One Step at a Time

by Beryl Matthews

  Amy watched the ship until it was out of sight, sighing wistfully. It was nice to dream though.

  On her way back to the house she was relieved to see the boys were no longer there. The older she got the more the vicious comments hurt. She wanted to cry and bash their grinning faces, but the boys were always in a crowd and they were a rough lot. The girls weren’t much better. None of them would hesitate to beat her up, she knew, because a few times she hadn’t been able to stop herself from lashing out at the boys and girls after school. She always got the worst of it as they ganged up on her, and others would rush over to join in the fun. Then she would have to hide somewhere out of sight and sob in misery and pain, not understanding why they wanted to be horrible to her. She had tried to be friends – she really had – but just because she was different, they tormented her.

  Letting herself into the house, she went straight to the scullery and picked up her papers, gazing at her granny’s careful letters and drawings. These were Amy’s most precious possessions and she took them carefully back to her bedroom, tucking them in the chest of drawers under her knickers, wishing Gran were still alive. She was sure Gran would have found out why she couldn’t read. Her granny had said she wasn’t daft in the head; she just didn’t see things the same as everyone else.

  Amy sat on the edge of her bed, head bowed now she was alone and didn’t need to keep up the pretence, and raged inside. Why didn’t she see the words properly? There wasn’t anything wrong with her eyes; she could see clearly for miles, and close to as well.

  Her mum came back then, so Amy quickly undressed and slipped into bed. Dolly had others with her, and Amy heard the clink of bottles as they put them on the table. Their laughter was loud and she knew they wouldn’t leave until all the booze was gone.

  ‘Let’s have a cuppa, Dolly,’ someone shouted.

  Amy stuck her fingers in her ears to shut out their racket. Her mum would be in a sorry state in the morning.

  She hoped that lot didn’t eat all the biscuits.

  2

  Before Amy could have some breakfast she had to clear up the mess from last night. There were bottles in the sink, on the floor and tipped over on the table, spilling out the dregs. That would have to be scrubbed before it was fit for use again. The smell of stale beer was disgusting. With a resigned sigh she filled a bucket with soapy water and set about cleaning up, not caring how much noise she made. Her mum wouldn’t stagger out of bed until about lunchtime after the night she’d had.

  When the place was spick and span again she put the kettle on and went to her mother’s room, pulling back the curtains to let in the light.

  A groan came from the bed. ‘Shut those bloody curtains. My head’s splitting.’

  Amy ignored the order and ground her teeth. ‘Why’d you drink so much, Mum? You know it makes you feel bad the next day.’

  Her mother shielded her eyes from the sunlight streaming into the room. She looked a mess. She was still wearing her make-up and it was all smudged, leaving the sheets covered in orange powder. As soon as Amy could get her mother up those sheets would have to be washed. This was not her favourite job, but the weather was good so they could be hung across the back yard. In the winter it was a nightmare trying to get things dry. Her mother didn’t seem to care if things weren’t too clean, and was quite happy to leave everything to her daughter, who couldn’t stand living in dirt. A bucket of soapy water and a scrubbing brush worked wonders.

  ‘You want a cup of tea, Mum, and something to eat?’

  ‘Just tea.’ Dolly opened one eye. ‘Did we leave the place in a pickle?’

  Amy nodded. ‘I’ve cleaned it up.’

  The eye closed and her mother groaned. ‘You’re a good girl. Don’t know what I’d do without you. Get me that tea. My mouth feels like the inside of a bird cage.’

  Grimacing, Amy returned to the scullery and found the kettle boiling away nicely. She was never going to drink like that. They were all happy while they were doing it, but the next day was awful. It was hard to understand why they did it. Her dad was the same; he liked his booze, and when he was home her mother got into the habit of spending hours in the pub. Once he’d gone back to sea her mum usually settled down to a quieter life.

  She made the tea and took a cup in to her mother. Dolly gulped it down, although it was boiling hot.

