Tilly's Story

by June Francis

  It was a relief to be out in the fresh spring air and she took her time walking to Blackledge’s bakery, knowing there would be changes ahead.

  ‘Who did that to yer?’ asked the woman in the bakery.

  ‘Did what?’ asked Tilly, handing the money over and taking the bag of buns from her.

  ‘Yer’ve finger marks on yer face, luv.’

  ‘Have I?’ Tilly touched her cheek and felt the bruising made by Miss Langton’s fingers. Tilly had never been hit before and the experience had shocked her. Suddenly she wanted to weep and hurried out of the shop, pulling her hair over her cheek.

  Miss Langton was still sitting where she had left her, so Tilly put on the kettle and made the tea. She poured out two cups and put them on a tray with a plate with two buns on it. She knocked on the door of Mr Holmes’ office.

  ‘Come in!’

  She entered, carrying the tray.

  Immediately Grant rose from his chair and took it from her. ‘Are you OK, Tilly?’

  She nodded, and quickly left.

  Miss Langton had still not moved when Tilly poured out their tea and carried a cup over to her. ‘Tea, Miss Langton,’ she said.

  The woman shook her head.

  Tilly sighed and placed the cup and bun on the desk and sat down and drank the sweet tea and ate the bun, wondering what would happen next.

  Half an hour later Grant and Mr Holmes came out of the inner office. ‘If you’ll let me have your report as soon as possible, Grant, I’d appreciate it,’ said Mr Holmes.

  ‘Sure,’ said Grant, and shook his hand.

  Tilly had looked up when they appeared but now she lowered her eyes to her work again. She knew when Grant stopped in front of her desk. ‘Are you OK, Tilly?’ he asked again.

  She nodded. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I’ll see you at the shop.’

  ‘OK.’

  Tilly did not watch him leave, aware that Mr Holmes was speaking in a low voice to Miss Langton. The woman got up and went into his office with him. Tilly stayed where she was for a couple of minutes before getting up and creeping over to the door. She placed her ear against it but could not make out what was being said, so returned to her desk. Shortly afterwards one of the insurance collectors came in and she had to deal with him.

  It was to be three-quarters of an hour before Miss Langton emerged from Mr Holmes’s office. He stood in the doorway and beckoned Tilly. She stood up and went into his office with him. He waved her to a chair and she sat down.

  ‘I’m extremely sorry about what happened, Miss Moran,’ he said. ‘It was bad behaviour on Miss Langton’s part but I’m afraid I am going to ask you to leave.’

  ‘What?’ Tilly had not known what to expect but she knew this was wrong. She pushed herself to her feet. ‘It’s not fair!’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ he said. ‘Please sit down again, Miss Moran. I want to explain a few matters to you.’

  ‘All that matters to me is that I’m going to be without a job. Do you know what that means, Mr Holmes?’

  His frown deepened. ‘Of course I do. I’m well aware of the employment situation in this country, but you will not go empty-handed and I will write an excellent reference.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Tilly. ‘If you consider me such a good worker, why are you sacking me?’

  He fiddled with the pen on his desk. ‘You are young and you are pretty, as well as intelligent, Miss Moran. Miss Langton has none of these attributes but she is loyal and hardworking.’ Tilly made to speak but he silenced her with a raised hand. ‘I doubt she has told you that she has an invalid widowed mother and that she has to support the old woman as well as herself. She has to pay someone to look in on her during the day and cook her a meal. Miss Langton’s life is not easy. I was a friend of her father’s and I feel some responsibility for them.’

  ‘I see,’ murmured Tilly, able to pity the woman but she still did not like her.

  ‘I will see you are paid three months’ wages, Miss Moran, and hopefully that will give you some breathing space and time to find another job,’ said Mr Holmes.

  Tilly’s spirits lifted. She was out of a situation that she had found difficult but would still be able to pay for her bed and board until summer.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Holmes. I do appreciate that you accept that what happened was not my fault.’

  He nodded. ‘I will get in touch with head office and see that this matter is dealt with swiftly and everything will be in the post before the end of the month.’ He stood up and so did Tilly.

