The Quietness (16 page)

I asked Queenie for some scraps of linen and I spent long hours embroidering delicate flowers and leaves and a large fanciful letter Q. When I gave the results of my labour to Queenie she looked as though she had received a casket of gold instead of the simple handkerchief I had sewn.

She brought me paper and pens and I bade her sit for a while and sketched her, framed by the light from the window.

‘That ain’t me!’ she exclaimed when I showed her the portrait. ‘She’s somebody pretty.’

‘It is you, Queenie,’ I assured her. ‘And you are very pretty.’ I laughed at her as she stared at the picture and touched her face as though she could not put the two together.

‘How does your hair sit on your head like that?’ she asked me one day.

‘Oh, it is easy,’ I said. ‘Just a few well-placed pins.’ I took my brush and combed her hair until it shone. Then I made her sit still while I twisted it into knots and curls and pinned it all into place. I finished the arrangement with a blue satin ribbon and guided her to the mirror so she could see how beautiful she looked. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She turned her head from side to side and smiled at her reflection. Then she put her arms around me and hugged me tight.

‘I look just like a lady,’ she breathed. Then we both looked at each other and burst into giggles.

Sometimes I woke in the middle of the night gripped by a terrible fear. I fancied I heard a baby’s cry and hurried footsteps disappearing into the distant darkness. For a moment I was certain the child had been ripped from me while I slept. That Father had stolen into my room with his scalpels, and that were I to look down at my body I would see a gaping and bloody hole. Then the child moved inside me and I dared to put my hands on my belly to feel the comfort of warm skin and my own frantic heartbeat.

I often wondered where Jacob had gone. What would he do if he knew his child was growing inside of me? Would he come to me full of sorrow and regret at how he had hurt me? Would he be gentle and loving and want only to look after me and his child? In the sleepless hours of the night I wished hard that this would be true. I fancied I could smell lemons and I remembered the soft touch of his lips and the way my heart had tilted so deliciously. Then I would see his eyes again, as he had looked at me in the garden that last time. In terror, I looked again into the blackness of him and I knew he was empty of feeling. Something important was missing from inside him. Jacob was dangerous. He had taken part of my soul. The boy I had loved had never existed.

Queenie loved attending to Miss Swift. It made her feel special and important. She loved laying out her tray for breakfast, with the best teapot, teacup and saucer. She loved balancing it all ever so careful as she walked up the stairs, her skirts swishing around her ankles. She always minded to knock on Miss Swift’s door and wait for the ‘Come in, Queenie!’ before she went in.

She would lay the tray on Miss Swift’s bedside table, and then open the curtains to let in the morning. When she turned round, Miss Swift would be sitting up in bed rubbing the sleep from her eyes. There was often as not a bemused look on her face, as though she had expected to wake up somewhere else.

It was a Sunday morning. The sisters had left the house early, dressed in their best clothes. Mrs Waters had been twitchy and impatient, barking at Mrs Ellis, ‘Hurry, Sarah! Do you want us to be late?’ Queenie knew they’d be going to the station to collect another baby. It was always the same way. They’d be in fine spirits when they got back, mind. And with the money they got for the child there was sure to be something extra good for dinner.

Queenie whistled a ditty as she brushed Miss Swift’s gown and shook out her petticoats ready to help her dress.

‘What is that tune?’ asked Miss Swift. ‘I have never heard it before.’

‘Oh, you wouldn’t have, miss,’ laughed Queenie. ‘It’s one of me da’s from the penny gaffs.’ She began to sing, ‘
Oh, me name it is Sam Hall, chimney sweep, chimney sweep, oh, me name it is Sam Hall, chimney sweep. Oh, me name it is Sam Hall, and I robbed both great and small and me neck will pay for all when I die!
’

Miss Swift put her hand to her mouth in shock and whispered between her fingers, ‘Queenie!’

‘Oh, that’s nothing, miss. I know much worse than that! Do you want to hear another?’

‘I certainly do not!’ said Miss Swift. But Queenie could see that her eyes were smiling.

‘I could teach you to whistle,’ said Queenie. ‘Bet you’ve never done that before, have you?’

Miss Swift shook her head and took her hand away from her mouth.

‘It’s easy,’ said Queenie. ‘Look. Put your lips together like this and just blow.’ She let out a long whistle. Miss Swift watched her carefully. Then she pursed her own lips and blew. No sound came out, only a burst of air. Queenie laughed. ‘Try again,’ she urged. Miss Swift looked serious. She pursed her lips again and this time let out a small breathy whistle. She looked at Queenie in amazement.

