Читать книгу Sins of the Father - Kitty Neale - Страница 10

After trudging around Fulham the following day, Emma had paused on Wandsworth Bridge on her way home, staring down into the grey, murky water of the River Thames as a coal barge passed below. It was hopeless, nobody wanted to employ her, and she had hated telling the kids that she still hadn’t found work. It was her appearance, she was sure of it, especially when even an ironmonger had given her the cold shoulder.

Now it was ten o’clock on Friday morning, but instead of going out to look for work again, she was slumped on a stool at home. Her father was growing impatient, telling her to look harder, but then the door was flung open as James rushed into the room.

‘Alice sent me up. She wants to see you.’

Emma forced a smile as she rose to her feet. James looked lovely in his new clothes. He was wearing grey shorts that just reached his knees, a pristine white shirt, and he even had a pair of little slippers on his feet. She may have had doubts about the two youngest living with Alice, but seeing how well James looked, any lingering reservations were dispelled.

‘What does Alice want?’

‘I dunno. She just said to tell you that the kettle’s on.’

A cup of tea, Emma thought, appreciating the woman’s kindness. With James in the lead she went downstairs.

‘Blimey, you look a bit fed up, love. What’s the matter?’ Alice said as she walked in.

‘I’ve been looking for a job, but nobody wants to take me on. I look too scruffy to work in a shop and the factories haven’t any vacancies.’

‘You’re such a pretty girl and we can spruce you up to look like a princess, more than fit to work in a shop. Come on, get this cup of tea down you and then we’ll start with your hair.’

‘Look, Emma,’ Archie said, holding up a little wooden boat. ‘Ucky Cyril made it for me.’

‘Uncle Cyril, not Ucky,’ Alice chuckled.

‘I’ve got one too,’ James said, joining Archie on the floor.

As the two children played with their boats, Emma watched them for a moment, noticing how clean and shiny their hair looked. She took a gulp of tea.

‘Unlike those two, it’ll take more than my hair to improve my appearance, Alice,’ she said.

‘Don’t worry. I’m sure I can find you something decent to wear.’

Alice had a lovely curvaceous body and Emma doubted she could fill her clothes. Her own bust was small, her hips tiny in comparison, and she was at least two inches shorter.

As if sensing her thoughts, Alice grinned. ‘I used to be a lot slimmer than this and I’ve kept the clothes I used to wear back then, hoping I’d get back into them one day. Come on, I’ll show you.’

Emma placed the cup on the table, then followed Alice into her bedroom. Unlike her family’s attic room, this one was lovely. Instead of mattresses on the floor, there was a real double bed with a wooden headboard and flowery spread. Emma’s eyes took in the two double wardrobes and dressing table, a pink glass trinket set arranged prettily on top. With so much furniture the room looked stuffed full, but to Emma it was beautiful.

Alice opened one of the wardrobes and when Emma saw the rail of clothes she gasped with envy. Alice rummaged past a couple of plain, linen dresses, finally pulling out two blouses and a skirt. ‘Cyril is always moaning that I never throw anything away, but I knew these would come in handy one day. Here, try them on.’

‘Oh, Alice, how can you afford so many lovely things?’

‘My Cyril earns a decent wage on the buses and there’s only been the two of us until now. I wanted kids so much, but they never came along. I think I shopped as a kind of compensation. Of course, during the war there wasn’t much on offer, only drab clothes, but I still managed to indulge myself. Since clothes rationing ended, I must admit I’ve gone a bit mad.’ She smiled softly. ‘It’s different now. The boys have changed our lives, and Cyril is growing as daft about them as me. Now come on, Emma, try these things on.’

Emma slowly undressed, ashamed that Alice was going to see her old and tatty knickers. She didn’t have a brassiere, but with her small bust it didn’t seem to matter. As Alice turned away to pull open one of the drawers in her dressing table, Emma hastily put on the skirt and first blouse. The light blue cotton skirt flared from the waist and felt a little loose. It was also a couple of inches too long, but she didn’t care. It looked almost new and felt wonderful. The white blouse with its Peter Pan collar was loose too, but it smelled fresh, of something flowery, and so soft against her skin.

‘They don’t look bad,’ Alice said. ‘You’ll just need to move the button on the waist and take it up. I’ve found some underwear too. This bra might fit you.’

‘I…I don’t think I need a bra,’ Emma said, feeling her face redden.

‘Of course you do. You can’t go around without a bra on at your age. Now come on, put your own stuff back on and we’ll have a go at your hair.’

‘You won’t be able to do anything with it.’

‘Of course I will, but first we’ll give it a good wash.’

