by Maggie Ford
To get to the Bethnal Green Road shops meant going down the narrow alleyway beside the haberdasher’s shop underneath their flat. The alley was usually cluttered with cardboard boxes and other rubbish from the second-hand shop on the other side of it. She hated that dingy alleyway as much as she did having to pass the first shop before the main road, also dark and dingy, with windows that looked as if they hadn’t been washed for years.
A musty odour issued from its doorway, the interior so dark against the outside daylight that, if she did glance in, she could see nothing but the dim shapes of one or two people seemingly in deep conversation. She’d never seen anyone who looked as if they might be a ‘real’ customer enter or leave. What did the shop sell? The only merchandise displayed in the two small, grubby windows consisted of dated, cheap and showy jewellery and a few items of clothing that appeared to be stage costumes; nothing to attract an ordinary shopper’s gaze. She’d never yet set eyes on the owner nor wanted to. In fact the place gave her the shudders as she hurried by.
* * *
Another two weeks passed. James at last found a job in a bank, with prospects of being promoted to a junior clerk if he did well. Julia would have rejoiced if Stephanie had been as successful. But Stephanie continued to linger about the flat moaning that everything she’d been offered was too lowly to accept and that Julia had no right to complain when she had done nothing herself to find employment.
Most of her time seemed to be spent lolling on the bed she shared with Julia, reading love stories in cheap books and magazines which Julia knew her mother was paying for from the little she still had left of her own money.
‘You shouldn’t indulge her,’ Julia finally told Victoria one Monday morning after she’d noticed a couple of coins being furtively passed from mother to daughter.
Victoria shrugged. ‘That’s what mothers are for, dear, to make their children feel loved and indulged every once in a while.’
Julia smiled tolerantly. ‘Mothers are meant to guide their children not give way to them.’
‘It’s hard on her.’
‘It’s hard on all of us, but we’ve got to get used to it.’ Any second she expected a query as to why she herself was doing nothing about helping towards the family income. Her mother had stayed silent so far, but Julia knew she was probably thinking along the same lines as Stephanie.
She knew they had a point. Soon she’d have to do something about the material she had salvaged before it became an even greater source of irritation to those trying to relax in one small room of an evening. James usually went to his own room, in search of solitude. Neither was their mother ever long out of bed, glad to retire and forget her circumstances, usually quickly followed by Virginia, eager to cuddle up to her.
Left alone, more often than not she and Stephanie ended up picking over the old sore of joblessness, needling each other in whispers until they too were glad of bed and, with backs to each other, sought the solace of sleep. It certainly wasn’t the best of existences, leaving her constantly pining for the old days.
This morning, on her way to the bakers around the corner in Bethnal Green Road, she was still thinking of their life and all the problems it was presenting, trying to console herself that many were far worse off with this new wave of unemployment. At least for her family there was still some money left from their better days – if they went carefully.
Emerging from the alleyway, Julia as always quickened her pace past the shop downstairs but to her dismay she saw the door open and a young man emerge. Before she could look away he smiled at her and nodded.
‘Good morning.’
Good manners demanded that she return the nod and she mumbled a response, immediately prompting him to step clear of the door. ‘You’re a member of the family who’ve recently moved into the top flat,’ he stated.
His voice held no trace of the Cockney accent she had come to expect in this area. Instead he spoke very well. ‘I’ve noticed you passing on several occasions. How are you finding it up there?’
There was no chance now to hurry on by. No matter how much she disliked his shop – for his she took it to be – she didn’t want to appear rude.
‘We re settling in,’ she returned evasively, glad that her eyes and the top half of her face were pretty much hidden from him by the low-brimmed, mushroom-shaped hat bought last winter when life was sweeter. She was also suddenly conscious of the dress she was wearing – last summer’s design. In voile, it felt uncomfortably flimsy before his gaze.
Now she wanted only to get away before he began asking questions she didn’t wish to answer. But to her dismay he came forward, his hand outstretched.
‘Welcome to the neighbourhood. I’m Simon Layzell.’ It was the same name as the one above the shop; so he did own it.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ she responded negatively.
Obliged to take the offered hand, if only finger tips, she let her own fall quickly away. It wouldn’t do to get too familiar, yet what she saw in front of her was quite different from what she’d expected. This man was tall, slim and decently dressed, not at all the shabby person she’d imagined as owning the shop.
Reluctant to be drawn into any further conversation, she said as politely as she could, ‘I have to hurry off,’ adding by way of excuse, ‘We’re out of bread. My brother and sister had their breakfast and left only one slice and a topper for my mother, my other sister and myself.’
He frowned slightly. ‘Five of you in that small flat…’ he began but – she interrupted him before he could ask where her father was. She wasn’t prepared to air her business before a virtual stranger.
‘I must go,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he apologized. ‘I hope it won’t be too long before we meet again.’
She moved off, embarrassed to find herself thinking how nice-looking he was, well-spoken and indeed well-mannered.
She was also aware that she hoped to see him again, though for business rather than personal reasons. It had occurred to her as they were talking that his shop did not appear to be doing all that well and, as she turned into Bethnal Green Road, now growing busy with early-morning workers, questions began to fill her head.
