The Lodger (21 page)

‘Oh, lor',' said Trary. ‘Well, I was all overcome, and he was talkin'. It's not easy for a girl to think straight when she's overcome and bein' talked to as well. I'll ask him tomorrow.'

Maggie picked her purse off the mantelpiece. She opened it and took out a sixpence, which she handed to Trary. ‘There, you could buy a nice hankie with that, love,' she said.

‘Mum, you can't afford givin' out sixpences,' protested Trary, ‘and I don't need a new hankie.'

‘A boy's hankie,' said Maggie. ‘Bobby's a nice boy.'

‘Can't she just give 'im a kiss?' asked Meg.

‘Mum, 'is muvver give Trary the frock,' said Lily.

‘She didn't give me one,' said Daisy.

‘Mum, a whole sixpence,' said Trary.

‘Well, we've got a bit of money still,' said Maggie, sure that the frock had been Bobby's gift to her daughter.

‘All right,' said Trary, ‘I'll buy a hankie in me dinnertime tomorrow.'

Mr Bates, having come home early from his business calls, was invited by Maggie to have tea with them again. It was a simple mid-week repast of poached eggs (cracked ones) on thick slices of toast. Mr Bates said he'd ate like a lord in the City, that he'd just like to share the pot of tea with them. As usual, he brought himself like a fresh, healthy breeze to the table, and took only a little time to arouse giggles in the younger girls. And Maggie kept smiling at some of his remarks, which didn't please Trary a bit. Nor did the fact that their lodger was now very much at home with the family. Trary regarded that as interfering with Mr Bradshaw's place in the family affections. That was how she saw it.

Mr Bates, having told a joke, brought laughter from the girls and from Maggie too. Trary remained aloof. Oh, blow him, she thought.

‘You ain't 'alf comic, mister,' said Meg.

It had been a soppy joke to Trary. She was sure Mr Bradshaw wouldn't tell soppy jokes. Nor would her talking boy. Thank goodness. She'd have to tell him to depart from her life if he ever got soppy.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Emma thought the girl utterly sweet, despite the shabby look of her boater and her obvious need of a new school frock. It was twelve-fifteen, she wasn't due to finish till one o'clock, and as there were no other customers at her counter for the moment, she was willing to let the girl take her time.

‘I've never bought a hankie for a boy before,' Trary was saying. The superior look of this department in Hurlocks the drapers did not intimidate her. She liked shops with a superior look. ‘My mum thought I should because – well, it's – '

‘It's his birthday?' smiled Emma.

‘Birthday? Oh, lor', I hope not,' said Trary, ‘he's already had sixteen, and if he has another one, he'll start orderin' people about. I mean, even at sixteen he talks to me as if I'm still in my cradle. Still, he's quite kind, so I'm buying 'im a hankie.' She frowned at dropping an aitch in the superior atmosphere of Hurlocks. ‘I can pay sixpence.'

‘We can sell you a lovely hankie for sixpence,' said Emma. ‘Fivepence-three-farthings, actually.'

‘Oh, what sort of a one could you sell for fourpence, please?'

‘At threepence-three-farthings, quite a nice one,' said Emma.

‘Could you really?' Trary's bright eyes grew brighter. She could take tuppence-farthing change back to her mum. ‘Oh, it's not that I want to be mingy, only – '

‘I'll show you,' said Emma. She reached under the counter and brought out a drawer containing pristine-white men's handkerchieves, with finely stitched hems.

‘Oh, he could blow his nose quite good on one of those,' said Trary. ‘Not that he blows his nose much, but he might if he caught a cold. Would one of those be all right as a present for a boy?'

‘I'm sure it would,' said Emma. ‘I'm sure it would fit any boy's nose. They're men's hankies.'

‘Help,' said Trary, ‘if I give him a man's hankie, he'll think more of himself than he does already. He'll get so problematical he'll have to see a doctor.'

‘Pardon?' said Emma, enchanted.

‘Yes, it could be awf'lly worrying,' said Trary. ‘Still, could you please wrap the hankie up for me?'

‘I've a little flat box that's going spare,' said Emma. ‘Shall I put it in that, and then in one of our little striped paper bags?'

‘That's ever so kind of you,' said Trary. When her purchase was placed in her hand and she had received tuppence-farthing change from her sixpence, she said, ‘Thanks ever so much.'

‘It's been a pleasure,' said Emma, ‘do come again.'

