Lost & Found (3 page)

‘Why can’t you come home at weekends?’

‘’Cos we’re going to put in as much overtime as we can. The more hours we work, the more we’ll earn, and by the end of the contract Pete thinks we’ll have enough to buy a van and all the stuff we’ll need, mixers and such, to start up our own firm.’

Lily’s mind was racing. If Ron really did mean it this time, their lives would be transformed. He’d be able to go into partnership with Pete, and the
money would come rolling in…Oh, what was the matter with her? It was a silly dream. Ron would never give up gambling—years of broken promises were enough to prove that. ‘It’s all pie in the sky,’ she snapped. ‘As soon as you get your first pay packet you’ll be down the dog track.’

‘Ah, that’s just it. I won’t be able to. There’s no greyhound racing in Bracknell.’

For a moment, Lily dared to believe that Ron could change, but then common sense prevailed. ‘You’d find a track somewhere, or something else to gamble on. It’s a sickness with you, Ron, and you know it.’

‘Yes, but this time I really do want the cure. Pete and me will be in the same accommodation and if I’m tempted he’ll keep me on the straight and narrow, you’ll see.’

‘So you say, but I won’t be there to see it. You could be up to anything and I wouldn’t know.’

‘All right, you don’t trust me and I can understand that, but surely you trust Pete?’

‘Yes, he’s a good bloke, but he ain’t your keeper. If you really want to give up gambling, it’s down to you.’

‘Lily, I promise you, cross my heart and hope to die, I really am going to make it this time,’ Ron said as he stood up to pull her into his arms again. ‘I don’t deserve you, I know that, but I’ll make you proud this time.’

Once again his lips caressed her neck, and this time Lily didn’t pull away. Ron lifted her up with ease, cupping her legs in his arms as he carried her upstairs.

Mavis was so tired, her feet throbbing and the pram three-quarters full as she knocked on the last door in the street. The houses were large, with several steps leading up to the front doors, but she’d had many shut in her face. She’d also narrowly avoided a copper on his beat by diving out of sight. If she got a few things from this last house, with any luck she could make her way home. Mavis waited, fingers crossed, and when the door opened, she found herself confronted by a wizened old woman bundled up in what looked like several jumpers and a cardigan.

Blimey, Mavis thought, she looks scruffier than me but, taking a deep breath, she said politely, ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but have you got any household items or clothes that you want to get rid of?’

‘Get rid of! Do you mean sell them to you?’

Mavis told the usual lie, the one her mother had advised. ‘Oh, no, I don’t want to buy anything.
I’m collecting for charity, stuff to pass on to the Salvation Army.’

‘I see,’ the tiny woman said. ‘In that case, you’d better come in and I’ll see what I can find.’

It was unusual to be invited in, but Mavis followed her into the house, along a hall and into a living room. There was no fire burning in the huge grate; the room was freezing, and she saw an old quilt draped over a chair that had been pushed to one side. Was that all she had for warmth? The room was huge, but with wallpaper peeling and an absence of any pictures or ornaments, it felt bleak.

‘I haven’t got much, my dear, but perhaps these candlesticks,’ the woman said as she reached up to remove them from the mantelpiece, handing them to Mavis.

They weren’t very large, blackened, and it was no wonder she hadn’t noticed them, Mavis thought, as she took them from the woman’s hands. She saw the marks through the grime but, after another swift look around the dismal room, Mavis quickly handed them back. This might be a large house, the outside appearance one of wealth, but even her small home in Cullen Street had a little more comfort. ‘No, no, I can’t take these. I’m sure they’re made of silver.’

‘Really? Are you sure?’

Mavis couldn’t decipher the symbols, but knew
what they were called. ‘Yes, look, you can just about see the hallmarks.’

‘Oh, dear, in that case I’m afraid I can’t give them to you. They’re saleable, but surely I can find something for the Salvation Army. Let’s have a look in the kitchen.’

Once again Mavis followed the old woman, but found the kitchen as austere as the living room. Oh, this was dreadful, she thought. The poor woman must be penniless to live like this. Cupboards were opened, most almost empty, including the pantry. Once again Mavis was swamped with guilt. She had lied to the woman and now all she wanted was to get away. ‘It’s all right. It doesn’t matter. I’ve collected loads of stuff already and I really must go now.’

‘But it’s such a worthy cause and I’d like to help,’ the woman insisted, pulling something from a bottom cupboard. ‘What about this?’

Mavis carefully took the china biscuit barrel, its metal lid black with dirt. ‘Thank you. This is fine and more than enough,’ she said. Before the old lady could protest, Mavis fled the kitchen, ran down the hall, pulling the front door closed behind her before almost skidding down the few stairs and onto the pavement.

