The Songbird (33 page)

Nan opened her mouth to say something but then seemed to think better of it, and remained silent. She took the coins that Joshua gave to her and then said, ‘You've given me a week's wages! I only want up to today's,' she repeated. ‘You paid me on Saturday.'

‘I know,' he said. ‘But I feel bad about you going, Nan. I want you to have that, just to cover you until you find other work. Are you still working nights?'

‘Yes.' She nodded. ‘And wash-house. I have to. That pays 'rent, this pays – paid – for everything else.'

‘What about Mattie? Is she still at 'flour mill?'

She blinked and swallowed and for a second he thought she was about to cry. ‘At 'moment she is, though they're cutting down on 'workforce.' She caught her breath and glanced around the kitchen. ‘Everything's done,' she told him. ‘Upstairs and down. I've cleaned Poppy's room, but not Mrs Rogers's. She says she likes to do it herself.'

‘I'm really sorry, Nan,' Joshua murmured. ‘Will you drop in and see us?'

She gave a wistful smile. ‘I don't think so. I'll not be welcomed by some folk.'

‘You'll always be welcomed by me, Nan, you know that. If you can't manage or you need help, you know where to come.' But he knew she wouldn't. She was far too proud.

After she had gone, he put his head back and closed his eyes. Women, he thought. I don't know how to handle 'em! Who would have thought there could be so much discord? There was never a cross word when Mary was alive. He sighed. If he hadn't felt so ill he would have probably tried to resolve the situation between Lena and Nan, help them come to some working arrangement, but he felt so weak, he had no fight in him.

He heard the shop bell ring and shortly afterwards Lena came in for the cash box. ‘We're a bit down wi' cash this morning,' he said. ‘You haven't been giving credit, have you?'

‘Why, no!' Her voice was sharp and startled. ‘We had a bit of a rush on earlier.' She opened the box and looked in. She pursed her lips, and then commented, ‘Course, you'll have paid Nan out of the takings?'

‘Not that much,' he said. ‘I've had to dip into 'float to pay her.'

She drew herself up. ‘Well, there was plenty of cash in when she brought it in to you.' She glanced narrowly at him. ‘I'm not suggesting anything,' she said. ‘I know how you've always trusted her.' She raised a finger and shook it. ‘I'm only saying there were takings in there when Albert gave it to her. Ask him,' she said defiantly. ‘He'll tell you the same.'

He lifted his hand in resignation. ‘Leave it,' he said. ‘Forget I ever said anything.' Nevertheless it worried him. Whom could he trust? If only Tommy was here, or Poppy. He needed somebody.

‘Why didn't you wait until 'end of 'week before handing in your notice, Ma?' Mattie's usually cheerful face was creased with worry. ‘We could have done with 'extra money.'

‘Mr Mazzini's paid me till 'end of 'week, bless him.' Nan sat down to take off her boots. ‘But I couldn't stand a minute longer with that woman. She was determined to have me out and I wouldn't put it past her to tell Mr Mazzini lies about me. This morning I'd had enough and I could tell that Mr Mazzini had as well. He's not well, poor fellow. She's fed him some rotten meat, I shouldn't wonder.' She bit on her lip. ‘I might find out about that. I know 'butcher at Brown's.'

‘Oh, leave it, Ma. It's finished now,' Mattie said. ‘We'll have to manage 'best we can. Did you tell Mr Mazzini I'd been put on short time?'

‘No,' her mother said. ‘As you just said, it's finished. Nothing to do with anybody else how we manage. And manage we will.' Her voice broke. ‘One way or another.'

In the course of her search for daytime work as a cleaner, she called in at the butcher's shop to ask if any extra staff were needed, though she quite hoped he would say no. She didn't relish the thought of cleaning up bloodstained counters or floorboards, though she would have done if all else failed.

‘Don't need anybody just now,' Brown's manager said. ‘The lads wash down when we're finished. Mr Brown's very particular about cleanliness.'

‘Does Mr Mazzini still get an order from you?' she asked casually.

‘No!' he proclaimed with feeling. ‘Not since that woman he lives with took over. Huh! Can't think why a nice chap like him would take up with a bitch like her. Is she a friend o' yourn?' he asked, seeing Nan's shocked expression.

