‘Don’t get upset, Mum. I’ll be all right. Anyway, you’ve still got me – and Harry,’ Ellie said.
Mary cried even harder.
Ellie’s footsteps dragged as she went towards the bus stop, wondering whether all these exams were a waste of time like her father said. She’d always been determined to have a real career and not be dependent on some man for the luxuries in life – like her sister. When she thought about it logically she had to admit she’d been deluding herself. She’d known ever since she started at the grammar school how Bert felt about education – especially for girls. The fact that he’d allowed her to stay on past the legal leaving age was a miracle, only brought about by her mother’s insistence. Auntie Vi agreed with Bert – about the only thing they did see eye to eye on, Ellie thought.
‘What’s it all in aid of?’ Vi had said. ‘She’ll only end up getting married and having a load of kids – like most of them round here.’
Gran tried to stand up for her. ‘Our Ellie’s got a brain in her head. She deserves a chance.’
But Vi had pursed her lips and folded her arms, refusing to change her views.
The opposition only fuelled Ellie’s determination. She’d show them, she thought now, as the examiner rang the bell for them to begin. She’d always loved drawing and painting but it wasn’t until Miss Evans had taken the class to the Victoria and Albert Museum during a half-term holiday that she’d really considered art as a career. The visit had been an inspiration. She’d been enchanted by the display of eighteenth- and ninetenth-century costumes. But for her, the highlight of the school trip was the textiles: the bed hangings and wall coverings of silk, richly embroidered or woven in intricate patterns. How she wished she’d been allowed to take them out of their glass cases, to feel the smoothness of the silk, the rich textures of the brocades.
She’d had to be content with the coloured postcards she’d bought as well as the sketch-book she’d filled with drawings of the designs she’d seen. One day she’d be designing her own materials.
The time flew as she became absorbed and the bell marking the end of the exam made her jump.
Judith was waiting for her in the corridor. ‘Was it that bad? You love art – why so glum?’
‘I’m just thinking it was all a waste of time. It doesn’t matter how well I do, they won’t let me go to college.
‘They’ll have to if you get the scholarship.’
Ellie didn’t answer. It was impossible to make her friend understand.
At home, all was quiet. Mary had left a note propped on the mantelpiece saying she was round at Gran’s and that Dad wouldn’t be home till late. Good, Ellie thought, I can do some more painting. Might as well, while she had the chance. She wouldn’t have time once she started work. Since the exam her mind was buzzing and she had an idea for another design. She sat down at the kitchen table with her box of paints and a selection of brushes. Soon she was lost in a world of colour and beauty. The delicate combination of scrolls and ribbons, with tiny butterflies interwoven, was based on a Chinese silk hanging she’d seen in the museum.
As she worked, using a fine brush to paint in the gossamer wings of the butterflies, she imagined the finished painting reproduced many times over. It would look equally nice on material or wallpaper, she thought. She pictured her bedroom done out in the shades of turquoise and mauve she’d used in the painting, with matching curtains and bedspread.
The idea excited her. That was where Dad and Auntie Vi were wrong. They said art was a waste of time, just painting pretty pictures. She could understand why they thought she wouldn’t earn a living from that. But if she showed this to them, explained how it could be used in a practical way, perhaps they’d stop their carping. Harry would understand, she thought, wishing he was here. Then the realization hit her with a jolt. She’d been so absorbed in her work that for a few hours the memory of his devastating news had faded into the background.
Another dream shattered, she thought, as she washed her brushes and cleaned her paintbox. Despite her desperate hope that Harry wouldn’t go through with the marriage, she knew she was deluding herself. She’d have to get on with her life and make the best of things. If only she’d be allowed to follow that other dream of a career in art, she might feel better, she told herself.
She studied the finished painting – the best she’d ever done. She couldn’t waste her talent. Squaring her shoulders, she decided to pluck up her courage and tell Mum about the art scholarship. Perhaps she could talk Dad round, especially if she explained it wouldn’t cost too much with the grant she’d receive.
