by Maggie Ford
Julia bit back a sharp retort to the sarcasm. ‘There are openings for clerks in banks and businesses for boys like you.’
‘Start at the bottom, you mean?’
‘Everyone starts at the bottom.’
‘If I’d been able to go on to university, I’d have had a good start.’
Julia made a huge effort to remain calm. She didn’t want this to descend into a slanging match. ‘You’re clever,’ she said evenly. ‘Starting at the bottom will give you good grounding for climbing the ladder to promotion.’
She saw a surly tightening of his lips. ‘If you think I’m going to…’ he began, but Virginia broke in, leaping up from the table, her thoughts getting the better of her.
‘And what about this place?’ she began, flinging her arms wide. ‘Living here – it’s an awful, horrible place!’
‘It’s clean and it’s respectable,’ Julia said sharply, resisting an urge to tell her that a child her age should have no say in these matters. But she understood how Virginia felt. ‘It could be worse,’ she could only say lamely.
‘Nothing could be worse than this!’ Virginia was very near to tears. ‘Like the rest of this area, it’s awful and the people are awful. Everywhere is dirty and grubby and the people are dirty and grubby.’
‘At least they work, those who have jobs, to keep themselves out of poverty,’ Julia said, trying not to raise her voice, ‘which is more than any of us have ever done. But now that’s just what we have got to do.’
Virginia retreated into silence but Stephanie turned savagely towards her older sister.
‘And what about you, Julia – what work will you be doing?’
Julia gave her sister a long, cool stare. ‘And who do you think is going to look after Mummy? She can’t be left here on her own.’
‘I could do that and you go out to work!’ Stephanie blazed. Julia turned a steady gaze on her. ‘And you want to be the one to stay here and wash clothes and clean the place and cook the meals and do the shopping?’ she challenged, pleased to see Stephanie go quiet.
She knew exactly what she was going to do. But now wasn’t the time to tell them. In their present mood she feared her plan might provoke incredulity, even derision. Her glance strayed to the corner where the stack of material sat taking up space in the already cramped room. ‘I’ll pull my weight, don’t worry,’ she replied firmly. But for now all that must wait. The first thing was to get a little more money around them. Then she could start making plans.
The worst part of her family’s reaction this morning hadn’t been Stephanie’s retorts, Virginia’s small show of frustration or their mother’s discomfort but the lost expression on her brother’s unworldly face. The only boy in a family of women, he had been pulled out of the protection and security of school life into a world where it was everyone for himself. Here he would be expected to make his own way, stripped of the cushion of his parents’ wealth and his father’s business. Yet there was no escaping that this was to be his future. Well, Julia thought, hardening her heart, it was just too bad. That was the way things were now. She turned away from his bleak look.
* * *
James lay trying desperately to sleep. In the past he had always fallen asleep the second his head hit the pillow – unless, he remembered sadly, there had been secret tuck to share in the dorm with the others.
The thought of having to work for his living affected him deeply. His life had been turned upside down. Home had only ever been somewhere to spend school holidays; the start of a new term welcomed as the chance to return to his many friends. Now he was totally friendless.
At school he’d felt at ease with lads of his own age, his own sort, sharing confidences, enjoying sports and hobbies. When classes finished they’d go fishing or into town to ogle girls and buy goodies. He was clever and as one of the older boys had held a position of prefect. He’d been looked up to, respected, had had a fine future ahead of him.
Then his father had died. Out of the blue he’d been torn from his friends and his comfortable life, back to a home and family he saw only four or five times a year. Now he was obliged to live with them permanently in a poky little flat Julia had bravely called clean and decent. And, even worse, he was now expected to go out to find work in some horrible mundane job, his dreams of a bright future in tatters.
