by Mary Gibson
‘And fare thee well my only love,
And fare thee well a while
And I will come again my love
Though twer ten thousand mile.’
‘You wanted to know why she went now, Sam. Don’t you remember her last words?’
He nodded, understanding dawning. ‘She said she was ready to go and see her Michael now.’
‘She missed him, Sam, she just missed him.’
All this time the horse and cart had been tied up outside. Sam had checked on Blackie once, but the horse had stood patiently, waiting for the human drama to play itself out in the house. When Lily and Jock returned, Sam hefted the penny-farthing up on to the grain sacks in the cart, roping it on firmly. The rain still lashed down in sheets as they clambered up on to the cart. It was as if the storm was reluctant to let them go and they hunkered down, submitting to it. Sam looked across at Nellie, swathed in her father’s mackintosh with the rain bonnet covering her frizzled hair, and as rain streamed down his face, he smiled.
‘You do look a bit funny.’
‘I always try to look me best,’ she replied tartly, glad to give him some amusement.
‘Ge’up!’ he called to Blackie and the cart lurched forward. Clattering along through the rain-painted streets, they talked about what Sam would do now. He had to shout above the pummelling rain. ‘I’ll leave the cart in the yard and explain to Wicks; better go and see him tonight, or I won’t have a job on Monday!’
She didn’t envy Sam his interview. ‘Best not to expect any sympathy from that old git, but you’ll need time off to see the undertaker and the vicar.’
‘I’ll go Monday; he’ll have to find someone else to deliver this load.’
‘What will you do about the kids?’
‘That’s not for you to worry about, Nell.’
She sighed, exasperated at his pride. ‘I wasn’t worrying, I’m just asking, and anyway, we’re both orphans now.’ She let that sink in. ‘And I want to help… if you need it.’
‘Sorry, Nellie, ’course I’ll be grateful for your help, but you know that damn promise makes me feel awkward. Any rate, they’re not such kids any more. Charlie’s thirteen and Matty’s twelve, and, to be honest, she learned how to run the house years ago. I reckon I can manage with ’em till they start work.’
‘Well, I suppose yer mum knew that as well, eh?’
Lizzie Gilbie had waited as long as she could, but now that it came to it, Nellie felt almost robbed. After all, she had promised to look after them. Still, she offered what she could.
‘It might be harder for Matty. Twelve’s not an easy age for a girl, Sam. We’ll have her over to us, me and Alice. There’s things she won’t want to talk to her big brother about.’
Nellie could see Sam blushing by the light of the cart lamp. He coughed and thanked her.
‘Tell you what, Nell, there is something you could do.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You could give her a few cooking lessons. She might be able to sing, but she can’t bloody cook for toffee!’
They laughed together and then fell into silence, broken only by the beating rain on the tarpaulin and Blackie’s hooves striking the cobbles. Just as they turned into Spa Road, the rain stopped.
‘Look, Sam!’ Nellie exclaimed.
The full moon rode high above the black jumble of roofs and chimneys, just as the clouds parted, allowing an inky window of sky to reveal its shining face, almost too bright to bear after the gloom of the day.
Lizzie’s funeral was a small affair, just her children and Sam’s friends. Sam’s second cousins, Betty Bosher and George Gilbie of the Green Ginger, came too. Nellie was pleased for Sam that at least a few relatives were there. George Gilbie, not famed for his generosity, even offered to put on drinks and sandwiches at the Green Ginger after the funeral.
‘Cousin George wasn’t close to me dad, but he respected him for trying to make something of his life,’ Sam explained to Nellie as they sat in the bar of the Green Ginger after the funeral. George spotted them and came over to their table.
‘Do you two want a top up?’ he asked, pointing to their glasses, and when they declined he sat down. He was a red-faced, tightly wound man, who gave off a chill that Nellie didn’t find appealing. She wondered why he would choose such a social job when he seemed to find small talk so hard. He sighed and looked round.
‘Me and your dad had such a ding-dong once in this pub,’ he said to Sam. ‘We give each other such a pasting, there was blood everywhere!’
‘He never said!’ Sam was astonished.
