A Sister's Sorrow

by Kitty Neale

  ‘But I saw it first, so it’s mine, and I don’t want to sell it,’ Tommy complained.

  ‘What good is a gold bracelet to you? Would you rather you kept this and we starved to death? Stop being so selfish, it isn’t like you.’

  Tommy hung his head. Sarah could see he was about to start crying, and she hated to see him upset. ‘Come here, give me a cuddle. You’re a clever boy, spotting that in the mud like you did. Well done,’ she said, and wrapped her arms around him.

  ‘Geroff me – you smell,’ Tommy said and chuckled.

  Sarah realised she did. In fact, they both needed a wash and so did the bracelet. With no money for a tram, she knew it would be a bit of a trek, but decided on heading to Clapham Junction. They could use the public toilets, then make their way to the market at Northcote Road.

  Once there she hoped to sell the gold and finally fill their empty bellies.

  The streets and shops at Clapham Junction were bustling with people, and as they passed Sarah she felt a little fearful, wondering if the bracelet in her pocket belonged to any of them. She had no way of knowing, but she knew she had to risk trying to sell it.

  To her relief, Tommy had been quiet for most of the journey, but she could see the child was tired, and knew he was hungry. When she looked down at him and he greeted her back with a warm smile and twinkling blue eyes, the guilt she felt was like a stab to her heart. He was such a sweet child and she wished she could do more for him.

  As they passed Hastings’ furniture store, Sarah caught a glimpse of her reflection in the shop window. Her shoes were caked in mud, and her thin blouse and holey cardigan were grubby from lying on the shed floor. Her skirt was wrinkled, and her hair was tangled. With Tommy in his oversized flat cap and blanket wrapped around him, she realised they must look like a couple of vagrants. She crossed the road to a central reservation which was locally known as Bog Island. There were toilets in Arding and Hobbs’ department store, but, looking as they did, she thought it best to avoid them.

  ‘Sarah, I’m a big boy now. Can I use the men’s toilet by myself?’

  ‘No, Tommy, you’re still not old enough. Sorry, I know you don’t like it but you have to use the ladies’ with me,’ Sarah answered as she led Tommy down the curved steps to the public toilets located under the street, noticing how clean and white the tiled walls were.

  Once downstairs, she saw how the brass pipes and door knobs gleamed in the light coming through the opaque glass tiles in the pavement above. She quickly scanned the room, and, pleased to find the char lady wasn’t around, took off her shoes and rinsed them under the tap in one of the sinks. She filled another sink with water and instructed Tommy to wash himself.

  ‘What with?’ Tommy asked.

  Sarah took a corner of the blanket and dampened it before wiping it over her brother’s grubby face. ‘There you go. Now wash your hands too.’

  ‘I need the loo, Sarah.’

  ‘Me too, but I haven’t got a penny. We’ll have to wait for someone to come down, then when they come out of the cubicle, we’ll grab the door before it closes.’

  ‘But what if the door won’t open again and we get locked in ’cos we didn’t pay?’ Tommy asked, looking concerned.

  ‘Don’t worry, that won’t happen,’ Sarah reassured him.

  She had just about finished doing her best to tidy herself up, then gingerly took the bracelet from her skirt pocket and rinsed it under the tap. ‘Keep an eye out and tell me if you see anyone coming down the stairs,’ she said to Tommy.

  A moment later, ‘Someone’s coming!’ Tommy said quickly.

  Sarah stuffed the bracelet back into her cardigan pocket and began to finger-comb her hair while looking in the mirror. She covertly watched as a middle-aged woman with a scarf covering her hair rollers fished a penny from her purse and placed it in the big brass lock on the toilet door. The woman turned the knob, entered, then closed the door behind her.

  A few minutes later, Sarah heard the chain pull in the cubicle. She winked and whispered to Tommy, ‘Now’s our chance.’

  As the woman came out, Tommy grabbed the door.

  ‘Thanks, missus,’ he said, and flashed her a cheeky grin.

  That boy could charm the birds from the trees, thought Sarah. He deserved so much more than she could offer. She put her hand in her pocket and fingered the gold bracelet. She thought she’d had a lucky run, first with Mr Sayers’ old shed and then finding the jewellery. Now she hoped her luck wasn’t about to run out.