‘No, she isn't. But she doesn't live with Mr Mazzini! She has a room there and does 'baking. They're not, you know . . . Her son stays there too,' she added feebly.

‘Sounds 'same to me!' He started to slice up a side of bacon. ‘Still, it's nowt to do wi' me what he gets up to, but I miss his regular order. He used to buy a goodly amount o' meat from me; but then she wanted a bit o' this and a bit o' that. On 'quiet, you know. So I told her no and she's not been in since. She'll have found somebody to let her have cheap meat, I reckon. There's plenty who will if you're not too particular.' He gazed keenly at her. ‘Don't you work for him?'

She shook her head. ‘Not any more,' she said quietly. ‘That's why I'm looking for another job.'

He put on a knowing expression. ‘Got rid of you, did she?'

She nodded ruefully. ‘Seems like it!'

When she arrived home at the end of that fruitless day, Mattie was already there. ‘I've been stood off, Ma,' she said mournfully. ‘When I arrived this morning, 'foreman said there was no work till after Christmas and to apply then.' She shrugged her shoulders. ‘He didn't say how we were expected to manage in 'meantime.'

‘Where've you applied since?' Nan asked, knowing that Mattie wouldn't have come straight home but would have looked for work.

‘All over. I've been down to 'fish dock but there's some trouble there and they're not taking anybody on till after Christmas.' She shrugged again. ‘They're asking 'workforce to join a union – and hey, Ma.' She laughed. ‘What do you think? I heard there's going to be electric trams running through 'town next year, so I applied to train as a driver!'

Nan gasped, her mouth open in astonishment. ‘What did they say?'

‘Oh, well, what do you expect! They're onny taking men on. 'Chap I saw said how could women expect to do summat as technical as driving a tram! And,' she went on, ‘do you know, I applied for cleaning jobs, scullery maid or laundry, in those houses in Albion Street – up where Poppy used to go to school – and some of those houses have electric light! Yes, really. They just press a switch and 'light comes on. They don't need to light a match or have a mantle or anything!'

‘And will they take you?' Nan asked eagerly.

‘No.' Mattie shook her head, her expression grave. ‘What're we going to do, Ma? We can't manage on what we earn at 'King's Head.'

‘We'll manage,' Nan said. ‘Same as we allus do.'

‘It's less than a month to Christmas Day,' Mattie said gloomily. ‘I don't suppose we'll get an invite to Mazzini's this year?'

Her mother gave a grim smile. ‘Even if we do, love, we won't be going.'

Poppy decided that she would travel back to Hull the next day rather than rush to catch a train that afternoon and arrive late at her father's. After leaving Dan's office she walked towards the theatre area and gazed at the posters announcing the artistes. Some of the theatres served melodrama, some farce, and some burlesque, which the present-day audience seemed to prefer, though serious theatre work was more acceptable than it once was, and theatres such as the Lyceum where Henry Irving had directed and acted in Shakespearean plays attracted a more genteel audience.

She gazed through the doors of the Royal Italian Opera House in Covent Garden and wished that she could hear a performance. But she couldn't go alone, and there was no-one she knew who could take her. Opera wouldn't be to Charlie's taste, she was sure of that, and the only other, Anthony, who she felt would appreciate opera, was no longer around.

Covent Garden swarmed and bustled with people, buying and selling, for this was London's fruit and flower market. Early each morning the porters heaved huge crates and sacks around as if they were a mere nothing; they shouted and whistled and by eight o'clock their job was done and the customers were gathering. The air was filled with the combined heady odours of fruit and flowers and the ground scattered with straw, horse dung, vegetable pods and parings.

The expansion of the railway into London forty years before had brought thousands of people to the capital looking for work. They came without money or jobs to go to and many of them shared a bed with strangers, living in cellars or on the streets, or beneath the arches which had been built to carry the railway lines which had brought them here in the first place. Most never went home to wherever it was they had come from. They stayed and increased the population until London overflowed with humanity. Some grew rich, and founded shops and industries; others stayed poor and lived in the workhouses, or if they were fortunate enough were given accommodation in newly built mansion flats, a scheme envisaged by philanthropists to ease the housing problem.