  ‘Ah, that’s better.’ After a coughing fit, her mother wiped her eyes. ‘You going to school today?’

  ‘No, you told me to get a job, and that’s what I’m gonna do.’

  ‘Oh yes, I forgot that. It’d be a big help if you could. Your dad won’t be back for ages. He’s gone to the other side of the world to a place called Australia.’

  Lucky devil, Amy thought, but didn’t say it out loud. ‘We won’t see him for months then.’

  Her mother shook her head – carefully. ‘But he’ll turn up loaded with money, so we’ll have a good time. One thing about him, he don’t gamble away his earnings like some of them. But in the meantime, anything you can earn will help. Where you going to try?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ Amy hunched her shoulders. She didn’t want to do this, but what choice did she have? School wasn’t doing her any good, and she was fed up with the others jeering at her all the time. She wouldn’t tell anyone she couldn’t read. She’d had enough of people making fun of her.

  ‘There’s all those buildings by the river where they make clothes and things. You might get something there.’

  ‘I’ll try. Will you be all right for a while?’

  ‘Yes, I’m just going to have a little sleep, then I’ll get up.’ Dolly closed her eyes. ‘Don’t slam the door when you go out.’

  Amy pulled the curtains across again to cut out the light, and went back to the scullery. Her stomach was churning about finding a job, so she poured herself a cup of tea and had a slice of bread. That was all she could manage. Then she dragged a brush through her hair, trying to make it look tidy, but it just shot back to its usual springy mass. There was so much of it: perhaps she should cut some off, but her dad said she mustn’t do that because it was pretty hair.

  Slipping a key into her pocket, she left the house quietly and headed for the river.

  The buildings here were drab, run down and probably damp inside from the river lapping at their doors. The first thing she noticed was some women standing outside one place, talking and waving their arms about. Amy hurried up to see what they were doing.

  The women were reading a notice stuck on the door. She stood behind them, unable to decipher the writing. This was going to be harder than she’d thought if she couldn’t even make out what the notice said.

  ‘You don’t wanna work here, Flossy,’ one woman said. ‘Heard bad things about the place. Marshall’s work you like a slave.’

  The woman who’d been addressed as Flossy stared at the notice. ‘But it says here they need workers, pay and conditions good.’

  Another woman snorted in disgust. ‘Don’t believe that. My girl tried it last year and didn’t stay more than two weeks. Said the work was terrible hard.’

  ‘Ah, well, your girl’s no weakling.’ Flossy turned away from the notice. ‘Let’s try somewhere else. I got to get something cos my Sid’s been laid off again. He’s never been able to hold down a job.’

  Another woman looked gloomy. ‘It’s getting bloody hard to find work. We’ve all got to try and get jobs today.’

  As they walked away, Amy hesitated for only a second before opening the door and slipping inside.

  The place was huge, like a warehouse, and that was probably what it had been at one time, Amy figured. There were long benches where girls sat sewing by hand or by machine; other girls were running around with arms full of clothing. Along the entire length of one wall were racks loaded with finished garments. Amy had never seen so many clothes in her life.

  ‘What do you want?’ a short, balding man asked, looking rather harassed.

  ‘Um, the notice on the door said you need
workers. Good pay and conditions,’ she added.

  The man sighed. ‘You don’t want to believe everything you read. But come with me and I’ll take you to the boss.’

  Amy was pleased with that bit of deception. The man believed she could read the notice. Bit of luck those women being there. She followed him, hoping her luck was going to hold.

  ‘Young girl to see you about the notice you put outside.’

  The man behind the desk continued to frown and mutter over something he was reading. He was a gaunt man, quite old, Amy thought. He must be at least forty. His black hair was peppered with grey and he was wearing thick glasses. He didn’t look too friendly and she clenched her hands in front of her to stop them shaking.

  ‘Boss.’

  He looked up then, his dark brown eyes unfocused for a moment. ‘Sorry, Jim. The price of material’s going up again. How the hell are we supposed to make a profit?’