Full pram or not, Mavis just wanted to go home. She had looked with envy at the large houses, imagined the luxurious interiors, but seeing inside
one was a revelation. That poor old woman had nothing, yet was still prepared to donate something to charity.

Mavis put the biscuit barrel in the pram. And then, deciding to risk her mother’s wrath that the pram wasn’t full, she started the long walk home. Oh, if only she didn’t have to do this. If only she could find a job when she left school, but, as her mother always pointed out, nobody in their right mind would employ her. Downcast, she trudged along, worn out and hungry by the time she reached Cullen Street.

Lily was feeling warm and mellow. After making love they had come downstairs again and now Ron was sitting by the fire, his feet on the surround, talking so enthusiastically about his plans that Lily was beginning to feel that he really could make it this time.

The back door opened and Mavis walked in, smiling with delight when she saw her father. ‘Hello, Dad.’

‘How’s my girl?’

‘So, you’re back,’ Lily interrupted. ‘Let’s see how you got on.’

‘The pram isn’t full.’

‘I told you not to come home until it was.’

‘Lily, leave it out,’ Ron protested. ‘You shouldn’t send her out tramping the streets; she looks frozen.’

Lily’s good mood vanished. How dare Ron
criticise her? Hands on hips, she spat, ‘The fact that Mavis has to go out scrounging is down to you, Ron, not me. You blow your money every week, leaving me to somehow find the rent, let alone food. I
have
to send Mavis out. If I didn’t, we’d bloody well starve.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry, love,’ Ron said ruefully. ‘I know you do your best, but things really are going to change.’

‘Huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.’ And with that Lily marched out to the yard. She rummaged through the pram, relieved to see that Mavis hadn’t broken anything, and saw a few things that would show a bit of profit. She could have done with more. It was just as well she had other plans now, but then, seeing what looked like a half-decent biscuit barrel, Lily felt a surge of pleasure, her bad mood lifting as she gave it a closer inspection. The rest of the stuff could wait until later, and Lily threw a cover over the pram in case of rain.

Mavis was sitting by the fire when Lily went back inside, smiling happily to be with her father. ‘You did all right, and this is a really good find,’ Lily said, holding up the biscuit barrel. ‘If I’m not mistaken, it could be antique and the lid’s silver.’

‘Oh, no! I’ll have to take it back.’

‘Take it back! Are you mad?’

‘But, Mum, the old lady who gave it to me lives
in this big house, but she’s really poor. I only took it because I didn’t think it was worth anything.’

‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this. If it hasn’t escaped your notice, you daft cow, we’re poor too.’

‘But she didn’t even have a fire going and there was hardly any food in her pantry.’

‘Oh, and I’ve got a lot in mine, have I?’ Lily said sarcastically. ‘We’re so well off that all we’ve got for dinner is a bit of bubble and squeak.’

‘Things are gonna get better, love, you know that,’ Ron cajoled.

‘Yeah, so you say.’

‘Lily, I promise, you’ll get five pounds a week without fail.’

‘Five quid! From what you said, you’ll be earning nearly three times that.’

‘Does that mean I can return the biscuit barrel?’ Mavis asked eagerly.

‘No, you bloody well can’t! What your dad’s talking about may never happen. In the meantime, if we want to eat tomorrow, I’ll need to sell this, and fast. In fact, you can have a go at cleaning it up while I’m cooking dinner.’ Lily kept her expression stern and thankfully there were no further protests from Mavis. ‘I know what a clumsy cow you are, so just polish the lid. Use a soft cloth. I don’t want to see any scratches.’

While Mavis did her bidding, Lily started on their dinner, unable to help doing a mental
calculation as she worked. If she really did get five quid a week from Ron, for the first time in years he’d be giving her decent money. She flicked a glance at her husband, saw that he had dozed off, and her expression hardened. What was the matter with her? Of course it wouldn’t happen. She couldn’t rely on Ron. As always, he’d let her down again. Still, she had the biscuit barrel and it would fetch a fair few bob, and with Mavis earning more from cleaning when she left school, things were starting to look up.

Mavis couldn’t stop her mouth from salivating. She’d eaten her bread and dripping at midday and now the smell of her mother’s cooking made her stomach growl with hunger. Oh, no, she’d forgotten to get jellied eels for Granny Doris! Tomorrow, she’d get them tomorrow. Her gran was sure to understand.

