Threads of Silk (4 page)

As Ellie nerved herself to speak, his eyes narrowed and a spiteful smile creased his thin lips. His hands gripped her arms and he shook her roughly. ‘You’re getting too big for your boots, my girl.’

The door opened and Bert’s hands dropped to his sides.

Ellie rushed to take the shopping bags that were weighing her mother down. ‘You all right, Mum?’

Mary looked from one to the other. ‘I’m fine. What’s going on here?’

‘Nothing, Mum. I was just telling Dad about the art exam.’

‘Stupid kid’s on about college again.’ He smiled and put on his wheedling tone. ‘Angel, you know sending you to college costs money. You haven’t thought of that, have you? We’re not Rothschilds, you know.’

Ellie was about to mention the grant but her mother said, ‘Oh, Ellie, we’ve been over it so many times. I thought you’d accepted it.’

Mary sounded so dejected that Ellie was sorry she’d upset her. She bent to pick up the screwed-up painting. Might as well throw it on the fire, she thought. But something made her hang on to it.

As she turned to leave the room, her father reached out and pulled her towards him. ‘Look, Angel. Maybe we made a mistake letting you go to that posh school in the first place. But your mum persuaded me you should have your chance.’ He squeezed her waist and she stiffened. ‘Look at it this way. You’re all we’ve got. With his lordship off in the army and that sister of yours up to gawd knows what, it would break your poor mum’s heart if you left us to go away to college.’

Ellie looked across at her mother, who had sat down at the table. She still looked pale but she gave a small tight smile and Ellie tried to smile back. Mum had done her best, despite Dad’s opposition to her going to the grammar school. He’d thought she was getting ideas above her station, thinking she was too good for them all, even starting to speak differently. No matter how hard she tried to explain, he’d never understand.

Bert seemed to sense that the fight had gone out of her and he reached out and touched her hair. ‘You know it makes sense, love. Besides, you’ll like working at the club, you know. Meet lots of posh people, film stars even.’

Ellie felt the anger stir again. As if that would make up for everything. She managed to swallow her feelings. He stroked her arm and she was glad she was wearing a long-sleeved blouse. To an onlooker the gesture would probably seem innocent enough, but her knees were starting to shake. And he had that funny look in his eyes again. He wouldn’t do anything while her mother was there but she still felt nervous being so close to him.

She swallowed hard as he pulled her towards him and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re a good girl, Ellie, love. Not like that sister of yours.’

Mary stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back. ‘Don’t talk about Sheila like that,’ she said. ‘I know I was upset at first and I can’t deny it sickens me to think of her with that thug. But she seems happy enough and now that they’re going to get married—’

Bert gave a little laugh. ‘Married? He’s got to get his divorce yet. Let’s hope it’s all sorted before the baby comes.’

Mary’s face paled. ‘Baby?’ she whispered, sinking into a chair. ‘You mean I’m going to be a grandmother?’ A smile slowly spread over her face. ‘Grandma,’ she said.

‘Changed your tune, ain’t yer?’ Bert sneered.

‘I’m still her mother, ain’t I?’ Mary snapped. She picked up her purse and turned to Ellie. ‘I’ve just remembered. I promised to get your gran some cough medicine. Run down to the chemist for me, love.’

Ellie took the money and moved towards the door, the screwed-up painting still clutched in her hand. Before leaving the house she ran upstairs. In her attic room, she smoothed the paper out and put it under a pile of books. If that didn’t work maybe she’d try ironing it. The design was one of the best things she’d done so far and she wanted to keep it for her college portfolio. She gave a little sob. She wasn’t going to college, was she? Even with the scholarship that Miss Evans was so sure she’d win – the scholarship she hadn’t dared mention tonight – they’d never let her go.

It was pouring with rain the next day and Ellie pulled the hood of her raincoat up, forcing it over the brimmed velour hat, which they had to wear whenever they were in school uniform. It was a fate worse than death – a visit to the headmistress – for anyone seen in public without their hat.

‘At least I won’t have to wear this horrible old thing any more,’ she said to Judith, cramming the hat down on her head.

‘So, you’re definitely not coming back next term?’ her friend asked.

