Crooked Pieces (3 page)

At five o’clock Cook sent me to clear the tea and I was just piling up things on the tray when Miss Sylvia said, ‘You can leave those for a minute, Maggie. I’ve something for you to see.’ At which Miss Christabel leapt up and said, ‘Something for us all to see. Lead on, fair sister,’ and she flung open the door and marched out into the passageway. Mrs Pankhurst rose very gracefully and followed and Miss Sylvia called out to them, ‘Straight to the top of the stairs and turn left. Come on, Maggie. I need to know what you think.’

Well, I did not know what to think except that whatever it was I should not dare let it out of my mouth in such company. Up we went. I was glad to see Miss Sylvia had tried a little to make the place tidy. In one corner, nearest the window, was her easel. It was covered with a cloth. In a moment I realised what was to happen and felt my stomach come right up into my mouth.

She pulled back the cloth and there I was, sitting, looking far away as though I could see forever, but instead of a book in my lap she had painted a cloth for polishing and beside me some rusty pans.

Mrs Pankhurst went right up close to it and gazed and gazed. ‘What do you think, Mama?’ Miss Christabel asked. Her mother nodded her head very knowingly and said ‘Hmmm’ in a thoughtful sort of way.

I feared this might mean she did not like it, but Miss Sylvia looked so tickled with just that one ‘Hmmm’, that I knew it must be the highest form of praise. Miss Christabel, too, was much taken with the picture and said it showed my soul. And then they all three fell silent and I knew they were waiting for me to speak. So, thinking it the finest thing that was ever
done – so like me I could have been looking in a mirror, except that, Lord be praised, I was wearing my grey dress – I dragged up all my courage and said, ‘Hmmm’, as loud as I dared.

They all three fixed their eyes on me as though I were quite the quaintest creature they ever had come upon, and then Mrs Pankhurst simply burst out laughing and then Miss Christabel and Miss Sylvia, too, and Mrs Pankhurst laid her hand on my arm and said, ‘Maggie, you are a singular girl. A very singular girl.’

I did not know if this were good or bad, but she smiled so sweetly at me that I guessed she meant it kindly, so I said, ‘Thank you, ma’am. I’m much obliged.’ Then Mrs Pankhurst took out a beautiful silver watch on a chain and said, ‘I think we must be going, Sylvia, my dear,’ and so we all went downstairs again and just as I was fetching their coats, Mrs Roe appeared and was greeted like an old friend. ‘And we are to come to you on Wednesday, Mrs Roe, if that is agreeable still?’ Mrs Pankhurst asked. Mrs Roe said it was. Mrs Pankhurst thanked her heartily. ‘We shall be about ten in number, I think, but you are not to think of refreshments. Sylvia will attend to all that.’ I thought it not a good idea to leave Miss Sylvia in charge of such arrangements and she clearly thought so too, for she gave a little smile and said, ‘In which case I shall ask Maggie to help me, if Cook can spare her at all that day.’ Mrs Roe said she felt certain Cook would. I was not so sure but after our supper when Cook and I were sitting together and I trying to teach her the difference between ‘E’ and ‘F’, I said, ‘Miss Sylvia would like me to help her next Wednesday if I can be spared.’

‘Help her what?’

‘To provide refreshments for ten ladies.’

Cook rolled her eyes. ‘Let’s hope they are more ladies than the last lot.’

It being two months since I had visited, Mrs Roe said I might go home on Sunday. It was raining and by the time I reached our house I was dripping like a gutter. Ma came to the door. She looked ill, but when she saw me her whole face brightened right up. I said, ‘It’s me, Ma, and I have brought you some biscuits.’ They were ginger which will either cure my nan or kill her. Ma is well gone with the baby now, and I never knew her to look so worn. Her skin is yellow like a candle and her eyes ringed with dark. I gave her my wages – four shillings all but three halfpence which I had spent on some ribbon for the collar of my new dress. It is green. I wanted yellow but it was a farthing more. Cook showed me how to sew it and a wicked business it was. My fingers were so punched full of holes I felt like just wiping them over the dress till it was red. She says she will teach me properly when there is more time, but that I do not have a natural way for it. I could have told her she does not have a natural way for reading – it is weeks now, and she still cannot remember beyond ‘J’, and usually only ‘I’.

Pa gave me a big squeeze and said because it was me, he would light the fire. I think he meant because I had brought so much money, but I still felt proud that he should do it.

