Sins of the Father (5 page)

The room was empty, her father gone, no doubt late for work again. This was a common occurrence and he was always getting the sack, now travelling to a building site in Chelsea after losing a job that had been just round the corner.

Oh, she didn’t want to think about him. Today was a new beginning for her, and after a swift look to check that the fire had been doused, Emma hurried out, running down the stairs with her
heart full of hope as she headed for the nearest row of shops.

Later that day, Emma was trudging to the market, footsore and near to tears. When she thought about the reception she’d received, her cheeks reddened with humiliation. She’d gone into a dress shop in Falcon Road first, her eyes lighting up when she saw the lovely garments hanging on rails. There were pretty pastel dresses, nipped in at the waist with matching belts, and she itched to touch them, to feel the material, but had resisted, going up to the counter wide-eyed with eagerness to ask if they had any vacancies.

‘Miss Fisher,’ the young and very smart girl behind the counter had called.

‘Yes, can I help you?’ a slim, middle-aged and sophisticated woman asked as she came out from a back room.

‘I…I’m looking for work,’ Emma stammered.

‘I’m sorry, but we already have a cleaner.’

In her innocence, Emma had smiled, ‘Oh, no, I haven’t come for a cleaning job. I’d like to work in the shop.’

‘You must be joking,’ Miss Fisher said, eyebrows rising haughtily as she eyed Emma up and down. ‘We have very high standards here, and I could hardly offer you employment looking like that.’

Emma had seen the smirk on the young sales
assistant’s face, and flushed, but, fighting to hide her humiliation, she’d kept her head up. ‘Fine, I wouldn’t want to work here anyway.’ And on that note she’d turned on her heels, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Blimey, what a couple of snobs, Emma decided as she’d walked away, refusing to let this encounter stop her. Yet by the time she had tried a few other garment shops the penny had well and truly dropped. Compared to all the sales assistants’ attire, her clothes looked awful, scruffy. No wonder they wouldn’t employ her. She’d tried a grocer, a baker, a haberdashery shop, but she’d received the same reception time and again.

The colourful stalls failed to lift Emma’s spirits as she reached the market. It was buzzing with noise and several traders raised their hands to wave at her.

‘Watcha, gorgeous,’ called one. ‘If I wasn’t a married man I’d come out from behind me stall to give you a smacker.’

Emma forced a smile, but it failed to reach her eyes. She didn’t look gorgeous. She looked a mess.

‘What’s up, Em?’ Dick asked as she approached his stall. ‘You look a bit down in the mouth.’

‘I’m too scruffy to get a job in a shop,’ she told him.

‘You look fine to me.’

‘Don’t look so downhearted, girl,’ Charlie, the
stall-holder, consoled, and, holding out a mug, he added, ‘Here, you can have me tea. It’ll buck you up no end.’

Emma gratefully took the mug, the strong tea tasting like nectar as she gulped it down. It did make her feel better, invigorated, but she still had no idea where to try next for a job. ‘Thanks, Charlie,’ she said, handing him the empty mug.

Charlie Roper was a nice man, but showing his age now, his gnarled fingers gripping the mug. ‘Try the factories, love. There’s Tate and Lyle’s round the corner, for a start.’

She lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to work in a factory, but there didn’t seem to be any choice. ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’

As customers approached the stall, she called a quick goodbye before moving away.

At four o’clock, Emma was on her way home, her cheeks burning at the memories. Even the factories had turned her down, saying there weren’t any vacancies for unskilled workers, but at least this time she believed them, believed that her appearance hadn’t made any difference. She’d been led through countless factory floors to foremen’s offices, seen women working on machines, their hair in turbans and clothes covered by overalls. Sometimes the noise was deafening and she wondered how they put up
with it, but by this time she would have taken anything.

Emma was still brooding when she finally reached her street. It was treeless, grey and dingy, but she was used to the scenery. A few children were playing marbles in the gutter, and a couple of little girls were arguing over a skipping rope made from an old clothes line. Emma hardly noticed. She went into the dilapidated house where she lived and climbed the stairs wearily to the attic.

As she walked into the room the children clambered around her. ‘Did you get a job, Em?’ ‘Where will you be working?’ ‘Will you be earning lots of money?’

Impatiently brushing them aside, Emma looked around and her temper flared. ‘Look at the state of this place. You were supposed to do your jobs, but this room hasn’t been touched.’

