Poor Little Rich Girl (35 page)

‘Never mind that; I got everything we agreed,’ Hester said, lowering her voice. ‘Eileen, did you
mean
what you told me this morning? About – about the reason for you wanting a new coat? Only you’ve never said a word before and I was wondering … were you joking, Eileen? Only it didn’t sound like a joke.’

‘It weren’t a joke,’ Eileen assured her, with a rather hunted look towards the door which led into the shop. ‘I’ve not telled anybody yet, because when I do, horrible things will happen. Very likely the Maskells will kick me out and they won’t want me here, not once I begin to show. I didn’t mean to tell anyone, only it just sort of popped out. I could ha’ bit me tongue out when I heard me voice tellin’ you, but o’ course it were too late. Oh, Hes, wharrever am I goin’ to do?’

‘I simply can’t advise you,’ Hester said slowly. ‘I’ve only been in this country a year, so I don’t really know how things work. But – forgive me, Eileen – isn’t it usual to get married when you find … when you find …’

‘That’d be all right for some, but the feller in question is married already. Remember I told you how I worked in a hotel when I first come to the city? Well, I were a chambermaid and he were one of the under managers. I guess he thought I were one of the perks of the job,’ she added bitterly, ‘and not only me, neither. One of the other chambermaids telled me … but never mind that. He were married anyway, wi’ a couple o’ kids, and I hated him. He were a horrible little man, with poppin’ blue eyes and a loose, wet mouth. I promise you, Hester, I only give way once … oh, how I wish I hadn’t!’

‘If you hated him so much, wouldn’t it have been possible to – to stop the baby coming?’ Hester asked cautiously. The trouble was she knew so little about such things; only remembered hearing Mollie talking, in a hushed voice, about a pal of hers who had got into trouble and had gone to a back-street doctor who had, as Mollie put it, ‘seen her right’.

‘An abortion, you mean?’ Eileen said. She both looked and sounded shocked that such a thought should have crossed her friend’s mind. ‘Oh, I couldn’t. It’d be eternal damnation, for a start, and if me dad ever found out he’d beat me within an inch of me life.’

‘I thought your mum and dad were dead?’ Hester said suspiciously. ‘I’m sure you told me you were an orphan.’

‘Did I?’ Eileen said, looking vague. ‘Well, I might as well be an orphan. Me dad remarried six months after me mam died and I haven’t been back home since his new wife moved in, nor I shan’t go back now, norrin this state.’ She pointed significantly to her stomach.

‘But what’ll you do, Eileen?’ Hester almost wailed. ‘When folk find out, you’ll have to do something, you
can’t just live on the street. What about going to one of those places where they look after – after girls who get into trouble? Then you could have the baby adopted and no one any the wiser. That is, if you leave before folk find out.’

‘They say those places are awful,’ Eileen said apprehensively. She’d pulled a strand of her fluffy, light-brown hair across her mouth and began to chew it nervously. ‘I don’t want to go in a place like that until the very last moment, if then. Oh, Hes, I’m savin’ up every penny I can spare, but I don’t think it’ll be enough to keep me between folk finding out and the baby bein’ born. As for adoption, there’s loads of people who’ll arrange that for you, I’m told.’ She pulled the hair out of her mouth and jumped to her feet. ‘Lor’ luv us, I’ll forget me own head next! I promised you a cuppa and all you’ve had is me worries. To tell you the truth, Hester, they say there’s nothin’ like sharin’ your troubles and we’ve just proved it’s true. I feel as if a great weight has been lifted off me mind. Two heads is better than one, they say, so if we both think as hard as we can, mebbe we’ll work somethin’ out.’

Hester, sipping her tea, hoped that her friend was right and that the knotty problem would soon be solved, but secretly she doubted it. Glancing at Eileen’s wide hips, however, she told herself that her friend might be one of those people who don’t show that they are pregnant until the very last moment. Before she left, therefore, she put the question uppermost in her mind. ‘How far gone are you, Eileen?’ she asked. ‘If it was only once … well, you should have a pretty good idea of the date the baby will come, shouldn’t you?’

‘Oh, I think I’m about five months gone, or maybe a
bit less, so I’ve another four months or so to go, which will make it towards the end of August,’ Eileen said vaguely, after a moment’s thought. ‘An’ I don’t show yet, do I? I think, meself, that I’ve gorranother month, or mebbe two, before folk will start talkin’.’