  Chapter 9

  ‘Come on, ladies, I’ve got a smashing suit and tie ’ere. It’d smarten up your old man a treat,’ George Neerly called out to the passing shoppers milling around in the market. He’d been working on the second-hand clothes stall for as far back as he could remember, at first with his father, but after his dad was killed when a doodlebug had dropped on their house, George had taken over the business.

  ‘How about this lovely little number for you bootiful ladies, guaranteed to make him indoors sit up and take notice of you,’ George shouted as he held up a green and yellow flower-patterned dress. When there were no takers George looked over to Roger, who ran the fruit and vegetable stall next to his, and said, ‘Slow today, mate, ain’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, if it carries on like this, I might pack up early,’ Roger replied.

  Unlike him, Roger was tall and slim, with a chiselled jaw, black hair and striking ice-blue eyes. His good looks always seemed to attract the housewives, which George thought was a blessing as it would inevitably bring business to his stall as well. After all, it wasn’t as if he could rely on his own looks, not with a heavily scarred face. However, it seemed Roger’s appeal was letting them both down today, and George sighed heavily as he thought back to the bomb that had killed his father and left himself almost unrecognisable. He still had flashbacks, mostly when he was sleeping, and would often wake in a cold sweat, remembering the smell of his own flesh burning and the searing pain as flames licked his once handsome face.

  This won’t do, George thought to himself, and shook his head. The bomb had dropped eight years ago when he’d been thirteen years old, and though the memory was vivid, he tried not to dwell on the past. He walked around to the front of his stall and began tidying some of the clothes that had been left strewn around when a woman had been rummaging earlier. As he folded a pair of striped pyjamas, he caught sight of a young woman sitting on the kerb at the edge of the market. He thought she looked very pretty with her long, dark hair and slim legs which she had pulled up in front of her. He could see she was holding something out to the few passers-by. It looked like gold, maybe jewellery, and he wondered what she was playing at. He knew PC Plod would be passing on his beat any time now, and if the young woman was trying to sell knock-off bits of gold, she’d soon find herself having her collar felt. By the looks of it, she had a young lad with her. George felt compelled to go and warn her.

  ‘’Ere, Roger, keep an eye on my stall, I’ll be back in a tick,’ he said.

  Roger gave him a nod, and George walked off. He passed a flower stall, then a book stall, and then approached the young woman. ‘What you got there then?’ George asked.

  She looked up at him and George immediately noticed her shocked expression. He was used to that sort of reaction from strangers when they saw his face.

  ‘It’s … I … erm …’ she replied.

  ‘Look, I’m only here to warn you. The Old Bill come down here and if they see you trying to flog that bracelet, you’ll find yourself down the nick. They don’t take kindly to stolen goods being sold on the market.’

  ‘But it ain’t stolen!’ the young woman protested, ‘I found it!’

  ‘Yeah, all right, if you say so. It’s up to you, I’m just giving you the heads up,’ George replied.

  He saw her unusually green eyes begin to well up and realised she was about to start crying. Judging by the state of her and the lad, he thought they looked like a pair of ragamuffins and had obviously fallen on hard t
imes. He suddenly felt very sorry for her. ‘Please, don’t cry. I didn’t want to upset you. Tell you what, come with me to my stall. I’ve got a nice wool coat that would look smashing on you. You look half frozen,’ he offered.

  ‘Thanks, but I ain’t got no money,’ she answered, and sniffed.

  ‘Don’t worry about that. I’ve had the bloody thing for weeks now, can’t seem to shift it. It’s nice, mind, and a gift to you.’

  George held out his hand to help her up and was glad when she accepted. He led her back to his stall, with the little lad in tow who was clutching a blanket around himself. Poor mite, he thought, hoping to find something suitable for the boy too.

  Sarah felt so uncomfortable. She hated accepting charity, especially from strangers, but she was cold down to the bone and her teeth were chattering. She welcomed the thought of a warm coat to wear.

  ‘I’m Sarah, and this is my brother Tommy,’ she said.