‘We’ve only been home for five minutes, Em,’ Luke said. ‘We were just about to start.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, love,’ Emma cried as she flopped onto a chair. ‘I shouldn’t be taking it out on you, but I’ve been walking for hours.’ She pushed off her shoes, massaging her aching feet.

‘Did you get a job?’ Susan asked again.

Emma tried to sound more assured than she felt. ‘No, not yet, but don’t worry, I’ll try again tomorrow.’

‘Come on, you lot,’ Luke said, sounding older than his years. ‘Let’s get our jobs done. Emma’s worn out and needs a rest.’

The tears broke then. Oh, Luke was such a good boy, so thoughtful.

He rushed to her side and his arm snaked around her shoulder. ‘What’s up, Em? Do you want me to get Alice?’

‘No, I’ll be all right. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.’ They were all looking at her worriedly and she fought to pull herself together. ‘Go on then, get on with your jobs,’ she urged, pleased when they all did her bidding. She had told them she’d try for work again tomorrow, and she’d do just that. But where?

After trudging around Fulham the following day, Emma had paused on Wandsworth Bridge on her way home, staring down into the grey, murky water of the River Thames as a coal barge passed below. It was hopeless, nobody wanted to employ her, and she had hated telling the kids that she still hadn’t found work. It was her appearance, she was sure of it, especially when even an ironmonger had given her the cold shoulder.

Now it was ten o’clock on Friday morning, but instead of going out to look for work again, she was slumped on a stool at home. Her father was growing impatient, telling her to look harder, but then the door was flung open as James rushed into the room.

‘Alice sent me up. She wants to see you.’

Emma forced a smile as she rose to her feet. James looked lovely in his new clothes. He was wearing grey shorts that just reached his knees, a pristine white shirt, and he even had a pair of little slippers
on his feet. She may have had doubts about the two youngest living with Alice, but seeing how well James looked, any lingering reservations were dispelled.

‘What does Alice want?’

‘I dunno. She just said to tell you that the kettle’s on.’

A cup of tea, Emma thought, appreciating the woman’s kindness. With James in the lead she went downstairs.

‘Blimey, you look a bit fed up, love. What’s the matter?’ Alice said as she walked in.

‘I’ve been looking for a job, but nobody wants to take me on. I look too scruffy to work in a shop and the factories haven’t any vacancies.’

‘You’re such a pretty girl and we can spruce you up to look like a princess, more than fit to work in a shop. Come on, get this cup of tea down you and then we’ll start with your hair.’

‘Look, Emma,’ Archie said, holding up a little wooden boat. ‘Ucky Cyril made it for me.’

‘Uncle
Cyril, not
Ucky
,’ Alice chuckled.

‘I’ve got one too,’ James said, joining Archie on the floor.

As the two children played with their boats, Emma watched them for a moment, noticing how clean and shiny their hair looked. She took a gulp of tea.

‘Unlike those two, it’ll take more than my hair to improve my appearance, Alice,’ she said.

‘Don’t worry. I’m sure I can find you something decent to wear.’

Alice had a lovely curvaceous body and Emma doubted she could fill her clothes. Her own bust was small, her hips tiny in comparison, and she was at least two inches shorter.

As if sensing her thoughts, Alice grinned. ‘I used to be a lot slimmer than this and I’ve kept the clothes I used to wear back then, hoping I’d get back into them one day. Come on, I’ll show you.’

Emma placed the cup on the table, then followed Alice into her bedroom. Unlike her family’s attic room, this one was lovely. Instead of mattresses on the floor, there was a real double bed with a wooden headboard and flowery spread. Emma’s eyes took in the two double wardrobes and dressing table, a pink glass trinket set arranged prettily on top. With so much furniture the room looked stuffed full, but to Emma it was beautiful.

Alice opened one of the wardrobes and when Emma saw the rail of clothes she gasped with envy. Alice rummaged past a couple of plain, linen dresses, finally pulling out two blouses and a skirt. ‘Cyril is always moaning that I never throw anything away, but I knew these would come in handy one day. Here, try them on.’

‘Oh, Alice, how can you afford so many lovely things?’

