A Moment to Remember (3 page)

‘I just wanted to go to the zoo,’ she said softly between sobs.

‘What about this boy?’

‘He asked me to go with him and I didn’t think it would do any harm.’

‘Well yer fought wrong, didn’t yer?’

Milly nodded.

‘Arthur, I think Milly’s been punished enough.’

‘You would. I’m going out, and I’ll be back when I’m good and ready.’ He took his jacket from off the nail, put his cap on his dark hair and left.

Milly waited till she heard the front door slam, then she jumped to her feet. ‘How could you?’ she shouted at her mother.

Ivy Ash looked at her daughter in amazement. Milly had never spoken to her like this before.

‘Why did you let him hit me like that?’

‘I’m so sorry, Milly, but what could I do? He’s a very strong man.’

‘You could have said you knew I was going out and didn’t mind.’

‘And what good would that have done?’

Milly shrugged. She knew her mother was as afraid of him as she was. ‘What did he mean when he said it runs in the family?’

‘Nothing. I don’t know what he’s talking about.’

‘If I knew where Auntie Doris lived, I’d run away.’

Ivy Ash looked up with horror on her face. ‘You wouldn’t leave me, would you?’

Milly slowly shook her head. She knew her mother was a weak woman who couldn’t stand up to her husband. What if she did leave and he injured her, or worse still, in one of his rages he . . . Milly couldn’t even bear to think about that.

‘Please, Milly, I beg you. Please don’t leave me.’

‘Why are you so afraid of him? Why don’t you leave him?’

‘Where would I go?’

‘We could go and find Auntie Doris.’

‘And who would want to look after a penniless woman with eight children?’

‘Billy and Dan and me can look after ourselves.’

‘But what about Helen? She’s such a poor helpless little thing. You know we could all finish up in the workhouse.’

Milly couldn’t answer her mother; she knew it was hopeless.

 

For the rest of the day Milly was very subdued, and she went about her chores with a heavy heart.

That evening she was in the outhouse when the boys burst in laughing and pushing each other.

‘Did you go out, Mil?’ asked Billy.

She shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Why didn’t you go?’ asked Dan. ‘What’s wrong?’

Milly wiped the tears that had trickled down her cheeks with the bottom of her overall. ‘He was listening at the door when you was asking me who I was going with.’ She gave a heart-rending sob. ‘He took his strap to me for wanting to go out with Jack.’

Billy’s face filled with fury. ‘D’you know, I’ll swing fer that bloke one of these days.’

‘Billy. You mustn’t talk like that.’

‘What did Mum have to say about all this?’ asked Dan.

‘Not a lot really. I said I wanted to run away and find Auntie Doris, but she begged me not to. She’s really afraid of him.’

‘I know,’ said Dan.

Milly was deep in thought. They knew they couldn’t do anything about the situation. Not yet.

‘We’ll do somethink about it one of these days,’ said Billy, as if reading her thoughts.

Milly gave him a weak smile.

 

That night as Milly lay on the mattress looking at the red stains on the wall where the bed bugs had been squashed, in her imagination she could see patterns. She was trying hard to sleep but her thoughts kept returning to her mother. What if she did leave home and got a job so she could send money back to Ivy? That way her mother could lead a better life without the fear of the workhouse. But what sort of job could she get to earn that kind of money?

In the next room Ivy Ash was also awake, trying to think of ways to make life better. Why had Arthur turned out like this? Things had been so different all those years ago. Her sister was always coming to see them after they got married, and they would all laugh and joke together. Then, when Ivy was expecting Milly, Arthur began to change. She always thought it was something to do with her sister, but she could never find out what. When she asked Doris if she knew anything, she flew into a rage and had never been to see them since. Was Arthur angry about all the children he had to support? It wasn’t her fault that she kept having babies. If only she could stop. Many times she had been tempted to go and see the woman who was supposed to be able to help women like her, but she had been afraid her husband would kill her if he found out. In his strange way he always loved the babies when they were first born, but was that because he was proud of what he’d done?