Emma was apologetic. ‘I’ve tried to make it look nice, but without soap it dries all matted.’

‘Oh, love, I’m not saying you aren’t clean. I know you do your best, but as you say, it needs to be washed properly. Come on, I’ve got just the thing, and then I’ll give it a bit of a trim.’

It was over two hours later when Alice finally sighed with satisfaction. ‘There, you look smashing,’ she said.

Emma stared at her reflection in Alice’s mirror, hardly able to believe her eyes. Her lank, dull blonde hair was now shining, and sat on her shoulders in a profusion of waves. She still had her old clothes on, but she intended to alter Alice’s skirt as soon as she went upstairs.

‘Oh, Alice, I can’t believe it’s me,’ she cried, her eyes fixed on the mirror.

‘You’re not just pretty, Emma, you’re beautiful, just like your mum,’ Alice said, her eyes suddenly moist. ‘I was going to suggest a bit of make-up, but with such lovely skin you don’t need it. A touch of lipstick is enough. Blimey, anyone would be mad not to give you a job now.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Emma said, finally tearing her eyes away from the mirror.

James and Archie had been so good, but were now demanding Alice’s attention.

‘They want their lunch,’ Alice said. ‘They never stop eating. My Cyril thinks they’ve got hollow legs.’

‘I’m sorry, Alice.’

‘Sorry! What have you got to be sorry about? It’s a pleasure to see them stuffing their faces. I just wish this flaming food rationing was over with. It’s a bloody disgrace. It’s years since the war finished. Anyway, pop into the bedroom to get your things, and don’t forget the underwear. I might have another skirt–I’ll dig it out–but for now I’d best sort these two lads out.’

Emma smiled her thanks, and left Alice’s clutching her new clothes. She couldn’t help thinking that their own flat looked so bleak in comparison to Alice’s, but sat on a stool, relieved that she had enough cotton left on the reel to complete the alterations to the skirt. The fire was still partly alight, enough to heat the iron. After pressing the hem, she put the skirt on, tucking the prettier of the two blouses inside.

There was no mirror to see how she looked, but Emma felt sure she was smart enough to get a job now. It was only when putting on her shoes that a frown creased her forehead. Worn down at the heels and scuffed, she knew they spoiled the outfit, but they were the only pair she had, and would have to do.

Her heart felt lighter and excitement mounted. It was after one o’clock, but she’d walk to Clapham Junction. There were loads of shops there. Surely one of them would have a vacancy.

Emma was about to leave when the door opened, Susan walking slowly into the room.

‘What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at school?’

‘I’ve been sick and my teacher sent me home.’

Emma felt Susan’s forehead, and for once believed her. She felt hot, her skin clammy. ‘All right, love. Let’s get you into bed.’

‘You look nice, Emma. Where did you get those clothes?’

‘Alice gave them to me.’

Susan was about to speak again, but then her hand flew to her mouth as she retched. In a flash Emma rushed her over to the sink, her nose wrinkling as her sister emptied her stomach. At least, Emma thought miserably, none of her sister’s vomit had marked Alice’s clothes.

Emma bathed Susan in cool water and then put her to bed where she fell asleep almost immediately. By the time Luke and the others came home from school, she was a lot better, but still lying lethargically on the mattress.

Emma came down the ladder. ‘Susan’s in bed.

She’s been sick and was sent home from school.’

‘Serves her right,’ Luke said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘When we pass the market on the way to school, she’s always scrounging stuff. She puts on a sad face, tells the stall-holders her mum’s dead, and nine times out of ten they give her an apple or something.’

‘She does what?’ Emma was horrified. ‘But an apple wouldn’t make her sick.’

‘I know, but she’s done it so often that I think the stall-holders have got wise to her. She didn’t get anything from them this morning so she tried it on with the butcher. He was just opening up, and when she pulled the stunt he shoved a pie into her hand. She stuffed it on the way to school and the greedy cow wouldn’t even give us a bite. Still, she got her comeuppance. I reckon it must have been bad.’

Emma still couldn’t believe her ears. ‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Since just after Mum died. It started when Charlie asked us how we were doing and it was obvious he felt sorry for us. He gave us an apple each and it must have given Susan the idea.’

‘I’ll give her a piece of my mind when she gets up,’ Emma said, but then heard a knock on the door. She went to answer it, her face paling when she saw the landlord.

Mr Bell was in his mid-forties, tall and thin, with a shock of dark, wiry hair. To Emma he was a toff, well spoken, well dressed, and he always carried a briefcase.

He gazed at her for a moment, his eyes puzzled, then said, ‘Is that you, Emma? I hardly recognised you. You seem to have grown up overnight.’