‘My Cyril earns a decent wage on the buses and
there’s only been the two of us until now. I wanted kids so much, but they never came along. I think I shopped as a kind of compensation. Of course, during the war there wasn’t much on offer, only drab clothes, but I still managed to indulge myself. Since clothes rationing ended, I must admit I’ve gone a bit mad.’ She smiled softly. ‘It’s different now. The boys have changed our lives, and Cyril is growing as daft about them as me. Now come on, Emma, try these things on.’

Emma slowly undressed, ashamed that Alice was going to see her old and tatty knickers. She didn’t have a brassiere, but with her small bust it didn’t seem to matter. As Alice turned away to pull open one of the drawers in her dressing table, Emma hastily put on the skirt and first blouse. The light blue cotton skirt flared from the waist and felt a little loose. It was also a couple of inches too long, but she didn’t care. It looked almost new and felt wonderful. The white blouse with its Peter Pan collar was loose too, but it smelled fresh, of something flowery, and so soft against her skin.

‘They don’t look bad,’ Alice said. ‘You’ll just need to move the button on the waist and take it up. I’ve found some underwear too. This bra might fit you.’

‘I…I don’t think I need a bra,’ Emma said, feeling her face redden.

‘Of course you do. You can’t go around without
a bra on at your age. Now come on, put your own stuff back on and we’ll have a go at your hair.’

‘You won’t be able to do anything with it.’

‘Of course I will, but first we’ll give it a good wash.’

Emma was apologetic. ‘I’ve tried to make it look nice, but without soap it dries all matted.’

‘Oh, love, I’m not saying you aren’t clean. I know you do your best, but as you say, it needs to be washed properly. Come on, I’ve got just the thing, and then I’ll give it a bit of a trim.’

It was over two hours later when Alice finally sighed with satisfaction. ‘There, you look smashing,’ she said.

Emma stared at her reflection in Alice’s mirror, hardly able to believe her eyes. Her lank, dull blonde hair was now shining, and sat on her shoulders in a profusion of waves. She still had her old clothes on, but she intended to alter Alice’s skirt as soon as she went upstairs.

‘Oh, Alice, I can’t believe it’s me,’ she cried, her eyes fixed on the mirror.

‘You’re not just pretty, Emma, you’re beautiful, just like your mum,’ Alice said, her eyes suddenly moist. ‘I was going to suggest a bit of make-up, but with such lovely skin you don’t need it. A touch of lipstick is enough. Blimey, anyone would be mad not to give you a job now.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Emma said, finally tearing her eyes away from the mirror.

James and Archie had been so good, but were now demanding Alice’s attention.

‘They want their lunch,’ Alice said. ‘They never stop eating. My Cyril thinks they’ve got hollow legs.’

‘I’m sorry, Alice.’

‘Sorry! What have you got to be sorry about? It’s a pleasure to see them stuffing their faces. I just wish this flaming food rationing was over with. It’s a bloody disgrace. It’s years since the war finished. Anyway, pop into the bedroom to get your things, and don’t forget the underwear. I might have another skirt–I’ll dig it out–but for now I’d best sort these two lads out.’

Emma smiled her thanks, and left Alice’s clutching her new clothes. She couldn’t help thinking that their own flat looked so bleak in comparison to Alice’s, but sat on a stool, relieved that she had enough cotton left on the reel to complete the alterations to the skirt. The fire was still partly alight, enough to heat the iron. After pressing the hem, she put the skirt on, tucking the prettier of the two blouses inside.

There was no mirror to see how she looked, but Emma felt sure she was smart enough to get a job now. It was only when putting on her shoes that a frown creased her forehead. Worn down at the heels and scuffed, she knew they spoiled the
outfit, but they were the only pair she had, and would have to do.

Her heart felt lighter and excitement mounted. It was after one o’clock, but she’d walk to Clapham Junction. There were loads of shops there. Surely one of them would have a vacancy.

Emma was about to leave when the door opened, Susan walking slowly into the room.

‘What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at school?’

‘I’ve been sick and my teacher sent me home.’

Emma felt Susan’s forehead, and for once believed her. She felt hot, her skin clammy. ‘All right, love. Let’s get you into bed.’

‘You look nice, Emma. Where did you get those clothes?’

‘Alice gave them to me.’

Susan was about to speak again, but then her hand flew to her mouth as she retched. In a flash Emma rushed her over to the sink, her nose wrinkling as her sister emptied her stomach. At least, Emma thought miserably, none of her sister’s vomit had marked Alice’s clothes.