  Jim shrugged. ‘Perhaps you don’t want to take on more workers after all.’

  At those words Amy’s hopes were dashed. ‘Your notice outside said you do,’ she blurted out.

  The boss turned his gaze to her for the first time. ‘You’re a bit young, aren’t you?’

  ‘I look younger than I am because I’m short. I’m fifteen.’ Squaring her shoulders she held his gaze. It wasn’t much of a lie. She’d be fifteen in December.

  He didn’t seem to believe her, but he nodded to Jim. ‘We’ve got to have workers or we’ll never meet our targets. I’ll see to this.’

  When Jim had gone back to work, the boss said, ‘Sit down. What’s your name?’

  ‘Amy Carter, sir.’ She perched on the edge of the seat while he sorted through a drawer in his desk until he found what he was looking for.

  ‘That’s your hours and pay. Read it and if you want the job sign your name at the bottom and write down your address.’ He pushed the paper and a pen towards her.

  Panic surged through her. What was she going to do? She pretended to read it while trying to stop her heart from thumping erratically. After what she thought was a reasonable amount of time for anyone to read the form, she picked up the pen and signed her name, just as she had practised last night. She gripped the pen hard, trying not to stick her tongue out between her teeth with the effort. He wasn’t watching so she pushed it back and stood up.

  ‘Be here by seven-thirty on Monday. I don’t tolerate lateness.’

  ‘I won’t be late, sir.’ She made it to the door before he called her back.

  ‘You haven’t put your address down.’

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ She smiled apologetically, still holding on to the door handle. ‘It’s twenty-three Farthing Street, Wapping.’

  To her immense relief he picked up the pen and wrote it down for her.

  She shot out of the building as fast as her legs would carry her, elated that she had got away with it. The only trouble was she didn’t know what she had to do when she started there in the morning, or what the pay was, or how long her hours were. Still, she had got the job, and all she would have to do was watch the others. She would soon get the hang of it.

  Eager to tell her mum the news, she ran home and tumbled into the scullery, out of breath. Her smile was even wider when she saw her mum up, dressed, and drinking tea, looking much better.

  ‘I’ve got a job at Marshall’s, Mum. I start on Monday and they don’t know I can’t read. I fooled them easy.’ She then explained what had happened.

  ‘That was smart of you, Amy.’ Her mother poured her a cup of tea. ‘How much you going to get?’

  ‘It was all on the bit of paper, but I couldn’t make it out.’

  ‘Well, from what I’ve heard of that place, it won’t be much, but it’ll be a help.’

  Amy toyed with her cup, her excitement melting away when she noticed her mother’s drawn face. ‘Are you going to be all right? It’s not like school. I won’t be able to stay home or they’ll throw me out.’

  ‘I know that.’ Dolly gave a determined nod. ‘I’ll manage. I’m glad you’ll be earning because you need to be able to look after yourself. I might not be with you for too long.’

  There was something in her mother’s voice that made Amy glance up sharply. ‘Aw, Mum, don’t talk like that. You’ll be fine if you look after yourself and don’t drink quite so much.’

  ‘I won’t from now on. Your dad’s going to be away for months and I’ve got to look after you. He worries about you.’

  ‘Does he?’ That was news to Amy. She really didn’t know him all that well. He was just the man who turned up for a while occasionally and then disappeared again. And when he came home he was a stranger to her; he certainly never showed his feelings.

  ‘Oh, yes. He wasn’t going to take this ship, but I made him, because he can’t go turning down work. I told him I’m not going to die for a year or two.’

  Amy was alarmed by this talk of dying. Her mother had said things like this before, but only in a joking way. She was serious this time. ‘Why don’t you see a doctor and find out why you cough so much at times?’

  Dolly shook her head. ‘I know what’s wrong with me and there’s nothing they can do. If they get their hands on me they’ll send me away, and what would happen to you then? Of course, living by the docks don’t help much.’

  ‘We could move.’

