Two Penn'orth of Sky (36 page)

‘I’ve been sent to fetch you back ’ome in a taxi,’
Iris shouted, raising her voice above the clatter of passing traffic. She ran towards them and began to heave at the case, giving Beryl a much needed hand with its weight. ‘Come on!’

Thus it was that Emmy arrived back at the court in style. She climbed out of the taxi, with Iris’s help, and stood for a moment, gazing under the arch and feeling her heart sink as she did so. She moved hesitantly forward, seeing the blackened walls going up, up and up to meet the ‘two penn’orth of sky’, as her mother had called it. She saw the filthy paving stones upon which dirty children played, and smelt the indefinable smell of poverty, combining, as it did, the stench from the lavatories at the far end of the court, the milder stink of the crude hen run and the odour of boiling potatoes and cabbage, as well as another, which was that of damp plaster and the crumbling brickwork of which the houses were constructed.

Emmy faltered, suddenly aware that she had travelled a long way from the court, in more than miles, and knowing a sort of dread at the thought of her return. She had struggled and worked to escape it, but it had been there all the time waiting for her, and now the archway loomed like an enormous black mouth, wanting to drag her down and gobble her up. She had the terrifying feeling that if she crossed the threshold now, she would be doomed to live there for ever, would never escape.

Then Beryl gave her a nudge and caught hold of her arm, pulling her forward and under the arch. And now she saw the other side of Nightingale Court as people came streaming out of their houses. Diana came tearing across the paving, in her best dress, her face rosy with excitement and her eyes bright with it. ‘Oh, Mam, it’s so wonderful to have you back,’
she said rapturously. ‘They let me off school early ’cos you were coming home today, and I’ve baked a cake . . . well, come in and you’ll see.’

But Emmy was unable to go anywhere until she had been greeted by all the neighbours, many of whom pressed small presents into her hand. At the thought of such generosity from people who, she knew, had a struggle to keep their children fed and the rent paid, Emmy’s eyes filled with tears. Her mother had always said it was the court itself which dragged people down, and not the other way round, and now she acknowledged the truth of it. She opened the little packages and knew each tiny ornament, or teaspoon, or little hairclip, had been lovingly chosen, and that its buying would represent a loss to the family involved. She stood on the dirty paving with tears streaming down her cheeks, telling them all that they were too good, too kind, and that they had made this homecoming something which she would never forget. Only then did she almost stumble into Beryl’s house. There, the tears rose to her eyes again as she saw the laden table, with the younger Fishers already assembled and Wally beaming at her as he pulled out a chair and pressed her into it, telling her not to be a goose, for crying when you were happy had always seemed to him a daft way to behave, and shouldn’t she be rejoicing now, because she was home and, by the look of her, fighting fit?

As soon as they saw Emmy seated, the whole family rushed to their places, the baby on Becky’s lap. Beryl had been dragging the suitcase to the foot of the stairs, but now she joined them, smiling at Emmy with such love in her face that Emmy had to struggle not to start crying again. In the three years
she had been away, Beryl had had another baby, had looked after her own family, had taken Diana in and treated her like a daughter, and had visited the sanatorium as often as she could, so that Emmy had known herself not forgotten. And now this woman who was better than a sister to her was taking her into her already crowded home without a word – or even a thought – of complaint. I don’t deserve any of it, Emmy thought humbly, but oh, I’m so grateful to Beryl and Wally. Mam always said they were the salt of the earth and it’s true. I mustn’t let them down. I must never let them suspect that coming back to Nightingale Court is like re-entering a nightmare. After all, what was the alternative? The workhouse, I should think – or marriage to a man I didn’t love.

The thought astonished her because she had never really allowed it to cross her mind before, but the truth was, she loved neither Johnny nor Carl. Oh, she might love one of them, one day, but not yet. Right now, she loved Diana and the Fishers – especially Beryl – but this was a very different sort of love from that which she and Peter had shared. She
might
love again, one day – she hoped she would – but though it had been five years since Peter had died, the time was not yet ripe.

‘Well, Mam? Wharrabout the cake then? I made it all meself, honest to God I did, though Aunty borrowed the special tins off Taylor’s and gave me a bit of a hand with the writing. D’you like it? Do you honestly?’