Maybe it was the best Julia could find but, in James’s opinion, the flat was situated in an area that was far from clean and decent. From everywhere came the smell of stale cooking and drains. The men, most of them out of work, were pasty-faced, wore old jackets and trousers, cloth caps and collarless shirts. Their wives wore none-too-clean pinafores over dreary skirts and blouses, their shoes shoddy, their coats shabby, while kids in grubby hand-me-down clothes hung about street corners. Now he was expected to go out and do the type of work they were used to doing and with no idea how to go about it and no one to tell him.
Lying awake he thought miserably of the university he would have gone on to from school. There he’d have made something of himself. What was there now for him? He couldn’t blame Julia, she was trying to do her best, but he desperately needed to blame someone.
Eight
July already. It had sounded so easy, saying they must all find work and start bringing in money. In practice it was proving nigh impossible.
First there had been a strong protest from her mother, protective of her youngest daughter, in support of Virginia.
‘Julia, how can a child from a nice school and not yet fifteen go on her own to seek employment? She has no idea. You must go with her.’
None of us has any idea, Julia thought, but she consented to accompany Virginia in answer to the newspaper advertisement for a school leaver to fill the position of office junior in a small company.
‘I’m scared,’ Virginia whispered as they entered the building where several small companies apparently operated.
Julia pressed the girl’s hand with her own. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she whispered back, tapping firmly on the frosted-glass door to the company’s reception office on the ground floor. ‘I’ll be with you.’
A young woman opened the door. ‘Yes?’ she enquired abruptly.
‘We’ve come about the advert for an office junior,’ Julia supplied.
‘Come in.’ The woman opened the door wider for them, indicating a row of seven chairs fining one wall. Four were occupied by young, anxious-faced girls around Virginia’s age, the other three were vacant.
‘Take a seat,’ she told them. ‘Mr Green, the recruiting manager, sees each candidate in turn, so you may have to wait some time. And no talking, please.’
The tone of cold efficiency alarmed even Julia and she glanced at Virginia as they sat down obediently. Virginia’s face was pitiful.
‘It’s all right,’ Julia whispered encouragingly and took hold of the cold, trembling hand. She would have given anything to be able to erase the past few weeks; for them not to have to be here.
To take her mind off Virginia’s distress she turned to look at the other waiting girls, casting a small smile in their direction which all four ignored.
The door to an inner room opened suddenly, startling her. She felt Virginia jump. A rather drab, poorly dressed girl, looking hardly more than a child, came out, her expression a picture of forlorn hope well and truly dashed. Without looking at anyone, without even a thank you to the painfully efficient secretary now seated at her desk, she left by the frosted-glass door, closing it quietly behind her. The secretary, half hidden by an enormous, black typewriter, hadn’t even looked up.
‘Next!’ she said, still without glancing up. ‘Knock before you enter.’
The girl at the head of the row got to her feet and, walking hesitantly to the recruiting manager’s door, knocked timidly.
‘Come!’ ordered a deep voice from within, muffled by the closed door.
Obediently the girl did as ordered, closing the door behind her. As if by some silent command, the next girl moved to the now vac
ated chair, the rest moving up accordingly. The secretary went on with whatever she was doing in the reception office, the quivering silence broken only by the occasional faint rustle of paper from her desk and, every now and again, a timid knock on the glass door to announce another applicant.
Julia smiled down at her sister encouragingly.
It was nearly an hour before Virginia’s turn came. She looked up at Julia as the secretary muttered, ‘Next!’
‘You’re coming in with me?’ she pleaded.
‘Just the young lady,’ said the secretary.
‘I’ll be out here, waiting,’ Julia encouraged. ‘Don’t worry, dear, it’ll be over before you know it.’
She truly believed this. None of the other young applicants had taken long and none had come out looking very hopeful, so what chance did Virginia have, cosseted at home and at her private girls’ school? The chances were that this fruitless exercise would be repeated over and over again until Virginia finally found a menial cleaning job, if she was lucky.
One thing in her favour though, Julia thought hopefully as her little sister disappeared into the great man’s office, was that unlike any of the previous applicants, Virginia was wearing a good-quality skirt, blouse and jacket, a nice little hat, stockings and good shoes, purchased some while ago from West End department stores such as Peter Robinson’s and Selfridges, in the days when they could afford to shop there.