Ma sent Alfie out to buy some faggots for our dinner. She gave him a sixpence which was far too much but he came back without any change. I chid him hard and said he must go
straight back and ask for the tuppence that was owing but he just threw his arms about and went and sat in the corner. Ma said not to fret and she would speak to the butcher come the morning. I knew she would not, so while she was tending to Will, I put on my cloak and ran all the way to the butcher’s which was just on the point of closing.

‘What can I do for you, miss, in such a hurry? You’d best be quick. I’m on my way to church,’ he said, all smarmy smile.

I said, ‘You can give me back the tuppence owing that you forgot to give my brother.’

He looked real surprised and angry and sort of squinted at me over the counter. When he realised who I was he smiled again, all smarmy still. ‘I wouldn’t have known you, Maggie Robins. All grown up in your fancy gown.’

‘Well, you know me now, Mr Green,’ I said, ‘and if you could hand me the change of the sixpence Alfie gave you, I’ll be grateful.’

He glared at me long and hard, then reached below the counter and brought up a black tin box. ‘I was going to call round to your ma’s on my way home,’ he said, handing me the tuppence. ‘She hadn’t ought to send your Alfie out on errands where there’s money. What if he’d lost it? Where’s your dinner then?’

I was so vexed that he should try to blame Ma that I just smiled all frosty at him. ‘You being such a good churchgoer, Mr Green, I expect you’d’ve given it him for free.’ I turned smart on my heel before he could think to reply.

After dinner I decided I must give Alfie some teaching. Although I do not like Mr Green who thinks himself so close to heaven he would have an angel to polish his wings, I fear it
is no help to Ma if Alfie cannot tell how much to pay and get back when she sends him to the shops.

I sat him down by me and told Lucy to go away for she, of course, wanted to hang over his shoulder giggling at each mistake. She made a face like the madam she is and slumped down by the window where she set to drumming her fingers on the sill like a rat in the rafters. Little Evelyn sat at my feet quiet as a lamb.

At first Alfie would not try at all, would not speak – just kept shaking his head and rolling his eyes around but then I whispered that I had brought something for him that he should only have if he did well. Then he tried very hard. First I took a book and showed him the letters that we had worked on before I went to Park Walk. He remembered some – no worse than Cook! But it was when I asked him his numbers that he got in a dreadful fret. I said them over slowly and told him to say them after. He could not do it. A full hour I sat with him and at the end we were both near to screaming, I think.

Ma came in. ‘Maggie, that’s enough for now. Alfie is tired, and you have a long journey home.’

I stared at her. ‘This is my home.’

Ma came over all hot and bothered. ‘Yes, yes, I know. I only meant…’ Just then Nan called out and she went to her. Lucy, the little worm, stopped her drumming and wriggling about and said in a sneaky little voice, ‘You see. It’s not your home any more.’ I felt near to throttling her but would not give her the pleasure of seeing I was rankled.

‘It is,’ I said coldly. ‘Same as it is Frank’s. Homes are homes. We don’t have to be here.’

Lucy gave a funny little choky sound. ‘Frank’s here more than you are now. See what he gave me.’ She reached down inside her dress and pulled out a tiny heart made of some shiny stone and hung around her neck on a bootlace.

‘When did he give you that?’

‘Last time he was here.’

‘It was meant for me. He didn’t know I’d be gone.’

Lucy gave me a real funny look. ‘No, that was the first time,’ she said. ‘He’s come back again since then. I’m his best girl now.’

I stood up and fully meant to slap her but just then Alfie flung his arms round me and begged me to give him his reward for all his learning. I was so angry – God forgive me, I never meant to do it – I pulled out the apple I had kept by for him and just flung it in the fire. Poor Alfie burst out with a mighty sob and rushed to get it back. I seized hold of him and clung with all my might, screaming at Lucy to fetch Pa. Ma came running and between us we pulled Alfie away before he could burn, but he was crying and throwing his arms around and several times we both took blows from him. At last Pa arrived and lifted Alfie clean up in the air and shook him like he was a sack of feathers till he had ceased howling. Ma threw a bucket of water on the fire lest he would try again.

And all that for an apple.

I took my leave, for I could not bear to think of what I had done, and most particular, that they had lost the fire. Ma came with me to the door and laid her hand on my shoulder. ‘Maggie, you are not to fret. Alfie cannot help it. He’s a good boy, but life is hard for him. Try to understand.’