He turned over. Please God, Ivy prayed silently. Don’t let him demand his rights again tonight. She was worried that she could find herself with yet another baby next year.

It was November the tenth and Milly’s birthday. Today she would be fourteen. Only her mother would wish her happy birthday. She had never had a present or cake. It must have been lovely to have a cake with candles on it.

Upstairs the Bookers were preparing to move out; they were going over the water to the Isle of Dogs. Her father was in a rage over it and everybody tried to keep out of his way.

‘How we gonna manage, Mum?’ asked Milly.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Please tell me where Auntie Doris lives so I can go and ask her for help.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why are you so proud?’

‘It’s a very long story. Besides, I don’t know where she lives.’

‘Do you think we might be able to get another lodger to help with the rent?’

‘I don’t know.’

Milly wanted to shake her mother. She just sat in her own world and seemed to have lost interest in all that was going on around her. Milly picked up Helen and tried to soothe her. She was such a poorly baby, who cried a lot. She knew she had to go out and get something for them to eat. She looked at little Iris, who was four and was sitting on the floor rocking backwards and forwards. She had sores round her mouth and was permanently wet.

‘Pammy, could you keep an eye on Helen for me? I must go and try and get some bread.’

Pammy, who was seven, looked up at her with her big blue eyes. ‘All right,’ she lisped as she wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand. ‘But don’t be too long.’

Milly wanted to cry. They were such a sorry-looking bunch. What would become of them all?

 

As she wandered round the market, like the other snotty-nosed kids Milly was looking for anything that got tossed away. There was so much poverty all around her, children without shoes and ragged hand-me-down clothes. She was miserable and so full of her own thoughts that she didn’t hear Jack calling her.

‘Blimey, you look down in the dumps. What’s up?’

With that Milly burst into tears.

‘ ’Ere, steady on. It can’t be that bad, can it?’

‘Today’s me birthday and I’m so miserable.’

‘I can see that. Look, hang about, and when I’ve packed up I’ll take yer fer a cuppa. How’s that sound?’

She gave him a tear-stained smile. ‘I wish I could, but I’ve gotta get back. The kids want their tea.’

‘Look, Mil, I know things are bad at home, but I’m sure it will be all right one day. You wait and see.’

As much as she wanted to stay with Jack, she knew she would have to go. ‘I’d better get on home.’ As she picked up the bag holding half a loaf, a few potatoes and some speckled apples, Jack put a few meatballs in a paper bag and tossed them in too. ‘Jack.’ She looked quickly around. ‘You mustn’t do that. You’ll get the sack.’

‘No, it’s all right. I’ll spin old Percy a line.’

‘I can’t take them.’ She held them out to him, but he grabbed her arm.

‘I said leave it. Call it a birthday present. Now go on.’

She walked away, then turned mouthing her thanks. Jack was such a nice boy. She really would like to go out with him. After the day they were supposed to go to the zoo, he said he’d waited an hour for her and was disappointed when she didn’t turn up. She never told him how her father had hit that day. She still winced at the thought.

E
ARLY ONE MORNING, two weeks after Milly’s birthday, Ivy Ash’s screams woke everybody. Milly lay terrified in the silence that followed. What had happened? Had her father hit her mother?

‘Milly, come in ’ere.’ Her father’s voice was harsh.

Slowly Milly pushed open their bedroom door. The gas had been lit and Milly could see her mother rocking backwards and forwards, clasping baby Helen. She looked up at Milly with a tear-stained face.

‘She’s gone. Our baby’s gone,’ she whispered.

Milly squatted down beside her mother and gently took Helen from her. She looked into the waxen face and kissed the blue lips. Somehow Helen was extra special to Milly.

‘Take ’er out of ’ere,’ said her father, who was seated with his back to them, his head in his hands. He looked up and added softly, ‘And wrap ’er in that bit o’ blanket.’