‘I did it!’ she said. ‘Did you hear? I did it!’ They looked at each other and smiled in delight. Queenie felt warm inside. It was a feeling that was almost as good as the taste of fresh bread on an empty belly.

‘What does your father do?’ asked Miss Swift as she sipped at her tea.

‘He’s a costermonger, miss. Sells apples and pears and the like. When he’s not drinking, that is.’

‘Oh,’ said Miss Swift. ‘And your mother? What is she like?’

Queenie paused. She thought of Mam and her swollen belly, her strong arms and her worn-out face. She thought of the groans of strange men behind the curtain. She could hardly tell Miss Swift that, could she? ‘Mam is just Mam,’ she said eventually. ‘Pops out babies, mostly!’ Queenie’s eyes fell to Ellen’s belly. ‘Oh, sorry, miss,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean . . .’

Miss Swift shook her head. ‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘Tell me about the rest of your family. It must be so good to have so many of you?’

‘Pah!’ said Queenie. ‘Three little ’uns there were. There’ll be four by now. Right pains they are too. Well, maybe Tally’s not so bad now he’s getting bigger.’ Queenie realised she hadn’t thought of any of them for an age. Talking to Miss Swift like this brought them all back to mind, when she didn’t really want to think about them at all.

Miss Swift looked sad. ‘You are very lucky, Queenie,’ she said. ‘To have a family like that.’

‘Me, miss? Lucky?’ Queenie was amazed. How could Miss Swift, with all her fancy gowns and pretty jewels and ladylike ways, think that Queenie was lucky?

‘Yes, Queenie, you are lucky. You see, you have somewhere you belong.’

For the rest of the day Queenie puzzled over what Miss Swift had said. And for the first time since she’d left home, she imagined what it would be like to go back.

The weeks turned to months. Summer turned to autumn and I had not once felt the sun on my face. I spent most of my time sitting by the bedroom window. The outside world was contained within the window frame – like a moving painting. I watched the changing skies, and saw leaves turn from a shimmering green to a dull brown before they fell from their branches.

My belly had grown so large. Even though I had let out my gowns as much as possible, they no longer fitted. My nightgown and shawl were the only garments I could wear. But even my nightgown now pulled tight across my belly.

One day, Queenie brought me a length of creamy soft flannel and some tiny chemises. ‘For you to make another nightgown, miss,’ she said. ‘The nights are cold now and you’ll be needing something warmer. And these are for the baby when it comes.’

‘Oh, Queenie, what would I do without you?’ I said. ‘You remind me of Mary,’ I told her. ‘She was the only person I had in the world before you.’

Queenie grinned at me. ‘It’s no trouble, miss. I like looking after you.’ I could tell by the shine in her eyes that she meant every word. I wanted to tell her that her kindnesses meant everything to me now. That I could not have survived it here without her.

I began work straight away on my new flannel nightgown, but the chemises I left to one side. I could not imagine the creature inside me, that squirmed constantly and dug its limbs into my ribs, would soon be wearing the tiny garments.

Queenie often asked about my home. Through her eyes I lived in a palace.

‘Do you have a grand piano?’ she said. ‘And lots of maids? What do you eat, miss? Oh please, tell me about the dinners you have!’

I laughed and told her of Mary and Ninny and the other maids. I told her of the silence around the dining table and of the calf’s head Ninny once cooked.

‘A whole calf’s head!’ she exclaimed, as though it was the grandest thing she had ever heard of. She urged me to describe all my gowns and her eyes shone as I told her about my pink silk and my dark blue velvet. She asked about Mother and Father, so I told her of Mother’s birds and of Father being a doctor of sorts. ‘He cuts bodies open for a living,’ I said, hoping to shock her.

‘He’s a butcher, then?’ she said, and I laughed to think how Father would be outraged to hear himself described as such.

‘And do you go dancing, miss?’ she asked. ‘And do the gentlemen queue up for a twirl around the floor?’

I did not answer for a moment. I was wishing my life was as Queenie imagined it to be. I wanted to tell her that it was all true, so that she would not be disappointed in me. But I could not deceive her. That would only be deceiving myself too.

‘I do not go anywhere, Queenie,’ I said. The sudden deadness in my voice changed the mood between us. ‘I did not go anywhere or do anything even before this.’ I jabbed my finger at my belly. ‘My life was empty.’

‘But then . . .’ Queenie frowned at me. ‘Hope you don’t mind me asking, miss. But how did you come to be in your condition?’