  ‘Pleased to meet you both. Me name’s George and this ’ere is that coat I was telling you about.’

  George held up a dark-blue coat, and then helped Sarah into it. She thought he was very gallant, and was pleased when the coat fitted well. She instantly felt warmer, but also embarrassed. ‘Thank you, George. I’m so grateful but I wish I could pay you for it. If I can sell this bracelet, I’ll come back and give you some money. How much do I owe you?’

  ‘I won’t hear of it. I told you, it’s a gift. Now, let me see what I can find for the young man,’ George said and turned to smile at Tommy.

  Tommy had been very quiet, but suddenly said loudly, ‘Sarah, why has that man’s face melted?’

  Sarah felt her cheeks burn and wished the floor would open up and swallow her. You couldn’t help but notice George’s scars, but she hadn’t expected Tommy to ask such a direct question.

  As if sensing her awkwardness, George quickly responded. ‘I like a man who says it as it is. That’s right, lad, my face has melted, but it was a long time ago. I got injured in a fire, so you watch yourself and stay away from fires. You don’t want to end up looking like me now, do you?’

  Tommy shook his head and asked, ‘What fire? Was it the Great Fire of London?’

  ‘Tommy, that’s enough. It’s rude to ask questions. Now say you’re sorry,’ Sarah chastised.

  ‘Sorry,’ Tommy said and pouted.

  ‘No need. Now, I’m sure I’ve got something in that box that’ll be good for you,’ George said and pointed to a crate under his stall. ‘Have a look through there and see if you can find yourself something to wear instead of that old blanket.’

  Tommy got down on his bare, dirty knees and began delving.

  ‘Right, let’s have a look at this bracelet you’re selling. My old mum loves a bit of gold and her birthday’s coming up soon,’ George said, clapping his hands together.

  Sarah took the bracelet from her pocket and handed it to George. ‘Honest, I did find it. Tommy spotted it down on the river banks off the bridge. I didn’t steal it, I wouldn’t.’

  ‘It’s all right, I believe you, thousands wouldn’t,’ George said. ‘Tell you what though, I’ve never seen anything quite as fancy as this. It must be worth a fortune. How much do you want for it?’

  Sarah knew it was worth much more than she could ask, but she didn’t care. She’d take whatever she could get. She pulled a figure from the air and answered, ‘Ten pounds.’

  George coughed and for a moment, Sarah thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t normally spend that much money on a pressie for my mum, but—’

  Sarah quickly interrupted, worried she was about to lose her sale. ‘Five pounds,’ she said.

  ‘Whoa, slow down, girl. I was going to say—’

  Once again Sarah cut in. ‘OK, three pounds but that’s my final offer.’

  George laughed. ‘You drive a hard bargain. Tell you what, I’ll give you a fiver for it. That way, you’ve got it sold and I’ve got me mother a bit of tom that she’s going to love. You’d be hard pushed to get rid of it round here. People ain’t got that sort of money going spare. You’d be better off going up town to flog something like this.’

  ‘No, a fiver is fine. Deal,’ Sarah said, relieved she would at last be able to feed herself and Tommy.

  George handed Sarah a five-pound note. She’d never had so much money in her hand and studied the white piece of paper with its writing in black ink. It said, ‘Bank of England’ in fancy swirly letters and underneath was written, ‘promise to pay the bearer the sum of five pounds’. Sarah wasn’t sure if the money was real, and couldn’t afford to be ripped off.

  ‘What’s this you’re trying to fob me off with? Do you think I’m stupid, George?’

  ‘What do you mean? Of course I ain’t trying to fob you off. That there’s good money,’ George replied.

  His tone of voice made Sarah think she’d hurt his feelings with her accusation, but she had to be sure she had real money. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Truth is, I’ve never seen a fiver before and didn’t know they looked like this. If I’m honest, I’d much rather you paid me in coins.’

  ‘Give it here,’ George said, tutting. ‘I don’t know, you women, there’s no pleasing you sometimes.’ He chuckled.

  As George was sorting out some coins from his money belt, Tommy jumped up from the crate he’d been looking through. ‘Can I have this please? It’s really brilliant.’