She felt gauche, unsure of herself and stammered, ‘My…my dad isn’t home from work yet.’

‘Didn’t he leave the rent with you?’

‘No, but he’ll be here in a couple of hours.’

The man sighed heavily. ‘Very well, I’ll be back later.’

‘Thank you, Mr Bell.’ Emma said, relieved to close the door on the man and the predatory look she had seen in his eyes.

An hour passed and when Dick came home, his eyes widened. ‘Blimey, Em, you look nice,’ he said, passing her a bag of vegetables.

‘It’s down to Alice,’ Emma told him, eyeing with appreciation the carrots, onions and potatoes. ‘There’s plenty here for another stew tomorrow. It’s really good of Charlie to give you the leftovers.’

‘They’re too soft to put out again tomorrow, and they’d only be chucked away. Anyway, don’t change the subject–why are you all dolled up like a dog’s dinner?’

‘I was going out to look for a job again but Susan was sent home from school.’ She then went on to tell him why, his disgust equalling her own.

‘Well, stone the crows,’ he said. ‘I’ll have a few words to say to that little madam.’

‘Me too,’ Emma said, relighting the fire to finish off the dinner.

Another hour passed, one in which they both gave Susan a telling-off, and then Emma looked at Dick worriedly. ‘Mr Bell is sure to be back soon and I don’t think I’ll be able to fob him off again. I hope Dad isn’t blowing his wages in the King’s Arms.’

Dick’s expression soured as he rose to his feet. ‘I’ll drag him out of there if I have to.’

As Dick made his way to the pub, he found himself thinking about his boss. Charlie Roper was the antithesis of his father, and a man he respected. Charlie had never married and, as far as Dick knew, had no family, but he had taken him under his wing, treating him almost like a son. Yes, he was a hard taskmaster, but he expected no more from anyone than he did from himself.

Charlie liked the occasional pint but, unlike Dick’s father, he knew when to stop. The man was hard-working, up at the crack of dawn every day, in all weathers, but never complained, despite the cold affecting his arthritic fingers. Charlie had fought in a war too, albeit the first one, and he’d had it rough, fighting in the trenches and telling Dick stories of rats the size of cats. Yet unlike his father, Charlie never bemoaned his fate, or used it as an excuse to drown his sorrows in drink. Dick scowled, hating his father’s weakness, determined never to follow in his footsteps.

When Dick reached the pub, he flung open the door, searching for his father through a fug of stale cigarette smoke. An old boy was pounding out a tune on a wonky piano, the melody unrecognisable to Tom, and at a couple of tables he saw men playing cards. He pushed his way forward, finding his father standing at the bar, lifting a pint of beer to his lips.

Tom’s eyes narrowed when he saw Dick, and above the babble of voices he snapped, ‘What the hell are you doing in here?’

‘The landlord’s after the rent money.’

Tom’s eyes flicked to the group of men who were drinking close by. ‘Keep your bloody voice down!’ he hissed.

Dick glared at the pint glass in his father’s hand, knowing it wasn’t his first and uncaring of who might overhear. ‘Mr Bell will be back soon and wants his money.’

‘So what? He’ll get it when I’m good and ready. Just tell him to sod off.’

‘Tell him yourself.’

Tom’s lips tightened in anger. ‘Watch your mouth, son. Now bugger off or you’ll feel the back of my hand.’

‘I ain’t going anywhere unless you come with me.’

There was a titter of laughter, a man saying, ‘It sounds like your young whippersnapper’s laying down the law, Tom.’

Tom’s grip was tight on his glass. ‘That’ll be the day,’ he quipped. ‘In fact, I think I’ll take the lad home for the hiding he deserves.’ He then lifted his pint, gulping it down and slamming the empty glass on the bar before glaring at Dick and adding, ‘Right you. Home–and now!’

Emma heard footsteps on the stairs and her father’s yelling before he shoved open the door, his eyes dark with anger as he glared at Dick.

‘You’ve got a bloody nerve, kicking up like that in the pub. I didn’t know where to put my bloody face.’

‘Can you blame me? If I didn’t drag you out, the rent wouldn’t be paid–again. Mr Bell isn’t going to put up with it for much longer.’

‘I paid some of the arrears last week. Anyway, Bell’s all wind and water. He’s always threatening to chuck us out, but we’re still here, ain’t we?’

‘One of these days you’ll push him too far.’

‘I’ll handle Bell, but if you ever show me up again in my local, you’ll live to regret it.’

For a moment they eyed each other like combatants, but it was Dick who finally turned away.

