Two Penn'orth of Sky (23 page)

‘She came into the room with her coat on and told me that I were the oldest there, so she were leaving me in charge. She said I’d been with her for two whole weeks so I ought to know the drill by now. I said that she was supposed to be looking after me and I wasn’t there to do her job for her and she said I was to do as I was told and that meant I was to give the kids their dinner, prompt at noon, and then I was to peel a big bag of spuds and carrots and chop up some stewing steak, and get it over the fire so’s it would be ready when she came back about five. I told her I wasn’t a servant and didn’t mean to act like one, so she might as well take her coat and scarf off, and start doing what she was paid to do. She began to shout at me – she called me awful names, Mam – and then she made for the back door and I grabbed hold of her coat. That was when she hit me. I picked myself up from the floor and ran into the yard. She tried to stop me, but I ducked under her arm and shot out of the back gate and ran up the jigger as fast as I could.’ She chuckled suddenly. ‘I could hear her yelling after me right down to the
main road, but I don’t think she left the house because the next oldest to me isn’t quite five, and nowhere near tall enough to put the dinner on the fire, let alone get it off again.’

‘Dear God,’ Emmy said faintly. ‘Does Mrs Lucas often go out and leave the children? No – this must be the first time or you’d have told me before.’

‘No, I wouldn’t, Mam, because you asked me to give Mrs Lucas a fortnight’s trial . . . well, you didn’t say that exactly, but that is what you meant . . . so I’ve put up with everything and kept my mouth shut, but in fact she often goes out, only usually she leaves Amelia in charge. Amelia’s ten. Or sometimes an older girl comes in. Her name’s Sheila and I suppose she’s twelve or thirteen, and ever so strict. If someone’s been naughty, she makes everyone sit down on the floor with their hands on their heads. They have to stay there till she says they can move, and the little ones cry ’cos their arms ache so.’

Emmy stared at her daughter; this was dreadful! She had not liked Mrs Lucas, had thought her sly and probably lazy, but she had never dreamed that the woman would ill-treat the children in her charge, let alone abandon them. She put a hand to her head, feeling the niggling pain at her temples which began whenever she became worried or over-stressed. ‘Well, you can’t go back to Mrs Lucas, that’s plain, even if she’d have you, which she probably wouldn’t. Oh dear, and I paid a month in advance . . . she’s most awfully expensive. Oh, Di, darling, whatever are we to do?’

‘I could go back to Aunty Beryl . . .’ Diana began, but Emmy immediately shook her head.

‘No, that’s out of the question. If only there was someone in the courts whom I could trust! But I
suppose that wouldn’t be fair to Beryl, because as it is no one knows . . . well, I don’t think they know I’ve moved you to Hornby Street. And there’s another month of the school holidays to go . . . oh, whatever am I to do?’

Diana stared at her mother. ‘What will happen when I’m back at school then?’ she asked. ‘You didn’t mean me to go to Mrs Lucas after school, did you?’

‘I thought you would be able to look after yourself after school,’ Emmy said thoughtlessly. ‘After all, you and Wendy used to trot in and out of the house last year until I got home, and you were only six then.’

Diana beamed at her mother. ‘There you are then!’ she said triumphantly. ‘Why shouldn’t Wendy look after me? We needn’t use the fire, ’cos it’s summer and we can have sandwiches and cold drinks for our dinners, and I’d be perfectly happy and safe. And you know, Mam, Wendy’s good, she really is. She’d never dream of hitting me, not like that wicked old Lucas.’

For a moment, Emmy was genuinely tempted. Then she remembered Wendy’s horribly unkempt appearance, her dreadful broad accent, interlaced with swear words, and the grime on her skin. She could imagine, all too clearly, what Peter would have thought had he ever come face to face with Wendy Telford:
Keep that little slattern away from my Diana
, he would have said.
I know you have to live in the court because there’s no money for anywhere better. But that doesn’t mean you have to let Diana mix with the worst elements. Go back and swallow your pride and apologise to Beryl. It says in the bible, ‘He that toucheth pitch shall be defiled therewith.’ That’s what folk will think if you let our Diana spend time with that dirty brat
.

‘Mam?’ Diana’s voice was hopeful. ‘If you’d let me and Wendy be pals again, I’d be ever so ever so good! We’d keep the house lovely and tidy and we’d get your dinner for you every night, and do all the messages. And Wendy would clean up again, you know, and start going to school, honest to God she would.’

