by June Francis
‘Well, it’s up to you,’ said Rita with a shrug. ‘But getting back to you improving your looks, it’s your choice to whether you want to spend money on yourself or not. Have you a man in mind to live in this dream house with you?’
A sharp laugh escaped Margaret. ‘There’s only two men I’ve ever thought anything of and wanted to marry and they went out of my life years ago. I can see why you’re thinking the way you are but a woman doesn’t always dress to please a man.’
‘Mam did,’ said Rita in bitter tones. ‘She said she had to and that’s why I only ever had rags on my back. Anyway if you want to look good then you’ll have to fork out some money. You can get ideas about fashion from the women’s magazines.’
Margaret said scathingly, ‘They’re full of nonsense written by middle-class women for women who’ve got nothing better to do than waste their time drinking tea and reading in the afternoon.’
‘Working-class women read magazines, too,’ protested Rita. ‘Mainly stories, though! There’s the Red Star and Secrets, although they don’t print many pictures. You can have a flick through them at the newsagents or you could always buy an Echo — that has a fashion page once a week.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ said Margaret. ‘Now, you eat your toast.’ She returned it to the girl’s plate. ‘I don’t want you getting scrawny again.’
Rita wondered if there would be any more shocks that Christmas. She was going to have a brother or sister but when would she get the chance to see the baby? There was part of her that wanted to rush off to Cardiff because hadn’t she always wanted to belong to a proper family, but she was angry with her mother for not writing to her. What else had she put in that letter to her aunt? No money to pay for her fare, Rita would have bet on that. Probably she expected Margaret to pay for it. Rita made up her mind to put her mother out of her mind for ever, although that was easier said than done.
Christmas Day passed without any excitement at all. To Rita’s amazement and delight Margaret gave her a pound note and a large box of chocolates. This was wealth indeed because Rita’s wages were only a few shillings a week since, as Margaret always reminded her, she paid for her keep and provided her with clothes, and recently she had even bought her a new pair of boots.
In return the girl presented Margaret with three handkerchiefs on which she had embroidered an ‘M’ in the corner, as well as a small box of chocolates and a glass jar with a lid on it. ‘I know it’s not crystal but I thought it would do to keep your chocolates in,’ she said with a twinkle.
Margaret thanked her. ‘You’ve come a long way since the day you scoffed nearly a whole jar. I’d never have believed you could change so much, but then you’ve been keen to learn and that goes a long way.’ The compliment pleased the girl and she determined to ask for a rise in the new year.
Rita had believed that business would fall off after Christmas but she was wrong. There was a steady stream of customers ‘popping’ whatever they could to keep body and soul together in the winter months to come. She waited to see if her aunt would do anything to improve her appearance but she waited in vain.
Chapter Five
It was early spring 1931 and Rita was up the ladder dusting the top shelves in the shop when the door opened and a young woman entered. She had fine-spun blonde hair that curved in points on rosy cheeks. Her face was fine-boned and she was very pretty. Dressed in some style in a plum-coloured coat with a fur collar and a cloche hat, almost the same shade of purplish red, she wore strapped black Cuban-heeled shoes on her long feet.
Rita bet a pound to a farthing that her eyes were blue and felt a pang of envy as she paused in her task to watch the girl place a brown paper parcel tied up with string on the counter. ‘I want to pawn this,’ she said in a voice that was barely audible.
Margaret stared at her for a moment before reaching for her spectacles. ‘I haven’t seen you in here before.’
‘No. But the name over the door is Scottish so I thought I’d give you a try.’
‘You don’t sound Scots,’ said Margaret, picking at the knot in the string.
‘No. My step-grandfather was Scots and I liked him very much.’
‘He’s no longer with us, I take it,’ said Margaret, placing the string in a tin. She removed the brown paper and tissue paper to reveal a vase decorated with hand-painted oriental figures. She let out a breath.
‘That’s nice,’ said Rita from her perch up the ladder.
