Читать книгу Sins of the Father - Kitty Neale - Страница 9

Things didn’t work out quite as Emma expected. Far from being upset, James and Archie were happy to live with Alice.

‘She’s nice,’ James said. ‘She plays with us, cuddles us, and we’ve got our own beds. I like it downstairs.’

Emma lowered her eyes, suddenly realising how much she had neglected them. She’d been busily wrapped up in housework with the ironing sometimes taking hours to complete, let alone the laundry and trying to mend clothes that were nothing but rags for the older ones to wear for school. She should have paid them more attention, but instead had given them bits and bobs to play with, old cotton reels and paper to cut into shapes, getting increasingly annoyed if they tried to distract her. When their mother was alive, they may have lacked money, but they had never lacked love. The housework would be abandoned if Archie or James wanted a cuddle, and when the others came home from school, she had listened patiently as they chatted away.

Everything had changed when she died. Now, when the kids came home Emma was often cross with them for getting under her feet, happy for them to play out on the streets until dinner was ready. God, no wonder they were running wild.

With a small groan, Emma hugged herself. She’d been so wrapped up in trying to run the home as her mother had that she’d forgotten the most important thing. Love. No wonder James and Archie were happy to live with Alice, going downstairs on Tuesday morning without demur. Alice had been wonderful, letting them run upstairs to Emma whenever they wanted, but the novelty soon wore off and for the rest of the day their trips grew more and more infrequent.

‘I want to live with Alice too,’ Susan said, breaking into Emma’s thoughts.

When Emma looked at her sister she saw Susan’s mouth drooping despondently, the child close to tears. Time to turn over a new leaf, she thought, and smiling softly, she rose to stroke Susan’s hair. ‘Oh, love, I’d miss you something rotten. What would I do without you to cuddle up to at night?’

Susan managed a small smile in return, but she obviously wasn’t completely mollified. ‘Alice’s flat is much nicer than ours, and I bet she buys loads of stuff for James and Archie. It ain’t fair, Em.’

‘Once I get a job we’ll be able to have new things too. I’ll be able to save up to buy us some decent clothes, and this winter I promise you’ll get a nice new coat.’

‘Me too?’ Bella cried, followed by an echo from Ann.

‘Yes, you too,’ Emma placated, ‘and what about you, Luke? What would you like?’

Luke’s head dipped to one side. ‘Well…if we’ve got the money, I’d like a cat, a ginger one. I like cats.’

‘We’ll see, but don’t forget that in future when you come home from school, you’ll all have little jobs to do.’

‘We know,’ Luke said.

Emma held out her arms to her youngest sister, gratified when Ann ran into them. ‘When I’m not here, be a good girl and do what Luke tells you.’

Ann’s head burrowed into Emma’s chest. ‘All right, Em.’

With a small sigh Emma closed her eyes. She hoped they’d be all right. Alice had agreed that they could run to her if there was an emergency, and that had eased her mind. Now all she wanted was to find a decent job, something she intended to do as soon as the kids left for school in the morning.

* * *

At five thirty the next morning, Emma heard Dick stirring, and she too rolled carefully off the mattress to follow him down the ladder.

She hated lighting the fire during the summer months, but without it she wouldn’t be able to boil a kettle or cook anything for the kids’ breakfasts. As soon as these tasks were completed she would thankfully douse it, and it wouldn’t be rekindled until she had to cook dinner.

‘You don’t usually get up this early,’ Dick said as he went to the sink for a sluice down, afterwards drying himself on a piece of rag.

‘If I get a job today I’ll have to get used to it. There’ll be loads to do before the kids go to school and I might as well start as I mean to go on.’

‘Loads to do? Such as?’

‘Well, after sorting the kids I’ll need to prepare dinner in advance and it takes a while to get the vegetables ready. Then I’ll have to cook them, at least partly, finishing them off when I come home.’

‘Yeah, I suppose so. I’d best get a move on or I’ll be late.’

‘What about your breakfast?’

‘Charlie always gets me a bacon roll from the café and a nice big mug of tea too.’

‘He’s a good boss, you’re lucky.’