How long had he had the place? Did he own or rent it? With so few people ever in the shop as far as she could assess, did it actually pay its way? If not, had he ever considered closing it? In that case, it would make very good premises in which to start up some sort of business or warehouse. Her mind hovered around the pile of material cluttering up their living room; But could they afford whatever initial rent would be asked? And even then, could they keep up the payments? The next minute she was deriding herself for such thoughts. There was no way she would find money enough to buy or even rent such premises, run down or not.
Turning into the bakery, she fished in her purse for a couple of pennies to buy a small loaf, her mind only half on what she was doing.
Nine
Virginia’s eyes were shining as she came into the flat to throw her handbag and hat on to the sofa. She’d become a different girl from the one who a couple of months earlier had timidly entered Mr Green’s office.
‘Mr Green says I’m getting on really well,’ she announced excitedly as she rushed into the kitchen to return with a cup of cold water from the single tap over the sink. ‘Gosh, it’s hot out!’ She drained the cup in one gulp. ‘Mr Green says that if I continue the way I’m going, he’ll suggest promoting me to their post room.’
So far she was little more than a general dogsbody and tea girl. ‘Mr Green says he’ll speak to Mr Griffiths, our managing director about it.’
Plonking the empty cup on to the little dining table she turned back to her mother and two sisters, and went on excitedly, ‘Mr Green says that if I continue to do well, I could be promoted to a proper department by the end of the year and given a rise.’
At last she paused for breath, allowing Julia a chance to get in a word. ‘I’m so glad for you, Ginny,’ she said, adopting the version
of her name that Virginia’s office friends apparently now used. ‘We’re all very proud of you.’
She gazed towards her mother and Stephanie for agreement, but Stephanie’s lips had become a thin line and as their eyes met she turned and stalked off into the bedroom, closing the door with a sharp click to emphasize her feelings.
Their mother looked slightly taken aback by her daughter’s apparent show of pique. ‘Oh dear, that was really unwarranted. What is the matter with her? I would have thought she would be pleased for Virginia.’
‘I know, Mummy,’ Julia soothed, seeing Ginny’s previously joyous expression change. ‘She might feel a little resentful. You can’t blame her.’
Stephanie still hadn’t found a job. At least, she had found one three weeks ago, but had walked out after a few days, declaring it entirely unsuitable for a young lady and that she was being put upon. As far as Julia was concerned her excuse was totally unjustifiable with so many crying out for work, any work, to put bread on the table.
She had come home in a raging temper to bounce past her mother and Julia and on into the bedroom, her favourite place for sulking, saying as she went, ‘I’m not a damn dogsbody for some prig of a boss who thinks he can say what he likes to me.’
‘I thought you said it was a good job,’ Julia said, following her in.
‘Well, it turned out not to be,’ was Stephanie’s reply.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m not going to be treated like a dish rag, expected to wash up everyone’s cups. I’m worth more than that. I thought I was going to be in charge of a counter.’
‘Give it time,’ Julia tried to reason, but there was no reasoning with Stephanie, even though she did her best to make her sister see how desperate many others were for a job of any kind, willing to do whatever was offered, even to cleaning drains, sweeping streets, clearing toilets.
‘They must be desperate to do things like that!’ Stephanie had huffed unsympathetically. ‘I’m worth more than being expected to ruin my hands over a sink like some kitchen maid. I need to care for them and keep them smooth for when I get something really decent and genteel.’ She’d lifted a hand to study it, delicately turning it this way and that. ‘I expect my leaving will have its compensations, giving an opening for one of the desperate down-and-outs you spoke of,’ she’d added airily.
There’s no pleasing that girl, Julia had thought, but had kept it to herself. There was no point in causing yet another argument.
Pushing aside the memory, Julia went and gave her little sister a cuddle. ‘Don’t worry about her, Ginny. She’s feeling a little bitter at not finding any work to suit her while you and James are obviously doing so well.’
‘Then she should learn not to be so picky about the sort of work she is given!’ Ginny said, sounding quite adult these days. She brightened. ‘Anyway, James should be home soon. I’ll come and help you to get tea ready for when he comes in. I’m so very proud of my brother. Thank heaven at least two of us are bringing in money.’
The words were innocently said and probably aimed at her other sister, but Julia experienced a sudden stab of guilty conscience. She said nothing though. Virginia wasn’t the vindictive kind and she was sure the comment was not intended as a criticism of her.
* * *
At the end of July Stephanie finally found herself a job she considered suitable – behind the cosmetic counter of Selfridges in Oxford Street. There was no end to her triumph. Maintaining that a pretty face, elegant appearance and return of her former confidence would go a long way towards helping her to secure the position, she’d dipped into her meagre savings, which Julia felt would have been better put towards her family’s upkeep, for a fawn-coloured summer dress and hat for the interview, suede, Louis heel court shoes with clutch bag to match, and had her short hair Marcel waved.
To her delight she had been taken on, as a lowly assistant to start with, but with good money and the promise of promotion. She’d thrown herself wholeheartedly into the position, her only problem being the long hours of work.