‘My dad says I’ve got to go out to work – he’s even found me a job.’

Judith was about to ask where but Ellie said, ‘I don’t mind – really. I know I wanted to go to college but they can’t afford it.’

‘What about the art scholarship, though?’

‘Even with that it would still be hard for them.’

Judith looked as if she wanted to ask more questions but the bus came along. It was crowded and, to Ellie’s relief, they couldn’t find seats together. She just didn’t feel like satisfying her friend’s curiosity today.

She stared out at the rain streaming down the window, wondering how she was going to achieve her ambitions when her family seemed determined to stop her. She would just have to work hard and save her money until she could leave home and do what she wanted.

As they so often did, her thoughts turned to Harry. He’d be home soon, bringing his German bride. All the more reason to leave home, she thought. But first, she had to face Miss Evans and tell her not to bother about putting her in for scholarship.

As she left the art room, Miss Evans said, ‘Are you really sure?’

Ellie nodded.

‘I don’t understand. Is it because you’re nervous – you don’t think you stand a chance?’

‘Something like that,’ Ellie agreed. 

Miss Evans smiled. ‘Nonsense, child. I wouldn’t be recommending you unless I was confident of your success. And you must be confident too.’

The bell went and Ellie seized the opportunity to escape. The art mistress meant well, she knew, encouraging her talent and giving her the confidence to develop it. But kind as she was, there was no way Ellie could ever confide in her the problems of her home life and the difficulties of getting her parents – especially her father – to agree that a career in art was a valid choice.

Dad kept on about how much she could earn working for Tommy Green and had even managed to convince her mother that the new club was a respectable place where Ellie would be mixing with a better class of people.

It was easier to give in, to let her parents think she’d accepted the situation. Besides, in some ways, she didn’t care. Since receiving Harry’s letter with its devastating news, Ellie felt that life couldn’t hold any more disappointments. She tried hard to tell herself she was happy for him – if he was happy, so was she. But deep down, the hurt remained.

She was worried about her grandmother too. With the exams, she hadn’t visited the old lady as often as she’d have liked and Mum had said she wasn’t well.

It had stopped raining and Ellie decided to go round to Gascoigne Terrace. She cut across the bombsite as usual, pushing her way along the overgrown path between the clumps of rosebay willow herb and bright yellow ragwort. Clouds of insects and the occasional small butterfly rose in front of her, and she thought of Judith, off to spend the summer holidays with relatives in the country. If only she could go with her, she thought.

But she had to start work, although she was determined it wouldn’t be for ever. Daft as it seemed, she couldn’t quite quell the hope that, when her exam results came through, Dad would see that she deserved her chance at college.

Gran was in her tiny patch of garden. Most of the houses in the terrace only had paved yards, but Grandad, who’d died when Ellie was just a baby, had built raised beds round the edge of the yard. During the war he’d grown tomatoes and runner beans, a few cabbages and carrots.

Now, the garden was aglow with nasturtiums, pansies, and pinks, which Gran grew from seeds bought for a few pence in the market.

‘It looks lovely, Gran,’ Ellie said as her grandmother straightened painfully, rubbing the small of her back.

‘Yeah, but it’s all getting a bit too much for me, love. Still, I can’t let it all go to pot. I don’t know where the weeds come from.’ She waved her hand at the bombsite beyond the fence. ‘Perhaps when they get rid of that lot, it’ll be a bit better.’

‘You should’ve waited for me. I’ll do the weeding for you – and the watering,’ Ellie offered.

‘I don’t mind. I like to keep busy – you know that. But my knees are playing up something shocking.’ Gran bent over and plucked another weed from the soil.

‘Leave it, Gran. I said I’d do it.’

‘All right, all right – I heard yer.’ Gran laughed and the laugh turned into a cough.

Ellie turned to her in concern. ‘Let’s go inside. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

‘Fetch a couple of chairs out here, love. Might as well make the most of this sunshine,’ Gran said.

Ellie settled her grandmother in one of the chairs and went back inside to fetch the tray. She balanced it on the low wall and poured out two cups. As she sat down opposite the old lady, she apologized for not coming more often.

