Custard Tarts and Broken Hearts

by Mary Gibson

  ‘Tell the truth, Lil, I’ve got no choice. I just can’t make enough to keep us – I’m always three bloody bob short!’

  She put her face in her hands and had no strength to stop the sobs that suddenly racked her. Lily put her arms round her friend.

  ‘Shhh, Nell, this is not like you. Where’s your fighting irons? Listen, we’ll find a way, even if you all have to come and live with me and Jock above the shop. You’re not going into no workhouse.’

  Nellie let herself rest on Lily’s shoulder for a moment. When the hooter went for the afternoon shift the girls joined the other women returning through the factory gates. They held hands as they went and Nellie, though unconvinced by her optimism, was grateful at least for Lily’s strong grip and her even stronger friendship.

  In the following days, Lily launched an undisguised campaign to keep Nellie’s spirits up, making her laugh with rude comments behind Albert’s back and doing more than her share of the heavy work of loading the trolley. She even tried to pay for her dinner one day at the coffee shop, which Nellie refused, insisting she wasn’t a charity case just yet.

  Then, later that week, Lily suggested they take Bobby and Freddie for an outing to Southwark Park. ‘You all need to get out of that house and do something different!’ she’d insisted, and Nellie hadn’t taken much convincing. It was free and the boys could run around in the open air all day. The warming summer was making them restless. She could feel a mutiny coming; her brothers wouldn’t want to be making matchboxes all summer long. But when she met Lily at the park gates on Sunday, Nellie was surprised to see she was not alone.

  ‘You don’t mind me bringing my chap, do you, Nell?’ Lily said, laughingly grabbing Jock’s arm. ‘And we thought this little lot could do with an outing too!’

  Sam, who was walking behind them, alongside Matty and Charlie, smiled at Nellie. The Gilbie children immediately ran ahead, with Nellie’s brothers. ‘We’re going to the pond!’ they called back, and Alice followed to make sure none of them fell in.

  The four friends walked together behind them and as they strolled along the wide avenue of oak trees, Nellie realized she was glad of Sam’s presence. Since their talk about her promise to Lizzie, she had been shy of seeking him out. She would chat to him as he left the stables, but time off was so rare she had little chance to be in his company. They walked past the bandstand and she thought back to when he had carried her out of the stampede of dockers and soldiers; she had been so ungrateful, feeling only disappointment that it wasn’t Ted. Now, walking by his side on that very spot, she realized, given the choice, there was no one else she’d rather be with.

  Jock had brought a blanket and spread it beneath some trees in view of the pond. Lily and Nellie sat on the blanket, while Jock and Sam lounged on either side. It seemed like heaven to Nellie to be sitting there, warmed by the early summer sun, watching the children play around the pond. Alice was helping them make boats from odd twigs and bits of reed, and their splashing and laughter sounded to Nellie like the lost music of childhood. Sun dappled through the trees where she sat and painted her faded cotton skirt with splashes of lemon light. She let out a long sigh and leaned back on her hands. Sam was lying on one elbow next to her.

  ‘What was that for?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s just nice to see them running around, being kids.’

  ‘I know. Our Matty’s taken on most of the cleaning and laundry now. Poor little mite, she can hardly reach the scrubbing board, she has to stand on a crate! Charlie’s got his jobs, but he won’t help with the laundry. Says it’s women’s work, the little bugger.’

  Nellie smiled ruefully. ‘You do your best, Sam, it’s all we can do.’

  Lily was rooting around in a large bag. Finally, she lifted out a huge wrapped parcel of jam sandwiches and some bottles of ginger beer.

  ‘Grub!’ she declared triumphantly. ‘Come on, Jock, let’s go and feed the hungry hordes!’ She dragged him up and Sam and Nellie laughed, watching her dole out the sandwiches with strict fairness. ‘Hang on, Freddie, you gannet,’ Lily shouted. ‘You took two, give one back!’

  Sam sipped from a bottle of beer, while they looked on at the children, sitting with their legs dangling over the edge of the pond, each of them now in a competition to cram as large a slab of bread into their mouth as possible.

  ‘Anyone would think they’re starving!’ Sam joked.