Emmy put her head in her hands. There was no doubt it would be the easiest solution, but how could she possibly do such a thing? She knew Peter would have disapproved and realised that Beryl would be cock-a-hoop because she had suggested it herself. Anyhow, Wendy was only eleven herself, and her awful mother would undoubtedly take advantage and seek Emmy out. The very thought of such a thing’s happening made Emmy’s head start to thump.

‘Look, Diana, I’ll try to arrange something when I get back from work this afternoon,’ she said. ‘Fortunately, I’m on earlies, so I can ask around and hopefully—’

The opening of the office door stopped her in mid-sentence. She was actually sitting in Mr Mac’s chair, whilst Diana sat opposite her, and she suddenly realised that she was taking liberties. She jumped to her feet as Mr Mac entered the room and stopped short, staring from mother to daughter. He looked perplexed. ‘Mrs Wesley? What’s happened?’

Emmy could feel the hot colour flooding her face as she began to stammer an explanation, and was glad to realise that Mr Mac was not annoyed with her, but merely puzzled over Diana’s presence. As she finished speaking she was relieved to see her boss eyeing Diana with a decided twinkle. ‘I thought you were a bit young to work as a kitchen maid, miss,’ he said jovially. ‘I came straight to the office,
so haven’t seen Mrs Ridley, but I think her suggestion that this young lady should have some biscuits at one of the corner tables is a good one.’ Mr Mac smiled at Diana. ‘Off with you then, young lady. You’ll find a pile of newspapers in the Welsh dresser and I’m pretty sure there are some comics there as well.’

Diana got up obediently and trotted out of the room, holding up her overall with one hand and closing the door carefully behind her.

As soon as her daughter had left, Emmy stood up, walked round the desk, and sat down in the visitor’s chair, whilst Mr Mac took his own place. ‘I thought it would be easier to talk without the child listening to every word,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking whilst you were explaining Diana’s presence, and I believe we can work something out. I’ve been talking to Miss Symons recently and, odd though it may seem, she is in a position similar to your own. If the two of you got together, you might be able to kill two birds with one stone.’

Emmy looked bewildered. She sometimes walked part of the way home with Miss Symons, who was a spinster of forty-five, much given to knitting, crocheting and embroidery, and fond of talking of her hobbies. ‘I know Miss Symons well, but I can’t imagine she would have much experience with children,’ she said. ‘She lives with her old mother on Raymond Street, though I don’t know exactly where. But if you think she could help . . .’

‘I think you might help each other,’ Mr Mac said gently. ‘Miss Symons is becoming increasingly worried over leaving her mother alone for long periods, and you aren’t too happy with your present childminder. Anyway, have a word with her.’

He nodded dismissal as he spoke, and Emmy thanked him and left the office. As she entered the dining room, she found herself wondering why Mr Mac had never married. She thought he would have made a good husband – reliable and understanding, the sort of man who would enjoy a quiet family life, trips out, perhaps holidays, children, even. Of course he was neither handsome nor young, but he must, she thought, have been both once . . . why, then, had he not married? His mother probably made him so comfortable that he had never needed a wife, she supposed, and then put Mr Mac out of her mind. She had other worries, including, at this moment, what to do with Diana. She glanced towards her daughter on the thought but the child was engrossed with her comic papers and did not look up, so Emmy went on into the kitchen. No doubt Mr Mac meant well, but she did not think his idea could possibly work; Miss Symons kept herself to herself and the old woman was housebound. Emmy doubted if either of them had ever heard of a childminder. However, Mr Mac was the boss, and clearly meant well by her, so she would have to mention the matter. In fact, she would find out the Symonses’ address from Mr Mac’s mother, who came down from the flat above each day to do the books, go round as soon as her shift had finished, and get the whole business out of the way.

She said as much to Mrs Ridley, who beamed at her. ‘What a good idea. Trust Mr Mac to use his brain. Oh aye, he takes care of his staff, does Mr Mac. Why, when young Maggie were took bad with an appendicitis, he went with her to hospital hisself and stayed with the gal until her mam and dad turned up. And though he don’t like it to be known, it’s him what
pays old Ivy’s rent, so’s to eke out her pension. She were the washing up woman afore Mrs Robson,’ she finished.

‘Yes, he’s very kind, and I suppose his suggestion might work,’ Emmy said, trying not to sound as doubtful as she felt. ‘Well, I’d best get back on with the job. Diana seems happy enough with her comics. Only, when the midday rush starts, her table will be wanted. I don’t know quite . . .’

