One Step at a Time (5 page)

The material this time was silky and pink, so Amy cast a wild look around. Pink, pink, she chanted to herself, running from bench to bench until she found the right one.

When she got back the foreman had disappeared so she fished in her pocket for a piece of paper and stub of pencil. She always carried these with her in case she needed them. And she certainly did now!

The sketch she made was rough, but the different workbenches were clear enough. Gladys’s bench was right in the middle and she worked her way from there, drawing a picture of a blouse, then the petticoats and skirts on the other two she knew. By the end of the day she hoped to have a little picture over every bench to guide her.

By the time the dinner bell sounded she had over half the benches marked, and knew the system was working. It was a tricky business because she didn’t want anyone to see what she was doing, but luckily they were all too busy to take notice of her. As long as they were kept supplied with work no one even bothered to look at her.

‘Come on, Amy.’ Gladys caught hold of her arm. ‘We’ve only got three-quarters of an hour.’

Picking up her sandwiches, Amy left the factory with Gladys. Outside most of the workers were sitting on boxes or the ground, eating and talking.

‘I like to get right away for a while if the weather’s all right.’ Gladys slipped her hand through Amy’s
arm as they walked along, chatting away about how she wished she lived somewhere with green fields and hills.

Amy was content to listen, enjoying the novelty of being with someone who wasn’t calling her rude names. It was nice, and she hoped Gladys was going to be a friend. She’d never had one before.

‘This’ll do.’ Gladys stopped under a large oak tree. ‘I sit here and look up at the branches. It’s so beautiful, even in the winter.’

After settling down they began munching on their food. Amy was hungry now and very relieved to have survived the morning. She’d finish working out who was doing what by the end of the day, and tomorrow wouldn’t be so frightening.

She cast Gladys a shy glance and noticed she had her head tipped back looking up at the tree. Amy did the same, watching the slight breeze rustle the leaves, making shimmering fingers of sunlight pierce the dense canopy. It was lovely, and very peaceful, if you ignored the noise from the docks not far away. Of course the spot she’d gone to yesterday was much better, but this was all right for today. Her mind drifted back to that place by the Thames, and she couldn’t help wondering what that man would do with her picture. It would be lovely to see it one day, but she doubted she ever would. Still, she had one of his drawings. How she wished her gran were still alive. Gran would have loved it. Perhaps she’d be able to buy a frame for it sometime and put it
on her bedroom wall. She smiled to herself at that thought.

‘Lovely, ain’t it?’

‘Yes.’ Amy finished her food, wishing she’d brought a bit more with her. She must put in another sandwich for tomorrow. Feeling quite relaxed now, she asked, ‘Why do you all work so fast?’

‘Because we get paid for how much work we do. It’s bloody hard labour, but if you can’t keep up with what they want, they chuck you out. My dad was killed in an accident at the docks two years ago and my mum needs the money.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

Gladys’s usually smiling mouth set in a straight line for a moment. ‘He was a good man and my mum’s never got over losing him.’ Then she smiled again. ‘You still got your dad?’

Amy nodded.

‘What’s he like?’

‘He’s all right, but we don’t see much of him. He’s in the merchant navy and he’s gone to the other side of the world this time. He won’t be back for ages.’

‘I’ll bet he has lots of tales to tell when he does come back.’ Gladys stood up and dusted down her skirt. ‘We’d better get back now.’

Amy did the same and fell into step beside Gladys, merely nodding. She changed the subject. ‘Perhaps your mum will marry again one day.’

‘I doubt that.’ Gladys grimaced. ‘Thought the world of him, she did, and hasn’t got eyes for anyone
else. She’s still not bad-looking and ought to find someone to look after her. She’s had plenty sniffing round her. Bloody stupid, if you ask me.’

‘Oh.’ Amy had never heard a woman swear so freely; her mum never did, and she found it a bit embarrassing. ‘Er… do you mean your mum has men after her?’

‘Amy, you are a funny one. Are you really as innocent as you look? You’ve gone all pink.’

The usual hurt was back. It hadn’t taken long for the insults to come. ‘I’m not daft!’

‘I didn’t mean that…’ Gladys stopped, concerned. ‘I wasn’t being rude, Amy. You seem to live in a little world of your own, not taking much notice of what’s going on around you, and I think it’s nice.’