For a moment Tom continued to glare at his son, but then his eyes lighted on Emma. He paled, shaking his head as though to dismiss the sight. ‘Christ, you gave me a turn. You look just like your mother. Where did you get those clothes?’

‘Alice gave them to me.’

‘Have you found a job?’

‘Not yet. Susan was sent home from school and I had to stay with her.’

‘Bloody kids,’ he muttered, flopping onto his chair. ‘You’d better find a job soon, my girl.’

Shortly after there was a tap on the door and Emma went to answer it.

‘Is your father home now?’ Mr Bell asked.

‘Yes, I’ll get him.’ But when she turned round, her father was already on his feet.

‘I’ll speak to you outside,’ he told the landlord, stepping into the hall and pulling the door closed behind them.

They heard raised voices and Dick put his fingers over his lips, pointing to the door. It hadn’t closed properly, so both of them moved to the small gap, listening to the conversation.

‘I can’t pay all the arrears today, but you’ll get the rest next week, I promise.’

‘You said that last week, and the week before. I’ve been lenient, but there are still eight weeks outstanding. Either you pay me in full now, or I’ll be forced to evict you.’

‘Have a heart, Mr Bell. Since my wife died things have been hard, but my daughter is looking for work now. As soon as the girl gets a job there’ll be more money coming in.’

‘Emma? Are you talking about Emma?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

There was silence for a moment, and then a cough. ‘What sort of work is she looking for?’

‘She’ll do anything, shop work, a factory.’

Again there was a short silence, and then Emma’s eyes rounded like saucers when Mr Bell spoke again. ‘I too have lost my wife, Mr Chambers, and since then my house lacks a woman’s touch. I’ve been considering employing someone as a cleaner-cum-housekeeper and, as Emma is looking for work, maybe she’d like the position.’

‘What sort of pay are you offering?’

‘It will depend on how many hours she works but approximately one pound ten shillings. If you’re agreeable a portion of that could be stopped each week to pay off the arrears.’

Without thought, Emma flung the door open. ‘Dad, I don’t want to be a cleaner!’

Mr Bell looked at her briefly, but then his eyes narrowed. ‘Well, Mr Chambers, if Emma isn’t prepared to work for me, I must insist that you now pay the rent in full.’

‘I haven’t got it. I can give you this week’s rent and a couple of bob off the arrears.’

‘No, that isn’t good enough.’ He then opened his briefcase, taking out a sheet of paper. ‘This is an eviction notice and states that you must vacate the premises in one week’s time.’

‘Wait, hold on. What if Emma takes the job?’

‘As I said, the arrears can be deducted from her wages. However, this doesn’t mean that I’ll allow any further to accrue. I’ll expect the current rent to be paid on time, each week, without fail.’

‘Agreed. Right, she’ll start on Monday. I’ll leave you to sort out the details with her.’ On that note Tom Chambers turned to go back inside.

Dick held the door open, saying to his father, ‘Hang on. Emma said she doesn’t want to be a cleaner.’

‘She’ll do as she’s bloody well told!’

Emma saw her brother’s face darken with anger and broke in quickly, ‘It’s all right, Dick. I don’t mind.’ In truth she hated the idea, but there was no choice. If she didn’t work for Mr Bell they’d all be out on the street.

‘Are you sure, Emma?’

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she said, and as Dick withdrew, he left the door ajar.

She turned to face Mr Bell and for a moment his eyes roamed over her body. There was something in his expression that made her shiver, but then he spoke brusquely.

‘Right, Emma. As I said, I need someone to look after my house. Here’s my address, and I’ll expect you on Monday morning at eight.’

She looked at the piece of paper he handed her. ‘Er…I’m not sure where this is.’

‘My house faces Clapham Common, and isn’t far from St Barnabas’ Church.’

Emma swallowed. It was a long walk. Nervously she asked, ‘Could I start at nine? I…I’d like to get the children off to school before I leave.’

For a moment his lips tightened, but then he nodded. ‘Very well. I’m not a hard man, or a hard employer. I’m sure we’ll jog along nicely.’

He reached out to pat her arm, and Emma shivered again at his touch.

‘Goodbye, my dear. I’ll see you on Monday.’

He smiled again, this time warmly, and Emma relaxed a little. Maybe it would be all right. She could cope with housework. After all, she’d had plenty of practice.

‘I start on Monday,’ she told her father as she went back inside.

‘Good. Get the dinner dished up and then I’m off out again.’

As Emma spooned the stew onto tin plates, she consoled herself with the knowledge that at least the family were safe from eviction. Then another thought struck her and she smiled. Once the arrears were paid off she could leave. After all, what would there be to stop her?