‘Oh, I will,' said Trary, ‘when I've got a job. I'll come an' do lots of shoppin' here. Goodbye.'

‘Goodbye,' said Emma, sorry to see her go.

When she got home after one o'clock, she scanned her daily paper for news of what progress the police were making in the murder investigation. She thought the content of the report rather suggested they were making no progress at all. But at least Sergeant Chamberlain, that quite dry Scotland Yard man, had found no further excuse to call on her. He would, of course, in time. One simply knew he would. Oh, dear.

Trary came out through the school gate and looked around for Bobby. He wasn't there. There were groups of chattering girls and boys, but no Bobby. Jane Atkins was nearby, and giving her a sly smile, of course.

‘Hasn't he come, Trary?'

‘Who?'

‘That cheeky-looking boy with the long legs.'

‘Blessed if I know who you mean,' said Trary, and escaped not only Jane but advancing boys as well. Hurrying round the corner into St George's Road, she came face to face with Bobby. ‘Well, thank goodness,' she said, ‘I thought you'd gone to your doom. And your cap's nearly fallin' off.'

Bobby pulled his cap forward from the back of his head, his grin showing.

‘Glad to hear you're in form, Trary,' he said.

‘Well, come on,' she said, ‘or we'll get drowned by the mob.' She began to walk in her quick, bobbing way, with Bobby striding beside her. The afternoon was cloudy, the traffic smelling of labouring horses. Noisy, clanging trams demanded the right of way down the centre of the road. ‘Bobby, the frock's awf'lly nice, honest it is, and it fits perfect. I've written a note to your mum, it's to thank her for bein' so kind. Oh, and look, this is for you.' She drew the note and the boxed hankie out of her satchel, and gave them to him. Bobby slipped the note into his pocket. He peered into the little striped drapery bag. He saw a flat white box.

‘What's this?' he asked.

‘I told you, it's for you,' said Trary.

Bobby discovered what the little box contained. ‘Well, blow me,' he said, ‘this is for me?'

‘Mum said you're nice.'

‘I like her too,' said Bobby, ‘but I don't know I deserve a new 'ankie.' He was touched, of course, especially as he knew how poor Trary and her family were. ‘And I don't know I ever 'ad any hankie as good-lookin' as this one. Trary, yer a lovely girl, I'm goin' to take really good care of you, I'm goin' to 'elp your mum see you grow up the best girl ever. It's chronic 'ard luck you haven't got a dad, but I'll be around.'

‘Here we go,' said Trary, exhilarated, ‘now he's goin' to be a talkin' father to me. Anyone would think he was forty, not just sixteen.'

An approaching woman stopped, ‘You talkin' to me, young lady?' she asked.

‘Oh, no, really I'm not,' said Trary earnestly, ‘I was sort of addressin' the multitude at large.'

The woman peered at her from under her large hat, then spoke to Bobby, ‘'Ere, Sonny Jim, you better keep an eye on this girl, she's orf her rocker, poor thing.'

‘I'll do that, missus,' said Bobby, ‘I'll keep an eye on her, I promise.'

‘That's a good boy,' said the woman, and went on.

‘What a funny woman,' said Trary. ‘Well, come on, Dad, don't let's stand about.' She and Bobby walked on, Bobby's grin huge. ‘I mean, if you want to be a father to me, how can I stop you? I don't know that anyone could stop you when your mind's made up, I'm sure you could talk them all to death.'

‘Yes, when me mind's made up, I'm remorseless,' said Bobby, and Trary gave a tight little yell of disgust. He'd done it again. Again. Remorseless. ‘Trary, have you got a pain?' he asked.

‘Yes, a shockin' one,' said Trary. ‘Remorseless, ugh, what a conceited word. I wish you wouldn't keep showin' off, Bobby Reeves. Oh, I brought the pawn tickets.'

‘That's the stuff,' said Bobby, ‘and I've brought some dibs. What'll you tell yer mum?'

‘Oh, she won't like me borrowin' from you, so I'll say the money came out of some savings. I won't say your savings, just savings. Well, I don't like tellin' her actual fibs. Bobby, thanks ever so. As soon as Mum can afford it, she's goin' to buy me some nice stockings to go with the frock.'

‘I'll bring you some stockings,' said Bobby.

‘You'd better not.' They were approaching the familiar subway. ‘Only fast boys give girls stockings, and only fast girls take them.'

‘A pair of old stockings is fast?' said Bobby.