  ‘Perhaps it’s best I leave now,’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’ He held out a hand to her. She took it and shook it and then, picking up the tray of crockery, she carried it out of the office.

  Tilly did not speak again to Miss Langton but washed the crockery before putting on her coat and hat and leaving the office for the last time. Once outside, she was filled with such a sense of freedom that she wanted to sing and dance. Instead, she decided to cross the road and head for Newsham Park, hoping to find her father in the Bennetts’ garden.

  ‘Good morning, Tilly,’ Eudora greeted her. ‘What are you doing here at this time of day? Why aren’t you in work?’

  Tilly turned and looked at Eudora, who had Nanki Poo on a lead. ‘It’s a long story,’ said Tilly, opening the gate.

  ‘Then why don’t you come in and tell me about it? If you were wanting to see your father, he’s gone on an errand for me and won’t be back for some hours,’ said Eudora. ‘Have you had lunch?’

  ‘No,’ said Tilly.

  ‘Then come in and have a sandwich with me. It’s Joy’s day off and she’s gone to see the Queen.’

  ‘The Queen?’

  ‘Yes.’ Eudora’s dark eyes twinkled down at her. ‘Surely you can’t be unaware that the King is at Aintree for the racing and the Queen and Princess Mary are in town presenting some awards or opening some building or other while they’re here.’

  Tilly gave her a blank look. ‘I had no idea, which is surprising because Wendy generally keeps me up to date with everything that’s going on in Liverpool.’

  ‘I see. Well, it’s Grand National week. If you’ve got any money to spare, Tilly, even a sixpence, Mr Bennett and I will put it on a horse for you when we go to the races on Friday.’

  Tilly said, ‘What about thrupence?’

  Eudora chuckled, and followed her round to the back of the house.

  Once Nanki Poo had been fed and the sandwiches and tea made, Tilly and Eudora sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Now, tell me what’s happened,’ she said.

  Tilly proceeded to tell her everything and Eudora listened without interruption. But when Tilly had finished her tale, the older woman clapped her hands and beamed at her. ‘But this is excellent, Tilly. I need a part-time assistant and here you are!’

  Tilly stared at her warily. ‘What kind of assistant? You’re not taking to the stage again are you and doing readings?’

  Eudora pulled a wry face. ‘No, my dear. That side of my life is completely over. My new work certainly involves meeting people’s needs but at a different level. It’s charitable work.’

  Tilly swallowed the remains of her sandwich and hesitated before saying, ‘I can’t work for nothing, Mrs Bennett. I need a job that pays as the money I’ll be getting will run out. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to help you for free but you must realise how it is. If I want to be independent I need to support myself.’

  ‘An admirable aim,’ said Eudora, offering Tilly another sandwich.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, taking one.

  ‘The charity I am involved in will willingly pay for your help. I wasn’t suggesting that you would be an unpaid volunteer such as myself.’

  ‘Oh!’ exclaimed Tilly, relieved.

  ‘Of course, we cannot pay you a large wage but if you find you love the work, then you’ll end up with more hours than you could possibly want.’

  ‘So what is this job?’ asked Tilly.


  ‘I’m a member of the Friends of the Seamen’s Widows and Children’s Charity connected with the Liverpool’s Seamen’s Orphanage,’ said Eudora. ‘Although my work does not involve raising money for children who have lost both parents, but for the wives and children of seamen lost at sea or killed in accidents at the docks. Some mothers naturally want to look after their children in their own homes but, to do so, some need help. One of my tasks is to visit some of these families and see the conditions they live in. By doing this I discover how best to provide for their needs. You’d be shocked, my dear, by how poverty stricken some families are.’

  ‘But what would I do?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘It would be useful if you came along with me and made notes while I talk to the families. I’m not as young as I was and sometimes I can’t always hear properly what they say. You could type up the notes and you’ll be paid for that, too. When you’re more experienced then you’ll be able to visit without me and eventually take a trainee with you.’

  Tilly’s eyes gleamed. ‘It sounds a very worthwhile job.’