‘You don’t want to worry about that. Your mum comes round a couple of times a week and Vi pops in. I’m not lonely. Besides, you’ve got better things to do than spend time with an old woman – what with all your school work and all.’ She took a sip of her tea and put the cup down. ‘How did you get on with your exams, Ellie?’

‘I won’t know till the results come in.’ Ellie managed a smile. ‘Anyway, school’s finished now. I’ve got a job.’

‘Work? I thought you were set on going to college?’

‘Didn’t Mum tell you? They can’t afford to let me stay on so I’ve got a job at Tommy’s new club.’

Gran pulled a face. ‘What’s your mum thinking of, letting you work in a place like that?’

‘Dad says it’s not like the Riverside. This is a posh place up West. I’m going to be a receptionist.’

‘Let’s hope it’s as legit as he claims.’

Ellie didn’t answer and Gran patted her hand. ‘Don’t mind me, love. I’m sure it’ll be all right. But I know how much you were banking on going to college.’

‘It was just a dream, Gran.’ She stood up and picked up the
watering-can
. ‘Anyway, I thought I’d come round to help with the garden.’

Lou Bowman glanced round at the riot of colour which filled the tiny yard. ‘I don’t know why I’m bothering really. Looks like I won’t have a garden for much longer.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll be moving out soon. They haven’t given us a date yet, but I’ll be going into a council flat.’

‘Oh, Gran. They can’t make you move, can they?’ Ellie was horrified. She knew how much her grandmother loved the little house and garden, and its convenient position close to the shops and the market. And all her friends were here. She’d lived all her life in this street, moving only a few doors away from her parents when she’d married Fred Bowman.

Lou waved her hand at the little row of houses. ‘It’s all going – the whole terrace. The end ones are empty already – all boarded up. As soon as there’s a place vacant, I’ll be off.’ Her voice caught as she went on, ‘It was that big bomb that did it. Brought down the whole of Hope Street, as well as part of this terrace. It undermined the foundations, they say, and now it’s too late to fix it. The whole lot’s got to come down.’

Ellie patted her grandmother’s hand sympathetically, reminded of the story Gran had told her about Harry’s family, trapped in the rubble. It had all happened so long ago, before she was born, but for Gran the memories would always be there. Maybe it would be better for her to move away from the constant reminders. But would she be happy in one of those new multistorey blocks of flats with no garden and no neighbours to chat to over the wall?

Not knowing what to say, Ellie went indoors to fill the watering-can. When she came out again, Gran was sitting with her eyes closed, her face turned up to the sun, her dark print dress pulled up above her knees to expose the thick white legs, knotted with blue veins like rivers on a map.

As Ellie started to water the plants, Gran opened her eyes. ‘Take no notice of me, duck. I’m just feeling a bit sorry for meself. I daresay one of these new flats will suit me fine – they’ve got a lift, and a nice bathroom and indoor lav. What more could I ask for at my time of life?’

‘And I’ll still come and see you,’ Ellie promised.

‘Vi’s moving too,’ Gran said. Her sister still lived in the house a few doors along where the sisters had been brought up. ‘With a bit of luck she’ll get a flat in a different block.’ Gran gave her throaty chuckle and continued, ‘but knowing my luck, the council will put her right next door.’

Ellie laughed too. The sisters were close but she knew Auntie Vi sometimes got on Gran’s nerves with her bossiness and constant criticism of everything and everybody.

When she left her grandmother’s house Ellie felt a lot more cheerful. Gran had seemed much better, resigned to the move and grateful for Ellie’s promised help with the packing and sorting out of the accumulated debris of a lifetime.

Ellie stepped over the broken wire fence and, instead of turning into Kendall Street, she decided to go and see Mr Varney. She couldn’t face going home yet.

As she neared the Roman Road market she scarcely took in the raucous shouts that had formed a background to her life for as long as she could remember. She could hear Sid Varney’s voice above them all. He hadn’t taken on a new assistant after Harry left, promising to keep his job open until he’d finished his national service. Maybe he’d take her on, Ellie thought, at least until Harry came back. If she had to leave school and start earning she’d rather work for Sid than for Tommy Green.

