Poor Little Rich Girl (34 page)

Only it didn’t do to think like that, particularly with
Mabs about to arrive. He glanced towards the ward and felt his heart leap with pleasure and sat himself up slowly, so as not to gasp or cough when she was actually beside him.

‘Mabel!’ he said as she came, beaming, on to the balcony. ‘Oh, Mabs, my dearest girl, isn’t it grand to see you? My, you’re looking younger and prettier than ever – I can see country life suits you, queen! Now come and sit beside me so’s I can feast me eyes on you whiles you tell me what’s been happenin’ in Bwlchgwyn!’

‘Whose turn is it to make supper this evening? If it’s me, I’ve gorra get meself some grub to cook, ’cos when I looked into the cupboard last night there were nowt but spuds ’n’ onions an’ half a loaf of bread.’ The four girls who shared the attic room had long since decided that communal meals were both cheaper and easier to prepare. Hester looked across at the speaker; Eileen O’Farrell was the latest addition to their small company. She was a tall, well-built girl with fluffy, unmanageable light-brown hair, round, blue eyes which always looked surprised and a ready smile. She was easy-going and sweet-natured and very soon she and Hester had become firm friends. Since they both worked on the Scotland Road, they had formed the habit of setting out together and of waiting for one another in the evenings. What was more, they helped each other over domestic tasks which meant that when it was Eileen’s turn to cook and market, the two girls would do the tasks together.

Now, Hester regarded her friend affectionately. ‘What you mean is, you’ll need a contribution from everyone or we’ll none of us eat tonight,’ she
remarked. ‘No one expects you to pay for the meals you cook – as if you didn’t know! So if the cupboard’s bare, we’ll all put, say, sixpence into the pot; you can buy a lot of ingredients for two shillings.’

‘Ye-es, but I don’t know what to cook,’ Eileen said plaintively. ‘Wharrabout sausage and mash, girls? With a bread pudding for afterwards? Something to fill us bellies.’

‘That’ll suit me, though now the weather’s getting so much pleasanter we shouldn’t need to eat quite so much stodge,’ Hester remarked.

Madge, coiling her long brown hair into a neat bun at the base of her neck, snorted. ‘It may be April, but it’s still pretty chilly, especially in the evenings,’ she observed. ‘What’s more, Woolworth’s don’t believe in lettin’ their staff sit about so I’m always on the go. By the time I get home of an evening, I swear I could eat a horse – or a load of hay – so don’t you go giving us no salads, young Eileen.’

‘No, I won’t do that,’ Eileen promised. ‘Wharrabout sausage and mash, though, Madge? That suit you, and you, Ruby?’

Both girls having assented, Eileen struggled into her thin coat and began to button it whilst Hester pulled on her long leather boots. She had clung on to her boots throughout the winter and even now was glad of their warmth, though most of the rest of her good clothing had been sold in Paddy’s market and replaced with cheaper, thinner stuff.

‘Well? Can everyone afford sixpence at this time of the week?’ she asked presently, when she was dressed and ready for the off. ‘If there’s any over it can go back in the pot for tomorrow, because sausages aren’t expensive.’

Everyone handed over their sixpences with varying degrees of reluctance, including Hester herself, and Eileen. It was a good while since Hester had paid out for a cooked meal in a restaurant, and she was well aware of the savings she now made. She was still using Bridget’s saucepans – the other girl must have kept her live-in job since she had not returned to claim the cooking pots – and she usually spent no more than a half-crown each week on food, yet she ate adequately, if not well.

And there’s nothing wrong with sausage and mash, she told herself defensively five minutes later, as she and Eileen walked briskly along Scotland Road. Whoever was cooking used the kitchen, with the other inhabitants of Number 10, and thanks to her evening classes Hester herself had no objection to others watching her whilst she fried, simmered or stewed. Eileen, however, was wedded to the frying pan and did not seem able to boil herself so much as an egg without making a mess of it. She was a dreamer, Hester concluded now, as they turned into George Carr’s pork butchery and took their places at the long counter. Because it was early, the shop was empty save for the staff cleaning down, so they were quickly able to buy just over a pound of his delicious pork sausages before continuing on their way.

