One Step at a Time (3 page)

‘Be here by seven-thirty on Monday. I don’t tolerate lateness.’

‘I won’t be late, sir.’ She made it to the door before he called her back.

‘You haven’t put your address down.’

‘Oh, sorry.’ She smiled apologetically, still holding on to the door handle. ‘It’s twenty-three Farthing Street, Wapping.’

To her immense relief he picked up the pen and wrote it down for her.

She shot out of the building as fast as her legs would carry her, elated that she had got away with it. The only trouble was she didn’t know what she had to do when she started there in the morning, or what the pay was, or how long her hours were. Still, she had got the job, and all she would have to do was watch the others. She would soon get the hang of it.

Eager to tell her mum the news, she ran home and tumbled into the scullery, out of breath. Her smile was even wider when she saw her mum up, dressed, and drinking tea, looking much better.

‘I’ve got a job at Marshall’s, Mum. I start on Monday and they don’t know I can’t read. I fooled them easy.’ She then explained what had happened.

‘That was smart of you, Amy.’ Her mother poured her a cup of tea. ‘How much you going to get?’

‘It was all on the bit of paper, but I couldn’t make it out.’

‘Well, from what I’ve heard of that place, it won’t be much, but it’ll be a help.’

Amy toyed with her cup, her excitement melting away when she noticed her mother’s drawn face. ‘Are you going to be all right? It’s not like school. I won’t be able to stay home or they’ll throw me out.’

‘I know that.’ Dolly gave a determined nod. ‘I’ll manage. I’m glad you’ll be earning because you need to be able to look after yourself. I might not be with you for too long.’

There was something in her mother’s voice that made Amy glance up sharply. ‘Aw, Mum, don’t talk like that. You’ll be fine if you look after yourself and don’t drink quite so much.’

‘I won’t from now on. Your dad’s going to be away for months and I’ve got to look after you. He worries about you.’

‘Does he?’ That was news to Amy. She really didn’t know him all that well. He was just the man who turned up for a while occasionally and then disappeared again. And when he came home he was a stranger to her; he certainly never showed his feelings.

‘Oh, yes. He wasn’t going to take this ship, but I made him, because he can’t go turning down work. I told him I’m not going to die for a year or two.’

Amy was alarmed by this talk of dying. Her mother had said things like this before, but only in a joking way. She was serious this time. ‘Why don’t you see a
doctor and find out why you cough so much at times?’

Dolly shook her head. ‘I know what’s wrong with me and there’s nothing they can do. If they get their hands on me they’ll send me away, and what would happen to you then? Of course, living by the docks don’t help much.’

‘We could move.’

Her mother patted her hand. ‘It’s too late. Nothing will help now.’

Amy chewed her lip anxiously. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘It’s to do with the lungs. It’s got some funny name but I can’t remember it now.’ Dolly smiled brightly. ‘Anyway, there’s nothing to worry about yet. You start your new job and try to save a few pennies each week, just so you’ve got a little put aside for a rainy day.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Apart from looking tired and rather thin, her mother was quite cheerful today, so Amy put the worrying conversation behind her.

‘I know I haven’t always been patient with you, Amy. Watching you struggle to read has been painful, and we can’t help wondering if it’s our fault somehow. But we do love you, and you mustn’t worry so much about it, lots of people can’t read or write.’ Her mother stood up. ‘I’ll go shopping and see if I can get something tasty for our dinner.’

When Dolly had left, Amy slumped into the old armchair by the fireplace; it was cold now because it was summer, but in the winter it was a lovely warm spot. She thought back over the talk she’d had with
her mother and couldn’t help worrying about the future. It would be a stormy passage if what her mother feared was true. But it couldn’t be. She shook her head in denial. Her mother was just being gloomy cos Dad had gone back to sea. She was always a bit down then, and she had a hangover from last night’s binge. Yes, that’s all it was.

She jumped up and hunted through the larder for the biscuits. There was one left, so she sat down again and munched thoughtfully. It was no good her mum telling her not to worry that she couldn’t read or write, because she did. It made her feel ashamed and worthless. She had struggled, fretted and lashed out in frustration and disappointment. But nothing did any good.

The ‘something tasty’ her mother brought back was a couple of meaty lamb chops, and with mashed spuds and greens they made a filling meal.