  ‘My dear, it is,’ said Eudora, patting her arm. ‘And it will open your eyes to a different side of life altogether, which will help you in your writing.’

  ‘When do I start?’ asked Tilly, bursting with enthusiasm.

  Eudora said, ‘There are a few matters I need to sort out first. I’ll fill you in on them tomorrow. We’ll have lunch and you can see your father then.’

  Tilly agreed and shortly afterwards she left and made her way to the shop.

  ‘What are you doing home?’ asked Wendy.

  Tilly explained.

  ‘Gosh,’ said Wendy, looking slightly envious. ‘You have fallen on your feet.’

  ‘Haven’t I just,’ said Tilly with a smile before going upstairs. She changed into something more comfortable and settled herself at her desk, then placed a sheet of paper into her typewriter and began to type.

  The following day Tilly arrived at the Bennetts’ house just before noon and was welcomed by Eudora. ‘Joy’s not back from the shops yet and Robbie’s already left for a rehearsal at the Palladium,’ she informed her. ‘I thought a light lunch, my dear, in light of what’s going on in the world today. People are starving in Europe and Asia, you know. I saw photographs in a magazine the other day that wrenched my heart. I have a friend in America who sends magazines over to me after she’s read them. Perhaps you’d like to take one home with you? They’re not all misery but have some very interesting articles.’

  ‘Thanks, I would,’ said Tilly, dipping her spoon into the homemade lentil soup.

  ‘Have you seen any more of our neighbour?’ asked Eudora, taking bread from a plate in the middle of the table.

  The question surprised Tilly. ‘You mean Mr Parker or the relative who lives with him?’

  ‘Mr Parker.’ Eudora’s pale brow puckered. ‘A good-looking man and charming on the outside but I suspect he’s a deep one.’

  ‘What do you mean – a deep one?’

  ‘Only that I sense he’s hiding something’

  Tilly felt a strange tingling on the back of her neck, remembering that, according to Joy and Hanny, Eudora Bennett could see things that others could not. Yet she found herself defending Leonard Parker. ‘He seemed honest and open to me.’

  ‘Naturally. Clever people who have something to hide often present such a front. Remember Bert Kirk?’

  ‘How could I forget him? He shot Dad and tried to destroy the family.’

  ‘Indeed, he did.’

  Tilly frowned. ‘You’re not saying Mr Parker would behave in such a way?’

  ‘I don’t know him well enough to say that, Tilly, but I sense that he’s a man with secrets.’

  Again, Tilly felt that tingling at the nape of her neck. ‘Have you read Jane Eyre, Mrs Bennett? If you have you won’t have forgotten the hero.’

  Eudora’s eyes twinkled. ‘Mr Rochester, who kept his deranged wife locked up in the attic and would have married Jane bigamously.’

  ‘You read my mind!’

  ‘Not really. We were talking about Mr Parker and secrets. I just put two and two together. I think the woman next door is exactly who we believe her to be and that is a poor relation, who is slightly backward but quite capable of doing housework and cooking for him.’ Eudora stood up and cleared away her utensils and made a pot of tea. ‘I can admire him for taking her in but then it probably means he doesn’t have to pay her a wage.’

  Suddenly, Tilly felt resentful towards Eudora for sniping at Leonard Parker in that nasty way. Then the moment passed and she knew that the attraction she had felt at their second meeting was stronger than she realised. She finished her soup and got up to wash their bowls and cutlery.

  ‘You don’t have to do that, Tilly,’ said Eudora, placing two slices of Dundee cake on a plate. ‘Joy would have seen to them.’

  ‘I like to be useful,’ said Tilly.

  Eudora smiled. ‘Then perhaps it’s time we talked about the reason why you’re here. You can also pour out the tea.’ Tilly did what she said and then sat down at the table. ‘You played extremely well at my New Year’s party, by the way,’ added Eudora, ‘which has given me another idea but I doubt it will come to fruition for some time.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘A concert in aid of the seamen’s orphans and widows. One that we could also put on as entertainment for them, as well. We’d need good amateurs, such as yourself.’

