by Lesley Eames
‘Which is why we don’t have eggs for breakfast,’ Lily told Artie. ‘Not yet anyway.’
She set him another question to answer while she worked the dolly again but soon it was time to return to school. ‘You’re a lucky boy, having a sister who’s willing to spend time helping you,’ Gran told Artie.
‘I know.’ Artie gave Lily a quick hug. ‘You’re the best, Lil,’ he said, then ran out to the alley.
Lily lingered at the door, searching Gran’s beloved face for signs of pain. ‘Are you sure I can’t—’
‘I’ll manage fine,’ Gran said. ‘You can’t preach schooling to Artie then not go to school yourself.’ She shook a tea cloth at Lily. ‘Off with you.’
Lily hesitated for a moment longer then followed Artie. But she spent the afternoon worrying and as soon as the bell rang to announce that school was over she left by the girls’ door and ran to find Artie who sauntered out of the boys’ door with two of his pals.
‘I’m going straight home,’ Lily told him.
‘Shall I come?’
‘No, it’s all right.’ She didn’t want him wondering why she was even keener to help Gran than usual. Besides, she knew he wanted to take a turn with the marbles his friend, Davie, had been given by a seaman uncle.
Lily found Gran folding sheets. ‘I’ll do the deliveries,’ Lily offered.
‘Wouldn’t you rather play out after being cooped-up in school?’
‘I don’t think my friends are playing out today.’ Lily hadn’t actually asked them.
‘Well, I won’t deny it’ll be a help if you do take the deliveries round,’ Gran said.
Together they consulted the lists Gran had drawn up using words when she knew them and just letters and symbols when she wasn’t sure. They wrapped the clean washing in much-used brown paper and tied them with much-used string.
‘I’m charging Frank Baines a bit less seeing as he’s been laid off with those leg ulcers,’ Gran explained. ‘The same goes for the Bennetts seeing as the old lady needs medicines. Don’t let on, though. They’ve got their pride.’
Lily put some of the packages into the large bag they used for deliveries. ‘I’ll be back for more soon,’ she told Gran, and set off to deliver the clean washing across their corner of Bermondsey, waiting for the brown paper and string to be returned to her, and collecting the money that was due.
It was counted out very carefully indeed by young Mrs Bennett who even handled farthings as though she’d have preferred not to let them go, but living in upstairs rooms with little space for drying her own washing meant she had no choice but to use a washerwoman. ‘How’s old Mrs Bennett?’ Lily asked.
‘No change, but we don’t expect one. Not for the better, anyway.’
Lily smiled sympathetically. ‘Have you got any more washing for Gran?’
‘Over there.’ Mrs Bennett indicated a sack.
Lily took a bundle of handwritten labels from her pocket, found the one that bore the Bennett name and popped it into the sack. ‘Bye, then,’ she said, then walked round to the next customer.
She knocked on Mr Baines’s door but only as a warning. Opening the door herself, she popped her head round it. ‘Only me, Mr Baines. Can I come in?’
‘You can.’ He was sitting in his chair with his ulcerated legs up on a stool.
‘Shall I put the washing away for you? It’s no bother.’
‘You’re a good girl, Lily Tomkins.’
Afterwards, he nodded at the table. ‘Money’s there.’
There was a small pile of coins. ‘Thanks, Mr Baines.’
‘That orange is for you too.’
‘For me?’ An orange was a treat indeed.
‘All the way from Spain,’ Mr Baines said.
‘Don’t you want it for yourself?’
‘Can’t say as my stomach does well on oranges. You take it.’
‘Thank you! I’ll see you next week and I hope your legs feel better.’
She finished the first round of deliveries and collections then went home for the next lot. ‘Aren’t you going to eat it?’ Gran asked, when Lily flourished the orange.
‘By myself?’ As if Lily would do that! ‘We can share it after our dinner.’
Gran cooked their proper dinner at the end of the day to keep the smell of it away from the laundry. Today she made a stew of potatoes, carrots and onions. They never ate meat more than once or twice a week as it cost too much but, thinking about it, Lily realised it had been more than a week since they’d last had meat.
