The Lodger

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘I’m straight as a die with you, Maggie.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but we all happen to be goin’ with Mr Bradshaw.’

  ‘Eh?’ Mr Bates looked very taken aback. ‘The local copper that ’ad tea with you last Sunday?’

  ‘He’s a kind man, and a friend,’ said Maggie. ‘I must say, I’ve never been more surprised, ’aving you offering to take us after we’ve already been invited by him.’

  ‘Well, can’t be helped, it’s just my ’ard luck.’ Mr Bates smiled ruefully. ‘I’ll hand the tickets to some of the street kids. No, I’ll keep one, it’s been years since I was at the Zoo meself. Might see you there, eh? Not that I’ll intrude, I don’t ’old with bein’ a pushin’ friend. Have a good time.’

  Lord, thought Maggie, I do have two men interested in me all of a sudden.

  Sunday turned out lovely and sunny. The Zoo had the girls agog and capering about. Meg darted off. Maggie called after her.

  ‘Mum, it’s the way to the lions over ’ere!’

  ‘We’ll all go there together later, so come back ’ere.’

  ‘She’ll get ate up,’ said Daisy. ‘Lions eat people, don’t they, mister?’

  ‘Only little fat shockers,’ said Harry, ‘not little girls like you, Daisy, or bigger little girls like Lily, or growing-up ones like Trary and Meg.’

  ‘Nor mum?’ asked Lily, in awe at the wonders of the Zoo.

  ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Harry. ‘Every lion knows that mums are far too valuable to be eaten.’ Lily looked pleased and relieved about that. Meg came back. Maggie told her she wasn’t to go off by herself, not in these crowds.

  ‘I know,’ said Trary, ‘you hold on to Lily and Meg, Mr Bradshaw, and I’ll hold on to Daisy. Then mum can have a day off worryin’. Come on, Daisy.’ She took Daisy’s hand. And she was very pleased when Lily and Meg happily placed themselves in Mr Bradshaw’s charge. Their fingers clung around his. Maggie did not miss their willingness. Girls liked a father figure. She caught Trary’s eye. Trary smiled.

  ‘I’m onto you, my girl,’ she whispered, ‘but it won’t make no difference.’

  ‘Don’t know what you mean, Mum,’ said Trary, who thought her mum had made herself look really nice for the outing in her one and only decent Sunday dress of light grey, even if her hat was a widow’s black one. Maggie always felt a nice grey was becoming to a widow.

  An elephant lumbered into view, the crowds parting to get out of its way. Daisy and Lily were both awe-struck. The elephant, guided by its keeper, was giving rides to children in a large basket on its back.

  Lily, tightening her hold on Harry’s left hand, gulped, ‘Is it a real one, mister?’

  ‘I should think so, Lily, it’s plodding about and its trunk’s movin’.’

  ‘No, is it really real?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘Oh, yer soppy thing,’ said Meg, ‘course it is, it wouldn’t be movin’ if it wasn’t real.’

  ‘Yes, I s’pose if it wasn’t real, it ‘ud fall over,’ said Lily. The girls gazed up at the laughing children.

  ‘Yes, so it would,’ said Harry. ‘Elephants that aren’t real don’t have any bones in their legs.’

  The searching trunk hovered above Lily’s boater as the elephant approached. Lily squealed.

  ‘Oh, crikey,’ breathed Daisy.

  ‘March on, Napoleon,’ said Harry to the placid beast, and it moved on, trunk wandering.

  ‘Oh, it ’eard yer, mister,’ said Lily. ‘Yer saved me ’at bein’ ate up.’

  ‘Mr Bradshaw’s Trary’s ’ero,’ said Meg.

  ‘To me dyin’ day,’ said Trary, a picture in her blue frock, Sunday boater and black silk stockings. The stockings gleamed around her calves and ankles, and felt utter bliss to her, and excitingly posh. A boy stopped to give her the eye. Her nose went up in the air immediately.

  They gazed at lanky, strutting ostriches. One was parading about free, but under the eye of a keeper.

  ‘What’s it called?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘Could be something like Lulu,’ said Harry. Meg laughed and squeezed his hand. It affected him.

  ‘Daisy means what is it,’ said Maggie.

  ‘Well, I bet it’s not a canary,’ said Lily.

  ‘It’s an ostrich,’ said Maggie, ‘they’re all ostriches.’

  ‘I seen ’em in books,’ said Daisy, ‘only I forgot the name. I’m always forgettin’,’ she said darkly to herself. ‘Oh, look,’ she cried as they went on amid the crowds. ‘Mum, look. Monkeys!’