‘Oh, yes, but it was jealousy, pure jealousy on my part, if you want to know the truth. See, he already had the love of his life, and I was still trying to catch mine.’ He jerked his head over to the stout little woman serving at the bar. She didn’t look too much of a catch to Nellie, but Katie Gilbie was known to have been a stunner in her time and could have been a music hall star, so people said.
‘I got her in the end, though. But your dad, he would have done anything for your mum, idolized Lizzie. That’s why he come all this way on his penny-farthing, you know? She gave him merry hell for it, but he thought she deserved better than what she had up north. Can’t say I disagree with him, she was one in a million, your mum. Wouldn’t have hurt that Bolshie sister of yours to have turned up, though.’
And with that, George Gilbie got up and walked off, loosening his tie and offering pints to anyone who needed one.
‘Well, he’s deep,’ Sam said, under his breath. ‘Hardly says two words to me all me life and now he comes out with that.’
Nellie had wondered if Sam had been in touch with his older sister. ‘Did you let Eliza know, Sam?’
He shrugged. ‘I tried, wrote to Mecklenburgh Square, but didn’t hear a dicky bird from her. Either she didn’t want to come or she’s gone back to him in Australia.’
‘I can’t see her missing her own mother’s funeral!’
‘Oh, Nell, you’ve got no idea what Eliza would miss.’ He shook his head, sipping his beer.
She hated the bitterness that entered his voice whenever he spoke of Eliza. The very thought of his sister seemed to mar his kind face. But Nellie knew enough not to press him. This was the only subject that seemed closed between them and she was relieved when the children came running in from the pub yard, seeking more drinks.
After the funeral, life for Nellie returned to normal. Sam made good on his word to his mother and kept Matty and Charlie with him, but he was often at Nellie’s house with them and they began turning to her for comfort and advice. Matty, especially, relied on her and as the two orphan families became intertwined, Nellie’s connection with Sam grew deeper. She didn’t know what to call it. To say it was only a friendship would no longer be true for her, and yet it was not a simple matter of attraction and romance. It wasn’t what she’d hoped to find with Ted, but with Ted nothing was what she’d hoped for, so she felt ill equipped to judge the difference. Her bond with Sam seemed forged of necessity and fate; it hardly felt like a choice.
‘But do I care?’ she asked herself one day in July. ‘Do I care if I never chose him?’
She was learning that not all choices were wise ones, anyway. Look at Eliza. Nellie often thought about the woman who’d deliberately chosen to move out of her own world, to improve her life, and where had her deliberate choices landed her? Judging by what Sam said of his sister, she was trapped in an exile she bitterly regretted. It seemed that life itself had chosen Sam for Nellie. Their shared experience of Ted’s betrayal, her father’s death, her promise to Lizzie and caring for their siblings were all links in a chain that had become stronger over the past three years. At nineteen, she could now no longer imagine life without Sam.
It was a subject that occupied her friend Lily very much – she worried at it like a little terrier. One Saturday evening, towards the end of July, Lily paid Nellie an unexpected visit. Always a ray of sunshine, today her smile was even broader. Nellie hugge
d her and drew her in. ‘Come in, love, I’ve got a houseful, but there’s always room for you.’
Lily stopped short at the kitchen door. ‘Good gawd, how many kids have you got now?’ she exclaimed.
Crammed round the table sat Alice, Bobby, Charlie and Matty. They were supposed to be pasting matchboxes together, but Charlie and Bobby were into a glue fight and Alice had stopped to tie ribbons in Matty’s hair. Freddie counted himself exempt since he’d started mucking out at Wicks’s; the most he now deigned to do was wrap parcels and load the penny-farthing. He was standing at the head of the table, tying bundles and criticizing the quality of their workmanship.
‘Well, love,’ Nellie replied, surveying the scene, ‘I’m thinking of starting me own factory, but this lot spend more time gassing than us custard tarts do!’
Lily laughed as Nellie took the glue pot from Charlie’s hands and planted it firmly in the middle of the table. The two friends went into the scullery.
‘Tell you what, Nell, with all those kids, I reckon you must be the purest unmarried mother since the Virgin Mary… unless there’s something you ain’t told me!’ She poked Nellie, till she giggled like a girl.
