Читать книгу Yes, Mama - Helen Forrester - Страница 28

After school, Alicia sat by the kitchen fire, watching a harassed Mrs Tibbs baste a huge joint of beef, while Fanny stirred a cauldron of soup. Polly thrust a glass of milk into the child’s hand and told her that after she had drunk it she should go into the garden and do some skipping in the fresh air.

‘Do I have to?’

‘Aye, coom on, luv. I’ll come with yez and count your peppers for a mo’. Then I got to help Cook.’

She put her arm round Alicia and together they went out of the back door, which led into a brick-lined area, and then up well-washed stone steps to the long, narrow walled garden. A straight, paved path ran from the area to a wooden door in the high, back wall. The wind was whirling the first autumn leaves along the path and over the lawn, and the single aspen tree at the far end shivered, as if it already felt the cold of winter. Opposite the tree, on the other lawn, stood an octagonal summerhouse, where Alicia occasionally played house with a little girl called Ethel, who also attended Miss Schreiber’s school. Nearer the house, an apple tree bore a crop of cooking apples almost ready for picking.

At Polly’s urging, Alicia did a fast pepper, her skipping rope thwacking the path quicker and quicker. Polly counted, and they both laughed when Alicia finally tripped over the rope.

‘Seventy-two,’ shouted Polly.

The latch on the back gate rattled suddenly, as it was lifted. A grubby face, topped by wildly tousled hair, peered cautiously round the door. A very thin boy, about eleven years old, entered like a cat on alien ground. His breeches were in the last stages of disintegration and were topped by a ragged jacket too large for him. He wore a red kerchief round his neck and was bare-legged and barefooted. Alicia smiled at him; he was Polly’s brother who came sometimes, when he was unemployed, to beg a piece of bread from her. Though he smelled like a wet dog, Alicia accepted him as part of her small world, as she did the coalman, the milkman and the postman.

This visit was obviously different. The boy was blubbering like a brook in spate, and when he saw Polly he ran into her arms.

‘Why, Billy! What’s to do?’ She hugged him to her white, starched apron.

‘It’s Mam,’ he told her. ‘She’s took bad – real bad. Mary’s with her and Ma Fox from upstairs. Dad says to come quick.’

Unaware that his sister had suckled both of them and was equally loved by Alicia, he ignored the girl and clutched at Polly.

‘Jaysus! What happened?’

‘She’s bin sick of the fever for nearly a week and she don’t know none of us any more.’

Fever was a scary threat, and Alicia interjected impulsively, ‘Polly, you must go. I’ll do my homework while you’re away.’

‘I’ll have to ask your Mam. We got a dinner party.’ She looked down at the mop of hair on her shoulder and gently pushed the boy away from her. ‘Don’t grieve, luv. I’ll come, somehow.’

Billy stepped back and wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands. This left a dirty smear on either cheek.

For the first time, he seemed to realize that Alicia was there watching him, her skipping rope dangling from one hand. He stared at her for a second and then, obviously trying to re-establish his manliness after such a bout of tears, he carefully winked at her. While she giggled, he turned on his heel and trotted back down the path. The garden door banged behind him, and, as he ran, they could hear his bare feet thudding along the back alley.

With Alicia hurrying behind her, Polly fled back to the kitchen. She was met by an anxious Fanny.

‘The Missus is in, and in a proper temper, askin’ why you wasn’t there to open the door for her. I told her as you was in the garden with Allie, but she’s real put out and sez you’ve not put the claret glasses on the table.’

‘Bugger her.’ Polly stripped off her kitchen apron, snatched up her frilly parlour one and whipped it round herself. The ribbons of her cap streamed behind her, as she shot upstairs, leaving a surprised Fanny facing Alicia and asking, ‘And what’s to do with her?’