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Chapter Ten

‘Al!’

On hearing that brusque summons Alice emerged from the back room. She was pushing Bethany in front of her and continued plaiting her sister’s long brown hair whilst looking enquiringly at her mother.

Tilly continued pouring tea for each of her nephews. Despite their dad having up and left them in relative safety some weeks ago Bobbie and Stevie still liked to keep to the routine of spending most of their time with their cousins upstairs despite the crush of bodies. When in their own home their mother seemed to be always bawling; either at them or into her pinny.

‘Your birthday soon, Al,’ Tilly stated.

Alice smiled. ‘Oh … yeah … it is.’

‘You’re getting older, growing up.’

Alice nodded and looked wistfully into space for a moment. In just a few more days she would be a teenager. She focused again on her mum, a bit puzzled as to what had brought about this odd chat. At this time of the morning her mother was usually keen to get all the kids out from under her feet and off to school. Sophy had already left for work.

‘I was talking to Annie Foster yesterday,’ Tilly said. ‘She’s got a new job round in Thane Villas. The toy factory’s takin’ on.’

Alice raised her eyebrows. It was always interesting to know where work was available but she didn’t see what it had to do with her. Annie Foster was a lot older than she was and not one of her friends. In fact since Annie’d bolted round into Playford Road to escape her brutal stepfather she’d only seen her about on odd occasions.

‘Annie says they want people bad and aren’t asking too many questions.’

Suddenly Alice had an inkling of what her mother was getting at. But she’d made a mistake in calculating her age. She gave her a grin. ‘I’m thirteen soon, mum, not fourteen.’

‘Yeah … I know that … but who’s gonna know how old you are if they ain’t taking birth certificates? You look a bit older than you are. You look a lot older than Sarah Whitton, fer instance.’

Alice stared at her mum; slowly she realised she was serious. ‘What about school?’

‘What about it?’ Tilly turned from the table and stuck her hands on her hips. ‘Staying on at school ‘n’ doing it all by the rules ain’t done Sophy no good. Look at the mess she’s got herself in.’

‘I ain’t getting meself in that sort of mess, ever,’ Alice said emphatically.

‘No, you ain’t!’ her mother replied with equal force. ‘What you’re getting, miss, is a full-time job.’

Tilly gesticulated with a thumb at the boys and Bethany to get off to school.

At the doorway Bethany turned back. ‘Can I get a job too, Mum?’ she asked plaintively.

‘Wish you could, Beth,’ Tilly sighed. ‘But ain’t sure we’d get away with that one. Now off you go.’

With a grimace of disappointment Bethany followed her cousins.

‘You can stop home today,’ Tilly told Alice once the door had closed. ‘See if you can bump yourself into Annie at dinnertime outside the factory and find out all about it. She might know the name of the charge-hand doing the hiring.’

Having got over her astonishment Alice considered what her mother had said. It took little more than a minute for her to come to the wondrous conclusion that she didn’t mind one bit starting full-time work before she was supposed to. She didn’t even mind that the factory her mother was referring to was where Louisa Whitton – so it was rumoured – had gone mental. In fact excitement was tightening her stomach and curving her mouth into a surprised smile. Very shortly she might be properly grown up, earning good money, and wearing new clothes instead of cast-offs from Billy the Totter or from the rag shop.

Alice didn’t always agree with what her mum did or said but on this she thought she was right: what was the point in staying at school for another year, till she was fourteen? More schooling wouldn’t help get her a better job round here. She’d just be a year older … a year poorer. Her address would still be Campbell Road so she’d get shown the door by most employers unless she lied and said she lived elsewhere. It’d be a wasted year; a year spent just scrubbing doorsteps or rubbing brasses for measly half crowns at the end of a very long shift. And then you had to fight to get your clients, and keep them. Having mulled it all over in her mind for a few minutes Alice realised she was thankful her mum had made mention of it. The sooner she started earning, and saving, the sooner she could get herself out of The Bunk. And that was her dearest ambition. It’d gnawed away at her ever since she could remember.

When she’d been about five her mum and dad would sometimes take her and Sophy on a trip out to a posh area in Highgate or Hampstead to do a bit of busking to earn cash. Alice could still remember the first few times she’d seen those wonderful big houses that had gardens with grass and flowers out front instead of muck stuck to iron railings. She remembered the scent of coloured petals and of the fine ladies who’d bend to press pennies into her small, outstretched hand while her mum rattled a tambourine and did a jig with Sophy, and her dad played a whistle.