‘Yeah, he ain’t bad, but he’s a bit of a slave-driver at times. Still, it could be worse. See you later,’ he called, the door shutting behind Dick before Emma had time to reply.

Emma’s stomach rumbled. A bacon roll! What she wouldn’t give for a bacon roll. One day, she thought, cheering herself up. If she found a good job they could all have bacon again. She went to the sink, pulling the metal bucket out from underneath and picking out vegetables to use in a stew. God, she was sick of vegetable stew, sick of eating the same thing every day. With her first pay packet she’d grab the ration book and head for the butcher’s. At the thought of meat, her mouth salivated.

When the kids got up, chaos reigned. As though to show their displeasure at this change of routine, all except Luke played up. Susan said she felt ill, but when Emma felt her forehead, there was no sign of a fever. Used to Susan’s wily ways to get out of school, Emma ignored her whines as she encouraged them to dress, sad that despite her best efforts they still looked like a band of ragamuffins.

She made the porridge, handing each of them a bowl, but when Susan sat on the floor, taking her first mouthful, she grimaced. ‘It’s horrible, Em. Ain’t we got any sugar left?’

‘No. You had the last of the sugar that Alice gave us yesterday.’

‘I can’t eat it without sugar.’

‘Then you’ll go hungry,’ Emma said impatiently.

Susan pouted, took a few more mouthfuls, but abandoned the rest. The others ate without complaint, and at last they were ready for school.

‘Now then,’ Emma said firmly, ‘off you go. I’ll be looking for a job today and may not be here when you come home from school. If that’s the case you all know what you have to do.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after them,’ Luke said.

‘I know you will,’ Emma said, smiling at her brother, ‘but don’t forget what I said. Don’t try to light the fire. I’ll do it when I come home.’

Luke nodded, but as Emma looked at the girls she saw the confusion and uncertainty in their eyes. Remembering her determination to turn over a new leaf, she hugged them one by one, saying reassuringly, ‘You’ll be fine with Luke and…and I’ll see you later. Be good at school,’ she added as they reluctantly shuffled off.

The door had hardly closed when Emma heard her father coming down the ladder. He scratched his head, then a fit of coughing racked his body.

‘I don’t suppose there’s any tea going?’ he croaked.

‘Since when have we had money for tea? I used to dry nettles for Mum, but you never drank it.’

‘I can’t stand the stuff.’

Emma said nothing. She hated talking to her father and avoided it as much as possible. Instead of sitting down he went to the sink, gulping down a mug of water before sluicing more over his head. Emma left him to it, climbing the stairs to the loft again.

She needed to get ready, and hoped the clothes she had sorted out the night before would be all right. She’d carefully ironed a blouse, but the pattern had almost faded, the material worn thin. The skirt wasn’t too bad, though you could see a line where the hem had been taken down, which no amount of ironing could hide. She had no stockings, but hoped nobody would notice, and lifting her hand to touch her hair, wished she had something to pin it up. It felt stiff, lank, but without soap she’d only been able to rinse it with cold water. Pulling at the tangles with her fingers, she did the best she could, then returned downstairs.

The room was empty, her father gone, no doubt late for work again. This was a common occurrence and he was always getting the sack, now travelling to a building site in Chelsea after losing a job that had been just round the corner.

Oh, she didn’t want to think about him. Today was a new beginning for her, and after a swift look to check that the fire had been doused, Emma hurried out, running down the stairs with her heart full of hope as she headed for the nearest row of shops.

Later that day, Emma was trudging to the market, footsore and near to tears. When she thought about the reception she’d received, her cheeks reddened with humiliation. She’d gone into a dress shop in Falcon Road first, her eyes lighting up when she saw the lovely garments hanging on rails. There were pretty pastel dresses, nipped in at the waist with matching belts, and she itched to touch them, to feel the material, but had resisted, going up to the counter wide-eyed with eagerness to ask if they had any vacancies.

‘Miss Fisher,’ the young and very smart girl behind the counter had called.

‘Yes, can I help you?’ a slim, middle-aged and sophisticated woman asked as she came out from a back room.

‘I…I’m looking for work,’ Emma stammered.

‘I’m sorry, but we already have a cleaner.’

In her innocence, Emma had smiled, ‘Oh, no, I haven’t come for a cleaning job. I’d like to work in the shop.’