‘Lily’s got a treat for you later,’ Gran told Artie.
His eyes brightened. ‘A treat?’
‘An orange,’ Lily told him. ‘From Mr Baines.’
Artie didn’t need to be told he had to eat his stew first. He was gobbling it up.
Lily was enormously relieved when Gran poured a small bowl of stew for herself and ate it. Hopefully, it meant she was already on the mend.
But when Lily lay in bed that night she heard Gran groan as she came up the stairs to go to her own bed. Gran’s footsteps were slow and laboured, and she heaved a great sigh when she reached the tiny landing that separated her room from the one Lily shared with Artie. Lily closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep when Gran came in to kiss them goodnight. There was a rustle of sheets and blankets as Gran tucked the sleeping Artie in, then Lily felt Gran’s lips on her own head. With another sigh Gran left them alone.
Lily let a long time pass then got up, wincing at the icy feel of the worn linoleum floor covering beneath her feet. She tiptoed outside Gran’s room, listened for the sound of regular breathing then opened the door. Moonlight was beaming through a gap in the curtains, lighting up Gran’s face where she lay against the pillow. It was a wrinkled but beautiful face in Lily’s eyes. Creeping forward, Lily placed a gentle kiss on the creased skin. ‘Love you, Gran,’ she whispered, then glided back to bed.
Hopefully, Gran would get better quickly but today had brought home to Lily how very precarious their situation was. Sooner or later Gran might need a doctor and she wouldn’t want to go to a poor hospital or anything like that in case the people in charge decided she wasn’t well enough to look after children. That might mean Lily and Artie were sent to the workhouse or some distant orphanage.
But seeing a doctor outside a hospital cost money, and with rent to pay, coal to buy and three mouths to feed Gran had never been able to set money aside for emergencies. Might Lily find a way of earning enough money to save a little emergency fund? It wouldn’t be easy. Helping Gran with the laundry and shopping already took up much of Lily’s time, and missing school would not only get Gran into trouble but also start Artie worrying about what was going on.
Perhaps Lily could run errands for other people alongside running errands for Gran. She wouldn’t earn much – a few pennies here and there – but they’d mount up over time. It had to be worth trying.
TWO
‘How much would this errand cost?’ Mr Higgins asked, when Lily took his washing round and announced that she was running errands for people.
‘Just a halfpenny,’ Lily told him. None of their neighbours were rich so she knew she was unlikely to get any business if she asked for more. ‘I can fetch things like cigarettes and milk or shoes from the cobbler. Or I can post letters. You know you can trust me. I’m Maggie Tomkins’s granddaughter, after all.’
‘Hmm.’ He gave her a long look as she stood before his chair, hands clasped behind her back. ‘All right. You can fetch me ten Woodbines from Welby’s. Be quick about it or I might think you’ve gone off with my money.’
He gave her two shillings. Lily raced to the corner shop, bought the cigarettes and raced back to hand them to Mr Higgins along with his change which he counted carefully. ‘You haven’t taken your halfpenny,’ he pointed out.
‘I thought I should wait for you to give it to me.’
He pushed a halfpenny across the table and Lily picked it up. ‘Thanks. Maybe I’ll call tomorrow and see if you ha
ve any more errands for me.’
‘I’m not promising I’ll have any.’
‘I can ask, though, can’t I?’
‘I suppose you can. Knock on the window and I’ll beckon you in if I need you.’
Lily took the halfpenny home and wrapped it in an old sock. By the end of the first week she had seven halfpennies in there – three from Mr Higgins, two from his neighbour, Mrs Platt, and two from Mr Wright across the road.
Gran seemed no worse but neither did she seem any better. She was eating little and looked terribly tired in unguarded moments. She also looked deeply relieved for all the help Lily was giving but she fired up one afternoon when she and Lily were alone and Lily asked, ‘Feeling all right, Gran?’
‘’Course I am!’ Gran insisted.
Lily regretted asking the question because Gran got up and busied herself instead of resting for a moment over a cup of tea. Lily was sure Gran still wasn’t back to her old self, but some illnesses took a while to pass and Lily hoped Gran’s was one of them.