  George and Sarah looked at the man-sized khaki army jacket that Tommy was holding up, and both laughed. It almost reached to his feet.

  ‘If that’s what you want, but better check with your sister first.’

  ‘Can I, Sarah … please?’

  Sarah saw the delight on her brother’s face. It wasn’t as if the child had much to be happy about, and she supposed it would at least keep him warm. ‘Yes, all right. Just make sure you thank George.’

  Tommy dropped the blanket to the floor and put on the jacket, then spontaneously ran and threw his arms around George’s legs. ‘Thanks. This is the best coat I’ve ever had!’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ the man said, ruffling Tommy’s brown hair.

  Sarah picked up the blanket, roughly folding it while thinking that George looked quite moved by Tommy’s display of affection. She saw him smile when Tommy began marching back and forth.

  ‘He’s a proper nice lad. A real credit to your mum and dad,’ George said.

  ‘Yeah, he is. But it’s just us two, no mum and dad.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say anything out of turn. Well, you’re doing a fine job of looking after him.’

  Sarah didn’t think she was and the guilt jabbed at her again. She thought she might burst into tears, but before she could, George handed her the coins and she croaked, ‘Well, it was nice meeting you, but now I’ve got this money I can pay you for the coats.’

  ‘Nah, I’ve got a good deal with the bracelet, so we’ll call them a bonus. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,’ George replied.

  She managed a watery smile then called, ‘Tommy, come on, time to go.’

  Tommy swung round and marched towards her, stomping his feet, pretending to be a soldier. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said in a deep voice.

  Sarah gave George a small wave and, tummy rumbling, turned to head for the nearest fish and chip shop.

  She didn’t look back, but she heard George call out, ‘Don’t be a stranger. Come and say hello next time you’re up the market.’

  Tommy had wolfed down his fish and chips and had even licked the newspaper they were wrapped in. Then the rest of the day had been spent ambling around the park, but now as the sun was beginning to set, Sarah thought about heading back to the shed.

  She had enough cash in her pocket to get a room for a few nights, but thought it best to save the money instead. After all, she didn’t yet have a plan for how to make any more. ‘Come on, Tommy,’ she called to her brother, who was halfway up a small oak tree. ‘Time to
go.’

  Tommy whined, ‘Ow, I don’t want to go yet. Can we go to the funfair?’

  ‘No, it’s going to be dark soon, come on and stop answering me back.’

  Tommy jumped down from the tree then minced towards her with a sullen expression. ‘Have we got to go back to that shed again?’

  ‘Yes, we have, but I don’t know why you’re looking so miserable about it. You slept OK and found some treasure in there!’

  ‘I know, but I don’t like it. Please, can we go home? Mummy might not smack me now.’

  Sarah had twelve years’ more experience than Tommy, so she knew only too well that their mother would not have calmed down, and if they walked back through her front door they’d both receive the hidings of their lives. ‘Sorry, Tommy, I’m not risking you getting beaten black and blue. I love you too much to see you get hurt, so like it or lump it, we’re going back to the shed.’

  Tommy didn’t protest, but hung his head as he walked alongside her. They were soon in the alley which led to the back gate. ‘Remember, just like last time, quiet as a mouse,’ Sarah said, and pushed open the gate.

  Once inside, Tommy made himself comfortable on the deckchair. ‘My soldiers, I can play with them now,’ he said as if just remembering them, and pulled the tobacco tin from his pocket.

  As he played quietly and happily, Sarah found an old broom and swept the floor. She pushed the big pile of dust to a corner, and then arranged some of the newspapers to fashion a bed. The moon was veiled by clouds, so the shed wasn’t as illuminated as it had been the previous night. It’s not too bad, she thought, at least no worse than her mother’s flat.

  Half an hour passed, and Sarah strained her eyes in the darkness to see that Tommy had fallen asleep. She carefully took the toy soldiers from his hands and placed them back in the tin, then covered him with the grey blanket. He’d be as snug as a bug in a rug, she thought, grateful for the oversized army jacket George had given them.

  She took her own coat off and lay down on the newspaper, then pulled her coat over her like a blanket. She’d sleep better tonight knowing she had money in her pocket to feed Tommy tomorrow.