Julia’s mind returned to the now closed office door behind which her small sister was undergoing a trauma of interrogation. Her own insides were tightening up for her. But she had primed the girl very carefully.
‘Tell him who you are. Speak up, the way you were taught at school. Remember, you are a lady. Don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve lost your father and we have come down in the world. Don’t apologize for where you live. Give him to understand that it is a respectable, comfortable, well-appointed flat. Above all, don’t let him see we’ve hardly any money. Be courteous but hold your head up high, look him in the face. You have your pride, remember.’
Virginia had nodded and Julia could only trust that she’d remember to sit with a straight back and not hang her head or appear as nervous as Julia knew she felt. She prayed the girl would stand her ground and not show herself up. Julia had noticed the secretary glance up once or twice in Virginia’s direction, her expression one of curiosity and guarded appraisal. Perhaps that was a good sign. Though, with so many more young hopefuls still arriving, Virginia’s chances seemed to be dwindling.
Julia stood up as Virginia reappeared, already trying to read the girl’s expression. To her relief it seemed composed, if a little dazed. ‘How did it go?’ she questioned as they emerged from the building on to Leadenhall Street, noisy with traffic at midday and sounding extra loud after the oppressive silence of the reception office.
‘I don’t really know,’ Virginia answered in a tiny, distracted voice. ‘I don’t remember a lot about it.’
‘What did he ask you?’
‘I can’t remember.’
Julia felt her patience wearing thin. ‘You must remember some of the things.’
Virginia shrugged. ‘It was all so muddled. I seemed to be in and out of there before I knew what was happening.’
‘Try!’
Again Virginia shrugged. ‘He said he’d let me know. They’ll write to say if I’ve got the job. I think he said in about a week.’
‘What else?’ Julia had quickened her step towards the bus stop and home, and her sister was obliged to keep up with her. ‘What questions did he ask?’
‘He asked to see my school report,’ Virginia answered breathlessly.
‘Go on,’ Julia urged.
‘He said it was very good.’
‘He did, did he?’ Julia said, her heart lifting in new hope.
‘He asked what school I went to,’ Virginia supplied, warming at last to the subject. ‘He seemed interested in that. I had to add up some figures. He said I’d got them right. He did say I spoke nicely. He asked me to write something and I remember he said I had a good hand. I can’t think of anything else.’
It all sounded encouraging. Julia was beginning to feel that her sister might even get the position, but curbed the feeling, knowing how easily hope can turn to disappointment. She said nothing to Virginia of her hopes. The bus was coming and they both broke into a run and hurriedly boarded it. Julia’s heart had quickened and not purely from hurrying to get on the vehicle.
* * *
Things weren’t going so well for Stephanie or for James. He had been to three interviews so far and had heard nothing as yet.
‘You need to be more assertive,’ Julia told him. ‘If I know you, you’re behaving in front of them like a schoolboy who knows nothing of the world.’
‘I don’t,’ he told her frankly, ruffled by her directness.
‘Then pretend you do!’
‘That’s easy for you to say,’ he retorted, becoming riled. ‘You haven’t gone hunting for work yourself yet. All you’ve done is sit back and tell us what we should be doing as if you were head of the family.’
Julia hadn’t retaliated. It wasn’t worth another family argument. She just hoped something would come up for him soon. There had been far too many arguments these past two weeks. Her mother, appearing frailer by the day, would stop her ears with her hands as soon as voices became raised, calling piteously for a little peace and quiet.
She wasn’t adjusting well to her situation but nor were any of them.
The strain was starting to tell on them all and the money they’d brought with them was now dangerously low. They had had some luck selling their jewellery, though it had tugged at their heart strings to see it go. The proceeds had been put into a post office savings account.
