked at the end of George Street where it formed a corner with Tenters Street, Johnny frowned and checked his watch for the third time. It was two thirty. In his letter he had said he would meet Ada at two. Had something happened? Maybe he was simply being impatient, maybe she couldn’t get away on time. Or perhaps she couldn’t get anyone to read the letter to her? No, he decided, that couldn’t be it, she would have found someone. There was that friend she talked about, the young widow whom she worked with.
He looked round the corner and up the hill of Tenters Street. There was no sign of Ada, in fact the street was deserted. He wrinkled his brow in puzzlement as he climbed back into the car. Impatiently he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
‘Hey, mister!’ A dirty, freckled face crowned with a stiff thatch of straw-coloured hair appeared at his elbow. ‘Hey, mister, can I have a look at your motor?’ The apparition grinned, revealing uneven little teeth. Gathered around him were half a dozen similar urchins and they were all gazing at the car, reverently touching the gleaming paintwork.
‘Tell you what,’ Johnny said, ‘if you take a message for me I’ll give you a ride round to the marketplace and back. How would you like that?’
The boy’s eyes glowed but he was suspicious, there had to be a catch. ‘Take a message where, mister?’
‘Tenters Street.’
There was a chorus of ‘I’ll do it’ from the gang but a firm glance from their leader quickly quelled it. He waited until they were quiet, and then turned back to Johnny.
‘Righto, mister, what do you want me to do?’
‘Go to the back door of number 21 and ask for Ada. Just say Johnny is waiting.’
‘You her sweetheart, mister?’ The cheeky face broke into a wide grin. ‘Righto! Righto!’ He ducked Johnny’s threatening hand and ran off round the corner. Johnny waited impatiently.
‘Ada doesn’t live there any more.’ The boy was soon back, panting after his run up the hill and back down. ‘Can I still have a ride?’
‘Doesn’t live there?’ Disbelievingly Johnny stared at the boy. ‘You sure you went to number 21?’
‘Aye. I did, honest, mister.’ He was earnest, looking longingly at the Lanchester. ‘The lass said that Ada doesn’t live there any more.’
The lass said? That must have been Eliza, she was the only other lass there. Well, he would just have to go and find out for himself what was going on. Johnny opened the car door.
‘Hey, mister, what about the ride?’ Freckle-face was self-righteous; after all, a bargain was a bargain. ‘It isn’t my fault Ada doesn’t live there now.’
Johnny hesitated, he was anxious about Ada. Still he had promised and a few minutes wouldn’t make much difference. He leaned over and opened the rear door.
‘Climb in then, and it’s just to the market and back, mind.’
‘I’ll sit in the front, mister.’ The whole gang climbed into the car and Johnny realised his bargain had included all the boys. How had he fallen for that? Well, better make the best of it.
There was a twitter of excitement, a ‘Sit still now’ warning from Johnny, the Lanchester shuddered into life and away they went – along George Street, turning into Bondgate and back along Newgate Street, completing the circular tour. The boys gasped, chattered and waved grandly at passers-by. Johnny thought that if Ada had been in the car she would have been worried by all the attention they were attracting. He had to blow the horn often at people who were not yet used to the speed of cars or indeed any motor traffic at all.
Back in George Street the children reluctantly trooped out onto the pavement. ‘Thanks, mister.’ They echoed each other excitedly. Their grins threatened to split their faces and their eyes shone; the treat had been all the more glorious for being unexpected.
Johnny climbed out, too. ‘Watch the car for me, will you?’ he enquired of Freckle-face, who immediately took up a position of importance by the bonnet, warning off any boy who came near. Johnny smiled, confident the car was in safe hands. He glanced at his watch, it was almost three o’clock. Probably a good time to catch the Parkers at home. He set off up Tenters Street and into the tiny front garden of number 21.
‘Is Ada in?’ he asked the young girl who answered his knock. He might as well make sure that the boy’s story was true.
The girl shook her head surlily. ‘I told the lad,’ she said, ‘Ada doesn’t live here any more.’
‘Are you Eliza, then? Do you know where Ada went?’
‘No. I’ve just worked here a month. I don’t know where Eliza went, either. You’d better go, mister, or you’ll lose me my place.’
‘What is it, lass, what is it?’
Johnny would have recognised Harry Parker’s quavering voice anywhere as he appeared beside the girl, shouldering her aside. His braces dangled down from his grease-spotted trousers and his old slippers were worn away altogether at the heel. Recognition dawned as he saw Johnny.