  The monkey house was a fascination to the girls. Harry bought a bag of nuts and shared them out. Daisy and Lily yelped with delight at being able to feed the chimps. Lily asked to be lifted a bit. Harry lifted her. She stretched out a tentative hand and offered a nut. A quick paw took it from her, and the chimp’s bright-eyed expression became a smile to Lily as its lips parted.

  ‘Look, it’s smilin’ at me. Trary, look, it’s givin’ me a smile. Mister, look, can you see?’

  ‘That’s a smile all right,’ said Harry, ‘and you know what it means, Lily, don’t you? Love at first sight, that’s what I reckon.’

  ‘Crikey,’ said nine-year-old Lily, and offered another nut. Her new friend snatched it and made short work of it. Again its bright eyes gleamed and its teeth showed happily.

  ‘Ask ’im ’is name,’ said Meg, ‘you want to know what to call ’im when he starts walkin’ out with you.’

  ‘Soppy,’ said Lily. The chimp leapt about. Lily, laughing, turned in Harry’s arms and gave him a hug. ‘Oh, ain’t it fun, mister?’ she said.

  ‘Me, give me a lift,’ begged Daisy, hand clutching nuts. Harry set Lily down and took the youngest girl up. Two chimps darted to perch themselves close.

  ‘Ain’t our Daisy popular?’ said Meg. ‘She’s got two after ’er, an’ before she’s given them any nuts.’

  Daisy offered one. It was grabbed. She offered another. The chimps chattered and gobbled. Meg threw a nut. A chimp leapt and caught it in the air. Daisy was laughing, giggling and quivering. They stayed a while, all the monkeys fascinating. Then they moved on. Meg slipped her hand back into Harry’s, and Lily clung to his other. Maggie bit her lip. Girls liked a dad. Boys liked a mum.

  They moved around the Zoo. They watched penguins, polar bears and two huge hippos. Then they found a seat to accommodate all of them and ate the sandwiches Maggie had made. Harry went and bought two bottles of lemonade, and they drank it out of a mug, passing it round and refilling it. The sun shone, the girls chattered. Trary thought it was just like a family outing, a full family outing, with Lily and Meg showing a nice fondness for Mr Bradshaw.

  A strong and cheerful voice broke through the noise of the crowds. ‘Well, hello, hello, thought I might run across yer.’

  They all looked up into the hugely benevolent smile of Mr Bates.

  ‘Oh, you’ve come too,’ said Meg.

  ‘Picture postcard, that’s what all you girlies make. How’d’yer do, Maggie. How’d’yer do, old man?’ Mr Bates smiled at Harry. ‘So we meet, eh?’

  ‘So it seems,’ said Harry, who knew Detective-Sergeant Chamberlain had had his doubts about Maggie’s lodger. That was something that had disturbed Harry, but the man was in the clear now. And his air of genuine pleasure at seeing the family he lodged with couldn’t be faulted. ‘Like some lemonade?’

  ‘Not goin’ to rob you, wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Mr Bates handsomely. Oh, go away, thought Trary. Their lodger was larger than life sometimes. ‘No, yours truly don’t intend to barge in. Maggie, you all look as if yer local constab’lary is takin’ good care of you, which is the name of the game, as they say about a sudden strike of gold in Australia. I’ll leave yer to yer Sunday out. Seen the kangaroos, ’ave yer, Daisy me pet?’

  ‘Oh, could we see some kangaroos, mister?’ Daisy asked of Harry.

  ‘If they haven’t all jumped out of sight,’ said Harry.

  Mr Bates laughed. ‘Good point, that, constable,’ he said. ‘So long
now, girlies, see yer later.’ He went bouncily off, laughing.

  They did some more strolling and looking, Lily and Meg again hand in hand with Harry, and Trary hanging on to Daisy, leaving Maggie as free as the air. They saw the lions and tigers, strongly caged. The lions lay crouched for the most part, tails lazily flapping, eyes gazing incuriously and with the undemanding mildness of animals that had just been fed. But they were in time to see the tigers receiving their ration of meat. There was growling, snarling and hissing as the big striped cats competed for the large red chunks.

  ‘Cor, I bet they’d eat anybody,’ said Daisy, as huge teeth grated on bone.

  ‘Well, who they eatin’ now?’ asked Lily.

  ‘Where’s Trary?’ asked Harry. ‘Mother O’Riley, where is she?’

  ‘Oh, you silly, she’s ’ere,’ giggled Lily.

  ‘Oh, yes, so I am,’ said Trary, hand in Daisy’s. ‘What a relief.’

  ‘Yer ’aving us on, mister,’ said Lily.