They had not often trekked the miles there for Sophy and Alice quickly flagged during the tramp. But her mum would encourage her tired little legs to keep going by saying the rich pickings to be had off toffs would get them a fish ‘n’ chip supper. They didn’t always get what they’d been promised if they passed a pub on the way home and their mother had a thirst and all the pickings in her pocket.

The memory had started in Alice a profound longing to have a place that was neat and tidy and had flowers growing. As she’d got older, and her dream expanded to include a husband and children, Alice had realised she must have a decent man too … not a man from around here. She didn’t want a layabout or a gambler or a drinker or anyone who squandered precious money that was destined to give her children a different life to the one she’d known. She wanted a man like her dad … who really deserved to have done better for himself, or so Alice thought. And probably he would have done if he hadn’t married her mum …

But, there was a fly in the ointment that Alice could see and she felt a surge of resentment on remembering it for it was spoiling her daydream, and her blossoming plans for her new life. She cast a look on her mother, wondering if she had overlooked it too.

‘What about the school board man?’ Alice ventured. ‘There’ll be trouble if I bunk off for so long. I ain’t even thirteen for a few more days.’

‘I’d say the school board man’s got more on his plate than to worry about the likes of you,’ Tilly briskly replied. ‘By the time you get took on somewhere you’ll be more’n thirteen anyhow. By the time the school reports you absent you’ll be thirteen and quite a bit. Ain’t worth their while to make a song ‘n’ dance over it. I know for a fact that Geoff Lovat next door ain’t done more’n a couple of days’ schoolin’. He’s been working almost since the day they turned up last year. School board man ain’t bothered him.’

Alice knew that was true. Geoff had done full-time work at thirteen – when he could get it. He’d done a bit of casual sweeping and so on down the coal yard; he’d been on a market stall with Danny when they’d had enough to invest in a barrow of their own for a few weeks. He’d also gone with Billy the Totter on his rag ‘‘n’ bone round till Billy reckoned too much stuff was going walkies. Geoff would go anywhere at all where he’d get a wage packet and no questions asked about his age, or whether he was bunking off school and likely to attract trouble. Like Danny, he was able to get work easily because he looked a lot older than he was and had the height and physique of a man.

‘I’ll get round to the factory gate and hang about dinnertime,’ Alice promised her mum.

‘Yeah, do that. If nothing comes of it we’ll keep looking.’

‘Ain’t doing the rag shop though,’ Alice said quickly.

Tilly raised her eyebrows at her daughter’s obstinate tone. ‘Best find yourself something quick then,’ she replied. ‘You’re out to work now and that’s that.’

Alice huddled into her coat and pulled the collar up to keep the breeze from buffeting her cold face. She looked again towards the iron gate as a few women hurried out, gossiping. They were no doubt rushing home for a bite to eat at dinnertime before their afternoon shift started. But there was no sign of Annie Foster. Alice had already decided that if she didn’t ambush her here, by the factory gate, she’d make the effort to find her in Playford Road. She was out to work now. Definite.

Another bunch of young women emerged from the old brick building and Alice felt a surge of relief. She recognised Annie; she stuck out because of her glasses. As the women stepped onto the pavement Alice called out. Annie changed direction and came over to her with a wave for her friends who’d headed off the opposite way.

‘Thought you might turn up. Your mum said as you might be interested in gettin’ a job,’ Annie said without preamble.

Alice nodded. ‘They still taking on?’

‘I think they’re pretty much done. You’ll need to be quick.’ Annie took a glance up at the wall where the board for vacancies had been pinned. It had gone. ‘I know that Tina Baker’s had enough. She’s just put in her notice. She’s leaving Friday ’cos she can’t keep up and earn enough. It’s piecework so it ain’t easy money. Right boring too, it is.’

Alice nodded her understanding. ‘Don’t mind. It’s a start.’

‘Yeah,’ Annie said wryly. ‘It’s a wage packet come Friday.’

‘Who shall I ask for?’

‘Mr Wright’s the manager. He ain’t bad actually. I’d get in there now if I was you, before they stick the vacancy notice back up on account of Tina quittin’. Also it ain’t so mad busy over the dinnertime.’

Alice nodded, glancing apprehensively towards the ugly, squat building. She took an inspiriting breath.