‘Cheek, I don't want old stockings.'

‘I didn't mean old-lookin'. My mum'll sort you out a nice pair now she calls you special.'

‘I've been to her stall with mum,' said Trary, ‘but I don't suppose she really knows me, so why does she call me special?'

‘Because I told 'er you were.' They descended the subway steps. ‘We'll go to the pawnshop first, Trary, then I'll take you 'ome and have a look at your legs.'

Trary nearly fell over. In this day and age, it was obvious that young girls had legs. Calf-length frocks showed they had. But when they became young women, their legs at once disappeared beneath long skirts and petticoats, never to be seen again.

‘You'll do what, Bobby Reeves?'

‘It's only to make sure about the stockings. I'm good at sizin' up regardin' clothes and things.'

Trary was sure she shouldn't ask, but did. ‘What things?' she demanded.

‘You know,' said Bobby, ‘stockings and lacy stuff.'

‘I'll die if I keep listening to you, Bobby Reeves.'

‘I hope yer won't, Trary, I'd miss you something rotten.' They ascended steps. ‘It's just that I'd want the stockings to fit you decent.'

‘You cheeky beast,' said Trary, ‘show you my legs? You've got a hope.'

‘It's only legs,' said Bobby, keeping his face straight.

‘Only, only?' Trary was springing along in the cloudy May light, her pigtails darting about to keep up with her. ‘My legs aren't only, they're mine and they're private. D'you go round askin' other girls to show you their legs?'

‘Well, no, not often I don't, you can get a cripplin' answer. I've learned some painful lessons, I can tell you.'

‘You'll learn another one if you're not careful,' said Trary. They dodged round oncoming people.

‘All right, I'll just guess about stocking size for you,' said Bobby. ‘I'm not a bad guesser, and it'll 'elp me mum sort you out a nice pair that'll fit.'

‘Bobby, your mum can't keep givin' me things.'

‘She wouldn't if you weren't special,' said Bobby.

‘Oh, I just remembered,' said Trary, ‘would you like to come to tea on Sunday?'

‘You bet,' said Bobby, ‘only I can't, not Sunday, we're goin' to see Aunt Ada and Uncle Joe. Aunt Ada come round this mornin' to invite us.'

Oh, blow, thought Trary. She should have asked him yesterday.

Mr Amos, the pawnbroker, had wrinkles all over his face, and he had a hundred more when he broke into a smile, which he did when he handed Trary the Sunday tablecloth and Maggie's best tea service in exchange for the sum of three shillings and ninepence, which included the due interest.

‘Thanks, Mr Amos,' said Trary.

‘Thank
you,
my pretty.' Mr Amos peered at Bobby. ‘At your age, you have a young man?' he asked Trary.

‘Oh, he's just a talkin' friend,' she said.

‘That is a new fashion, to have a talking friend?'

‘Well, he can carry boxes on his head as well, Mr Amos,' said Trary, and Bobby walked her home with a stout cardboard box containing the tea service on his head. Trary had fits, but Bobby kept one hand on his burden. She said he looked daft, walking through the streets like that. Bobby said the only daft thing about it was that it was flattening his head.

Maggie was astonished when the young couple arrived with the redeemed items. Trary said she'd used money out of savings. Maggie looked at her, then at Bobby. Bobby smiled and said, ‘Nice to see you again, Mrs Wilson.'

‘Bobby,' she said, ‘what've you an' Trary been up to?'

‘I just went with her to the pawn, Mrs Wilson, that's all.'

‘Trary,' she said, ‘you sure that money came out of savings?'

‘Honest, Mum, it did.'

‘I didn't know you had savings.'

‘I fink I've got savings,' said Daisy. ‘I fink I've got two farvings in a shoe.'

‘I ain't even got one,' said Lily.

‘I don't know what money looks like meself, not even farthings,' said Meg.

‘I've been like that more times than I like to think about,' said Bobby, ‘but there's a silver linin' somewhere around for some of us. Look, 'ere's a bit of a silver linin', even if it is only a tiddler.' He produced a threepenny bit from his pocket. ‘That's a penny each. Who's oldest?'

‘Me,' said Meg.

‘Well, you take it, Meg, and get it changed for a penny each,' said Bobby. ‘I've 'ad a lucky day meself, a new hankie from yer sister Trary.'

Maggie thought what a nice natural boy he was, so much so that it made her forget she wanted to ask him just how the tablecloth and tea service came to be redeemed.