‘Shut up, Lily Bosher – sorry, Mrs McBride – I might as well be a nun.’
Lily sighed. ‘Well, if you’re not a nun, you’re a bloody saint. Seems to me you get all the worry of being a mother and none of the fun.’ She winked saucily at her friend. ‘I think he should make an honest woman of you.’
‘Who?’
‘You know.’ And she nodded towards the kitchen. ‘Why’s he left the kids here?’
‘Wicks sent him on a late delivery out in Sussex somewhere. He can’t get back till tomorrow, so he asked me to have them overnight. Wicks is such a mean bastard. He knows Sam’s got the kids to think of, but he don’t give an inch.’
Lily shook her head in disgust, absent-mindedly spooning more condensed milk into her tea. ‘Ugh, Lil, you never usually like it as sweet as that! Anyway, tell me what’s brought you over this way today?’
‘I’ve been to see me mum.’ Lily sipped her tea, smiling over the cup. ‘There’s a reason I can’t get enough sugar. Some people want pickles and sour stuff – me, I can’t get enough jam and biscuits… Can’t you guess, Nell?’
Nellie choked on her own tea. ‘You’re not?’
Lily nodded her head. ‘I am!’
‘Oh, Lily, I’m so happy for you, no wonder you was going on about all my kids!’
‘Well, you’re the first to know, apart from our mums and dads.’
Nellie hugged her friend. ‘At least you know who to come to when you need advice on bringing up kids!’ she said matter-of-factly. But Lily might have it easier with a husband to help, she thought. Not just for the extra money but for all the endless small decisions that bringing up children demanded. Perhaps Lily was right and it was her lot to be ever the virgin mother. But listening to the escalating laughter and excited giggles from next door, it didn’t seem such a hardship to have a houseful of other people’s children.
‘You lot shut yer cake’oles, you’re making more noise than old Thumper!’ She banged on the scullery wall and the laughter was stifled for a while. ‘Lesson one, that’s the way you keep ’em in order!’
Lily laughed and put down her cup on the draining board. ‘Best be getting back to me husband!’ she said, still proud to show off the novelty of her married status to Nellie.
‘Is he happy about it, Lil?’ Nellie asked.
‘Oh, he’s not stopped grinning since we found out, but he’s a bit scared.’
‘What, of being a dad?’
‘Not so much that. He’s worried he won’t be here when the baby’s born.’ Lily’s smile faded.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He thinks we’re in for a war soon.’
Nellie had heard rumours of war with Germany ever since the days of the strike and she had discounted the latest news stories. ‘Oh, they’ve been saying that for years. It won’t happen, love, and anyway, you silly mare, it’ll be soldiers that go away to war, not the likes of Jock McBride!’
‘Jock’s been following it in the paper and he says it’ll be our boys that fight this one.’
Nellie could not believe that an army would want the services of Jock McBride, chandler’s assistant, or Sam Gilbie, carman, for that matter, but Lily would not be persuaded. It saddened Nellie that Lily’s wonderful news was tarnished by such a terrible fear, that of losing her young husband to war.
Nellie and Alice spent Sunday morning in the kitchen, teaching Matty how to cook an edible meal. Sam was expected back from Sussex by dinner time and their idea was to surprise him with a meat pudding, made by his little sister. A warm July day was not an ideal time to steam a pudding for hours, but Matty said it was Sam’s favourite meal and insisted this was what they should cook.
‘Mine never turns out very good, Nellie,’ the young girl confessed. ‘The pudding goes all white and gluey. That’s not right, is it?’
‘Well, it’s better if it’s golden and light, Matty,’ Nellie answered, trying not to smile. ‘Me and Alice’ll show you how.’
Matty proved an eager pupil, as Nellie showed her the right measure of flour and suet, and how to seal all the meat in so that none of the thick, dark gravy escaped.
‘See, you tie it up tight like this with the pudding cloth.’ Alice demonstrated, tying the muslin top over the basin.
‘And be careful not to let the pan boil dry. Do you remember the time I did that, Alice, and nearly burned the house down?’ Nellie chuckled. ‘Poor Mum took the blame when Dad come home, rather than let me get a belt for it.’
‘Poor old Mum,’ echoed Alice.