Most of the stalls were family businesses, run by parents and children who all mucked in with unloading the vans, stacking the stalls and clearing up at the end of the day. Sid had taken over the fruit and vegetable stall from his father and, as he’d never married, there were no sons to carry on the business. And he had no brothers and sisters either.

She spotted Sid, standing on a box and shouting his wares. As he extolled the virtues of the huge Jaffa oranges – ‘only sixpence apiece, ladies’ – he juggled two or three of them in the air. A laughing crowd surrounded him and, as he stepped off the box, having finished his spiel, hands stretched towards him, eager for the fruit which, even so long after the war, was still something of a treat.

A rare treat for those with little money to spare for extras, Ellie thought, feeling in her pocket for the few coppers Gran had pressed into her hand as she left. No sixpence though. She’d have to ask Sid if he had any ‘specks’, damaged fruit that he’d be willing to almost give away at the end of the day.

Sid was on his own so Ellie slipped round the back of the stall. The big man smiled down at her as, without a word, she started serving, wrapping cabbages in newspaper, shooting dusty potatoes straight off the scale and into the worn shopping bags held open by the customers. She’d watched Harry do it hundreds of times and was amazed at how easily it came to her – even adding up the prices in her head without any trouble.

When the crowd thinned out, Sid turned to her gratefully. ‘You’re a natural, Ellie girl. ’Arry better watch out or he won’t have a job to come back to when he gets home.’

Ellie laughed. ‘Thanks for the compliment, Mr Varney. But I won’t be taking Harry’s job away from him.’

‘Oh, I forgot. I’m talking to an educated young lady, aren’t I? You’ll be setting your sights a bit higher than a market stall, I bet.’

‘Much, much higher, Mr Varney,’ Ellie said, laughing. When Sid said things like that, she knew he was just teasing. There was no malice in his voice – not like the sneering tones her father used.

‘So you’re turning down my offer of employment, then?’

Ellie’s face fell. She wasn’t sure whether Sid was serious but she knew Dad would never agree to her working on a market stall. ‘I can’t, Mr Varney. I’ve already got a job.’

‘Thought you were goin’ to college.’

‘I wish.’ Ellie forced a smile. ‘It’s all right, Mr Varney. I always knew it wasn’t going to happen. Mum says we can’t afford it. So I start work as a receptionist next Monday.’

‘Receptionist, eh. Some posh hotel up West is it?’

Fortunately, a rush of customers saved her having to reply and Sid did not return to the subject.

When she got home, after helping Sid pack up the stall and load all the leftover produce into the back of his van, she was tired, but well satisfied with the few shillings he’d paid her. He’d also given her a bag full of ‘specks’, a few potatoes and a large cabbage, stuff he swore he wouldn’t be able to sell the next day.

She bounded up the stairs, anticipating her mother’s pleasure when she handed them over.

But as she entered the flat, her father leapt up from his chair. ‘Where the ’ell have you been? Your mother’s been worried sick,’ he yelled.

Ellie flinched at the unexpected attack. She’d thought he would still be out. And where was Mum?

Before she could say anything, Bert was shouting again. ‘You know you should come straight home and help your mum instead of leaving it all to her.’

‘But I’ve been to see Gran – Mum knew I was going. And I’ve been working – helping Mr Varney on the stall.’ She threw the money down on the table and plonked the bag of vegetables down beside it, then turned to go out of the room.

But Bert wasn’t going to let her go so easily. ‘Working, is it? I never thought Miss ’Igh and Mighty Grammar School Girl would lower ’erself to work in the market.’

The scorn in his voice was almost too much for Ellie. But she took a deep breath and turned to face him. She wouldn’t let him see how near to tears she was, or how nervous she was of standing up to him.

‘I don’t consider it lowering myself to work for Mr Varney – no more than working for Tommy Green.’

Bert climbed down. He usually did when Ellie spoke up for herself—as she was learning to do more and more these days. She’d been frightened of his temper all her life, while at the same time wanting to please him and gain his approval. Since that last brutal assault she’d ceased to care, her only aim being to keep the peace.