‘We can use the stale half loaf to make a bread pudding. Shall I get some currants or sultanas on the way back to the Stanny?’ Hester suggested. She was all too aware that young Eileen would gaily promise to do the rest of the shopping and would then arrive home having totally forgotten all about it. ‘You said there were spuds in the food cupboard – enough to make mash for all of us, would you say?’

‘Yes … no … I ain’t sure,’ Eileen said absently.
‘We could do wi’ a tad more margarine, though. Mash is nicer if there’s a knob o’ margarine mixed in.’

‘I’ll get the rest of the shopping, then,’ Hester said resignedly, and was rewarded by Eileen’s sweet and brilliant smile. No matter how irritating the other girl was – and she could be very irritating, Hester knew – her smile simply melted all one’s annoyance away. ‘What time will you be finishing tonight, Eileen?’

‘Oh … the usual,’ Eileen said. ‘Only thing is, Hes, I really ought to go along to Paddy’s market before I starts on the cookin’. This coat … it only just does up and any minute there’s goin’ to be a ’splosion and me buttons will fire off like cannon balls.’

‘You’d better have just sausages and no mash then,’ Hester said heartlessly. Eileen loved her food. ‘We can’t have you buying a new coat every three or four weeks! Though with the summer coming I dare say we shan’t need our winter clothes soon.’

They had reached Eileen’s place of work, the ironmonger’s, and Eileen, about to push open the door, stopped. ‘Why shouldn’t I buy bigger clothes?’ she asked mildly. ‘Don’t you know nothin’, Hester? Everyone needs bigger clothes, whether it’s summer or winter, when they’re goin’ to have a baby – you gets ever so big, you know.’ And before Hester could do more than gape at her, she had smiled her sweet, absent smile and disappeared into the shop.

For the rest of her working day, Hester’s mind was in a whirl of conjecture. Eileen had been living in their shared room for a month and so far as Hester knew had never mentioned that she was pregnant.

Selling a dance dress in shocking pink, with black roses printed all over it, to a fat and spotty customer
who was forty if she was a day, Hester wondered whether any of the other girls knew Eileen’s secret; then she wondered if they all knew, and it was only she who was ignorant. The customer had to speak sharply to her to get her attention because she wanted a corsage of artificial roses to pin to the shoulder of the dress and Hester, seeing Miss Deakin’s mean little eyes swivel in her direction, hastily banished Eileen, and her state of health, from her mind and tried to persuade the customer that one could have too much of roses, lovely though they might be.

It was one of those days when every customer who fell to Hester’s lot was a difficult one. The nice ones wanted some shade or garment that they did not have in stock and the nasty ones demanded to see every skirt, blouse or indeed pair of gloves in the size they required and then turned the whole lot down with some flimsy excuse such as, ‘I’ll think it over,’ or, ‘It isn’t
quite
what I wanted, miss. I’ll have to look elsewhere.’

For the first time for many weeks, Hester scarcely gave Dick or Lonnie a thought. Indeed, she had almost stopped worrying about Lonnie since she assumed that Mr Hetherington-Smith would be back from his world cruise now and would surely have been in contact with his daughter. Hester hoped, and supposed, that Lonnie was settling down at her new school, but remembering Miss Hetherington-Smith’s meanness it was impossible not to wonder whether the old woman had sent her niece to some cheap establishment, where she would be unhappy.

Normally, a good deal of Hester’s thinking time was given over to planning how she would find both Lonnie and Dick, though the memory of Dick was beginning to fade. She would never forget his
kindness or his humour but the picture of his handsome, good-natured face could no longer be conjured up with ease.

‘Miss Elliott!’ Miss Deakin’s voice cut across Hester’s musings. ‘What on earth’s gorrin to you today? I’ve axed you twice when you want to have your dinner and norra word have I had in reply.’

Hester had been folding cardigans and replacing them on the rack. Now, she jumped guiltily and looked around her. The shop was empty, as she might indeed have guessed, since when a customer was present Miss Deakin spoke in a squashed and prissy accent which she no doubt considered made her sound ladylike. What was more, Betsy and Hester were never invited to take their lunch break when customers were present. Hester folded the last cardigan and turned to her employer. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Deakin, I’m afraid my mind was on work,’ she said glibly. ‘The last customer asked why manufacturers seldom made cardigans in a nice clear blue and I was wondering if it might be worth having a word with Ivy Woollens the next time you put in an order. Blue goes with most things, and …’

‘If I want advice from you, I’ll tell you,’ Miss Deakin snapped. ‘Most folk are quite happy with brown, grey or navy. Are you taking your dinner break now, or not?’