As for her ideas for the material she’d brought here with her, so far she hadn’t had the will or the expertise, she was coming to realize, to do anything with it. It still sat in one corner, a bone of contention with Stephanie.
‘All I do is trip over it,’ she complained continuously. ‘The room’s small enough without that clutter. Why did you want to bring it here in the first place, for God’s sake?’
‘You can only trip over it if you make a special point of going in that corner,’ Julia retaliated.
‘Well, it’s still in the way,’ Stephanie persisted. ‘The table could go there if it weren’t for that. It’s no use to anyone and just takes up room. What on earth did you think you could do with it? Make dresses? You can’t sew to save your life and anyway I’m not going to wear anything home-made.’
No, thought Julia, you’d prefer to spend our last pennies on dresses from expensive shops. But her sister had a point. Soon she’d have to do something about all those wild intentions of hers before they faded into thin air, though like James, she had little experience of competing in the world they now found themselves in.
James at least was trying. Stephanie, after two unsuccessful attempts to find a job, had apparently decided to give up.
‘There just isn’t anything,’ she told Julia as she glared resentfully at her sister, ‘unless you count serving behind grubby shop counters as decent work. I turned down both offers.’
Julia was shocked. ‘You turned them down?’ she echoed.
Their mother, sitting like one exhausted in the ancient armchair she’d claimed as her own, whispered, ‘You can’t expect a nicely brought up young lady to accept such dirty employment. It’s bad enough being pushed out to work.’
‘One awful man, a greengrocer,’ Stephanie went on, encouraged, ‘even had the cheek to say I had the wrong attitude for dealing with the public.’
‘Anything would do for the time being,’ Julia said, curbing a sudden impulse to remark that the man was probably right in his assessment of Stephanie. ‘Later you could get something better. You’ll just have to take whatever comes because you can’t sit around all day moping. That money in the post office won’t last for ever and if we don’t start bringing somethi
ng in soon, we could end up in a worse situation than we were before.’
‘What do you mean, we?’ Stephanie burst out petulantly, turning from the window to glare at her. ‘I don’t see you trying to earn money.’
‘I have plans,’ Julia began but Stephanie wasn’t listening.
‘It’s all very well telling us what to do when all you do yourself is sit around here looking after Mummy. Anyway, if I work behind a counter it will have to be in something like a boutique, or as a receptionist in a hairdressing salon. I’m pretty enough. I deserve better than handling dirty, smelly old vegetables or filling customers’ bottles with vinegar or paraffin. No thanks!’
With that she bounced off into their bedroom to throw herself full length on the bed she shared with Julia, the other shared by her mother and Virginia. From there her angry voice floated back. ‘I don’t see anyone attacking James for not having a job yet, or Virginia for taking just a filing clerk’s job.’
Julia smiled. Of course she wouldn’t attack Virginia. She’d secured the filing clerk’s vacancy after all. The pay wasn’t all that good, even for a junior, but it was something. James wasn’t allowing himself to be put down either. At this moment he was out searching for work, as he did every day. He’d had several opportunities but nothing so far had come of them.
Julia wanted to shout back, ‘At least he’s not giving up!’ but held her tongue. There was no point in further upsetting her mother who sat with one hand to her brow.
But the petulant voice continued, ‘And living here is like living in hell! The weather’s so hot and I can’t even have the window open because of the traffic noise!’
When there was no response from her sister she kept quiet, leaving Julia to sigh at the memory of the lovely peaceful road they’d had to move away from. The shared bedroom in the flat overlooked Bethnal Green Road and was constantly invaded by noise. As well as cars and lorries, they could hear the occasional clip-clop of the few remaining horse-drawn vans and carts delivering coal, milk and bread, and the voices of people shopping. She understood Stephanie’s frustration for she too was frustrated by it. She had always enjoyed shopping in busy streets, especially the West End, but having to endure the constant sounds of busy shoppers and street traders below one’s own windows was maddening. Of course, she acknowledged, she was frequently one of them herself these days.