  For some reason this seemed like a criticism to Nellie, who responded sharply. ‘Well, they’re not, they’re just greedy little gits.’ She called over to her brothers, ‘You two, remember your manners. It’s not a race, you know!’

  Sam smiled. ‘Oh, they’re just growing boys.’ He looked across at her warily. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it, Nell. You’re a bit touchy.’

  But Sam had hit on the very subject that did make her feel defensive. It was embarrassing enough to be on the breadline, without her brothers acting as though she didn’t put food on the table for them.

  ‘Listen, Nell, don’t take this the wrong way, but if you should need an extra few bob at any time—’

  ‘I’m not taking handouts!’ she cut him off.

  ‘Give us a chance! I wasn’t suggesting a handout. I just heard that the Labour Institute is looking for delivery boys for the Co-op groceries, and I thought, well, you’ve got the cart on the penny-farthing and why not a delivery girl?’

  ‘Oh!’ This stopped Nellie in her tracks. She had to admit it was a tempting idea. ‘But when would I find the time?’

  ‘You could do the Saturday afternoon round, if you think you’d be up to it?’

  ‘’Course I’d be up to it!’ She wasn’t going to admit how exhausted she was feeling. ‘But do you think they’d take me on?’

  ‘Well, I was down there last week and I did mention it to Frank, the Co-op manager.’ He paused, as if fearing a prickly reaction. When it didn’t come, he went on. ‘Anyway, he said he knew you were reliable, from when you volunteered during the strike, so I reckon you’ve got a good chance… another three bob a week wouldn’t go amiss, eh?’

  Finally, Nellie smiled. Three bob: how did he know the exact amount she needed? ‘Has Lily been talking to you, by any chance?’

  He dipped his head and smiled into his beer.

  The Labour Institute Co-op was a popular way of saving money on foodstuffs. Most people could only afford to buy tea, sugar and other staples in the smallest of quantities, which meant they paid a high premium from the corner shop. But the Co-op bought in bulk and passed the savings on to their members, a simple way to help them evade one of the traps of poverty. On Monday evening, Nellie presented herself at the Labour Institute and was sent round to the back yard. She recognized the Co-op manager from the strike days, a rather serious-looking, youngish man with round glasses and thinning fair hair. The Co-op had been his brainchild and she remembered at the time thinking he worked as hard as any docker, dashing about all day, stacking crates and organizing deliveries.

  ‘Frank Morgan,’ he introduced himself, and shook her hand. ‘You must be Nellie. Sam Gilbie said you might be interested.’

  Nellie liked him immediately, for the way he listened carefully, as she told him the hours she could manage and described her unusual form of transport.

  ‘A penny-farthing! And why not? If the bogey cart works as well as you say, then it’s better than the handcarts some of our boys use. You might raise some eyebrows, but so long as the job gets done, I’m not fussed about that.’

  So it was that Nellie became a familiar sight flying through the streets of Bermondsey on the old penny-farthing, with a cartload of groceries swinging out behind her and an extra three shillings a week in her pocket.

  Lily’s wedding day had finally been set for late September. In the previous weeks, every spare hour of Nellie’s had been commandeered by her friend. They went to the dressmaker to have fittings for their dresses, and to the Mayflower pub on the river where the wedding breakfast was to be held, Lily seeming to need
her advice on everything from the sandwiches to the cake. One evening, after returning from London Bridge with her matchbox delivery, she came upon Lily knocking at her door. Scooting to a halt, she wearily dismounted the penny-farthing.

  ‘Come on, Nell,’ Lily said impatiently. ‘I need you to come and help me pick out the carriage.’

  ‘Pick out the carriage! What, at this time of night? It’s nearly nine o’clock! Anyway, where’s Jock when he’s needed?’

  Lily looked hurt and immediately Nellie regretted her irritable jibe at Jock.

  ‘He does what he can to help me, but his father’s such a slave driver he’s working all the hours God sends in that shop. I wouldn’t ask, only you are me best friend …’

  ‘Oh, Lil, don’t mind me, I’m just tired. ’Course I’ll help you pick out the carriage. Just let me put this away,’ she said, patting the saddle of the bike. Lily followed her as she trudged round to the back gate. After stowing the penny-farthing and checking on Alice and the boys, they set off briskly through the darkening streets.