The girls were supposed to have an hour for their dinner but seldom managed more than thirty minutes or so, especially if they ate carry-out in the back room, where they could easily be recalled when Miss Deakin needed them. Today, however, Hester had shopping to do, so she gobbled her sandwiches and then left the shop, assuring Miss Deakin, mendaciously, that she would not be long. In fact, she
intended to buy potatoes, margarine and a bag of sultanas and then to go to Williams’s Hardware to see if she could have a word with Eileen. All morning she had longed for her dinner hour so that she might ask Betsy for her opinion but had belatedly realised she could do no such thing. Eileen was certainly not married, had never even hinted at the existence of a boyfriend, so her having a baby was a shameful thing which she would not want to become public knowledge. How she intended to hide her condition as time went on, Hester could not imagine. The ironmonger, a little wisp of a man, and his huge, over-blown wife would no doubt be horrified and disgusted to discover that their new assistant was pregnant. Eileen would undoubtedly lose her job as soon as they found out, and what would she do then? There were places which took in bad girls, Hester knew, but she had no idea how such places were run. She knew that they hired out the girls to do menial work such as cleaning or laundry in return for a roof over their heads, whilst they were waiting for their babies to be born, and also knew that most of the young mothers were only too happy to hand over their children for adoption. Eileen was by no means unique – girls must be having babies all over the city, otherwise such institutions would not exist – but Hester could not imagine her easy-going, fun-loving friend taking to such a regime.

As soon as her messages were done, therefore, she carried her heavy basket into the ironmonger’s shop and asked for her friend. ‘It’s Eileen’s turn to do the cooking today,’ she explained to Mr Williams, ‘but I got the shopping for her and just want to check I’ve bought everything she’ll need.’ She glanced around the shop, which was empty save for herself, Mr
Williams and a customer who was selecting nails and placing them, one by one, upon the counter. ‘Has Miss O’Farrell left for her dinner yet?’

‘No, she’s in the back. I’ll give her a shout,’ Mr Williams said briefly. He raised his voice to yell. ‘Miss O’Farrell! Shop!’

There was a short pause and then Eileen appeared in the doorway, chewing. She did not seem to see Hester but went over to the customer and began to count the nails he had selected. Mr Williams grinned. ‘No, no, I’ll deal wi’ that, Miss O’Farrell,’ he said genially. ‘Your pal what’s done your messages wants a word. D’you want to take her through the back? I take it Mother’s gone up to the flat to get me dinner?’

‘OK,’ Eileen said, placidly. She jerked her head at Hester. ‘Come on, then.’

Hester looked helplessly at the long counter which divided the staff from the customers. Eileen gave a snort of laughter and walked along to the end of the counter, which proved to be a flap. She swung it up, saying as she did so: ‘Everything’s easy when you know how! D’you want a cup o’ tea? Mrs Williams put the kettle on before she went up, so the tea’s only just brewed.’

Hester followed her into the little back room, admitting that a cup of tea would be most welcome. ‘Isn’t it snug, though?’ she said appreciatively. A bright fire burned in the grate and there were three cosy armchairs with faded chintz upholstery drawn up before it. In one corner was a low sink; there was a small, square table on which Eileen’s sandwiches were laid out and on a Welsh dresser against the right-hand wall hung a variety of differently patterned cups, with lots of odd plates displayed on the upper
shelves. ‘I wish the room at the back of our shop was like this, but Miss Deakin only lights the paraffin stove in the back if she’s afraid the pipes will freeze.’

‘I dunno why you stand it,’ Eileen said bluntly. ‘You’re paid less than I am and you’re ever so much cleverer than me. I bet it don’t take you two minutes to count nails and work out what the feller owes in your head. I have to write it all down and even so it takes me ages. Do sit down,’ she added hospitably, gesturing to the chair nearest to the fire and taking the one opposite for herself. ‘What have you bought? I know about the sausages, of course, but did you get …?’