‘Do you?’ That was hard to believe.

‘Yes.’ Gladys smiled. ‘I like you. Can we be friends? We could go to the pictures on Saturday evening. They’ve got
King Kong
showing.’ This was announced with a wiggle of delight.

‘Is it good?’ Amy didn’t know what to say, as she’d never heard of the film. In fact she’d never even been to the pictures. It was at that moment she realized just how lonely she had been since her gran died.

Gladys laughed. ‘Just you wait and see. Will you come?’

‘Yes please.’

They reached the factory with only two minutes to spare, and Amy walked in almost bursting with happiness. She had a friend and was going to the
pictures with her at the end of the week. She’d have her new dress and shoes by then.

Although the hours were long and the days hectic, Amy was happy. Her sketch of the worktables was a big help for the first couple of days, and as the week went on she had to refer to it less and less. It was easier to remember who was working on what by the feel and colour of the materials. No one was shouting at her, nor calling her beastly names and saying she was stupid, and her mum was getting better. Dolly was even talking about finding a job in a shop if she could.

Picking up the next batch of cut-out blouses, she hurried to the bench where Gladys was working.

‘Pictures soon,’ Gladys whispered. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing
King Kong
again.’

‘Have you seen it before?’ Amy was surprised.

‘Yes, twice. It’s a real scary picture.’

Amy giggled at her friend’s expression, but didn’t linger; she hurried on to the next job. The tallyman had brought her dress and shoes round and she was looking forward to wearing them.

‘Amy!’

She spun round to face the foreman as he strode towards her, praying she hadn’t done anything wrong. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Can you sew?’

‘Yes, my gran showed me.’

He gave her the material he was holding. ‘Do the hem on this and let me see what you can do. Careful
though. This is special and we don’t want to have to unpick it.’

Amy took the garment and ran her fingers gently over the cream-coloured material. It was so soft and fine. She’d never seen anything like it.

‘Er… I can’t work quick like the others.’

‘I don’t want you to. Take your time and do tiny stitches. Sit over there by the window.’

For the next hour Amy concentrated on doing her best stitching. Her gran had always done such beautiful work, and she was determined to show the boss how well she had been taught.

‘Let’s have a look.’ The foreman took the garment from her, frowning as he examined what she had done. After giving her a startled look he headed for the office without saying a word.

The confidence drained out of her. It wasn’t good enough. She sat on the high stool for a few moments, swinging her legs, then sighed and stood up. It had been nice sitting here sewing, but she had better get on with keeping the women supplied with work.

She set off, not looking where she was going, and nearly cannoned into the boss. With a neat bit of foot-work she just managed to avoid him. ‘Sorry, sir,’ she gasped. She was desperate not to lose this job. It was a different world to her but she had found her place in it; she didn’t want to go back to being alone again.

He put out a hand to stop her tearing away. ‘Where did you learn to sew like this?’

‘My gran taught me, sir.’

‘Can you embroider?’

Amy nodded. ‘My gran was really good and she showed me all the stitches.’

‘That’s a good find, Jim,’ the boss said to the foreman. ‘Give her the Richardson trousseau and I’ll arrange for her to have an extra shilling a week while she’s working on it. We haven’t got anyone else who can do such fine work.’

Amy’s mouth dropped open. An extra shilling a week. She’d be able to save that like her mum told her, she decided, hoping the special job would take a long time.

By the end of the week, Amy was humming to herself as she sewed. The boss was pleased with her work and his praise had made her blush with surprise. She was good at something!

On Saturdays they only worked until one o’clock and she was very excited as she queued up for her wages. When her time came she managed her much-practised signature with comparative ease. Again she reflected how it was strange that her mood affected her ability to read and write. If she was in a panic nothing made sense, but if calm and relaxed she could usually make out some words.

Gladys was waiting for her at the door. ‘Still coming to the pictures tonight?’

‘Yes.’ Amy nodded eagerly. ‘What time?’

‘Seven at the Regal. I’ll wait outside for you.’

‘All right, I’ll see you then.’

Amy ran home. She couldn’t remember feeling this happy before. She had her first week’s money in her pocket and, best of all, she had a friend!