‘Oh, don’t you worry your head about that; she can come in here and give a hand with peeling spuds or clearing plates, or some such thing,’ Mrs Ridley said comfortably. ‘Now, off you go, young Emmy. Suzanne’s been doin’ your tables, but the place is beginning to fill up. Best give her a hand.’

Later in the day, Emmy and Diana walked down Raymond Street and found the Symonses’ neat little house. Emmy knocked on the door and was invited in by Miss Symons, who ushered them into a front parlour so crammed with furniture and ornaments that they had difficulty in reaching the chairs to which she waved them.

‘Mother is in the back room, which is where we live, most of the time,’ she explained. ‘She might be snoozing, so we’d best talk in here.’ She smiled kindly down at Diana. ‘So this is your little daughter! How do you do, my dear? I expect your mother has told you that I’m Miss Symons and work at Mr Mac’s.’

‘Yes, she often speaks of you,’ Diana said politely. ‘When my mother is working on the evening shift, you and she walk back home together. I do like this beautiful room, and I love your china kittens,’ she added, gazing wide-eyed at a small side table on
which at least a dozen china kittens disported themselves.

Emmy saw Miss Symons flush with pleasure and was gratified to think that Diana still remembered her company manners. But she decided to go straight to the point and cleared her throat. ‘I expect you’re wondering why I’m here, Miss Symons. The truth is, Diana has been spending the hours that I work with a childminder on Hornby Street, but this has proved very unsatisfactory. She’s a sensible little girl but not old enough to be left in charge of a dozen younger children, which is what happened this morning – or would have, had Diana not come to the restaurant to tell me what was going on.’

Miss Symons tutted, looking distressed. ‘How dreadful, Mrs Wesley.’

‘Yes. So I have to find somewhere else for Diana to spend her time. Mr Mac suggested that you and I might help one another, but I don’t know . . .’

Emmy was watching Miss Symons as she spoke and saw a delighted smile cross the older woman’s face as the light dawned. ‘Of
course
,’ she breathed. ‘My mother, though past eighty, is a lively and intelligent woman, but she is unable to leave the house and spends most of her day writing notices for local shops in her beautiful, clear script, addressing envelopes, or doing any other small tasks of which she is capable. What she cannot do is things like shopping, and delivering her work when it is completed. Also, she loves company and must get very tired of seeing no one but myself. As you know, Mrs Wesley, I usually work the evening shift, but if your little girl could come in during the day for a few weeks, then I should be able to earn a little more money by doing extra shifts. It would be
mutually convenient, so no money need change hands.’

Emmy looked doubtfully at her daughter. She could not imagine that Diana would relish being shut up in a small house for hours together with only a very old lady for company, for it seemed unlikely that the two ladies would need a great deal of shopping done. She looked questioningly at her daughter and received a beaming smile before Diana turned to Miss Symons, vigorously nodding her head. ‘I think it sounds very nice indeed, Miss Symons. Could I go and see Mrs Symons, though? She might not want me under her feet for most of the day.’

‘Yes, of course, my dear,’ Miss Symons said, standing up. ‘Come along; I’ll introduce you and then show you over the rest of the house.’

After Diana had been staying with Mrs Symons for three weeks, Emmy realised that they had definitely made the right decision. The child was happier than she had believed possible, enjoying both the company and the work involved. Diana had always been mature for her age, Emmy reflected, and this suited Mrs Symons ideally. Together, the old lady and the little girl read books, played cards, and addressed envelopes when the weather was inclement. When it was fine, they embraced a number of pursuits which both enjoyed to the full. Diana grew in confidence daily and Mrs Symons made no secret of her affection for the child or of how she delighted in having a companion who shared her own interests.

So, what had seemed an insolubly knotty problem had disappeared in a trice when Diana and old Mrs Symons had met. It was immediately apparent that they had taken to one another on sight and it had been they who had made all the arrangements, leaving Emmy and Miss Symons to acquiesce in their suggestions. They had agreed that Diana should go every day to the Symonses’ house in Raymond Street as soon as she had finished her breakfast. She would then give Mrs Symons her porridge, which Miss Symons would have left ready for her. After that, she would do any messages, and then she and the elderly lady would employ themselves in any way they saw fit. Mrs Symons had a bath chair, and though Diana
did not feel herself capable of negotiating kerb work and busy road junctions, she suggested that it might be pleasant to visit St Martin’s Recreation Ground, which was only a short distance away.