I thought, my life is hard, too, but who understands that? Who understands me? Of course there is no need, for I am Maggie Robins. The clever one. The fortunate one. The favoured one.

The door closed. I stood in the dark street outside the house that was no longer my home, listening to the voices of the family I was no longer part of. I thought, yes, I am Maggie Robins, and I am clever and fortunate and favoured. But most of all, I am alone.

The Wednesday of the meeting I thought I should go mad. First Cook had a turn and could not walk for feeling dizzy and feverish. Mrs Roe said she should go to bed and she would make her a poultice. I was desperate I should have to cook the lunch and dinner
and
help Miss Sylvia, but Mrs Roe said I need not do so. She would fry up some chops for herself and the master and they could make do with the cold bacon and some pickles for their supper. I was heartily grateful for Cook had said I must be sure and polish the fender in the parlour and lay a neat fire and wipe the windows over with vinegar and water as well as all my usual chores.

At four o’clock Miss Sylvia returned from college. When Mrs Roe explained that Cook was ill the very first thing she did was boil a kettle and take her in some beef tea, although Mrs Roe had twice sent me up with soup and some porter ale, which Cook had drunk to the last drop, declaring all the while that she would be dead by morning. I did not think this likely as she asked if I could bring her some of the visitors’ jam pastries, for she fancied they might cool her head.

Then Miss Sylvia and I set to making sandwiches, enough
for an army. There was paste and beef brawn and chopped egg and salmon. Next we made scones and some syrup cakes and a great jug of lemonade, and I laid out plates and glasses and little pretty bits of cloth for them to wipe their hands on. Mr and Mrs Roe dined early and retired to the parlour which was a great blessing, although Mrs Roe kept coming out to see if we needed anything and kept suggesting things, till in the end we wished she would go away and leave us alone to our muddle.

At seven o’clock the doorbell chimed. Miss Sylvia ran up the stairs to change her dress and came back within a minute but it was all buttoned wrong.

The first lady to arrive was very old. I thought she might have been a queen or something once for she was so stiff and noble and wore only black lace in her hair which was quite white like a snowball, and her hands were all crinkly and had brown spots on them like a tiger. I was very afraid, but when she had been shown a chair and was settled she seemed contented enough and took a glass of lemonade. Next came a very smart lady, though somewhat stout, who spoke most kindly to me, asking my age and how many children my mother had at home. I replied, ‘Four, ma’am, with one in the grave and one in the making,’ at which she gave me a very kind smile and said she hoped I was happy here.

More ladies came, most old like Mrs Roe but a few of Miss Sylvia’s age. They wore fine pretty garments and all had hats, though some were smarter than others. Last of all came Miss Christabel and Mrs Pankhurst and with them a tiny woman in very dull clothes but with the most sparkling dancing eyes and a laugh like a string of cans clattering.

At nine o’clock I took up the refreshments. The ladies looked mighty pleased to see me. I do not know what they had been speaking of, but they were very pink-cheeked and Miss Christabel leapt up from her seat when I entered, crying, ‘Manna from heaven, eh, Maggie?’ To which I replied, ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s mainly sandwiches.’ Everyone laughed and I wished I had never spoken. Miss Sylvia came to my side and said in a nice still voice, ‘Maggie has positively slaved to get this ready for us. I am very grateful for her help,’ whereupon they fell quiet and gave me many smiles. I think, perhaps, ladies are nicer than men.

Three Wednesdays the ladies have now met at our house. Cook is recovered and we have served them anchovy toasts, as well as stuffed pigeons’ eggs and meat pâté with mustard and lemon sherbert. I think maybe I should cease reading so many recipes to Cook as she is getting more and more wild in her endeavours and sometimes poor Mr Roe looks quite bilious when I put a dish in front of him.

I asked her once what she thought the ladies talked of in their meetings and she screwed up her face and said it was mad things and not something I should be concerned with, but she is softer now since I gave her the jam pastries, and so I asked her over and over, and in the end she confessed that the meetings were all to do with votes. I was not overly sure what they might be, but Cook explained that men could choose who should govern them, but women could not. And Mrs Pankhurst and her daughters were foremost in protesting this. Then I thought back to how Miss Sylvia had asked me about brains, and it seemed to me that maybe she was not completely mad.