Even so, she made it known to her customers that she was available for errand-running in the mornings too. It meant getting up very early to fill the copper and set it to boil, put washing in the dolly tub or the old tin bath to soak, mix starch, scrub grubby collars and cuffs, and eat breakfast too, moving quickly while trying to look as though she wasn’t rushing at all.
She encouraged Artie to leave for school sooner than was really needed by suggesting he’d like to play with his pals then, as soon as he’d joined them, she’d say, ‘Don’t be late,’ and hasten away as though going to see her own friends, Gertie and Ruth. In reality she’d race off to get her errands done before running back to school in time for the starting bell.
By the end of the second week the money in the sock totalled eightpence. By the end of the third week there was a shilling and thruppence.
Gran still wasn’t better. No matter how hard she was trying to hide it, the signs were there. Less washing was coming in and yet Gran was behind with it. There were occasional creases in ironing that used to be perfect, little food in the house and Gran herself seemed… smaller somehow. Not the vigorous Maggie Tomkins of old.
For all that she was trying to leave Gran her pride, Lily couldn’t help speaking out again when she caught Gran’s worn hands rubbing her middle as though trying to soothe pain. ‘I wish you’d tell me if you have a belly ache.’
‘Only a bit of wind, Lil.’
It was more serious than wind. Lily was certain now. She wished she knew how much it would cost for Gran to see a doctor, but asking any of their neighbours would arouse their suspicions about why she wanted to know and word might get back to Gran. Perhaps when Lily had three shillings in the sock she’d speak to Gran about seeing someone.
In the meantime, money was tighter than ever. It didn’t help that the weather was so bad, one rainy day being succeeded by another and making it impossible to get anything dry without piling coals onto the fire.
‘Urgh!’ Artie said, as he stepped into a puddle in the alley as they walked home for their dinner one day.
He lifted a foot to inspect his shoe. ‘I’ve got a hole.’
‘I’ll plug it up with something when we get home,’ Lily told him. ‘Don’t mention it to Gran.’
‘Why not? She can get it mended.’
‘Mr Groves has died. Until Gran finds someone else to wash for, there’s less money coming in,’ Lily told him.
Gran had washed for Mr Groves for years but the loss of his money was only a small part of the problem. There was no need for Artie to know that, though.
‘How long will I have to wait?’ Artie asked.
‘I don’t know. Just try to be patient.’
Artie grinned, always seeing the sunny side of things. ‘At least I’ve got one dry foot.’
Gran had draped washing all around the house, including on the backs of the chairs so they sat on the floor to eat their dinner of bread and dripping.
Sunday dawned more brightly but Gran was looking grey. Thinking she might rest if left alone in the house, Lily suggested that Artie might like to come with her to see the ships down at the docks.
They walked past St Mary Magdalen Church and the dreaded workhouse on their way to Tower Bridge where they stopped by the river. On the opposite bank stood the Tower of London with its grey stone walls and a tower at each corner. Lily was always saddened by the sight of it because she felt sorry for all the people who’d been imprisoned there over the years. Artie found it gruesomely fascinating because some of those prisoners had had their heads chopped off.
There were wharfs to the east and west but it felt natural to turn their heads east towards Butler’s Wharf where Dad had worked. Beyond it were more wharfs as far as the eye could see – Coventry, Landells, West’s, Mesnard’s… Still more wharfs were clustered around St Saviour’s Duck, the thin finger of water that stretched south of the Thames. Some of the wharfs had ships in, bringing foods such as tea, sugar, grain and spices as well as rubber. ‘I’d like to sail on a ship one day,’ Artie said.
Whatever he decided about his future, the more education Artie had, the higher he was likely to rise. ‘If a ship has to sail for 2,386 miles on its journey, how many miles does it have to sail to reach the halfway mark?’ Lily asked.
Artie thought about it. ‘One thousand one hundred and ninety-three,’ he finally said.
Lily was about to tell him he was right when someone else said, ‘Well done, boy.’
