Strawberry Fields (45 page)
Yet despite the failure of her errand she realised, as she climbed aboard the tram, that she felt happier than she had done for days. The truth was she had decided to see her parents once more against her better judgement. Now, having tried and failed, she felt fully justified in not trying again. And since she’d not told anyone she was visiting Aigburth Road she would not have any explanations to make, either.
She had intended to go straight back to Florence Street, but she thought she might pop into Clarrie’s bank before seeing Gran again. Clarrie had said she’d put the word about that Sara was looking for a job and you never knew, she might have heard of something suitable already. It would be best to check, Sara decided, before getting the tram back into the city centre after lunch to start on the office bureaux.
So when she climbed down off the tram on Walton Road, Sara went straight to the bank. She went past the long counter with the clerks sitting behind the grilles and knocked on the door to the offices. After a short pause a girl opened it.
‘Can I help . . .’ she began, and then, recognising Sara: ‘Oh, hello, Miss Cordwainer; do you want to see Miss Boote?’
‘Yes, please,’ Sara said gratefully. ‘Can I come through?’
The girl led her through to the small office where Clarrie sat with three other secretaries. Clarrie finished rattling away on her typewriter and then stood up and came over to her friend.
‘How did your visit go?’ Clarrie asked and for a moment Sara wondered how she had found out about her trip to Aigburth Road. Then she remembered that she had told Clarrie she was going to see whether there were any jobs on offer in the office bureaux.
‘I’ve not been round the bureaux yet, to tell the truth. So rather than going into the city centre first, I’ve come here to see if you’ve heard of anything. You said you’d ask around amongst the Army . . . did you have any luck?’
Clarrie looked smug. ‘Maybe. Miss Marks had a word with Major Ellis and there
is
a job, though from what I understand it isn’t a permanent job, but it might tide you over. The major says it will probably last for six months or so. I know you’d rather have permanent work but the trouble is, everyone’s cutting down. So I won’t say any more, I’ll leave the major to tell you what’s on offer. He said he’d see you this evening, at the soup kitchen.’
is
a job, though from what I understand it isn’t a permanent job, but it might tide you over. The major says it will probably last for six months or so. I know you’d rather have permanent work but the trouble is, everyone’s cutting down. So I won’t say any more, I’ll leave the major to tell you what’s on offer. He said he’d see you this evening, at the soup kitchen.’
‘I hope it’s something I can do,’ Sara said. ‘Because the rent bill and the fuel bill and the food bill all turn up with great regularity, needing to be settled. I suppose I could have a try for shop work, but I’ve been out of it for rather a long while. Still . . .’
‘Cheer up,’ Clarrie said bracingly. ‘I think it’s work you might enjoy . . . but I did give my word not to talk about it until it’s been put to you. You haven’t told Mrs Prescott your job’s finished, I take it?’
‘No point in worrying her,’ Sara said. ‘She would worry, too, though she’d never let us know it. No, as you say, something will turn up.’
Walking along Walton Road in the direction of their flat however, Sara found herself wondering what on earth the job could be? The Army did employ people in large numbers, but she had not heard, on the grapevine, of a vacancy for a particular job, nor did she think that anyone had retired, or moved on, in the area. How will I wait until this evening to find out what it’s all about? she asked herself, hurrying along the pavement. She had intended visiting the office bureaux in the city centre but with the possibility of a job connected with the Army, would not such a visit be a waste of time? She had just decided to suggest to her grandmother that they should go for a walk in Stanley Park and leave the bureaux until next day, when someone hailed her.
‘Miss Cordwainer!
Just
the person I wanted to see!’
Just
the person I wanted to see!’
It was Major Ellis. He was a tall, commanding-looking man with a big white moustache, wavy white hair and very bright blue eyes. He approached Sara at a smart pace, then stopped and took both her hands in his.
‘Such excitement, Miss Cordwainer! Have you got a minute? Would you like a cup of coffee, or tea, or – or a bun or something?’
‘It’s awfully kind of you, Major,’ Sara said. ‘I gather you wanted to speak to me about the possibility of some work? Only Clarrie wouldn’t tell me anything, save that you wanted to talk to me. But she said there was no hurry; you’d see me this evening, at the soup kitchen.’