I told her then. It was a relief to sit with her holding my hand as I told her the truth. I told her of the loneliness and emptiness of my life and of how Jacob had brought light into the house for the first time. I told her about his dark hair and green eyes, how he’d kissed me and made everything seem wonderful. Then, in a whisper, I told her how he had tricked me and played with me, and with tears choking my voice, I told her of the terrible day in the garden.

‘So you see, Queenie, even with my fine house and pretty gowns and jewels, I really have nothing. I have less than nothing. And the worst of it is, I will have to go back there,’

‘But you have me, miss,’ she said, squeezing my hand tight. ‘You’ll always have me.’

It was mid December. Since she’d arrived at Wild Street, Queenie had been putting her wages aside, week by week, in an old tin she’d hidden at the back of the scullery cupboard along with her soap and ribbons. She thought about Mam, Da and the little ones more and more. She wanted them to see how well she’d done for herself, to tell them about Miss Swift and the sisters. She wanted them to see she’d found a good place in the world.

It was Sunday and Queenie had the afternoon off. The sisters were in their rooms snoring in front of the fires that Queenie had laid, Miss Swift was taking her afternoon sleep and the babies were all dosed up as usual.

Queenie took a handful of coins from her tin and hurried to Lowther Arcade. She bought sugar mice for the little ones, a shawl for the new baby and a tin of damp, sweet-smelling tobacco for Da. She would give Mam some rose-scented soap, she decided. They wrapped it up so nice in the shop. For herself she bought a new pair of black leather boots and gave the old ones to a passing urchin. The heels of her new boots clicked when she walked and the laces were long and black as liquorice strings. The little ones would all marvel at her boots, she knew that. None of them had ever had new boots before. Mind you, none of them had ever known Christmas before. It was something that happened for other people. Queenie and the little ones only ever stared in the butcher’s window at the fat geese and ducks waiting to be taken to table. They only ever breathed in the delicious smells of baking pies and spiced puddings. They never had a gift or anything to call their own. Queenie couldn’t wait to see their faces when they opened her offerings. She was strangely nervous.

It seemed the whole of London was rushing hither and thither as Queenie retraced her steps over Waterloo Bridge. There was an excitement in the air and even the old cab horses seemed to be trotting with an extra skip in their step. Queenie could hardly believe it had been nearly a whole year since she’d left. It had been just as cold back then but she was dressed warmer now, with a thick new shawl, a woollen gown and her new boots polished to a shine.

She turned off the main thoroughfare and walked down the first passageway that led to Mam and Da’s court. She had forgotten how bleak and sad it all was. It was as though life stopped short the minute she stepped into the gloom. Faces peered at her from darkened doorways, then disappeared, like rats darting back into their holes. Whispers followed at her back. Then Queenie remembered how odd she must look; done up like a dog’s dinner with clean face and new clothes. She was a stranger here now. She clutched her parcel of gifts close to her chest.

Queenie heard Da before she saw him. He was singing, but there was no trace of the drink in his voice. It was how Queenie remembered it when she was small and Da would sing all the dirty ditties from the penny gaffs to Mam. He would get a clout round the head but would carry on anyway, laughing and saying, ‘The smuttier the better I thinks! You likes ’em as much as I do, my gal!’

When Queenie turned the bend in the passage, there he was with his neckerchief back around his throat and him and Tally sitting on the doorstep mending sacks. She hid herself in a doorway to watch them for a while. Tally had grown so big. His arms and legs sprouted out from the ends of his sleeves and trousers. He was laughing at Da’s song. Queenie noticed he had his own neckerchief tied around his throat now, green and yellow, the same as Da’s.

Then Mam came out the door with a fat baby in her arms. She bent to ruffle Tally’s hair and said something in Da’s ear. He laughed out loud and smacked her on the behind as she turned to go back indoors. Tally put his sack down and stretched his arms above his head, yawned, then stood up. He looked towards where Queenie was hiding in the shadows. She started to lift her hand to wave, but Tally just blinked, then turned away and went inside. Queenie lowered her hand. Of course he couldn’t see her; he wouldn’t be expecting to see her. Da gathered up the sacks and stood up too. Queenie wanted to shout out to him,
Da it’s me! It’s Queenie!
But something stopped her. It was the way they all were together. So happy. Da was in a hurry to get inside. Queenie thought Mam must have boiled the kettle and maybe there was something hot for them all to eat. He didn’t even look her way before he went inside too.