The Pearly Queen (15 page)

‘Well, that's fine,' said Mr Gibbs. ‘If you'd like to come every day, there's work for you for quite a while.'

‘Yes, and I'll help,' said Sophy.

‘I think not,' said Mrs Gibbs.

‘Mummy, you do fuss,' said Sophy.

‘It's just as well I do,' said Mrs Gibbs amid the enjoyable clatter of Bank Holiday tea, ‘someone has to make sure you stay alive.'

‘Well, I'll just tell him what to do,' said Sophy, ‘that's all.'

‘Your father will do that,' said Mrs Gibbs, and took fresh stock of Jimmy. Along with her husband, she liked the look of the boy. He had to be saved from Sophy. ‘Would you like to do the work?' she asked him.

‘I'm all for it, Mrs Gibbs,' said Jimmy.

‘I'll pay you, of course,' said Mr Gibbs.

‘How much, please?' asked Patsy, pleased for her brother but impulsively wanting to find out if he was going to be slave-driven.

‘How about four bob a day?' said Mr Gibbs.

‘Four bob a day?' said Jimmy. At this particular moment in his life, that sounded highly profitable.

‘Fair do's, I hope, Jimmy?' said Mr Gibbs.

‘I'll come tomorrow, on an early tram,' said Jimmy. ‘Patsy's on her school holidays, so I'll ask her if she can do the rounds of some firms for me, to see if there's any job on offer.'

‘Me do what?' said Patsy.

‘I like Patsy,' said Jimmy. ‘You could ask some sisters favours and all you'd get would be a poke in the eye. But Patsy's kind and obligin'.'

‘I can't remember she's obliged me,' said Betsy.

‘Yes, I 'ave,' said Patsy indignantly.

‘Yes, but not much,' said Betsy, and Mrs Gibbs laughed. She recognized the typical cockney liveliness of these two girls. Sophy was watching Jimmy, a little hint of wickedness in her eyes.

Dad and Aunt Edie entered the tea rooms and came over. Jimmy did the introductions, and Mrs Gibbs, of course, wondered about the presence of the boy's handsome aunt and the absence of his mother. Dad shook hands with Mr Gibbs, and Aunt Edie said hullo to Mrs Gibbs, who thought her large hat spectacular. Aunt Edie thought the single feather in Mrs Gibb's small hat very stylish, and she observed with interest the lady's daughter, the girl Jimmy had met in Rotten Row. My, what a poppet, Jimmy already knew how to pick them. With a name like Sophy too, just about the most teasing name a girl could have. Aunt Edie felt there was a very teasing minx behind the girl's demure look. And didn't Jimmy look at home. Mr and Mrs Gibbs were obviously well-off, but Jimmy was so cool anyone would have thought he mixed with rich people every day. Well, it took a lot to put Jimmy out of his stride. He was like his dad. Bless them all, thought Aunt Edie.

No-one quite knew the extent of Aunt Edie's affection for Jimmy and his sisters, or the contempt she felt for their mother's cranky self-indulgencies. Their dad, she felt, deserved a far more loving wife than Maud had become.

Mr Gibbs ordered more tea and fruit cake, and Aunt Edie and Dad joined the little party. Chatter chased itself around the table. Mrs Gibbs, who liked men in a sensible way, which meant she found them entertaining enough to overlook their faults, engaged Dad in conversation. Discovering he had served in the Army during the war, she told him that her twin sons had joined the regulars six months ago. Dad said he hoped they wouldn't run up against his old sergeant-major, who'd been known to eat recruits. Mrs Gibbs laughed. Dad said no laughing matter, it can be seriously painful. What was his sergeant-major's name, then? George Frederick Hobbs, said Dad. Mrs Gibbs said she'd write to her sons and ask them if that's the name of their sergeant-major. Well, said Dad, if it is, your letter might not arrive in time. There might only be bones left. Mrs Gibbs laughed again. Dad had already passed the test of being entertaining.

Aunt Edie was chatting with Mr Gibbs, and Sophy was doing her best to monopolize Jimmy. She asked him if he liked chopping trees down.

‘I'm choppin' them down all the time,' he said, ‘about fifty a day.'

‘That's a fib, no-one could chop down fifty a day,' said Sophy.

‘All right, say forty a day.'

‘What a fibber,' said Sophy, ‘you'd have to have hundreds of trees in your garden to chop down even ten a day.'

‘We only got a back yard,' said Betsy, ‘we don't 'ave no trees.'

‘No, well, I've chopped them all down,' said Jimmy.

‘How many did you have, then?' asked Sophy.