The young woman glanced up and smiled. ‘My stepbrother brought me it from China. I don’t really want to part with it but needs must when the devil drives.’
‘As bad as that, is it?’ said Margaret, turning the vase over carefully between her hands. ‘I’ll give you two pounds for it.’
The girl gasped. ‘Jimmy thought it was worth at least five pounds. It’s real porcelain!’
Margaret raised her eyebrows. ‘And how do you know that?’
‘Because Billy said so and it was he who gave it to me so he should know.’
Margaret tapped her fingers against her chin. ‘I’ll give you two pounds ten shillings and I’m robbing myself. What with the Depression, it’s a tough business I’m in now.’
The young woman gnawed on her bottom lip and drummed her fingers on the counter. ‘Couldn’t you make it three pounds ten shillings? Jimmy said we need —’
‘I don’t care what this Jimmy says,’ said Margaret firmly, shaking her head. ‘Two pounds ten shillings is all I’ll give you, unless… I’ll tell you what I’ll do — I’ll give you three pounds two shillings if you sell it to me and that’s definitely my last offer.’
‘Sell it!’ The girl groaned and there was a long silence. Then she sighed and nodded. ‘I didn’t really want to get rid of it but I’ll take what you offer. We need to buy feed and bedding for the horses, you see. Things are pretty dreadful at the moment and we could lose the yard.’
‘If that’s said to make me up my offer you’re wasting your time. There’s plenty of people round here who have trouble enough buying food to put in their children’s mouths, never mind animals,’ said Margaret, her expression severe. ‘Now, Rita, get down from there and write out a receipt while I put this vase somewhere safe.’
Rita descended the ladder and reached for her aunt’s fountain pen on the ledge beneath the counter. She drew the receipt book closer to her. ‘Name?’
‘Alice Martin.’
Rita lifted her head and stared at her. Alice was an uncommon name. Yet she had heard it a while ago. Where? She wrote the name down. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Brodie’s haulage yard.’
Rita felt a stir of excitement. ‘Where’s that?’
‘D’you really need to know?’ Rita nodded. Alice sighed. ‘It’s up off Leece Street but you won’t be having to look me up, will you?’ she said anxiously. ‘The vase is mine.’
Rita did not answer but was thinking the yard was within easy walking distance of Berry Street. She handed the receipt to Alice. Having seen Jimmy on several occasions round and about she had not yet plucked up the courage to speak to him, but something inside her now wanted to remedy that. She could not wait for lunch closing time so she could go up to the yard and see what else she could find out about him. What was this girl to him, for instance?
*
Rita watched as horse and cart and Jimmy disappeared into the yard. She could scarcely believe her good fortune and wondered if she dared follow him inside. It was cold standing out here waiting on the corner. Despite it being early April the wind whipped round it like a knife and the sky was full of scurrying clouds. She tucked her hands into the sleeves of her coat, mandarin-fashion, and crossed the road. The gates were wide open and she walked straight in without being stopped.
The cobbled yard was void of people but the horse that Jimmy had driven in was still hitched between the shafts of a cart and was munching from a nosebag. She could hear voices that seemed to be coming from the stables straight ahead of her.
As quietly as she could, Rita walked across the cobbles. On her left was a house and to her right were more stables and a smaller brick building. Smoke was coming from the chimneys of both brick buildings. There was a stench of horse manure, which she realised came from a heap of soiled straw bedding near the stables. She could hear the voices clearly now.
‘You shouldn’t have accepted her offer!’ She recognised Jimmy’s voice and felt a thrill dance down her spine.
‘I had no choice!’ Alice’s light tones held a pleading note. ‘Believe me, Jimmy, I did my best. I doubt we’d have got any more from Solly. Anyway, I’m wishing I hadn’t sold it now. It meant something to me, and Billy’ll be upset if he finds out I’ve got rid of it.’
‘How’s he going to find out? He’s back at sea, and even if he wasn’t, he said he’s never going to set foot in this place again since Mother accused him of theft yet again.’