  ‘Still, I s’pose they’re eatin’ somebody,’ said Meg.

  ‘Might be the Prime Minister,’ said Harry.

  ‘Oh, we don’t mind ’im bein’ gobbled up,’ said Meg. ‘And don’t they gobble up ferocious, mister?’

  ‘Only way to eat a Prime Minister, I reckon,’ said Harry.

  ‘Oh, yer fun,’ said Meg, which was the prime compliment from an eleven-year-old girl to a grown-up. Trary’s eyes danced. Maggie smiled wryly.

  ‘Would you like a pot of tea, Mrs Wilson?’ asked Harry.

  ‘That sounds like a bit of ’eaven,’ said Maggie.

  ‘A pot of tea for six, girls, with cakes?’ said Harry.

  ‘We’ll just love you for it, Mr Bradshaw,’ said Trary.

  ‘Give you kisses,’ laughed Meg.

  ‘I don’t mind,’ announced Daisy.

  ‘Specially if the cakes is nice,’ said Lily.

  ‘What a palaver,’ said Maggie.

  Harry took them to the Zoo refreshment rooms, where they sat down to two pots of tea and fruit buns with butter. Trary thought he simply must be fond of her mum, he was spending money in such a romantic way, on flowers, on tickets to the Zoo and fruit buns with butter. Butter. Trary had a feeling Mr Bates would have been just as generous, but in a loud show-off way, with his laughs rolling about all over the Zoo. Oh, crikey, if mum did go and marry him, those same laughs would roll about all over the house, drowning everyone. That reminded her of Bobby Reeves and how he could talk. She supposed some other girl was having to listen to him now. Not that she cared.

  ‘All right, Trary?’ Mr Bradshaw was looking at her from the other side of the table. Her partly eaten fruit bun lay neglected on her plate. She felt very touched by his affectionate smile.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Bradshaw, I was only thinkin’ what a lovely day mum and me and the girls are havin’.’

  ‘It’s mutual, Trary, I’m havin’ a lovely time myself,’ said Harry.

  ‘Can we go an’ find the kangaroos in a minute?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘An’ some parrots,’ said Lily. ‘I like parrots.’

  ‘Well, you’re one yerself,’ said Meg, and Lily giggled.

  ‘You’re on,’ said Harry. ‘We’ll take a look at the kangaroos and then go and meet some of Lily’s brothers and sisters.’

  Maggie laughed out loud. It made the girls smile, and it made Trary think that her mum was happy. Meg said again that Harry was fun, and Trary said yes, really nice fun.

  When they left the refreshment rooms, Maggie took charge of Daisy and Lily. Meg attached herself to Harry again. Trary walked on his other side. He took her hand too. Her fingers curled contentedly around his, and a little unbreakable bond established itself between the Walworth constable and Maggie’s eldest daughter.

  On their way to find the kangaroos, Maggie saw Mr Bates again. He was talking to a man in a natty striped suit and a boater, whom she thought looked a bit flash. Mr Bates lifted his hat to her. His companion lifted his boater, and eyed her with keen interest.

  ‘Nice to see you again, Maggie,’ called Mr Bates.

  ‘’Ow’d’yer do, lady,’ said Mr Rodney Foster, ‘good day to yer.’

  Maggie thought his cockney accent quite unlike anything she’d ever heard, it was so broad and nasal.

  ‘Good day,’ she said, and went on with her daughters and Harry.

  The Zoo trip was memorable for all of them, even if the kangaroos made no attempt to jump as high as a house.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Mr Bates put his head round the kitchen door on Monday morning. The girls had just finished their porridge, and Trary was running a tidying comb through Daisy’s hair before going off to West Square. She had to leave by half-past eight at the latest, as she always walked, unless it was raining, when Maggie gave her a penny for a tram fare. The younger girls did not need to leave until five-to-nine, as St John’s School was only a minute away.

  ‘Hello, hello, where’s you ma?’ asked Mr Bates.

  ‘Gone to work,’ said Trary briefly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘What fell off a ladder an’ broke ’is leg, yer know,’ said Meg reprovingly.

  ‘What work?’ asked Mr Bates.

  ‘She’s got a morning job at a newsagents,’ said Trary.

  ‘That’s the most shockin’ bit of news I ever heard,’ said Mr Bates, looking quite upset. ‘Your mum goin’ out to work? It’s a sad day, girlies.’

  ‘She wasn’t cryin’,’ said Meg, now instinctively favouring Constable Bradshaw as her mum’s best gentleman friend.

  ‘Well, I am,’ said Mr Bates, ‘I’m cryin’ me eyes out. Can’t be right, Meg, your mum havin’ to go out to work.’