She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear her father come in.
She jumped when he said, ‘Where’s your mother?’
‘She’s round Gran’s. I’ll get your tea, Dad.’ With relief she saw that, for a change, he didn’t look as if he’d been drinking. Instead of getting angry, he smiled. ‘No rush, Angel.’ He came over to the table and looked at her painting. ‘What you bin up to, then?’
Ellie smiled back uncertainly as Bert picked up the painting. ‘What’s it meant to be?’ he asked.
‘It’s a design – for wallpaper,’ she said. Hope flared. He was showing an interest for a change. Perhaps now would be a good time to mention the art scholarship.
He turned the paper round in his hand and looked at it again. ‘Oh, I see,’ he said flatly and put it back on the table. ‘What you wasting your time with this rubbish for? Won’t be any use to you when you’re working.’ His voice had hardened, heralding one of his swift changes of mood.
Ellie reached for the painting but Bert screwed it into a ball and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and landed in front of the kitchen range.
She made a small sound of protest but he pulled her towards him. ‘Your mother tells me your teachers are very pleased with you,’ he said.
She nodded and smiled tentatively, nervous at the change in tone, realizing from the glint in his eyes that he hadn’t finished with her. ‘All these exams. What’s the point?’
Ellie had asked herself the same question.
‘You don’t need exams. You’re starting work soon. And don’t argue. I’ll not have you letting my old mate down.’ With each sentence, he gave her a little shake.
‘But, Dad, Miss Evans said—’ Ellie began.
‘Miss Evans – good ’eavens!’ There was no humour in Bert’s voice. ‘That’s all I ’ear about lately.’ He pushed her away roughly so that she was forced to clutch the edge of the table for support. ‘I know she’s been feeding you ideas about college and all.’ He banged the table. ‘Why is it that some stuck-up vinegary old spinster of a schoolteacher thinks she knows better than your own father?’
As Ellie nerved herself to speak, his eyes narrowed and a spiteful smile creased his thin lips. His hands gripped her arms and he shook her roughly. ‘You’re getting too big for your boots, my girl.’
The door opened and Bert’s hands dropped to his sides.
Ellie rushed to take the shopping bags that were weighing her mother down. ‘You all right, Mum?’
Mary looked from one to the other. ‘I’m fine. What’s going on here?’
‘Nothing, Mum. I was just telling Dad about the art exam.’
‘Stupid kid’s on about college again.’ He smiled and put on his wheedling tone. ‘Angel, you know sending you to college costs money. You haven’t thought of that, have you? We’re not Rothschilds, you know.’
Ellie was about to mention the grant but her mother said, ‘Oh, Ellie, we’ve been over it so many times. I thought you’d accepted it.’
Mary sounded so dejected that Ellie was sorry she’d upset her. She bent to pick up the screwed-up painting. Might as well throw it on the fire, she thought. But something made her hang on to it.
As she turned to leave the room, her father reached out and pulled her towards him. ‘Look, Angel. Maybe we made a mistake letting you go to that posh school in the first place. But your mum persuaded
me you should have your chance.’ He squeezed her waist and she stiffened. ‘Look at it this way. You’re all we’ve got. With his lordship off in the army and that sister of yours up to gawd knows what, it would break your poor mum’s heart if you left us to go away to college.’
Ellie looked across at her mother, who had sat down at the table. She still looked pale but she gave a small tight smile and Ellie tried to smile back. Mum had done her best, despite Dad’s opposition to her going to the grammar school. He’d thought she was getting ideas above her station, thinking she was too good for them all, even starting to speak differently. No matter how hard she tried to explain, he’d never understand.
Bert seemed to sense that the fight had gone out of her and he reached out and touched her hair. ‘You know it makes sense, love. Besides, you’ll like working at the club, you know. Meet lots of posh people, film stars even.’