‘Don’t say your proper age if he asks,’ Annie instructed kindly. ‘But he might not ask. He never did when I got took on. But then I’m older than you and I look it.’

Alice nodded again and muttered her thanks. Nervously she brushed down her coat to remove rain spots. She took another deep breath, about to move towards the gate but Annie stopped her.

‘’Ere, is it right what I heard that your Sophy’s in the family way?’

‘Who told yer that?’ Alice demanded rather roughly. Immediate, instinctive loyalty to Sophy and her family had made her sound aggressive.

‘Tommy Greenfield. He found out off his sister Pam. Me ‘n’ ’im are walking out together.’

‘Oh yeah? Well, you want to watch him,’ Alice said gruffly. ‘Or he’ll have you in the family way. Remember poor Maisie?’ She threw that caution over her shoulder as she walked on without answering Annie’s question.

Once inside the building Alice felt her confidence rapidly disappearing. The noise of machinery was thudding away somewhere out of sight. She sidled further in and passed a wall, the top half of which was a glass panel. She glanced in to see a couple of wooden desks jumbled with boxes of files and paperwork. A man looked up from where he was writing to frown enquiringly at her.

Alice froze. She’d hoped for a few private moments to get her bearings before someone spotted her. Determinedly she gripped the door handle and poked her head in. ‘Excuse me. I’m looking for Mr Wright.’

‘Well, you’ve found him. What are you after? A job?’ he asked bluntly.

Alice nodded.

‘Well, come in then and sit yourself down.’

Alice slipped through the door and after fidgeting on the spot, wondering which chair to choose, she sat on the closest.

‘Not there. Here.’ Mr Wright tapped a chair that was adjacent to his own.

Swiftly Alice did as she was told, aware that the fellow’s eyes were on her. But he didn’t look unfriendly; in fact he had quite a pleasant sort of face even though he was almost bald. He looked quite smart too in his dark suit of clothes. She guessed he was about as old as her dad.

‘What’s your name and how old are you?’

Alice’s heart sank. Straight off, the first question he’d asked, when she’d been sure he might be more concerned if she came out of The Bunk. ‘Alice Keiver and I’m fourteen,’ she blurted but could feel her face heating because of the lie she’d told.

‘Fourteen, are you?’

‘Me friend Annie Foster recommended me to come and get a job,’ Alice said quickly, for she’d heard the suspicion in his voice. ‘She’s been took on recently and said as you had vacancies. I work hard.’

‘Know Annie, do you? Well, I can’t complain about her. She does her quota and more.’

‘I can do that too,’ Alice promised eagerly.

Simon Wright gave a half smile. That sort of enthusiasm rarely lasted long in places like this. He guessed she was lying about her age but not by much. Alice Keiver could pass for fourteen, delicately built though she was. He often saw girls close to school-leaving age who couldn’t be patient and wait those last few months. Usually he’d play it by the book. But the factory had a large order to meet and they’d be one short again with Tina leaving on Friday. At least with the younger girls they were glad of the work. At the beginning they expected less and did more than their older colleagues to keep their jobs.

‘I’m not going to say it’s the easiest work, or the most interesting, but you’ll get your pay packet end of Friday’s shift without delay. Ten shillings to start.’

Alice nodded eagerly.

Simon Wright picked up his pen. ‘I need some details from you, Alice. Address?’

Alice gulped then quickly said, ‘Campbell Road. But I’m moving soon … soon as I can.’

On turning into Campbell Road on her way home from the factory Alice stopped humming and waved frantically. She’d spied her mum marching purposefully down the road. Alice put on a spurt and went to meet her and tell her the good news.

As Alice got closer she slowed to a walk again and some of her high spirits evaporated. She could see her mother’s expression now and read from it that something was definitely not right.

Tilly’s lips were compressed tight and her blue eyes were narrowed dangerously. As her daughter reached her Tilly snapped out, ‘You’ll have to get inside and take Lucy off Fran. I’ve left her with your aunt while I’ve been doing me rent collecting. Now I’ve got to go and see Mr Keane and give him some real bad news.’

Alice guessed that the real bad news was to do with unpaid rents. It wasn’t unusual for people around here to get in to arrears if they’d had no work. Usually her mum was quite lenient and would juggle figures this way and that for people she liked and who needed a bit of help for a few weeks. She’d been known to lend small items, like blankets, to women to pawn so they could scrape by till something turned up. But Tilly didn’t take nonsense off anybody. Alice knew that often people were tempted to take liberties. They’d use money that had been put by for rent on frivolous things. Billy the Totter turned up each week in Campbell Road before rent-collection day. He’d made it his business to find out when each house manager did the rounds in the hope of getting in first and laying his sticky fingers on the cash before the landlord got it. Alice knew her mother wanted to keep on the right side of her boss, Mr Keane, because she wanted his work.