‘It’s not fair! I don’t believe he is a thief,’ said Alice stoutly. ‘There’s no need for him to steal. He has money in his pocket — unlike you and I.’
‘You try and get Mother and his father to believe it. Anyway, it’s neither here nor there. Whatever we say isn’t going to change what the parents think. As long as you and I stay friends with him that’ll keep you and him happy, won’t it?’
There was a long silence and then Alice said, ‘I suppose so. I mean, I’d rather he stayed here when he was home but I just hate it when people I love are at each other’s throats. So what are we going to do with the money? Is there enough to pay the feed bill? Will you give it to Pops to pay?’
‘Not bloody likely, if you’ll excuse my language! He might gamble it away.’
‘He wouldn’t! He might like a flutter — and he’s saved us that way before — but he’s not stupid. And what about the moneylender? He has to pay some of the interest off, at least.’
‘The moneylender can wait. He’s bluffing about sending the bailiffs in.’
‘How d’you know?’ said Alice, a catch in her throat. ‘I’m terrified he might mean it this time.’
‘It’s a bluff! He’s not going to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs. The horses have to be fed, so don’t say a word about this money to Pops and I promise you if that vase means so much to you I’ll find some way of getting it back. Anyway, I’ve a load to get to Crown Street. See you later.’
Rita fled, knowing she should not have been eavesdropping on a conversation which was obviously terribly private. Even so, she had found it fascinating and there was no doubt in her mind that the family was in deep trouble.
When she arrived back at the shop she was annoyed to find that she had to pass some youths messing about outside. A couple wolf-whistled as she passed. She told them to go and chase themselves and hurried inside where, to her annoyance, she saw Mr McGinty hovering over one of the locked display cases that contained jewellery and knick-knacks. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, dropping ash onto the glass. A vision of him dressed as a pirate popped into her head. What was he up to? She stared at him suspiciously as she made her way to the counter.
‘So you’re back,’ said Margaret, without glancing up. ‘Get the yard brush and get rid of those boys outside. They’re causing a disturbance.’
‘I’ll do it for yous, Miss Sinclair. Yer can’t expect lads to take notice of a young slip of a girl like yer niece,’ said Mr McGinty in his reedy voice. ‘I saw her flirting with them on her way in.’
‘I was not flirting with them,’ said the girl indignantly, grabbing the brush as Mr McGinty made a beeline for the lads.
He raised an arm in a threatening manner. ‘Hoy, yous lot! Shift yerselves!’
The boys jeered at him and proceeded to run rings round him, entering the shop in the process. Rita went for one of them with the yard brush but the lad grabbed the pole and almost wrenched her arm out of its socket. ‘You swine!’ she cried, enraged.
Margaret made an exasperated noise and reached for the cane. ‘Get out of my shop!’ There was a swishing sound and the cane thwacked the youth across the shoulders. Hastily he released his hold on the brush pole. Again the cane came down and he yelped as it stung his ear. He shot out of the shop.
Rita turned on Mr McGinty who was standing with his back to the display case. ‘A fat lot of use you were,’ she said.
He darted her a poisonous look but smiled ingratiatingly at Margaret. ‘Sorry I couldn’t catch them for yous, Miss Sinclair, but this eye of mine makes me blind on one side.’
‘Yes, Mr McGinty, I can accept that, but what are you doing here?’ said Margaret, her hand shaking as she replaced the cane.
‘I came to see if the missus was here.’
Margaret looked at him as if he had run mad. ‘Mornings, that’s all she does here. I suggest you look elsewhere and stop taking up room in my shop.’
‘Right yer are, Miss Sinclair.’ He lifted his cap and scratched his head, then replaced his headgear. ‘I was wondering if yous had any odd jobs yer needed doin’?’
‘If I had, then I’d let Mrs McGinty know. Now if you don’t mind… Out! I’ve work to do,’ she said firmly.
‘Good day to yous, then,’ he said with a sniff, and slouched out of the shop.