  ‘I’m sorry to drag you out, Nell,’ Lily said apologetically. ‘I know Jock’s not been able to help much… looks like the most he’s doing is picking out his suit!’

  Nellie nodded sympathetically. ‘That’s men, but you could do a lot worse than him. At least he’s not out pissing money up the wall, like some!’

  Lily seemed cheered by this faint praise of Jock and Nellie suddenly realized that it mattered to her friend what she thought of him. Perhaps it was this glimpse of her usually confident friend’s vulnerability that prompted Nellie to ask, ‘Do you really love him, Lil?’

  Her friend considered the question silently, before answering.

  ‘He’s a decent bloke and I know he’ll be good to me.’ Looking sharply at Nellie, she went on, ‘There’s all different sorts of love, Nell. I might not be all moon-eyed over him, like you was with our Ted, but, yes, I do love him.’

  Nellie felt her heart contract. Suddenly the image of Ted striding towards her, with his bright hair falling across his forehead, came back to her.

  ‘Sometimes, when I was with Ted, I couldn’t even breathe properly, like I was holding my breath, waiting for something to happen.’ Her voice was almost a whisper.

  ‘What?’ her friend asked,

  Nellie shook her head sadly. ‘I think I was waiting for him to leave me. I always thought he would because he didn’t really love me back, Lil.’

  ‘Oh, you got that wrong, Nell. Give me credit for knowing something about me own brother. I’ve seen him with plenty of girls, but he was different with you.’

  ‘Well, then, he didn’t love me enough, did he? ’Cause in the end, he sodded off, just like I expected he would!’

  They were silent for a while, weaving their way through the back streets towards the carriage hire yard in Grange Road.

  ‘I thought you’d got over him,’ Lily said suddenly. She looked so sad that Nellie drew her in reassuringly and linked arms as they walked.

  ‘Oh, I have, I don’t think about him hardly at all now. It’s just with the wedding… it’s bound to bring up old feelings.’

  ‘Nellie, I wish you could find someone as decent as Jock! I know I shouldn’t say it, but Sam Gilbie is twice the man my brother will ever be. You do know that, don’t you?’

  Nellie sighed. ‘Lily, I’ve told you, we’re just friends. If he ever had any interest in me, that bloody promise his mother wheedled out of me put paid to it. It’s like a brick wall between us. We’re always skirting around it, and even after he let me off it!’

  ‘You’ve talked about it?’

  Nellie nodded and explained Sam’s response, though not what had prompted their conversation.

  ‘See what I mean!’ exclaimed her friend. ‘He’s a bloody diamond, and if there’s a brick wall between you two, my advice is to get out yer sledgehammer, gel!’

  Both girls were laughing so loudly as they arrived at the carriage yard that the sound brought the proprietor to the double gates.

  ‘Ah, now you two ladies both look so happy,’ he said, smiling as he swung open one of the gates, ‘I really couldn’t pick out the one in love!’ He was rewarded with another burst of laughter from the two friends.

  The open, shiny black carriage, decorated with gold-painted curlicues, looked splendid, and Nellie thought Lily looked every inch the princess, in her antique lace and short veil, as she arrived at St Mary’s, Rotherhithe, on a September day of late summer warmth. Nellie rushed forward to help arrange her friend’s dress, as she stepped down out of the carriage. Nellie was wearing the dress of pale blue satin, which she loved, not least because it would do very nicely for Sunday best after the wedding. As she walked down the aisle behind Lily and her father, Nellie saw Jock look round, rather red in the face, nervously pulling at his collar and smoothing down his new suit. When they reached the altar, Nellie privately thought that of the two men standing there Sam Gilbie looked by far the more handsome, but, then, she wasn’t the one getting married, as she told herself when Lily handed over her bouquet. Her heart was bursting with happiness for her friend, but Nellie knew things would never be the same again. Growing up together had forged a bond that she was certain would never break, but from the moment Lily walked out a married woman, the balance would shift and Jock would be the first in her life. In the last two painful years it had always been Lily she could rely upon to raise her spirits when she despaired, or to give her no-nonsense advice when she ran out of her own resources. Of course they’d still see each other at work, but Nellie knew there was a part of her friend that would disappear and she would miss her. As Nellie took Lily’s bouquet, she whispered, ‘Good luck, love, no turning back now!’