Diana’s voice was shrill with excitement and Emmy looked properly at the cake for the first time. It was made to look like a castle, with four short, squat towers, one on each corner, a moat, which had
been made with blue icing, and a candle in each tower. Between the towers, in rather wobbly writing, were the words, ‘Welcome home, Emmy.’

‘
Do
you like it, Mam?’ Diana asked again. ‘I couldn’t put Mam because that would have meant that the cake was just from me, and it’s from everyone, really. Uncle Wally bought the icing sugar and the candles and the boys carried it down to the baker’s to have it cooked, because it was too heavy for me.’

‘It’s a wonderful cake; indeed, it’s a wonderful tea,’ Emmy said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘Oh, shrimps, and mustard and cress, my two favourites! Beryl, you’ve thought of everything.’

‘Well, Diana shares your passion for shrimps so she went down to St John’s Market and bought them before coming home after school,’ Beryl said. ‘Get stuck in, everyone!’

Despite a good many unspoken fears, Emmy settled easily into the Fisher household. She helped Beryl with gentle tasks such as darning socks, mending shirts and helping with food preparation, though Beryl kept an eagle eye on her, clearly determined that her friend should not overdo it. She was sharing a room with Diana and Becky, and after three years of Wisteria Ward she was not disturbed by the younger girls. They got up early, so that they could help Beryl before going off to school, but for the first week Emmy lay in until the house was quiet, and then joined Beryl in the kitchen. No matter how hectic the morning had been, Beryl always seemed calm and in control, pulling the kettle over the fire, giving the porridge a stir, preparing the baby’s feed, or clearing away the family’s breakfast things. Often, she settled Emmy in a chair near the fire and got her
to feed Freddie whilst she moved quietly about her business, and Emmy was grateful for a peaceful start to each day, knowing that she was slipping back into normal life far more easily thanks to her friend’s thoughtfulness.

Though she would never have said so aloud, Emmy was anxious about her return to work, and when she woke up on what was to be her first day back at the restaurant, she felt quite sick with apprehension. She dressed carefully, in a black pleated skirt and jersey, clipped on white collar and cuffs, and went downstairs. Beryl insisted that she swathed herself in a large apron before sitting her down at the table with a cup of hot, strong tea. ‘Drink that slowly,’ she commanded. ‘Then eat the porridge.’

‘I don’t think I could eat a thing,’ Emmy said uneasily. ‘I never thought I’d be scared to go back to work, because I always enjoyed being there, but I’m scared now. Aren’t I stupid?’

‘Yes you are,’ Beryl said, grinning at her. ‘But I reckon anyone would be scared in your position. You’ve had three years away from it, remember, so it’d be a rum go if you
weren’t
scared. But I’m comin’ with you and I’ll deliver you right to the door, so don’t think you can cut and run, madam!’

Emmy was so grateful that she could have wept, but instead she began to eat the porridge. Very soon, she and Beryl were at the restaurant. ‘There, you see, the place hasn’t changed a bit, has it?’ Beryl said robustly, giving her a push towards the door. ‘I say, there’s quite a reception committee waitin’ to welcome you, so I won’t come in. But I’ll be here prompt at one o’clock to take you back home again.’

‘Oh, Beryl, you can’t . . . you mustn’t . . . you’re so busy!’ Emmy gabbled. ‘I’m not a child, you know.
Why, you’re behaving as if this was my first day at school and I was about five years old!’

Beryl laughed and gave Emmy’s shoulder a reassuring pat. ‘I know, I know, but just for a couple of days I’d feel happier if I were with you. Some folk are awful pushy, and though you’re much better, much stronger, you’re not used to being shoved around. So I’ll be here at one o’clock, an’ mind you don’t keep me waitin’.’

She turned away and made off along the pavement at a brisk pace. Emmy opened the door of the restaurant. Mr Mac was there and old Mrs Mac, their faces wreathed in smiles, and most of the staff Emmy remembered came hurrying over to greet her. Ena Symons gave her a hug and begged her to visit old Mrs Symons as soon as she felt well enough to do so. ‘My mother has been really grateful to Diana for popping in from time to time,’ she said. ‘We realised that Mrs Fisher did not feel she could let Diana spend so much time in Raymond Street, but she raised no objection to the children doing our messages when they did hers, nor to Diana and Charlie keeping Mam company from time to time. They even took her out in her wheelchair to have a bit of an airing and see the shops; we both appreciated it.’