‘Yes, but since we’ve bumped into one another, what’s wrong with right now?’ the major said. ‘And – you aren’t hurrying off anywhere? – only if you’ve a moment I think we really should talk.’ He looked impatiently up and down the road. ‘Ah, Andrews’ Café – the very place.’ He took her arm. ‘Come with me, Miss Cordwainer – Andrews’ does delicious coffee and marvellous cakes!’
‘Do tell me what this is all about, Major,’ Sara begged as they hurried along the pavement. The major was clearly so anxious to get to the café that he was almost running and she, perforce, was almost running too since he had her elbow in a firm grip. ‘And do slow down, people will think you’re kidnapping me!’
‘So I shall, so I shall,’ the major said, mystifying Sara even more.
‘Such
news, Sara – just wait until I tell you!’
‘Such
news, Sara – just wait until I tell you!’
And at last, seated in Andrews’ Café with a pot of coffee and a plate of cream cakes before them, Sara discovered what it was all about.
‘Some time ago we had a bequest, Miss Cordwainer,’ the major said impressively. ‘A good, kind woman who wanted to do her bit for those less fortunate left us a mansion! Yes, a mansion, in the Woolton area of the city. She suggested in her will that it became either a children’s home or an eventide home, but we were able to do nothing until all the legal difficulties had been untangled.
‘Well, it has taken time, but we are now free to go ahead, and we’ve decided – in fact the feeling was unanimous – that we should open the place as a home for children. It’s ideal for them, it has wonderful grounds and is surrounded by countryside . . . ideal for kiddies. And there has been so much hardship amongst the young because of this Depression! We’ve done what we could, but we’ve not been able to put a roof over young heads. But now . . .’ he rubbed his hands, beaming all over his face, ‘ . . . but now, Miss Cordwainer, our opportunity has arisen and we shall seize it with both hands! Work on the new premises will start in a week or so.’
‘That’s marvellous, Major,’ Sara said warmly. She took a bite out of her cake. ‘Very good news. But – forgive me – I fail to see why you wanted to tell me!’
‘Why, because we’re going to need workers, Miss Cordwainer, hard workers! And at the meeting last night Miss Marks told us that she had been forced to ask for your resignation, which means, of course, that just at the present moment, you are not gainfully employed. Unless . . .’ he raised his eyebrows quizzically, ‘ . . . unless you’ve already obtained another position?’
‘Not yet, Major. Jobs are hard to find,’ Sara said regretfully. Because it was the school holidays, no one had really noticed her being out of work, but she was, of course.
‘Aha!’ the major said triumphantly. ‘Then would you consider working for the Army for six months or so? As you know, we have trained officers for the majority of our work, men and women who’ve been through the staff college, but this is a little different. The thing is, we need someone to oversee the changes and alterations which must be put in hand before we can open the house for destitute children. We want a person with practical experience of building matters and also someone who has been working with children and can advise on what will suit them best. A simple example is water closets – Miss Marks pointed out that for very young children a lower – er – position is more – er –’
‘I understand,’ Sara said quickly, smiling to herself. ‘But I know nothing about construction work, I’m afraid. Isn’t there someone who could do both, so to speak?’
‘Oh, didn’t I explain? Young Alderwood will oversee the builders, but he doesn’t feel in any way qualified to give advice on the
planning
of a home for young people. And once the house is altered and we open up, we would hope, Miss Cordwainer, that you might come on the staff of the home as someone to help with the children, to make them feel wanted, cherished. Miss Marks says you have a very nice way with young people, so who better than yourself for such a task?’
planning
of a home for young people. And once the house is altered and we open up, we would hope, Miss Cordwainer, that you might come on the staff of the home as someone to help with the children, to make them feel wanted, cherished. Miss Marks says you have a very nice way with young people, so who better than yourself for such a task?’
‘Well, Major, it s-sounds marvellous, but . . .’ Sara stammered, almost overcome. A job in a million – and one she would delight in! She liked Robert Alderwood too, though he was fifty if he was a day, but she supposed that to the major, a man in his late seventies, fifty
was
young. And she would be helping the very children she had long felt guiltiest over, children like the Carberys, who lived in miserable penury, victims of society rather than members of it. ‘If you think I could do the job . . .’
was
young. And she would be helping the very children she had long felt guiltiest over, children like the Carberys, who lived in miserable penury, victims of society rather than members of it. ‘If you think I could do the job . . .’