After Amy had cleared up and made them a pot of tea, it was still only two o’clock.

Her mother drank her tea and sighed. ‘I’ll just go and have a little rest this afternoon. What are you going to do this afternoon?’

‘Amy grinned. ‘The weather’s nice so I thought I’d go for a walk.’

‘You ought to have friends to go out with.’ Dolly frowned at her daughter. ‘You’re always on your own.’

‘They don’t want nothing to do with me.’ When her mother’s frown deepened, she said airily, ‘Anyway,
I don’t need them. They think they’re so good, but they’re not. Gran always said I was special, and I’m going to do something special in my life, then I’ll be able to laugh at them!’

‘That’s the way. Don’t let them upset you.’ Her mother hauled herself to her feet, holding on to the table for a moment, then turned and headed for the bedroom.

‘Mum, are you going out tonight?’

‘No, Amy.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘I’ll stay in and read to you, shall I?’

‘Oh, please.’ Amy’s smile was as wide as it could get. ‘I’d like that.’

Once her mother was asleep, she slipped out of the house, still smiling. She loved her mum reading to her. She had this wonderful book called
Pride and Prejudice
all about the upper classes, and Amy never got tired of hearing it. How she would love to be able to read it for herself.

There was a bounce in her step as she headed for the river. If the jeering boys had been on the corner of the street, she wouldn’t have cared. She’d got herself a job, and that was more than they’d done. Her mother had promised not to drink so much, and Amy was sure she’d be strong again if she did that. Dad had a good ship this time and would come home with loads of money after such a long trip.

The sun was warm on her face and arms, and she sang to herself as she walked along.

*

For once she didn’t make for the docks, but instead found a quieter stretch of the Thames. It had been a long walk to get there, but worth it.

Sitting down on a tuft of grass she tucked her knees up and pulled her frock over to cover them. The sun was brilliant and it looked as if little diamonds were glistening on the water. She gazed into the river and laughed out loud when she saw ducks upending to feed.

‘Lovely, aren’t they?’

Amy jumped at the sound of a man’s voice, shading her eyes to look up at him.

‘Mind if I sit here as well?’

She shrugged. ‘The river don’t belong to me.’

‘I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?’ He eased himself down beside her, stretched out his long legs, opened a large book and began to make pencil marks on the paper.

She watched in fascination as a picture began to take shape, not daring to speak because he seemed lost in what he was doing. He was a young man, about twenty she guessed. He had brown hair and light brown eyes. Studying him carefully she noted the highly polished shoes, good clothes, and hands that looked as if they hadn’t done a day’s work in their life. He spoke real proper, too.

Finished with her detailed inspection of him, she turned her attention back to the drawing, gasping in delight. ‘That’s here! That’s the swan over there. It looks just like it.’ She swivelled round until she was kneeling; she’d never seen anyone do that before.

He turned his head and smiled at her. ‘I hope it does.’ Tearing the page out he proffered it. ‘Would you like it?’

Her fingers itched to take it, but hesitated. ‘I couldn’t. It’s yours.’

‘I can do more. Tell you what, I’ll sign it and when I’m famous you can sell it for a lot of money.’

His eyes were full of mischief, making her laugh. ‘You sure you’re gonna be famous?’

‘Of course. You’ve got to have belief in yourself or you’ll never succeed in life.’ He signed the drawing at the bottom and held it out for her. ‘There you are, that’s my name.’

She peered at it. ‘What’s it say?’

‘I didn’t think my signature was that bad!’ He laughed. ‘My name’s Benjamin Scott. What’s yours?’

She sat back again, rather bashful, but not before she had taken the precious drawing and placed it carefully beside her on the grass. ‘Amy Carter.’

‘Nice to meet you, Amy Carter, and where do you live?’

‘Near the docks, Farthing Street. My dad’s in the merchant navy. He’s gone to Australia.’

‘Ah, an adventurous life, eh?’

She nodded, and hugged her knees again.

‘Do you mind if I draw you?’

‘What you want to do that for?’ She couldn’t help giggling at the idea.

‘Because you look pretty sitting like this beside the river.’

‘Go on – don’t be daft. I’m not pretty.’