Milly looked at her father. Unless she was seeing things, there was a tear in his eye. Silently she wrapped Helen, who was very cold, in the blanket and left the room.

Billy and Dan were waiting in the passage.

‘What’s ’appened, Mil?’ asked Billy.

‘Helen’s dead,’ she said softly as they moved into the kitchen.

‘What happens now?’ asked Dan.

‘I don’t know,’ said Milly, still holding Helen close. She wanted to warm her and bring her back to life.

‘D’you wanna box or somefink to put her in?’ asked Billy.

Milly nodded as her tears fell on the small bundle.

Billy rushed from the kitchen and came back with a cardboard box. ‘We got this one yesterday.’ He placed it on the table.

Gently Milly placed the delicate baby inside and tucked the blanket round her, leaving her face exposed. She was standing looking at her when Pammy came in.

‘What’s Mum crying for?’ lisped the little girl.

‘Baby Helen.’

Pammy scrambled up on to a chair. ‘What’s she doing in this box? Come on you, wake up.’

‘Pammy, stop it,’ cried Milly, as her sister began shaking Helen.

Dan lifted Pammy down on to the floor.

‘Why don’t she wake up?’ she asked.

Billy took her hand. ‘Helen will never wake up again. She’s dead. She’s gone to be with Jesus.’

‘Oh. All right.’ With that, Pammy walked away.

It was then that their father walked into the room. ‘Take yer mother in a cuppa, Mil.’

‘I’ll go and get some wood to put on the fire,’ said Dan.

Milly walked slowly into the outhouse and filled the kettle. She shuddered. It was very cold. ‘What do we do now?’ she asked Dan, who was stuffing pieces of wood into the stove.

‘Dunno. He’ll have ter see ter things. Mum can’t, she ain’t bin out fer years.’

‘She’ll have to be buried.’

‘Me and Billy will make a cross.’

Milly gave her brother a half-smile.

When she took the tea in, she sat on the bed and gently shook her mother, who had her head buried in the pillow. ‘Mum, ’ere’s yer tea.’

Her mother raised her head, then slowly sat up. Her grey hair was a tangled mess and her dark eyes had almost sunk into their sockets.

‘How did it happen?’ Milly asked gently.

‘She been crying and . . . ’ Ivy stopped and brushed away her tears with the flat of her hand. ‘So I brought her in here with me.’ She let out a long, deep sob. ‘I didn’t know. She was so cold when I woke up. Milly, please help me.’

Milly put her arms round her mother and held her close. ‘Mum, you’ve got to look after the others. They need you as much as Helen did.’

‘I can’t.’ With that, she lay back down and covered her head.

Milly stood up and looked at the pathetic figure. ‘You must, Mum. I can’t do everythink.’

There was no reply.

‘Please, Mum.’

‘Go away.’

Milly was angry. How dare her mother leave her to do everything? She walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

It was bitterly cold as Arthur Ash, with just the eldest of his children, made his way to the cemetery. He carried Helen, who was in the cardboard box; Ivy Ash had refused to join them. Billy carried a spade. Dan carried the rough wooden cross he and Billy had made; they had burnt Helen’s name on it with the poker. Milly had managed to get some flowers. They weren’t very fresh, but they were all she could afford with the money she had from her sewing. Slowly they walked into the damp, misty graveyard. Their father had been to see the vicar, who had told them where Helen could be laid to rest. The ground was very hard as Billy and Dan took turns to dig the hole, and then, very carefully, their father placed Helen in it. Milly wanted to ask, was this where his other babies had been buried? She had tears running down her cheeks. She had never seen her father so gentle. Perhaps he did love his children in his own way. She placed the few pathetic flowers on the little mound. She had dearly loved this little girl who she had helped into the world, and she would never, ever forget her. The vicar said a short prayer and made the sign of the cross.