Some of the music halls were tucked away from the main thoroughfares but Poppy sought them out and took notice of the performers who were appearing there, and then she found the Savoy Theatre where the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company put on the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas which, it was said, the Queen enjoyed so much.

She stopped for coffee and cake, and wrote a postcard to Charlie telling him she was going home for Christmas. She posted it and then walked alongside the Thames, watching the mass of river traffic. Water taxis rowed by, tugs chugged past throwing out thick black smoke, sailboats with canvas sails creaking took advantage of the sharp wind, and ragged boys waded at the water's edge, searching for treasure within the detritus of old boots, bits of rags, empty bottles and sewage. She leaned against the embankment wall for a time and then, as her feet were aching and she was beginning to feel a chill, she hailed a hansom cab to take her back to Mrs Trenton's house.

Dolly Trenton made her a cup of tea, and when Poppy told her where she had been she regaled her with tales of the places where she and Nelly had played.

‘Held the audience in the palm of our 'ands, we did. They loved us. We could do no wrong; whatever we sang, they joined in.' She sighed and grew wistful. ‘Them was the days, all right,' she murmured. ‘They'll never come back.'

The next morning Poppy went out into the street to look for a cab to take her and her trunk to King's Cross railway station. She saw old Harry standing outside his house smoking a pipe, and gave him a wave. The street didn't seem threatening in the daylight hours and she could laugh at her previous fears.

She bought a magazine at W. H. Smith's bookstall and settled down in her seat on the train. She hadn't asked for a ladies-only carriage this time as her father had done when she had travelled to London, and she reflected that although she hadn't been away from home so very long, it seemed as if a lifetime had passed.

I wonder if Charlie will go home for Christmas, she thought as the engine gathered steam. The guard shouted and waved his flag and the train jerked into action. I do hope that he does. I so want to see him. And Tommy, she thought, will there be a letter from him? Her father had written to her that he had heard nothing more from her brother since that first note.

When she arrived at the Paragon station it was early evening and she guessed that her father would be busy in the coffee shop. Office workers often popped in after they had finished work and before they walked home, as did some of the factory managers and clerks from the nearby dock office. He'll be so surprised to see me, she thought gleefully, and it's so nice to be home.

A porter took her and her baggage through to the front concourse and hailed a cab. ‘To Mazzini's, please,' she said to the driver. ‘Savile Street.'

‘Aye, I know where it is,' the cabbie said, lifting up her trunk. ‘And this is a deal heavier than when I took you to catch 'train to London! How've you bin? Had enough of bright lights o' London, eh? My missus has been watching 'newspaper for news of you.'

‘Oh!' She was surprised that he remembered her. ‘No, I've come home for Christmas and I'm appearing at the Grand Theatre, in pantomime.'

‘My,' he said, handing her into the cab. ‘We'll have to have a penn'orth o' that. I've not been yet. They say it's one of 'best theatres in 'country.'

She shook the creases out of her skirt and adjusted her fur hat, which was trimmed with velvet. She was wearing a navy wool jacket which had belonged to her mother and carried a fur muff.

The cab drew up at the shop and eagerly she peered inside to see if her father was there. But disappointingly, Albert was the only person she could see, and there were no customers inside. The driver handed down her trunk but she didn't wait for him to help her. She lifted her skirt and stepped down onto the footpath. She thanked him and paid him, and he tipped his cap before driving on as she turned to the door.

‘Hello, Albert,' she called cheerfully, determined that neither he nor Lena would spoil her homecoming. ‘Where's Pa?'

Albert stared open-mouthed. Then he licked his lips. ‘He's in bed,' he said thickly. ‘He's not been well.'

‘Oh no!' She was immediately worried. ‘What's the matter with him?'

He shrugged. ‘He's been sick. Something he ate, the doctor said.' He looked at her. ‘Is he expecting you?'

She gave a short laugh. ‘No! But this is my home.' Then she asked, ‘Would you mind helping me in with my trunk? I can't lift it by myself.'