‘I mean it, Amy.’ His pencil began to move over the page. ‘Sit still and look across the river.’

There was silence for a while as he sketched away, then he said, ‘Turn and face me now, Amy.’

What a laugh, she thought, having someone draw her picture. Bet those children who taunted her had never had their face in a picture. The customary hurt flooded back as she remembered all the nasty things they said to her, but then she banished it. She refused to think about them. This was fun.

It seemed no time at all before he was standing up.

‘Thank you, that was perfect.’

She scrambled to her feet. ‘Can I see it?’

Tucking the pad under his arm he smiled down at her. ‘I’ll let you see it one day.’

Amy watched him stride away, disappointed. He’d had kind eyes, and she didn’t think she had ever seen anyone as tall as that. Still, she had one of his pictures. She picked it up, careful not to crease it, then started back for home.

Mum was just getting the tea ready when Amy arrived, and while she buttered a slice of bread, Amy told Dolly all about the nice man who had drawn her picture.

‘He wouldn’t let me see it,’ Amy explained, ‘but he gave me this.’ She spread the picture out for her mother to see.

‘That’s really good.’ Her mother looked concerned.
‘But you shouldn’t talk to strange men when you’re out on your own.’

‘He was all right, Mum. A proper gent.’ Amy went into her bedroom and put the lovely picture in her drawer where it would be safe, and then went back to the scullery. Once they’d had their tea her mother would read to her.

This was one of the best days she’d ever had!

3

Benjamin couldn’t get home quickly enough, breaking into a trot to reach his car parked further along the river. He had come to Wapping looking for something different to sketch, and he had certainly found it!

Excitement raced through him as he swung the starting handle on his Austin, a present from his father after he had left university. When the engine burst into life, he jumped in and headed for Chelsea. His parents had been disappointed when he had left Oxford, but once they had realized that he really wasn’t the academic type and the only thing he wanted to do was paint, they had accepted his decision.

The feeling of guilt rose, as it always did when he thought of the sacrifices they had made to give him a good education. They were by no means poor, but helping a son through university had been a financial drain on the three draper’s shops they owned. They were getting back on their feet again now he insisted on paying his own way.

One day he would make it up to them, to thank them for their faith in him. His painting was improving all the time and he was even beginning to sell a few canvases. All he needed was something exceptional to catch the critics’ and gallery owners’ eyes. And today
he was sure he had found it. What a face that young girl had, and her eyes were like nothing he had ever seen. He would have to get them right, for they said so much about her.

Pulling up outside the house where he was renting the top floor, he leapt out of the car and loped up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Once in the attic studio he shrugged out of his coat, tossing it over a chair in the corner of the room. Without bothering to change into the old clothes he used for painting, he put a new canvas on the easel, opened his sketchbook and set to work.

Time no longer existed for Benjamin. The picture of Amy sitting by the river was roughed out, and that canvas replaced with another. This was for the full-face picture of her, and the one he was the most excited about. He had to get it down while he could still see her clearly in his mind’s eye. God, he wished he had her here!

‘Ben!’

His only comment was a muttered curse as he heard his friend running up the stairs.

‘What the devil are you doing? We’re supposed to be going to Sheila Watkins’ birthday party and you’re covered in paint, as usual.’

‘Go away, Howard!’

There was silence as his friend studied the two pictures, perching on the edge of a tall stool to watch the portrait take shape. He spoke softly, never taking
his eyes off the canvas. ‘I hate to disturb you, Ben, but we did promise to go tonight.’

‘Damn!’ Ben tossed down his brush, his concentration gone. Wiping his hands, he said, ‘I’ll have to leave it until tomorrow now.’

His friend’s smile was wry and full of sympathy. ‘Where did you find her?’

‘Sitting by the river.’ Ben stepped back to study his work. He had always considered himself a landscape painter, but not any more.

‘Phew, Ben, I knew you were good, but…’ Howard waved his hand at both paintings. ‘… these are fabulous.’

‘They will be when they’re finished.’ Ben gazed at the portrait critically, pleased with his friend’s reaction. He trusted Howard, who had a marvellous eye for what was right. ‘I haven’t captured the eyes yet. There was so much in them. Youth, innocence and a deep, deep hurt that went to her very soul. Even when she smiled it was still there.’