  ‘Mum needs the money to buy our daily bread,’ said Trary, putting the comb on the mantelpiece.

  ‘I’m hurt I wasn’t told’, said Mr Bates sadly.

  ‘Oh, dear me, fancy that,’ said Trary. ‘Well, I’m goin’ now, Meg, you see you all get to school on time. Excuse me, Mr Bates.’

  ‘Pleasure,’ said Mr Bates, standing aside, ‘I’ll see yer sisters leave for school on time.’

  ‘Thanks, but they don’t need you to,’ said Trary, and left.

  Maggie quite enjoyed her first morning at the newsagents, needing only a little guidance and advice from Mr Gardner in the matter of relating to customers. The shop was quite busy, selling tobacco, confectionery and other little items in addition to newspapers and magazines. Housewives liked to have a chat while purchasing magazines like Home Chat and Peg’s Paper, or an ounce of shag for a husband’s clay pipe. Maggie’s inherent friendliness came through, and Mr Gardner told her at the end of her four hours stint that he was downright pleasured by her nice ways.

  On her way home she stopped at Mrs Reeves’s secondhand clothing stall to inspect what was on offer. The girls were badly in need of some decent seconds, and she could now afford to spend a couple of shillings on frocks they could wear to school. Mrs Reeves was often able to supply very wearable frocks for sixpence or even less.

  Beaming, Mrs Reeves said, ‘Well, it’s that nice to see yer again, Mrs Wilson. Your eldest girl stopped by for a little chat a week or so ago. Ain’t she growed a lovely gel? That Bobby of mine says ’e’s fair been laid out. At ’is age, would yer believe. I told ’im, no good buildin’ castles till ’e’s a man and knows what ’is prospects is. I just hope your Trary’s not embarrassed by ’is ’igh-falutin’ tongue, her bein’ only thirteen. Mind, when she was talkin’ to me, I said to meself, I said there’s a gel who can ’old her own.’

  Maggie laughed. ‘She can do that all right, Mrs Reeves. It’s more like can any boy hold ’is own with her, and if he can it won’t be no embarrassment to her, more like a challenge. But I don’t think she’s seen much of Bobby this last week.’

  ‘No, well, he’s been down with tonsillitis,’ said Mrs Reeves. ‘Shock to ’im that he couldn’t use ’is tongue like he usually can. Today’s’ ’is first time up and about. ’E’s busy upstairs sortin’ through a
stock we had come in this mornin’. Reg’lar sharp eye that lad’s got for sortin’ an’ pricin’.’

  ‘I like Bobby,’ said Maggie, ‘I’m sorry about his tonsillitis.’

  ‘I’ll give ’im your regards, Mrs Wilson, he’s got a soft spot for you and yer fam’ly,’ said Mrs Reeves. ‘Would yer be after anything off me stall?’

  ‘Well, something for the girls to wear for school?’

  Mrs Reeves beamed again. ‘Tell you what, Mrs Wilson, I’ll get Bobby to bring yer round a bargain box of stuff this evenin’. ’E knows yer girls. There’s a few nice frocks ’anging there, and more in the stock that come this mornin’. Bobby and me’ll see he brings you a nice selection, an’ yer girls can try them on. Bobby’ll price anything you want to buy. Is yer ’ard luck times a bit better?’

  ‘Much better,’ said Maggie. ‘Mrs Reeves, that’s really nice of you.’

  ‘Well, we all got to pull together,’ said Mrs Reeves, a motherly body. ‘No good relyin’ on no Government to ’elp us out, I don’t know what we ’ave Governments for. Chuck ’em all out, Mr Reeves says. Can I ’elp you, lady?’ She addressed the question to a shabby-looking woman who had been hovering and who had advanced to tentatively finger one of the hanging frocks. Maggie smiled, said goodbye and left Mrs Reeves to make a sale.

  Bobby appeared at the stall ten minutes later. Monday morning business in the market was desultory, and his mum had time to chat to him. He was a little peaky from his illness, but as alert as ever, and he wanted to know what had happened to a prime fox fur and a winter coat with a fur collar that had been among the stock that had arrived during the morning.

  ‘Upstairs,’ said Mrs Reeves. She and her family lived in the flat above the shop that was behind the stall. ‘We put them aside for that special customer I told yer about.’

  ‘Well, they’ve gone missin’,’ said Bobby.

  ‘Where’s yer father?’ asked Mrs Reeves quickly.

  ‘Blimey,’ said Bobby, and gave his mum a wry look. ‘He’s nicked ’em, he went off with a parcel ten minutes ago.’