‘You must be joking,’ Miss Fisher said, eyebrows rising haughtily as she eyed Emma up and down. ‘We have very high standards here, and I could hardly offer you employment looking like that.’

Emma had seen the smirk on the young sales assistant’s face, and flushed, but, fighting to hide her humiliation, she’d kept her head up. ‘Fine, I wouldn’t want to work here anyway.’ And on that note she’d turned on her heels, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Blimey, what a couple of snobs, Emma decided as she’d walked away, refusing to let this encounter stop her. Yet by the time she had tried a few other garment shops the penny had well and truly dropped. Compared to all the sales assistants’ attire, her clothes looked awful, scruffy. No wonder they wouldn’t employ her. She’d tried a grocer, a baker, a haberdashery shop, but she’d received the same reception time and again.

The colourful stalls failed to lift Emma’s spirits as she reached the market. It was buzzing with noise and several traders raised their hands to wave at her.

‘Watcha, gorgeous,’ called one. ‘If I wasn’t a married man I’d come out from behind me stall to give you a smacker.’

Emma forced a smile, but it failed to reach her eyes. She didn’t look gorgeous. She looked a mess.

‘What’s up, Em?’ Dick asked as she approached his stall. ‘You look a bit down in the mouth.’

‘I’m too scruffy to get a job in a shop,’ she told him.

‘You look fine to me.’

‘Don’t look so downhearted, girl,’ Charlie, the stall-holder, consoled, and, holding out a mug, he added, ‘Here, you can have me tea. It’ll buck you up no end.’

Emma gratefully took the mug, the strong tea tasting like nectar as she gulped it down. It did make her feel better, invigorated, but she still had no idea where to try next for a job. ‘Thanks, Charlie,’ she said, handing him the empty mug.

Charlie Roper was a nice man, but showing his age now, his gnarled fingers gripping the mug. ‘Try the factories, love. There’s Tate and Lyle’s round the corner, for a start.’

She lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to work in a factory, but there didn’t seem to be any choice. ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’

As customers approached the stall, she called a quick goodbye before moving away.

At four o’clock, Emma was on her way home, her cheeks burning at the memories. Even the factories had turned her down, saying there weren’t any vacancies for unskilled workers, but at least this time she believed them, believed that her appearance hadn’t made any difference. She’d been led through countless factory floors to foremen’s offices, seen women working on machines, their hair in turbans and clothes covered by overalls. Sometimes the noise was deafening and she wondered how they put up with it, but by this time she would have taken anything.

Emma was still brooding when she finally reached her street. It was treeless, grey and dingy, but she was used to the scenery. A few children were playing marbles in the gutter, and a couple of little girls were arguing over a skipping rope made from an old clothes line. Emma hardly noticed. She went into the dilapidated house where she lived and climbed the stairs wearily to the attic.

As she walked into the room the children clambered around her. ‘Did you get a job, Em?’ ‘Where will you be working?’ ‘Will you be earning lots of money?’

Impatiently brushing them aside, Emma looked around and her temper flared. ‘Look at the state of this place. You were supposed to do your jobs, but this room hasn’t been touched.’

‘We’ve only been home for five minutes, Em,’ Luke said. ‘We were just about to start.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, love,’ Emma cried as she flopped onto a chair. ‘I shouldn’t be taking it out on you, but I’ve been walking for hours.’ She pushed off her shoes, massaging her aching feet.

‘Did you get a job?’ Susan asked again.

Emma tried to sound more assured than she felt. ‘No, not yet, but don’t worry, I’ll try again tomorrow.’

‘Come on, you lot,’ Luke said, sounding older than his years. ‘Let’s get our jobs done. Emma’s worn out and needs a rest.’

The tears broke then. Oh, Luke was such a good boy, so thoughtful.

He rushed to her side and his arm snaked around her shoulder. ‘What’s up, Em? Do you want me to get Alice?’

‘No, I’ll be all right. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.’ They were all looking at her worriedly and she fought to pull herself together. ‘Go on then, get on with your jobs,’ she urged, pleased when they all did her bidding. She had told them she’d try for work again tomorrow, and she’d do just that. But where?