Hester looked thoughtfully at her friend. It was true that Eileen was not showing at all yet, so far as she could see. Of course, she reasoned, I never knew her before she was in the family way so I suppose I’m no judge; but if she’s careful … if she buys clothes that are a bit too big for her … why, there’s no reason for anyone to suspect. Not for a while, anyway.

She said as much to Eileen, who heaved a deep sigh. ‘Will you come shoppin’ wi’ me then, after work?’ she asked hopefully. ‘I put a bit o’ cash aside each week, and I sell the stuff what I’ve growed out of, so I can afford some different skirts an’ that. If you’re wi’ me you can tell me which blouses an’ skirts an’ coats look best … hide me belly best, I should say.’

‘All right, I’ll come,’ Hester said. ‘But better make it tomorrow evening, because we’re cooking tonight. And incidentally, Eileen, if I’m to help you – and I’m happy to do so – then you must promise me one thing.’

‘What’s that?’ Eileen asked suspiciously. ‘If you mean to make me go back to me dad and that woman he’s bin an’ gone an’ wed …’

‘No indeed, that’s no business of mine, and anyway, I’m sure you know best,’ Hester said quickly. ‘No, what I want you to do is to come to cookery classes with me and Betsy. You’ll enjoy it, honestly you will; they sell us the ingredients extremely cheaply, and you’ll learn enough cookery to be able to
cope one day, when you’ve a home – and a husband – of your own.’

‘Oh! Well, I wouldn’t mind doin’ that,’ Eileen said at once. ‘When she were alive, me mam did all the cookin’, so us kids never gorra look in, but I’d like to have a try. After all, I’m that fond of me grub so learnin’ how to cook nice things is right up my street! When do I start?’

‘Next week,’ Hester said. ‘The new term starts for the cookery class next Tuesday evening. I’ll tell Betsy you’re going to come with us; she’s awfully nice, you’ll like her.’

Ten minutes later, back at Paris Modes once more, Hester found that she felt far happier about her friend. Despite her vagueness, her absent-mindedness, her woolly-headedness in fact, she thought that Eileen would probably weather the storm of pregnancy far better than some other more practical and level-headed person might have done. She realised she could not confide in Betsy but was pleasantly surprised by the other assistant’s easy acceptance of a third person to accompany them to their cookery lessons.

‘We’re already paired up, so she won’t be able to be with us for the practicals,’ she reminded Hester, for the girls cooked in pairs and then took it in turns to take home the dish they had prepared. ‘But there’s that poor fish, Fanny Ellis, just longing for a partner and having to manage alone most of the time. She’ll be right grateful that your pal’s decided to come along.’

‘Hey, Ben! Are you goin’ to the shop?’

Ben slowed in his tracks and glanced behind him, then nodded as the other boy drew level. It was
Meirion Hughes, who was in Ben’s class at his new school and who lived in the cottage nearest to the one the Baileys now rented. He was a short, stocky boy, dark-haired and dark-eyed, and he and Ben had always got along well. Usually they walked to school together in the mornings and returned home together at night, but this was Saturday so Ben, carrying a large linen bag in one hand, was off to the shops to do his mother’s messages. As the weather grew warmer, Ben’s initial longing for the city of his birth had begun to fade a little. There were advantages in country living. Birds-nesting was a new joy to him and fishing in streams and ponds to find tadpoles, sticklebacks and other such creatures was a novelty which did not pall.

On a Saturday morning, however, he could not help thinking, wistfully, of what his erstwhile pals would be doing in the city. There were the flicks, for a start. If you could get hold of a penny or two, you could join the crowd of youngsters outside the cinema of your choice and presently you would be in another world. Cowboys and Indians, Laurel and Hardy, the adventures of Lassie, would transport you. All your troubles would be forgotten and for two noisy, sweet-sucking hours you were just one of the crowd.

But there was no cinema in Bwlchgwyn, and you could not skip a lecky and go rattling along the road for free, bound for the delights of the Pier Head at low tide, when an adventurous lad could swing down from the floating road and become a mudlark for the afternoon. Nostalgically, Ben remembered objects which he had found in the mud, feeling for them with his bare toes: a cockle rake, an enamel mug with the ship’s name printed on the side, a golf ball (what
on earth was
that
doing there?) and a rather fine penny-whistle on which, when thoroughly cleaned, Ben was soon able to play many popular tunes.