Nellie looked over at Matty and saw her lower lip trembling. She wiped her floury hands on her pinafore and put her arm round the young girl. ‘It’s only natural you miss your mum, Matty. Me and Alice know what it’s like, don’t we, Al? It’s early days, love. It will get better, I promise.’
‘I just wish she was still here.’ Matty’s small wail pierced Nellie’s heart.
‘Well, she is here, in a way. I think about my mum every day and when you remember them, they’re with you. I mean, who do you think taught me to make meat pudding just this way?’
‘Your mum?’
‘Yes, and every time I do it, you can be bloody sure she’s with me, looking over me shoulder saying, Don’t do it that way, do it like this!’ Nellie mimicked her mother’s voice so well that Alice had to laugh, and that brought a smile to Matty’s face too.
‘Well, I wish my mum had taught me to cook better, but I suppose she was too ill by the time I was old enough. I want to make sure Sam will like this dinner, though.’
Matty looked at the pudding, simmering on the range, and gave a determined nod of her head, shaking her auburn curls and lifting her chin as though ready for battle. Nellie had the feeling Matty would be all right.
The pudding steamed for several hours and the table was set. Nellie sent Alice to call the boys, shouting at her to make sure they scraped their boots before they came in. They had spent the morning at Wicks’s yard, helping Freddie with his part-time job, mucking out and tending to the horses. Almost as soon as he’d started at the stables, Freddie had dragooned Bobby into what he called his ‘shit shovelling’ business, sending the younger boy out with a shovel and sack and instructions to scrape up as much horse dung off the Bermondsey streets as he could carry home. Nellie was astounded by how much the allotment owners would pay for a sackload of manure and she was proud of her brothers’ efforts to keep the family afloat. Now, as the boys all trooped in from the stables, Nellie pushed them towards the scullery.
‘Wash those hands first, before you come near this table!’ she ordered.
Freddie waved his mucky hands at her threateningly and the others followed suit. She hopped back. ‘You terrors, no dinner for you!’
But the boys hooted with laughter at her empty threat. Suddenly Matty rushed to the windo
w. Her quick hearing had caught the clopping of hooves on the cobbles.
‘It’s Sam, back from the country!’
She ran to open the door, just as he pulled up in the cart. He didn’t get down, but the young girl leaped up on to the cart seat and hugged him.
‘Oh, I should go away more often, if that’s the welcome I get!’ said a smiling Sam.
Nellie pushed up the sash window and leaned out. ‘You must have smelled the dinner cooking. You’re just in time!’
His dark brown eyes locked on to hers for a moment longer than was usual between them. He was still shy enough to look away or down at his feet when they met, but now she noticed an unguarded warmth in their dark depths and she smiled back broadly. ‘Move yourself, then. I’ve got a houseful of starving boys here and they won’t wait much longer!’
Matty jumped down from the cart, while Freddie helped Sam unharness Blackie. When Sam came in, he was carefully balancing a tray of eggs and Freddie was carrying a huge sack of potatoes.
‘Look what Sam’s brought us!’ he said excitedly.
‘I was delivering near a farm,’ Sam explained. ‘Every little helps, eh?’
‘Oh, Sam, there’s no need for that,’ she said.
‘I’m not letting you feed us all for nothing,’ he told her. ‘Besides, I couldn’t have done the job if it weren’t for you, Nell.’ His tone brooked no argument, so she took the tray of eggs and thanked him. She thought Sam looked weary, and not just from a long couple of days’ work. It had only been four months since Lizzie’s death and the lines of grief were still plain to see, but there was something more: a heaviness hung about him lately and two new vertical worry lines had appeared on his brow. As she and Alice busied themselves with dishing up the dinner, she found herself glad to be doing something for Sam. The children squeezed themselves round the table and Sam joined them.
‘How do you like Matty’s meat pudding?’ Nellie asked him.
‘Matty cooked it?’ he said, in surprise.
Matty nodded, bursting with pride.
‘You’re a good little cook, Matty. It’s the tastiest meat pudding I’ve ever had!’ He looked over at Nellie and winked. ‘Do you think you could teach her boiled bacon and pease pudding next?’