Emmy had heard all about this from Beryl, and promised to go and see old Mrs Symons as soon as she could. Then she was led to the cashier’s cubicle, settled in one of the two chairs with a cup of tea, and bidden to watch old Mrs Mac until she was tired, when, Mr Mac said severely, she was to say she had had enough for the day.

Emmy declared that she was scarcely going to be tired out by watching other people work but, in fact, by one o’clock she felt as though she, and not the
waitresses, had been running back and forth, attending to the customers. Mrs Mac looked at her shrewdly, a smile on her wrinkled face. ‘You’re wore out, because you ain’t used to it,’ she said kindly. ‘What’s more, I reckon you’ll find it easier when you’ve got the cash desk to yourself. Now, off with you . . . I see your pal’s hoverin’.’

After three days, Emmy realised that she did not need any more help or instruction from Mrs Mac. Mr Mac usually came over to speak to her once or twice during the day, so as soon as an opportunity occurred she told him that she would like to try the morning shift alone. He gave her a broad smile, his dark eyes twinkling. ‘Mother thought you were ready,’ he told her. ‘She’ll not be sorry; did you know she was a very skilful needlewoman? She’s embroidering an altar cloth for the church and is keen to get on with the work. But if you need her, she’ll be down in a trice.’

Next day, Emmy entered the cashier’s cubicle almost shyly, wondering how she would get along, for old Mrs Mac knew most of the customers and chatted to everyone as she added up their bills, took their money and gave them their change. In fact, Emmy got on very well indeed, and at the end of her shift she handed over to the old lady feeling that she had done a good job. Naturally, she did not balance the books since that was done at the end of each working day, but she checked all her figures and the money in the till and they tallied correctly.

Beryl was no longer calling for her, so when Mr Mac strolled part of the way home with her chatting about the business it seemed a natural and pleasant conclusion to her shift and she arrived home positively glowing with achievement.

The days passed, some wet, some fine, some busy, some slow, with Emmy’s confidence strengthening all the time. The job kept her mind active and her body rested and this was exactly what Dr Masters had wanted for her. She was not yet working on Saturdays since Mr Mac employed several Saturday girls and one of the waitresses, Liz, acted as cashier on that day, and Johnny Frost came home some weekends, ostensibly to visit his mother, but really to see Emmy.

Diana had not met him before and was a little wary when her mother introduced him. He announced that he had come to take Emmy out into the country for a day’s relaxation and invited Diana to go along with them, if she had nothing better to do.

The invitation was lukewarm, but Diana turned it down so decisively that Emmy saw Beryl turn away to hide a smile. They were all in the Fisher kitchen, discussing their plans for the weekend, and Diana meant to go fishing with Lenny – she and Charlie were still scarcely speaking – taking a tram to Seaforth for a day’s sport.

So life in the court began to fall into a pattern. Emmy saw Carl every three weeks or so and always enjoyed his time at home. He was good company, taking her dancing or out for a meal, and did not coddle her, as Johnny tended to do. Carl no longer bothered to invite Diana to accompany them and it was clear to Emmy that Diana’s dislike of the young officer had not altered. Surprisingly, the child did not dislike Johnny Frost, seeming to accept him more as an old friend of her mother’s than as a suitor, though Johnny’s dog-like devotion was plain to everyone else.

Life under the Fisher roof continued comfortably, with Emmy able to undertake more and more small tasks. Only one thing made Emmy determined to find a place of her own, and that was the feud between Diana and Charlie. Either they were not speaking at all, or they were bickering, and Emmy realised that this caused tension and was unfair to the rest of the family. She tried speaking severely to Diana but got very little response. ‘You don’t know the things he said about you and me; if you’d heard them, you’d hate him an’ all,’ Diana informed her mother succinctly. ‘I get along very well with everyone else – Lenny’s me pal – so I don’t need horrible Charlie.’

‘He saved your life when you were a littl’un,’ Emmy reminded her daughter. ‘You used to follow him everywhere and were probably a real nuisance, but he put up with you. Please, Diana, try to be a bit more thoughtful. You’re making Aunty Beryl unhappy.’

‘I am not,’ Diana said indignantly, but Emmy noticed that her cheeks flushed, even as she spoke. ‘One person not speaking to another makes things quieter at teatime, I can tell you.’