  Lily squeezed her hand and, as if divining Nellie’s thoughts, whispered, ‘Friends forever, Nell.’

  20

  A Storm Breaks

  Nellie pulled aside the kitchen curtain and looked up at the dark bank of gathering clouds. The rooftops either side of Vauban Street already shone black with rain and though only a narrow strip of sky was visible between them, its solid gunmetal grey foretold a coming storm.

  ‘Bloody weather!’ Nellie complained to Alice. ‘I’ll get soaked again.’

  It was Saturday afternoon and Nellie was due to set off on her Co-op round. By now she was used to coping with most weather on the penny-farthing. Riding through the previous winter months had been hard, but now she decided she preferred the perils of snow-packed streets and icy cobbles to this incessant drenching rain. The heavens had opened at the beginning of March and had poured out their watery bounty all month long. The rain was insistent and inescapable. Even being indoors afforded no relief – the earth was so sodden, that damp wafted up through the floorboards and sometimes Nellie felt she was dwelling in a dank cave. Trudging through downpours on her way to the factory, she spent days with sopping shoes and was kept awake at nights by drumming rain on roof and windows. Gutters overflowed, shooting like waterfalls down algae-covered brick walls, and the Bermondsey streets ran like streams towards a bursting Thames.

  The sky this afternoon was like a grey winding sheet, swaddling the street with gloom. It was only just after one o’clock but dark as dusk. She sighed, pulling on the old mackintosh of her father’s that she had taken to wearing on all her bicycle trips. Alice handed her a rain bonnet.

  ‘Very fetching, I’m sure!’ Nellie said ironically as she tied it over her wide flat cap.

  Her brothers were morosely pasting matchbox labels at the kitchen table. They were fractious from being kept indoors and would gladly have gone splashing about in the rain, but Nellie feared pneumonia more than their moaning.

  ‘You two behave yourselves while I’m out, and don’t give Alice no cheek!’ she warned. ‘And you’re not going out, so don’t even ask,’ she got in quickly. Now they were growing older, the boys had started to try their strength against her authority. Twelve-year-old Freddie, convinced he was the man of the house, had begun to defy her
few rules, which were lenient enough. She didn’t want to replicate her father’s heavy-handed regime and preferred to use Freddie’s budding manliness to her own advantage by giving him all the heaviest jobs for, like her father, he was built like a bull.

  ‘I’m not sitting in doing matchboxes any more. It’s girls’ work!’ he complained, just as she was dashing for the door.

  ‘I haven’t got time to argue about it now, Freddie. I’ve got to go out in this lot and earn some money to put food on the table! I said when Dad went that we’ve all got to pull together, and you promised you’d help me, didn’t you?’

  Freddie’s defiant scowl crumpled a little at the mention of her father; she understood the nagging guilt the boy had. He’d hated their father’s tyranny and had never quite been won over by his later softening. She went over to him, the mackintosh crackling, the rain bonnet slipping, and gave him a hug in spite of her irritation.

  ‘I know it’s hard, Fred, but we’ve got to keep the money coming in, if we all want to stay together. If you’re fed up of the home work, perhaps there’s something else you could do to earn a few bob, eh?’

  ‘I already have. I asked Wicks for a part-time job at the yard!’ he declared proudly.

  ‘And what did he say about that?’

  ‘He said yes, so long as I didn’t mind shovelling shit, and I said I’d rather be doing that than pasting matchboxes.’

  Nellie gazed at him, impressed. ‘Well, that’s a turn up. What’s he paying you?’

  ‘Two bob and all the horse shit I can carry away. I’ll make a packet selling it round the allotments, Nell, and it won’t interfere with school, I promise. Can I do it?’

  ‘Can you do it? ’Course you can bloody do it!’

  She planted a kiss on her resourceful brother’s cheek. It was agreed the extra money would go straight into the housekeeping tin, but Nellie promised her brother he could have sixpence back for himself. Sam had predicted this boy wouldn’t stay poor all his life and now she didn’t doubt it.