‘I’m sure you could. As you know, we pay a fair salary to our employees though we cannot, of course, afford to throw our money about. I realise you have to support your grandmother, however . . .’
The sum he named seemed fair to Sara. She smiled at him.
‘That would be fine, Major. When would I start?’
‘Well, we thought next Monday, if that was all right. Now, any other questions?’
‘Yes, one. Would I be expected to live on the premises whilst the alterations were in hand? Only as you know, my grandmother is crippled with arthritis and is in a wheelchair. Furthermore she has recently suffered a slight stroke. She could not possibly manage without my help.’
‘At first, the house will probably be uninhabitable, but once the work is finished you might be expected to live in, though it may not be necessary,’ the major said. ‘Later we’ll have a full-time matron, who will undoubtedly live in. At this stage, I’m not sure about the rest of the staff – but shall we cross that bridge when we come to it? Anything else?’
‘No, I can’t think of anything . . . oh, when can I see the house?’
‘Tomorrow morning, at nine o’clock. We’re all going to meet there, the Committee, yourself, young Alderwood and the head of the building firm which we hope will do the alterations. Is that all right? Can you join us at nine o’clock sharp?’
‘Oh,
yes,
’ Sara said at once, already looking forward to her first glimpse of this mansion. ‘Certainly I can. I’ll be there.’
yes,
’ Sara said at once, already looking forward to her first glimpse of this mansion. ‘Certainly I can. I’ll be there.’
‘Good, good.’ The major rose to his feet and Sara followed suit. ‘Now I must get on, I’ve a great deal to do.’
Sara and her companion left the café, and outside, the major shook her hand.
‘Until tomorrow, Miss Cordwainer,’ he said. He sketched a salute and was several yards away when Sara suddenly remembered something.
‘Major . . . wait! What’s this mansion called?’
The major turned back, smiling, slapping his brow.
‘I’ll forget my own head next,’ he said jovially. ‘Of course, I haven’t told you, have I? It’s on Beaconsfield Road, Miss Cordwainer, and it’s called Strawberry Field.’
Grace often wondered about the feller who had saved her life that night, but she didn’t think he could be alive, still. Which meant he was with Jess. Wish I’d had a chance to talk to him, she thought as she roamed the streets, searching for food. I could have asked him to tell Jess all sorts – that the baby never was found, just for a start. That I’m still alive and makin’ me way awright, as well. And that I think of her often – all the time, just about.
But that was daft thinking, because everyone knew you couldn’t get messages across to them that had passed on. It just weren’t possible. And the big man would have had other things than her sister on his mind as he approached the pearly gates. At least Grace imagined he would, though she knew herself to be ignorant about such matters. How could she be anything else? She had not attended school after she was seven or so; you had to have boots and decent clothes for school. She didn’t go to church much, either, for the same reason. The priest tutted when he saw small boys with their little bums sticking out of their kecks and small girls with no knickers under brief, ragged skirts, and sent them home with instructions to their parents to see that they were properly clothed in future. And that, of course, made her da angry. It were bad enough round their place in the ordinary way, but when her da was angry it quickly became not only unbearable but dangerous.
So Grace and the other Carbery young had simply slithered out of the educational and religious net and had not particularly worried over their lack. Grace had loved school, the quiet orderliness of it, the intriguing lessons, but she knew better than to annoy her da.
Almost two years ago, he’d killed their mam. Oh, he’d never swing for it like he deserved, Grace knew that, but he’d killed her, nevertheless. A drunken argument, a fist in the face at the top of the stairs . . . Grace had heard her mam hittin’ every step, just about, as she crashed down ’em. The scuffers were called – not by us, Grace thought, ashamed, but then they would have had to face their da after – and a doctor came with ’em. The doctor said Mrs Carbery had broken her neck in a fall and Mr Carbery, sobered by the mere sight of his wife with her head on at right-angles, said they’d been comin’ back after a night on the ale and she’d slipped on a piece of orange peel at the top of the flight. When all the fuss was over and they’d taken Mam off to the hospital mortuary he’d threatened the kids with the beating of their life and instant strangulation if any of them ever breathed a peep about what had really happened.
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