Turning, Lily saw a man standing behind them. A tall, thin, white-haired man who was undoubtedly a gentleman judging from his fine clothes and crisp voice. ‘How many miles does it have to sail to complete three quarters of the journey?’ he asked.
Lily worked the answer out quickly. One thousand seven hundred and eighty-nine miles. Eighty-nine and a half to be accurate. But it was Artie the man had asked. Artie had closed his eyes in concentration and Lily willed him to get the answer right.
‘One thousand seven hundred and eighty-nine miles,’ Artie said.
‘Plus?’ the man prompted.
‘Another half a mile.’
‘Very good. I like to see a boy who can use his brain.’
‘My sister helps me,’ Artie pointed out.
‘Females are useful for teaching children elementary reading, writing and arithmetic. But the male needs a more thorough education if he’s to make his way in the world. What else do you know? The capital of France perhaps?’
Artie looked momentarily panicked but Lily sent him a steadying nod and he answered uncertainly, ‘Paris, sir?’
‘Correct. And what about literature? Do you enjoy reading?’
‘Stories? Oh, yes, sir.’
‘Do you have a favourite book?’
‘Just So Stories. I like reading about the animals.’
‘You have the book at home?’
‘Yes, sir. Our dad got it for us.’
‘He is a great reader, perhaps?’
‘No, sir. He didn’t have much schooling but he wanted schooling for us.’
‘He sounds like a sensible man. But am I to understand he’s no longer living?’
‘Not for the past four years.’
‘You live with your mother?’
‘With our gran, sir. Our mum died too. Three years ago.’
‘My condolences. But forgive me. I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Crispin Alderton. I am a schoolmaster. A headmaster in fact. Newly retired.’
‘Arthur Tomkins, sir,’ Artie told him. ‘This is my sister, Lily.’
‘What age are you, Arthur?’
‘Ten, sir.’
‘You go to school?’
‘’Course. The inspectors would be after me if I didn’t.’
‘Quite. Well, keep up your education, Arthur, and perhaps I’ll ask you more questions another time. Your address is…’
‘Jessy Street. Number twelve.’
‘And where might Jessy Street be?’
�
�Bermondsey, sir.’
Mr Alderton nodded. ‘Good day to you, Arthur, and… erm…’ He waved a vague hand in Lily’s direction.
‘Her name’s Lily,’ Artie said.
Mr Alderton’s narrow lips twitched in what appeared to be a smile, and with that he sauntered away.
‘Well done for getting the answers right,’ Lily told Artie.
‘You’d have got them right faster.’
They walked on but dark grey clouds were blowing in and Lily’s thoughts were returning to Gran anyway. ‘Time for home,’ Lily said.
The rain held off as they walked back to Jessy Street and Lily was glad to see Davie playing marbles in the alley because Artie ran to join him. It meant he wouldn’t see Gran if she were sleeping. Neither would his bouncing energy startle her awake.
The kitchen was empty when Lily entered. Sunday or not, there was ironing to be done so Lily put the irons in the fire to heat. She moved quietly but heard Gran coming downstairs. ‘I was tidying a drawer,’ Gran said, but her silvery hair was messy and Lily guessed she’d been lying down instead.
Lily’s heart twisted painfully. She’d never seen darling Gran look so… bewildered. ‘I’ll make some tea,’ Lily said, hoping to squeeze a little more life out of the tea leaves in the pot. Gran began to inspect a bundle of washing, separating anything that needed a button or a stitch. At least it was a job she could do sitting at the table. She looked up at a sudden rattle on the window panes. ‘More rain!’
A moment later Artie rushed in. ‘Close the door!’ Lily urged, not wanting Gran to catch a chill from the draught.
He closed the door and came to sit at the table. ‘We met a strange man when we were out,’ he told Gran.
‘He wasn’t strange exactly,’ Lily said hastily, seeing Gran frown. ‘He just heard me asking Artie questions – arithmetic questions – and asked some questions of his own. He was impressed that Artie knew the answers.’
‘So he should have been. You’re a clever boy,’ Gran approved.
‘I’m not as clever as Lily.’
‘But neither are you a dunce.’