‘What do you want?’ he said truculently, rubbing the end of his nose with the back of his hand. ‘Ada’s not here,’ he added, proving he knew quite well what Johnny was after.
‘Where did she go then? Did she get my letter?’ Johnny demanded, the old contempt for this man welling up in him.
‘No, she didn’t. Doris found it. How long have you been writing to Ada on the sly? Doris was fair frothing! She reckoned Ada had run away with you, the dirty slut!’ The last words were venomous, almost spat out from under his quivering, wet moustache. His pale eyes gleamed with malice.
‘Don’t you call her a dirty slut, you – you mangy cur!’ Johnny was suddenly worried stiff, his thoughts whirled. Ada had nowhere else to go! ‘When did she go? What did you do to her to make her go?’ he demanded.
‘What do you mean? I bet it was your fault. I saw you out with her that day, you must have put ideas into her head, that’s what!’
‘You did do something to her, didn’t you?’ Johnny stepped forward angrily, catching hold of Harry by his shirt front.
‘I’ll call the polis!’ Harry shouted, while the maid, who had been standing behind him with her mouth hanging open, shrieked and ducked back into the house.
‘What’s all this racket?’ Doris came along the hallway, her face suffused with rage. ‘You leave my man alone! Ivy, go and get the polis.’ She stopped and looked narrowly at Johnny. ‘I know you, don’t I? Aye, I do. It’s Johnny Fenwick, isn’t it? Righto then, what’s all this about?’
‘You’d better ask your man! What has happened to Ada? That’s what I want to know. And if anyone calls the police it will be me!’
‘You get away in – clean up the dining room,’ Doris said sharply to the maid who had crept up behind her, her face alive with interest. Then she turned back to Johnny.
‘Now then, Mister Fenwick, I’ll tell you what happened to Ada, the thieving, ungrateful little bitch. She ran away! Pinched the housekeeping money and ran, that’s what, not so much as a word to me, who brought her up all those years, who took her in and fed her –’ The tirade stopped for want of breath while Doris’s face got redder and angrier.
‘You mean you treated her like a slave!’ Johnny burst out. ‘A kitchen skivvy! Oh yes, I remember, the poor girl was not even allowed to go to school.’
‘You mind your own bloody business!’ Doris gasped, shaking with rage.
‘Aye,’ Harry butted in maliciously. Johnny had released his shirt front when Doris came on the scene and he had made a strategic retreat behind his wife’s back. ‘And do you want to know when she went? That day I saw you out with her! What did you do to her, that’s what I want to know.’
‘What did I do? Why, you little toad! If anyone did anything to her it would be you, you with your hot little eye
s following the lass about. Don’t think I didn’t see you, even though I was a youngster myself! And Ada just a child. Why, I’ll –’
‘Get out! Don’t you come here threatening us! She’s gone, and good riddance to her. I knew she’d turn out like her mother.’ Doris caught hold of Harry by the shoulder and glared at him too. ‘You get in there, do you hear?’ There was an indefinable something in her voice as she spoke to her husband but she was a true virago as she turned back to Johnny.
‘Have you not gone yet? I’ll take the broom to you, coming here creating! Bloody well get and don’t come back here!’
Johnny stared at her with a set face but in the end he turned on his heel and stalked up the yard. His blood was boiling as he strode down the street. On reaching the car he slammed into the driving seat, his thoughts in turmoil as he tried to think what to do. What was the name of that girl? A minute ago he’d remembered, but now it was gone. She had a little boy, he remembered that.
‘I looked after the car, mister.’ Freckle-face was watching him gravely. Something was up with the toff.
‘What? Oh yes, thanks.’ Johnny reached absent-mindedly into his pocket and found a penny. He looked thoughtfully at the boy before handing it over.
‘Do you know the girl who used to work at the Parkers’, the one with the little boy? What was her name? Eliza! That’s right!’ The name popped into his mind. ‘She used to live in George Street, I think.’
‘Eliza Maxwell? Aye, she used to live with Mrs Rutherford, number 4, that is. But she’s gone now, her and Bertie an’ the new babby.’ Freckle-face grinned, pleased to be of service to Johnny and even more pleased to earn a penny.
‘Thanks, son. Number 4, you said? Righto. Watch the car a minute more, will you?’ Johnny got out of the car and walked along the street until he came to number 4, where he knocked on the door.
‘Eliza? My niece, Eliza? Nay lad, she doesn’t live with me any more. No, she had to move to West Auckland, you know. Well, that’s her parish, she had to go to get the parish relief – well, she had the bairns, you know. What did you want her for?’ Mrs Rutherford paused long enough in her explanations to enquire.