Gingerly Mavis picked up the ceramic biscuit barrel, and under the grime she could just about see a circle of black ponies, along with a pretty blue border top and bottom. She took off the lid, polishing it carefully, pleased to see how it began to gleam. While she worked, Mavis was unable to stop stealing glances at her father. As she’d hoped, he was home, and if he didn’t go out again that evening it would be wonderful.

Ten minutes later, when Mavis thought the lid
was shiny enough to please her mother, she said, ‘Look, Mum, what do you think?’

‘Yeah, very nice,’ Lily said, her eyes squinting to see the hallmark. ‘I don’t know much about date letters, but I think it’s early.’ She then put the lid down to pick up the barrel and, upending it, she pointed out the maker’s mark on the bottom. ‘Look at that, it’s Royal Doulton. Well done, girl, it’s as I thought. This is worth a good few bob.’

It was rare that Mavis received praise from her mother, and though unable to return the barrel, she couldn’t help feeling a glow of pleasure. At least she hadn’t accepted the silver candlesticks, Mavis thought, assuaging her guilt.

‘Right, dinner’s ready so lay the table,’ her mum then ordered as she placed the barrel carefully on the dresser. ‘Ron! Ron, come on, wake up.’

Mavis quickly placed cutlery on the table, smiling when her mother spoke kindly again. ‘Look at him, out for the count. I’ve a good mind to leave him like that and it’ll be all the more bubble and squeak for us.’

‘I heard that,’ he said, stretching his arms before standing up. He then kissed Lily on the cheek and smiled cheekily. ‘Come on, woman. Feed me.’

‘I’ll do more than feed you if you ain’t careful.’

‘Is that a threat or a promise?’ he asked, winking at Mavis as he took a seat at the table.

Oh, this was so nice, Mavis thought. Her mother
was in a good mood again, her father cracking jokes, and she wished it could always be like this. Mavis then saw her mother holding out two plates.

‘Be careful giving this to hungry guts,’ she said. ‘Don’t drop it, and that one’s yours.’

‘How’s my girl then?’ Ron asked again as Mavis carefully placed his dinner in front of him.

‘I’m all right, Dad,’ she said, loving the way her father called her his girl. She sat down to eat, the food rapidly disappearing off her plate. They were all quiet while they ate, but as Mavis finished her last mouthful her mother spoke once again.

‘Right, Mavis. You’ve finished your dinner so get yourself round to Edith Pugh’s house. You’ll be working for her after school tomorrow and she wants to show you your so-called duties.’

‘Mrs Pugh? I…I’ll be working for her?’ Mavis stammered. ‘But…but what does she want me to do?’

‘From what she said, a bit of cleaning, and you can get that look off your face. You ain’t fit for much, even domestic work, but the woman thinks she can train you.’

‘Lily, there’s no need to talk to her like that.’

‘Go on, jump to her defence as usual. I’m the one who has to feed her, clothe her, and do you think I like it that my daughter can’t do even the simplest tasks? Mavis will bring in a few bob for a bit of cleaning, which is more than I can say for you.’

Mavis hung her head. Things were back to normal between her parents, but nevertheless her thoughts raced. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to work for Mrs Pugh, yet surely it was better than taking the pram out? But would her mother expect her to do that too? ‘What about stock—the pram?’

‘That depends on your father. If he’s true to his word, which I doubt, and sends me five quid a week, we can knock it on the head. If he doesn’t, well, you’ll have to keep finding me stock.’

Mavis suddenly latched on to her mother’s words. ‘Send it. What does that mean? Won’t you be here, Dad?’

‘No, from tomorrow I’ll be working away. I’ll have to pay a bit for lodgings, but your mother will get her money.’

‘Yeah, and pigs might fly.’

‘I’ll make you eat your words, Lily. You’ll see.’

Before her mother could respond again, Mavis hastily broke in, ‘Will you be away for a long time, Dad?’

‘I’m afraid so, love, at least six months, maybe more, but it’s for a good cause.’

‘Oh, Dad…’

‘Mavis, that’s enough. I said get yourself round to Edith Pugh’s. Now!’

Desolately, Mavis pushed her chair back. She knew better than to argue with her mother, and now the only person who ever came to her defence
was leaving—and from what he said, for a long time. Mavis took her coat from the hook, unable to help blurting out as she shrugged it on, ‘Dad, please don’t go.’

‘I’ve got to, love. It’ll be the making of us, you’ll see, and when I come back things are going to be different. I’ll have me own business, making a packet, and your mother will never have to work again.’

Mavis saw the look of derision on her mother’s face and, like her, doubted it was true. She knew her father was a gambler, had heard so many rows, followed by his promises—ones that he never kept. Yet she loved her dad, dreaded him leaving, and tears stung her eyes as she stepped outside. What would happen to her now?