‘Mum!’ She dashed indoors waving her wage packet. ‘I got paid and I’m going to the pictures tonight. Gladys asked me.’ Out of breath, her wide mouth turned up in a smile, she plonked herself down at the table and pushed the packet towards her mother. ‘How much have I got?’

‘My goodness, you are excited.’ Her mother poured her a cup of tea, smiled, and then emptied the money on to the table.

‘How much?’ Amy rested her elbows on the table, beaming with pleasure as her mother counted the money. ‘I couldn’t read what it said in the book, but I signed my name all right.’

‘There, I told you you’d manage, didn’t I? You’ve got thirteen shillings.’

Amy’s eyes opened wide and she bounced in her chair. ‘They said I was to have an extra shilling because my sewing was good. Have I got that?’

‘Yes, look, sixpence for half a week.’ Her mother pointed to the figures on the front of the envelope. ‘It says here: wage twelve shillings and sixpence, plus the bonus.’

Although she could often make out figures better than words, she was much too excited to do it now. It sounded like a fortune to her though. ‘Can I have some to go out tonight?’

‘Of course you can.’ Dolly began to separate the
coins. ‘The extra money you must save. Put it in the brown teapot. We never use that.’

Amy scrambled to get the old chipped pot off the shelf, put it on the table and dropped the sixpence in, listening to it make a satisfying tinkle as it settled in the bottom. Then she waited expectantly.

‘Any money you put in there will be yours and I won’t touch it for anything.’

Amy nodded.

‘Now, one and six is for the tallyman, two shillings for yourself, and that leaves the rest for your keep.’ Her mother sighed and studied her daughter seriously. ‘You must save something each week, Amy. It’s most important that you have a little money behind you if it’s needed.’

‘I’m only getting extra while I do this special sewing, Mum.’ Amy stared at the two bob she’d been given to spend on herself. ‘I don’t mind if I only have a shilling a week for myself when the extra stops coming.’

‘No, that won’t be necessary. You’re working hard and deserve to have a little money in your pocket. When you don’t get it any more I’ll take less for your keep.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’

‘Good, now that’s all settled. What time are you going out tonight?’

‘I’m meeting Gladys at seven. I’m going to wear my new frock and shoes.’

‘And very smart you’ll look too. That green dress
suits you a real treat. It’s almost the same colour as your eyes.’

‘Oh, is it?’ She hadn’t noticed that. It had been the shade that had attracted her. She loved nice colours, like the blue of the sky, the green of trees, and she would gaze for ages at the golden autumn leaves as they fell and made a carpet on the ground. Not that there was much chance of seeing the full beauty round here, but she would take herself off to a park and walk along crunching the dry leaves under her feet. It was lovely.

‘Let’s have a bite to eat and then I’ll have a rest before I go out as well.’

‘You going down the pub?’ At once Amy was worried. She didn’t like her mother mixing with the crowd from the Lord Nelson. She’d seen them at chucking-out time, shouting and weaving about all over the place. When her dad was home it didn’t concern her so much: he was a big strong man and her mother was safe with him; but she didn’t like Dolly going there on her own.

‘I’m only going for a quick drink at the Crown with Mrs Preston.’

‘Oh.’ Amy smiled in relief. Mrs Preston lived two doors down and was always friendly. That didn’t seem too bad. ‘You said you were going to look for a job. Have you had any luck?’

‘There isn’t much about, but the newspaper shop on the corner needs help on two days a week. Thursday and Friday. I start next week.’

‘Oh, Mum, that’s wonderful. That’ll be just right for you.’ Amy went to hug her, but was pushed away.

‘You mustn’t do that, Amy. You’ll catch my cough if you get too close.’

‘No I won’t, Mum.’ But Amy sat down again. ‘You’re not so bad now. It’s almost gone.’

‘It comes and goes.’ Her mother tried to smile. ‘Now, what picture are you going to see?’

‘
King Kong
.’ Amy’s excitement was back.

Her mother pulled a face. ‘Is that all that’s on?’

‘Dunno.’ Amy shrugged. ‘Gladys is crazy about it, and I haven’t seen it. I haven’t seen anything.’

‘No, you haven’t.’ Dolly looked sad. ‘Your dad and me was never one for the pictures. We should have taken you though.’

‘Don’t matter, Mum. I’ll be able to see lots now I’m earning some money.’