Tilly’s thoughts were running along the same lines: she didn’t want to lose her job. It was a good one with perks. She took liberties … but not too many. She knew Mr Keane had in the past cocked a deaf’n to tales about her. In a roundabout way he’d let her know so long as she delivered the rents due he didn’t care too much how she got them, or how she robbed Peter to pay Paul. Of course he knew that she dipped in and fiddled here and there and had a little flutter with his money to try and make a bit of extra cash for herself; but as long as the figures tallied when the money was handed over he was satisfied.

‘I got the job at the factory,’ Alice ventured in the hope of lightening her mother’s dark frown.

‘Bleeding good job too,’ Tilly retorted. ‘’Cos if I lose me job over this we’ll need your money, every penny of it.’

‘What …?’ Alice started to enquire but Tilly soon cut her short and through gritted teeth told her what had gone wrong.

‘Those Robertsons in number fifty-two have gone ‘n’ done a bunk. Bastards must’ve took off early hours of Sunday morning. Nobody seems to have seen them since Saturday.’ Tilly stuffed her hands into her pockets to warm them. ‘Old Beattie who lives a couple of doors away from them reckons the lads had a barrow pulled up outside ready ‘n’ waiting. When she asked what it was for they said they was setting up in rag ‘n’ boning. She didn’t think no more of it, she said, or she’d have come and warned me.’

‘Did they owe a lot?’ Alice glanced across the road at the offending house. Usually she wouldn’t have had the courage to question her mother about any of her business. It would have earned her a clip round the ear for cheek. But her mother had started the discussion, and it seemed that securing her first proper job was passage to being allowed to know such things.

‘They owe a month; but it ain’t just that. I lent Jeannie Robertson a blouse to pawn. Good ’un, it was. Won’t see that no more. But that ain’t the worst of it. They’ve done a runner with every stick o’ furniture that was in the place. All of it Mr Keane’s.’

Alice’s jaw slackened and her eyes grew round. Naturally, it wasn’t unheard of for people to do a moonlight flit around here. But usually they just scarpered with their own measly stuff, and owing back rent.

‘That’s why they hired a cart,’ Alice ventured, and got a sour look from her mother for stating the bleeding obvious.

The Robertsons were known to be a family of ruffians. They were generally avoided as being the lowest of the low in a road where the dregs of society were said to congregate. Two teenage sons had lived with their mother at number fifty-two. Nobody knew where Jeannie Robertson’s husband was, and nobody had cared enough to ask for she was a blunt, unfriendly type. They’d moved from Lorenco Road in Tottenham and had been tenants for about two years. Since that time the boys had been known as violent troublemakers. They’d both been up before the magistrate recently for smashing the windows of St Anne’s church round in Pooles Park. The Lennox Road Mission had also been targeted when the boys were banned from the youth club because of their bad language and behaviour. Alice and Sophy had been warned repeatedly by Tilly to stay away from them, and they had.

‘Get in and take Lucy off Fran’s hands or she’ll be moaning and kickin’ up a stink,’ Tilly directed Alice. ‘Time she got off her arse and bucked herself up a bit,’ she muttered, and set off down the road.

Alice knew then that her mother was well and truly riled. She was never usually out of patience with her sister Fran, or if she was she kept it to herself. Alice felt the criticism was justified. In her opinion it was time her aunt got herself some proper work instead of cadging all the time. It was about time too that Bobbie and Stevie spent more time in their own place. It was a constant crush in the Keivers’ rooms.

Alice entered the dim hallway of her home silently praying that her mum would not lose her job over this. She knew too well what would happen if she did: she’d have to hand over every penny she earned from the factory job and manage to put nothing by for her new life.

As Alice knocked on Fran’s door to collect her little sister she realised why the Robertsons had gone on a Saturday night. They’d known that the Keiver household would be in drunken uproar. Now that Fran was over the worst, the Saturday night singsongs had started up again. The Keivers, and a good deal of the neighbours, wouldn’t have been in a fit state in the early hours of Sunday morning to notice a thing that went on.