  ‘You mean you’d want me to perform on stage in front of people?’ croaked Tilly, almost overcome by excitement.

  ‘Yes. And you could accompany some of the singers. I believe Seb’s mother is back on the stage, performing for charity. Now, if we could persuade the Liverpool Nightingale to sing for us next Autumn, I think that would be a feather in our cap, don’t you?’

  ‘You think she would do it?’ asked Tilly doubtfully. ‘I mean she and you don’t exactly…’

  ‘Hit it off? Oh, I think I could persuade her. I know things about her that if even a whisper got out.’ She smiled.

  Tilly felt that tingle again and thought there was rather a wicked gleam in the older woman’s dark eyes. ‘You mean you’d blackmail her?’

  Eudora raised her eyebrows. ‘Blackmail is not a nice word to use, Tilly. But I’m only human, my dear, and she once accused me of murder.’

  ‘Gosh,’ said Tilly, looking shocked. ‘That’s not nice.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. As if I’d do away with the man we both loved.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, concert apart, you want to know about Monday and where I’ll be taking you.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Tilly, wondering about the secrets that were locked up in Eudora’s heart.

  ‘Have you ever been to Scotland Road? Well, Scotty Road, as the locals call it, has something of a reputation. There is a pub on every corner and even the police are wary of visiting the area after dark on their own.’

  ‘But we won’t be going at night-time, will we?’ Tilly reached for a slice of Dundee cake and bit into it.

  Eudora smiled. ‘Certainly not. But it would be sensible even during the day to not stand out. We will dress simply and carry little money on our persons. These are tough times, as we both know, and it would be foolish to put temptation in the way of desperate people.’

  ‘Will my own clothes do?’ she asked.

  Eudora looked her over. ‘You look very pretty in green and white but it would be best if you have something dark and plain. There are so many women dressed soberly since the war and we want to blend in. You’d be surprised by how many working class people hate do-gooders.’

  ‘But surely some must welcome those who would help them?’ asked Tilly, taken aback.

  ‘Of course! But they don’t want their neighbours knowing they’re accepting charity.’

  ‘What about help from the church?’

  ‘The church does what it can but large numbers have drifted away since the war. They question the reality of a c
aring God when so many brave men were killed and taken from them,’ said Eudora.

  ‘What about the Government?’

  Eudora shrugged. ‘Some politicians have made a start in trying to change the lives of the poor but increases in taxes aren’t welcomed by the rich.’

  ‘Surely life has to improve for the poor, otherwise there could be a revolution, the same as in Russia?’

  ‘I doubt it, my dear. Life will certainly get worse before it gets better but one day the lot of the working classes will improve.’ She added in a voice that quivered, ‘Not in my earthly lifetime but certainly in your children’s. In the meantime, I have to do what I can to help the needy. I want you here on Monday at ten o’clock,’ she said firmly.

  For a brief moment Tilly thought of those words – your children’s - and whether Eudora really could see the future. She felt that tingle again, thinking of Don and guiltily of Leonard Parker, too.

  Eudora said, ‘Any questions, Tilly?’

  Tilly forced herself to concentrate on the matter in hand. ‘Will Dad be driving us?’

  Eudora’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Certainly not! Haven’t I just explained matters? We go incognito, Tilly.’

  Tilly flushed. ‘You make me feel like a spy.’

  ‘Well, it will certainly give you something to put into one of your stories, dear, won’t it?’ she said with a laugh. ‘Now, finish your tea and cake and go and see your father. I have a little job I want him to do for me later.’

  Tilly did as Eudora said and found Mal cleaning the car. ‘Hello, Dad.’

  He did not immediately respond and she wondered if he was getting deaf in his old age. She went and stood the other side of the car so he could not avoid seeing her. ‘Hello, Dad,’ she repeated.

  ‘There yer are, lass!’ Mal dropped his polishing cloth on the front passenger seat and held out his arms to her. ‘I’m really glad to see ye. I’ve been worried.’

  ‘What is it, Dad? What’s wrong?’ she asked, giving him a hug.

  He glanced about and then whispered, ‘I found a body and I’ve forgotten where it is.’