‘I’ve hardly had any time for myself,’ she sighed, coming home to collapse into a chair after only two weeks. ‘I never knew working could be so hard. And I feel so dowdy against others. My old dresses are out of fashion but there’s so little left to buy more after contributing towards this family’s upkeep.’
‘Your upkeep too, remember?’ Julia said and saw her sister pout. Stephanie had always put herself first. This had not mattered when the family had been well off. But now she had already got round their mother, pleading to borrow back a little of the money she’d contributed and being given it. Julia was exasperated with her mother for being so indulgent.
She’d now bought a couple of more fashionable dresses – admittedly, not as expensive as the previous outfit – and within two weeks had added a pair of glittery evening shoes, stockings and make-up. Victoria strongly disapproved of this last purchase but said nothing.
Fortunately James and Virginia were both giving up most of their wages, for Julia decided that while she herself was still at home it was best not to air her opinions to Stephanie. With her mother doing little but dwell in the past, hers was the role of cooking, shopping, washing, cleaning and running about for them all; some little compensation, she hoped, for not bringing in a wage.
Still on her mind was how to start making that horde of material work for her. Her remaining idea from all the discarded ones was taking shape – a long shot, needing careful planning and determination, along with a good deal of cheek, to make it work.
The dingy shop downstairs had held her attention for some time. She would pass it these days at a slower pace and over the past few weeks had made a point of getting to know the owner better. Surprisingly she’d found Simon Layzell a more likeable, intelligent young man than she had initially expected, despite his always looking slightly unkempt.
One Saturday morning, with the August sun shining straight into her face as she turned out of the alley, she saw him standing outside his shop door, his back to her, gazing towards the busy Bethnal Green Road. He didn’t seem to be looking out for trade or expecting a delivery. His shoulders were slumped and there was a lonely air about him, as if he had no real interest in anything going on around him.
The click of her heels made him turn and as he saw her, a broad smile instantly transformed his glum expression.
‘Hullo!’ he exclaimed and then, noticing her ample bag, added heartily, ‘Early-morning shopping then?’
‘Our weekly shop,’ she replied, and then, noticing a drawn look behind his sociable smile, added, ‘How are you?’ She saw the smile fade, saw him hesitate and the smile return – a little too bright to be genuine, she thought.
‘Fine,’ he said quickly, then again, ‘Fine.’
‘Good,’ she said. That smile of his hadn’t quite reached those blue-grey eyes, which held a guarded expression.
‘I’m glad,’ she added and started to walk on. But he held out a hand towards her, compelling her to pause. She gave him a questioning look.
‘I’m sorry,’ he began. ‘The truth is, I do need to speak to you, urgently. I’ve been trying to summon up the courage for over a week now, ever since I realized I might not be carrying on this shop for very much longer.’
The news brought a wave of shock to Julia, followed by dismay; just the way it had been when long-standing neighbours in Sewardstone Road had moved away. She experienced the same vague sense of desertion; almost of betrayal. And yet she hardly knew this man, had spoken to him only in passing. She thought him pleasant enough but that was all. And there was also a sinking feeling of disappointment. She had taken it for granted that he’d be here for years.
‘May I ask why you are giving it up?’ Caught off guard she could think of nothing else to say.
His shoulders lifted briefly. ‘I tried to make a go of it, but it just didn’t come off. I gave it two years, but I suppose I’m in the wrong place for trying to entice theatre folk. Brick
Lanes the area for this sort of trade, not here.’
‘Then you should move to Brick Lane.’ Why had she said that? He’d be even further away. She’d never see him again. Suddenly she wanted him to stay, and not only because her future could depend upon it.
He spoke rapidly. ‘I can’t afford to rent anywhere else. Every day I stay I’m losing money. On top of rent and overheads you have to buy in stock just to keep a turnaround but if you can’t afford to buy much, you’ve nothing halfway decent to sell. When people see the same old stuff in the shop time after time they don’t come back. All I’m doing is throwing good money after bad and it’s time to call a halt. It’s a shame. I had such high hopes.’
‘But you can’t just let it beat you!’ Julia cried, seeing the vague ideas she’d had going down the drain. Yet, to her surprise, she now wanted him to stay for his own sake. ‘What will you do?’ she asked lamely.
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. Then, more briskly, he added, ‘But this isn’t about me. I’m sorry to have gone on so. I wanted to warn you that the lease here is due to expire next year and the owner could very well put up the rent, not only on this shop but on the whole building. He owns it, so he can ask what he likes. And, of course, if his tenants can’t afford to pay, they’re out! No two ways about it.’ He gave her a wan smile. ‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of rotten news but I thought you ought to know. As for the shop, another tenant might be able to meet the higher rent but not me. In truth I’d like to stay but what can I do if the shop just isn’t paying?’
Julia was thinking fast. Suddenly this latest idea of hers didn’t seem quite so implausible. Before she could stop herself, she’d blurted out, ‘There might be a way for you to stay.’ She saw him frown but before he could say anything, she added quickly, ‘Let’s go inside your shop where I can better explain.’