Ellie felt the anger stir again. As if that would make up for everything. She managed to swallow her feelings. He stroked her arm and she was glad she was wearing a long-sleeved blouse. To an onlooker the gesture would probably seem innocent enough, but her knees were starting to shake. And he had that funny look in his eyes again. He wouldn’t do anything while her mother was there but she still felt nervous being so close to him.
She swallowed hard as he pulled her towards him and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re a good girl, Ellie, love. Not like that sister of yours.’
Mary stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back. ‘Don’t talk about Sheila like that,’ she said. ‘I know I was upset at first and I can’t deny it sickens me to think of her with that thug. But she seems happy enough and now that they’re going to get married—’
Bert gave a little laugh. ‘Married? He’s got to get his divorce yet. Let’s hope it’s all sorted before the baby comes.’
Mary’s face paled. ‘Baby?’ she whispered, sinking into a chair. ‘You mean I’m going to be a grandmother?’ A smile slowly spread over her face. ‘Grandma,’ she said.
‘Changed your tune, ain’t yer?’ Bert sneered.
‘I’m still her mother, ain’t I?’ Mary snapped. She picked up her purse and turned to Ellie. ‘I’ve just remembered. I promised to get your gran some cough medicine. Run down to the chemist for me, love.’
Ellie took the money and moved towards the door, the screwed-up painting still clutched in her hand. Before leaving the house she ran upstairs. In her attic room, she smoothed the paper out and put it under a pile of books. If that didn’t work maybe she’d try ironing it. The design was one of the best things she’d done so far and she wanted to keep it for her college portfolio. She gave a little sob. She wasn’t going to college, was she? Even with the scholarship that Miss Evans was so sure she’d win – the scholarship she hadn’t dared mention tonight – they’d never let her go.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was pouring with rain the next day and Ellie pulled the hood of her raincoat up, forcing it over the brimmed velour hat, which they had to wear whenever they were in school uniform. It was a fate worse than death – a visit to the headmistress – for anyone seen in public without their hat.
‘At least I won’t have to wear this horrible old thing any more,’ she said to Judith, cramming the hat down on her head.
‘So, you’re definitely not coming back next term?’ her friend asked.
‘My dad says I’ve got to go out to work – he’s even found me a job.’
Judith was about to ask where but Ellie said, ‘I don’t mind – really. I know I wanted to go to college but they can’t afford it.’
‘What about the art scholarship, though?’
‘Even with that it would still be hard for them.’
Judith looked as if she wanted to ask more questions but the bus came along. It was crowded and, to Ellie’s relief, they couldn’t find seats together. She just didn’t feel like satisfying her friend’s curiosity today.
She stared out at the rain streaming down the window, wondering how she was going to achieve her ambitions when her family seemed determined to stop her. She would just have to work hard and save her money until she could leave home and do what she wanted.
As they so often did, her thoughts turned to Harry. He’d be home soon, bringing his German bride. All the more reason to leave home, she thought. But first, she had to face Miss Evans and tell her not to bother about putting her in for scholarship.
As she left the art room, Miss Evans said, ‘Are you really sure?’
Ellie nodded.
‘I don’t understand. Is it because you’re nervous – you don’t think you stand a chance?’
‘Something like that,’ Ellie agreed.
Miss Evans smiled. ‘Nonsense, child. I wouldn’t be recommending you unless I was confident of your success. And you must be confident too.’
The bell went and Ellie seized the opportunity to escape. The art mistress meant well, she knew, encouraging her talent and giving her the confidence to develop it. But kind as she was, there was no way Ellie could ever confide in her the problems of her home life and the difficulties of getting her parents – especially her father – to agree that a career in art was a valid choice.
Dad kept on about how much she could earn working for Tommy Green and had even managed to convince her mother that the new club was a respectable place where Ellie would be mixing with a better class of people.
It was easier to give in, to let her parents think she’d accepted the situation. Besides, in some ways, she didn’t care. Since receiving Harry’s letter with its devastating news, Ellie felt that life couldn’t hold any more disappointments. She tried hard to tell herself she was happy for him – if he was happy, so was she. But deep down, the hurt remained.