‘About a thousand,' said Jimmy.

‘Oh, you flabbergasting fibber,' said Sophy in delight.

‘You'd best not believe 'ardly anything my brother says,' advised Patsy.

‘How old is he?' asked Sophy.

‘About six or seven,' said Patsy.

‘Course 'e ain't,' said Betsy. ‘Jimmy's sixteen,' she added proudly. Well, small girls were proud when they had a sixteen-year-old brother who could flabbergast posh girls like this one.

‘I'm thirteen.' Sophy made an impressive declaration of her years, as if at that age she was already superior to the rest of civilization. ‘I'll help your brother when he comes to work for my father.'

‘I think your mum said you're not to,' remarked Patsy.

‘Oh, I shan't tell her,' said Sophy. ‘She gets the wind up as soon as I put my foot outside the door. I can't do anything with her sometimes. Is your mother like that?'

‘Well, sometimes she's a bit like it,' said Patsy cautiously.

‘Girls have awful problems with mothers,' said Sophy.

‘I heard that,' said Mrs Gibbs.

‘Well, that's jolly well not fair,' said Sophy, ‘you're not supposed to be listening when we're talking privately about parents.'

‘Oh, dear me, I am sorry,' said Mrs Gibbs drily.

‘I bet Jimmy's mother doesn't listen to private conversations,' said Sophy, ‘does she, Jimmy?'

‘Oh, we don't 'ave private conversations in our house,' said Jimmy. ‘You can't when you've got sisters that like to listen to everything.'

‘I like listenin',' said Betsy. ‘Dad says funny fings, don't you, Dad?'

‘Never mind what Dad says,' said Patsy, ‘listen to what that Jimmy's sayin', he's 'aving a go at us, Betsy.'

‘Shall we kick 'im?' asked Betsy ingenuously.

‘We can't, not now,' said Patsy, ‘we're in company.'

‘Don't mind us,' said Mr Gibbs, ‘go ahead.'

That aroused laughter. More conversation followed before the two families went their separate ways, Jimmy with the address of Sophy's parents tucked into his pocket and an animated goodbye from Sophy ringing in his ears.

‘That girl likes you, Jimmy,' said Patsy, as they made their way to the bus stop.

‘Not too much, I hope,' said Jimmy. ‘I've got a feelin' it could mean an early death. Well, from what her mum said it could.'

‘I think you'll win, Jimmy,' said Aunt Edie.

‘Made a conquest, 'ave you, Jimmy?' smiled Dad.

‘I never heard of any feller my age makin' a conquest,' said Jimmy. ‘And I don't know it would make sense to chase after a rich girl, anyway.'

‘I suppose there's other ways of makin' your fortune,' said Dad, ‘like findin' a goldmine.'

‘A rich girl's a goldmine,' said Aunt Edie, ‘and nicer to cuddle, I should think.' And she laughed.

Patsy thought, ain't it lovely having our Aunt Edie with us?

Aunt Edie served up a supper of fried eggs, bacon and tomatoes with bread and butter. And afterwards, she played the piano again and sang again. And she practised the duets with Jimmy again. It all added up to a lovely Bank Holiday weekend.

Mother had been absent throughout, but Aunt Edie had come up trumps. Jimmy had said nothing about Mother being at Speakers Corner supporting a dark-looking large bloke who was even barmier about religion than she was. He didn't think it would help if Dad knew she had set about hecklers with her umbrella.

Last thing, just before Aunt Edie went up to bed, Dad said, ‘You've been a champ, Edie old girl, thanks.'

‘Yes, well,' said Aunt Edie, and seemed stuck for words for once.

‘Jimmy an' the girls enjoyed 'aving you here,' said Dad.

‘They're not 'elpless kids, I'll say that, Jack,' said Aunt Edie. ‘You've done a good job with them.'

‘Yes, Maudie's always—'

‘Not her,' said Aunt Edie, ‘you. I haven't been blind all these years, 'specially not since you come 'ome from the war. I'll be goin' straight to work in the mornin' after I've got breakfast, and I'll be 'ere again next Friday evenin', unless you let me know that Maud's come back.'

‘I'll be gone early meself, I've got to be in by eight,' said Dad.

‘I'll get your breakfast,' said Aunt Edie, lighting the candle that was to see her up to bed.

‘No, I'll manage—'

‘I'll do it,' said Aunt Edie, ‘someone's got to remember you spent all those years fightin' in the war and gettin' yourself wounded.' And she went up to the bedroom before Dad could say any more. But he grinned. Aunt Edie was a woman and a half.