  Her mother patted her hand. ‘It’s too late. Nothing will help now.’

  Amy chewed her lip anxiously. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘It’s to do with the lungs. It’s got some funny name but I can’t remember it now.’ Dolly smiled brightly. ‘Anyway, there’s nothing to worry about yet. You start your new job and try to save a few pennies each week, just so you’ve got a little put aside for a rainy day.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’ Apart from looking tired and rather thin, her mother was quite cheerful today, so Amy put the worrying conversation behind her.

  ‘I know I haven’t always been patient with you, Amy. Watching you struggle to read has been painful, and we can’t help wondering if it’s our fault somehow. But we do love you, and you mustn’t worry so much about it, lots of people can’t read or write.’ Her mother stood up. ‘I’ll go shopping and see if I can get something tasty for our dinner.’

  When Dolly had left, Amy slumped into the old armchair by the fireplace; it was cold now because it was summer, but in the winter it was a lovely warm spot. She thought back over the talk she’d had with her mother and couldn’t help worrying about the future. It would be a stormy passage if what her mother feared was true. But it couldn’t be. She shook her head in denial. Her mother was just being gloomy cos Dad had gone back to sea. She was always a bit down then, and she had a hangover from last night’s binge. Yes, that’s all it was.

  She jumped up and hunted through the larder for the biscuits. There was one left, so she sat down again and munched thoughtfully. It was no good her mum telling her not to worry that she couldn’t read or write, because she did. It made her feel ashamed and worthless. She had struggled, fretted and lashed out in frustration and disappointment. But nothing did any good.

  The ‘something tasty’ her mother brought back was a couple of meaty lamb chops, and with mashed spuds and greens they made a filling meal.

  After Amy had cleared up and made them a pot of tea, it was still only two o’clock.

  Her mother drank her tea and sighed. ‘I’ll just go and have a little rest this afternoon. What are you going to do this afternoon?’

  ‘Amy grinned. ‘The weather’s nice so I thought I’d go for a walk.’

  ‘You ought to have friends to go out with.’ Dolly frowned at her daughter. ‘You’re always on your own.’

  ‘They don’t want nothing to do with me.’ When her mother’s frown deepened, she said airily, ‘Anyway, I don’t need them. They think they’re so good, but they’re not. Gran always said I was special, and I’m going to do something special in my life, then I’ll be able to laugh at them!’

  ‘That’
s the way. Don’t let them upset you.’ Her mother hauled herself to her feet, holding on to the table for a moment, then turned and headed for the bedroom.

  ‘Mum, are you going out tonight?’

  ‘No, Amy.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘I’ll stay in and read to you, shall I?’

  ‘Oh, please.’ Amy’s smile was as wide as it could get. ‘I’d like that.’

  Once her mother was asleep, she slipped out of the house, still smiling. She loved her mum reading to her. She had this wonderful book called Pride and Prejudice all about the upper classes, and Amy never got tired of hearing it. How she would love to be able to read it for herself.

  There was a bounce in her step as she headed for the river. If the jeering boys had been on the corner of the street, she wouldn’t have cared. She’d got herself a job, and that was more than they’d done. Her mother had promised not to drink so much, and Amy was sure she’d be strong again if she did that. Dad had a good ship this time and would come home with loads of money after such a long trip.

  The sun was warm on her face and arms, and she sang to herself as she walked along.

  *

  For once she didn’t make for the docks, but instead found a quieter stretch of the Thames. It had been a long walk to get there, but worth it.

  Sitting down on a tuft of grass she tucked her knees up and pulled her frock over to cover them. The sun was brilliant and it looked as if little diamonds were glistening on the water. She gazed into the river and laughed out loud when she saw ducks upending to feed.

  ‘Lovely, aren’t they?’

  Amy jumped at the sound of a man’s voice, shading her eyes to look up at him.

  ‘Mind if I sit here as well?’

  She shrugged. ‘The river don’t belong to me.’