There were other things he missed as well. Mr Madison’s pet shop was one of them. It had been nice to earn some money to help the family and even nicer to always have a few pence in his own pocket. He had soon grown really fond of the various animals Mr Madison sold and mourned the departure of each one when its new owner bore it off. True, there were animals in plenty in the countryside, but they were not easy to see and even more difficult to stroke. Rabbits were kept in some people’s back gardens, as were ferrets, and most houses had a dog or a cat, or perhaps both. But Ben acknowledged that his mother was right to refuse to keep a pet. Though no one ever talked about it openly, Ben supposed they all knew in their hearts that this country idyll would not last for ever. If his father got well enough to leave the sanatorium, then he supposed that the family would return to the city. He tried not to think of the alternatives but sometimes forced himself to do so in order that he might grow accustomed to the fact that his father was unlikely to be cured, even though he seemed more cheerful and had actually gained a little weight.

‘Ben? What’s on your shoppin’ list? My mam wants me to go down to Wrexham on the bus. She says meat is cheaper in the butcher’s market and I’m a half fare, so I’m cheaper too. If you could come an’ all, we might go to the cinema. My mam give me tuppence. D’you have any money?’

‘I could probably manage tuppence,’ Ben said cautiously. His heart had lifted at the mention of a visit to the pictures. ‘What’s on? Is it a cowboy?’

‘Dunno,’ Meirion said briefly. ‘Come on, Ben, tell me what’s on your list! If your mam wants a joint for Sunday, you might as well come with me into the town. My mam says meat is half the price down Wrexham.’

Ben sighed. If only Meirion had said something the previous day, he could have asked his mother to let him go into town with his friend. As it was, if he simply disappeared for three or four hours, she would not only be worried, she would be without the food which she had told him to buy. As they entered the long, winding village street, Ben began to explain that Meirion’s idea, though a good one, was impossible this week. ‘I dare say your mam would be real upset if you bobbied off to town wi’out a word to her,’ he observed. ‘Why didn’t you say something yesterday, Meirion? I do love two penn’orth of dark, but it just ain’t possible.’

Ahead of them, a bus drew to a halt and people began to climb down. Ben gave them a cursory glance, then looked more closely. ‘Dick! It’s our Dick! He must have got off work early! If he’ll do my messages and explain to our mam, then I’ll come wi’ you, Meirion. I’ll buy the joint in town because Mam won’t be wantin’ it till tomorrer.’ He grinned widely as his brother came rapidly towards them. ‘Hey up, Dickie! Why’s you here so early? Cammell Laird’s give you a day off, did they? Will you do me a favour?’

‘What a greeting!’ Dick said, rumpling his young brother’s hair. ‘I worked late three evenings this week to finish a fancy bureau for the captain’s cabin, so they give me time off in lieu. And why can’t you do your own messages, you idle young blighter?’

Ben explained briefly and Dick took the list and
read it through. ‘Mam wants all this lot for the weekend?’ he asked incredulously. ‘Where’s the shop, then?’

‘You’ll get it all from Mr Evans; I’m goin’ to get the meat, so you needn’t go on to the butcher,’ Ben said. ‘Me pal, Meirion – oh, I forgot to interdooce you – Meirion, this is me brother, Dick, Dick, this is me pal, Meirion.’ The two grinned at each other and Ben continued: ‘Meat’s a deal cheaper in Wrexham town, there’s a butcher’s market. So Meirion and I mean to buy the meat there and then go to the Majestic, to see their Saturday show.’

‘If you’re goin’ to get into town in time to see even the second half of the Saturday show, you’d best gerron the next bus,’ Dick said. He took the bag from his brother. ‘You’ll have to ask the butcher to wrap the joint up well ’cos I’ll need the bag to carry the rest of the messages.’ He fished around in his pocket and withdrew a sixpence. ‘Here, this is for you and your pal. Don’t go spendin’ it all in one shop. Where’s the messages money?’

Ben grinned and dug in his pockets, then handed over an assortment of small coins wrapped in what had once, no doubt, been a clean handkerchief. ‘That’s what our mam gave me for the whole lot,’ he explained. ‘I think she said a decent joint would cost the most, the rest is for veggies, flour, margarine … well, all the other things on the list.’ He felt it would be niggardly to point out that tuppence of the money had been his payment for getting the messages, particularly as Dick had stumped up so generously.