She was worried about her grandmother too. With the exams, she hadn’t visited the old lady as often as she’d have liked and Mum had said she wasn’t well.
It had stopped raining and Ellie decided to go round to Gascoigne Terrace. She cut across the bombsite as usual, pushing her way along the overgrown path between the clumps of rosebay willow herb and bright yellow ragwort. Clouds of insects and the occasional small butterfly rose in front of her, and she thought of Judith, off to spend the summer holidays with relatives in the country. If only she could go with her, she thought.
But she had to start work, although she was determined it wouldn’t be for ever. Daft as it seemed, she couldn’t quite quell the hope that, when her exam results came through, Dad would see that she deserved her chance at college.
Gran was in her tiny patch of garden. Most of the houses in the terrace only had paved yards, but Grandad, who’d died when Ellie was just a baby, had built raised beds round the edge of the yard. During the war he’d grown tomatoes and runner beans, a few cabbages and carrots.
Now, the garden was aglow with nasturtiums, pansies, and pinks, which Gran grew from seeds bought for a few pence in the market.
‘It looks lovely, Gran,’ Ellie said as her grandmother straightened painfully, rubbing the small of her back.
‘Yeah, but it’s all getting a bit too much for me, love. Still, I can’t let it all go to pot. I don’t know where the weeds come from.’ She waved her hand at the bombsite beyond the fence. ‘Perhaps when they get rid of that lot, it’ll be a bit better.’
‘You should’ve waited for me. I’ll do the weeding for you – and the watering,’ Ellie offered.
‘I don’t mind. I like to keep busy – you know that. But my knees are playing up something shocking.’ Gran bent over and plucked another weed from the soil.
‘Leave it, Gran. I said I’d do it.’
‘All right, all right – I heard yer.’ Gran laughed and the laugh turned into a cough.
Ellie turned to her in concern. ‘Let’s go inside. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
‘Fetch a couple of chairs out here, love. Might as well make the most of this sunshine,’ Gran said.
Ellie settled her grandmother in one of the chairs and went back inside to fe
tch the tray. She balanced it on the low wall and poured out two cups. As she sat down opposite the old lady, she apologized for not coming more often.
‘You don’t want to worry about that. Your mum comes round a couple of times a week and Vi pops in. I’m not lonely. Besides, you’ve got better things to do than spend time with an old woman – what with all your school work and all.’ She took a sip of her tea and put the cup down. ‘How did you get on with your exams, Ellie?’
‘I won’t know till the results come in.’ Ellie managed a smile. ‘Anyway, school’s finished now. I’ve got a job.’
‘Work? I thought you were set on going to college?’
‘Didn’t Mum tell you? They can’t afford to let me stay on so I’ve got a job at Tommy’s new club.’
Gran pulled a face. ‘What’s your mum thinking of, letting you work in a place like that?’
‘Dad says it’s not like the Riverside. This is a posh place up West. I’m going to be a receptionist.’
‘Let’s hope it’s as legit as he claims.’
Ellie didn’t answer and Gran patted her hand. ‘Don’t mind me, love. I’m sure it’ll be all right. But I know how much you were banking on going to college.’
‘It was just a dream, Gran.’ She stood up and picked up the watering-can. ‘Anyway, I thought I’d come round to help with the garden.’
Lou Bowman glanced round at the riot of colour which filled the tiny yard. ‘I don’t know why I’m bothering really. Looks like I won’t have a garden for much longer.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ll be moving out soon. They haven’t given us a date yet, but I’ll be going into a council flat.’
‘Oh, Gran. They can’t make you move, can they?’ Ellie was horrified. She knew how much her grandmother loved the little house and garden, and its convenient position close to the shops and the market. And all her friends were here. She’d lived all her life in this street, moving only a few doors away from her parents when she’d married Fred Bowman.
Threads of Silk Page 4