The house in Anerley was called The Beeches. It stood almost alone, for the immediate houses on either side were both a long stone's throw away. The wide front garden was all lawn except for two giant beech trees that soared massively upwards. Double wrought-iron gates set into a high brick wall opened on to a gravel drive and a spacious forecourt fronting the handsome house. On the forecourt stood a horse-drawn van on which was painted the name of a firm of landscape gardeners in flowery script. There was also an open motorcar, a 6 hp De Dion Bouton, a gleaming yellow two-seater, with black fenders and huge brass lamps.

Jimmy, entering through the open gates, stared at the motorcar, a sign of real riches. Crikey, what a machine! He walked up the drive to the forecourt. The shafts of the van rested on the ground, and he supposed the horse was cropping away somewhere. He approached the large front door set inside an arched stone frame. He pulled on a metal bell handle and heard the bell jangle.

A young maid, dressed in dark blue with a white lacy front and a white cap, opened the door. Crikey, what a corker, thought Jimmy. She had shining black hair, bright eyes and vivacious looks.

‘Well, you're early,' she said.

‘You knew I was comin'?' asked Jimmy.

‘I was told by madam that a boy was. Are you a boy?'

‘Well, yes, as far as I know,' said Jimmy. ‘I think you're a girl.'

‘Oh, you're a clever boy as well?'

‘No, I'm just Jimmy Andrews.'

‘I think you're cheeky,' she said, looking him over. ‘'Specially usin' the front door and not the side. Well, madam and young madam's still at breakfast. The master's out and about, though, givin' orders to the workmen. D'you want a cup of tea and a bit of toast before Mr 'Odges takes you to report to Mr Gibbs? Come on, this way.'

She led Jimmy through a hall larger than his Dad's house in Manor Place, then down a passage to the main kitchen. It was hung with pots and pans, and a huge range was slowly burning coal. At a large table sat a dignified-looking man, a woman and another maid.

‘Here's the boy, Mr 'Odges, he'd like a cup of tea and a slice of that toast. That's Mr 'Odges, that's Mrs Redfern, the cook, and that's Ivy, who does the dusting, lights the fires and 'elps Mrs Redfern.'

Mr Hodges, the butler, was stout as well as dignified, Mrs Redfern was a widow but plump and jolly for all that, and Ivy was a bit skinny.

‘Hullo, I'm Jimmy Andrews, I've come to help Mr Gibbs.'

‘I'm Ada,' said the young maid.

‘Bet your dad likes you,' said Jimmy.

‘I think we've got a cheeky one 'ere, Mr 'Odges,' said Ada. ‘Still, you can sit down, Jimmy.'

Jimmy sat down, all eyes on him, and Mrs Redfern poured him a cup of tea and Ada gave him a slice of toast from a dish. Ivy pushed butter and marmalade across. Jimmy thanked her.

‘Might I henquire as to your age, young man?' asked Mr Hodges.

‘Sixteen,' said Jimmy, buttering his toast.

‘Poor young feller, what a shame,' said Ivy, ‘it don't seem right, anyone your age perishin'.'

‘Beg your pardon?' said Jimmy.

‘Ain't you seen outside, ain't you seen what it's like?' said Ivy. ‘Talk about jungles, everything's bigger than you are, and you ain't little. It's nearly bigger than Mr 'Odges and even the master. You only want some of it to fall on you an' you won't ever be seen again, will 'e, Mr 'Odges?'

‘I am in 'ope that the lad is sharp,' said Mr Hodges.

‘Some of it nearly done Mr 'Odges last week, nearly done 'im for good,' said Ivy, ‘and I just don't know 'ow the young madam ain't disappeared for ever.'

‘Take no notice, Jimmy,' said Ada, who was just sixteen. She'd been in service with the Gibbs since she was fourteen. ‘Ivy's always the life an' soul, 'specially at funerals.'

‘Well, I'm not keen on lettin' things fall on me,' said Jimmy, enjoying the toast and marmalade. ‘In fact, I made up my mind yesterday that at my age I'd like to stay alive. I've 'ardly done any real livin' yet.'

‘I hadmire a boy that can think about things,' said Mr Hodges.

‘Some people wander about like they was blind to what might fall on them,' said Mrs Redfern. ‘I'm that pleased this boy looks as if he can see what's comin'. Can you see like that, young man?'

‘I've not had much trouble so far,' said Jimmy.

‘That's good,' said cook. ‘Well, he seems a sensible boy, Mr Hodges.'

‘Granted, Mrs Redfern,' said the butler.

‘I heard something about him savin' the young madam from being run over by a horse. Did you do that, young man?'