‘I hate it when that happens,’ said Margaret, resting her back against the counter. She scrutinised Rita’s face. ‘And where did you disappear to, miss?’
‘I needed fresh air.’ She replaced the sweeping brush in its corner. ‘I wonder what Mr McGinty was really doing in here. He and those lads…’
Margaret nodded. ‘That kind of horseplay wouldn’t have happened when my father was alive.’
‘You could do with a man about the place.’
‘It’s finding one I can trust. Right now we’ll just have to make sure that kind of thing doesn’t happen again. I’m certain nothing was stolen this time because we moved fast, but we must be on our guard constantly against such tricks. So many people are having a hard time of it they could be tempted to do things they wouldn’t normally even dream of.’
Rita agreed.
That night she dreamt again of pirates coming up the river but this time there was no golden-haired youth to rescue her. Black Patch the pirate had a large cutlass and was about to cut her head off when she woke in a sweat, her heart pounding. It was such a relief to know that it had all been a dream.
A week passed before Rita saw Jimmy again. It was raining and he was coming out of a building not far from the Fascists Club on Berry Street. His hands were in his pockets and the way he held his shoulders showed that he was either feeling down in the dumps or the cold. He appeared deep in thought. She backtracked to the building he had come from and read the brass plate on the wall. It belonged to a financial broker. She did not delay but rushed after Jimmy and tailed him all the way to the yard.
He was about to go inside when he stopped and turned round. She had no time to retreat. He had spotted her so she walked up to him. He was scowling. ‘You’ve been following me. Why?’
For a moment she could not think what to say, then, ‘Is there any harm in my following you?’
He looked startled. ‘So you don’t deny it?’
‘No. I was curious.’
He stared at her. ‘I’ve seen you before.’
She smiled. ‘You’re quick. I’ve spotted you around delivering. I’ve seen you at Fitzgerald’s several times.’
Light seemed to dawn on him. ‘You’re the girl I’ve seen talking to Sam. You his sister or something?’
Rita shook her head. ‘We met even before that.’ She had not meant to say that but something was driving her on. ‘You don’t remember, do you?’
‘Should I?’ He continued to stare at her from those deep blue eyes.
‘No. I suppose not.’ She paused and changed the subject. ‘I’ve met Alice. She’s pretty, isn’t she? And very like you.’
‘She’s my sister, that’s why. Where did you meet her? In church?’
‘No! She came into my aunt’s
pawnshop.’
‘Your aunt?’
‘Yes. Miss Margaret Sinclair. I’d like to help you if I could. Your family’s in debt, aren’t they? You’ve been threatened with the bailiffs.’
‘How the hell do you know that?’ he said wrathfully. ‘Do you belong to that bloodsucking, heartless lot in Berry Street?’
‘Of course not,’ she said, hastily taking a step back. ‘My aunt’s no bloodsucker.’
‘Sez you!’ He turned his back on her and went inside the yard.
Rita followed. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t explain myself properly.’ Her elfin features were repentant.
He ignored her, striding across the yard to the house where Alice stood in the doorway. His sister seized his arm. ‘You’ve been ages. Mother and I were getting worried.’
‘What d’you think could have happened to me?’ he said with a laugh, shaking his head and sprinkling her with raindrops. ‘That he’d have me beaten up or put in prison?’
‘No, but —’
‘There’s no need to worry.’ He put his arm round her.
‘You mean…he listened to you and not Pops?’ Alice smiled in relief.
‘Of course he did.’ His voice was warm and tender. ‘You’ve said it yourself, haven’t you? I’ve got a way with me. Now let’s get inside. I need to talk to you.’
The door closed behind them.
Rita stared after them and was tempted to bang on the door and plead to be let in. There had been a tone in his voice when he spoke to his sister that made Rita yearn to bask in the heat of his affection. He had lied, of course. The family was in a lot of trouble. Suddenly a shiver went right through her and she hurried home.
*
‘And where’ve you been?’ Margaret gazed at Rita standing in a puddle of water that had dripped from her clothing.
