Two Penn'orth of Sky (9 page)

‘It’s awfully kind of you, Mr Johansson; I’d be right glad of some help,’ Emmy had said, despising the tremor in her voice, but unable to prevent it. ‘I don’t want you to think badly of Peter – he was a good husband, the best in the world – but, well, we neither of us expected . . . that I’d be widowed, so young, so there wasn’t any provision made. I don’t want you to think that Peter was irresponsible, or anything like that?’

‘Good God, no!’ Mr Johansson had said, looking horrified. ‘Why, if I were to die tomorrow, there wouldn’t be much in my bank account! I’ll just tell the chaps that things are still not resolved. In any case, the working party who’ll come to clean up your new home will be members of the ship’s crew, not the officers. They won’t ask questions; they’ll just get on with the job.’

So when Emmy entered the kitchen of her home, on that bright and sunny afternoon, it was with a
lighter step and a more cheerful countenance than she had shown since hearing of Peter’s death, and Diana and Lucy, sitting at the table eating bread and jam, looked up and beamed.

‘Hello, Mammy,’ Diana said. ‘We had a grand time in the park, so we did. We fed the ducks, and Lucy pushed me on the swings till my toes nearly touched the oak tree, and we met Sarah – she’s in my class at school – and played hide and seek, and then Sarah’s nanny bought us both ice creams.’ She looked curiously across at her mother. ‘Did you have a nice afternoon, Mammy? When we went to the park, you never said you were goin’ out too, so when we came home and the house were empty, we thought mebbe you’d gone round to Aunty Beryl’s. Did you?’

‘Yes, I did in a way,’ Emmy said, sitting down at the table and helping herself to a slice of bread and butter. She suddenly realised she was ravenously hungry – thirsty, too – and accepted the cup of tea Lucy handed her gratefully. ‘Aunty Beryl was here when you left, wasn’t she? Well, I told her we – we wouldn’t be able to continue to live here and she said that Grandma Dickens’s old house in Nightingale Court was up for rent. I know you’ve always liked the court, sweetheart, and it would help me enormously to be near Aunty Beryl, so I went round there to see the landlord and now it’s all arranged. We’re to move in just as soon as the place has been made ready.’

‘I do ’member you showed me the house,’ Diana said doubtfully, ‘but it were a long time ago, Mammy. It’s – it’s quite a little house, isn’t it? And there’s no garden, nor any back door.’

‘Yes, it is small, and no one in the courts has a garden,’ Emmy said, ‘because they’re all what we
call back to backs. But it’s right next door to Aunty Beryl and Uncle Wally, and you’ll be able to play with Becky and Charlie, and all the others, to your heart’s content,’ she finished craftily.

Diana beamed and helped herself to more bread and jam. ‘Yes, I’d forgotten that,’ she said joyfully. ‘Ooh, and I’ll go to school with the Fishers, won’t I? Lucy can take us all each morning and pick us up each afternoon.’

It was weird, but Emmy had simply never thought about that, never realised that she should have told Lucy that they would not be able to continue to employ her as soon as she knew the financial straits into which she had been plunged. She opened her mouth to speak, but was forestalled by Lucy herself.

‘I’m awful sorry, Miss Di, but I won’t be able to come with you to the court. I’m going to work for old Captain Marriott, at the end house, when you and your mammy move out of here,’ she said, shooting Emmy a friendly, conspiratorial glance. ‘But just as soon as you’re settled in I’ll come a-calling, never fret.’

Diana had shed tears when she had first been told that her father was dead, but since then she had not cried once. She had accepted that she would have to leave her nice school and the friends she had made there, that they would lose their beautiful house, which they had all taken for granted, but at the mention of losing Lucy her whole face changed. Tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks and she flung herself at the maid, burying her face in Lucy’s bosom and mumbling that she did not care where they lived but she could not bear to be parted from Lucy.

‘Oh, darling, don’t cry,’ Emmy said, greatly
distressed. It was her own stupid selfishness which had brought this about. She should have realised that the child regarded Lucy as a second mother, or at least an elder sister, and would bitterly regret parting from her. ‘I should not have broken it to you so suddenly, but the fact is, Diana, we can’t afford to pay anyone to help us in the future. That’s why you and I are moving to a small house, because it’s so much cheaper to rent, and so much easier to keep clean. Because it’s so much smaller, we shall be able to sell most of the carpets, curtains, furniture and fittings which we shan’t need.’ Since her daughter did not answer, Emmy decided it might be best to make a clean breast of things. Lucy would not gossip to the neighbours and besides, what did it matter if she did? All too soon now, the people in Lancaster Avenue would be neighbours no longer. She and Diana – and Lucy, too – were about to start a new life. ‘Look, darling, I am going to have to get a job, can you understand that? Whilst your daddy was alive, we had his salary to keep household – salary is the name we give to the money someone earns – and it was a good salary, so we could afford to buy whatever we needed. But when someone dies, that money stops.’

Diana looked at her soberly. ‘Yes, because the company has to pay someone else to do Daddy’s job,’ she said. ‘Lucy told me that days ago, didn’t you, Lucy?’

‘I did, Miss Diana,’ Lucy said gravely. ‘But now just you listen to what your mammy is saying because it’s important that you understand, so it is.’

Emmy felt more ashamed than ever; she had not realised what a jewel Lucy was. The girl was only twenty, yet she had done more to prepare Diana for
what lay ahead than her own mother had done. No wonder Diana had wept so bitterly at the thought of losing such a companion. But right now, she must continue her explanation, make sure Diana understood that they had no choice. They must begin to live by an entirely new set of rules which would be largely governed by what she herself could earn, and she knew she was a poor proposition as an employee.

‘Well, women don’t earn as much as men, so money will be a bit short for a while, at least. Whilst I’m working, either you’ll be in school or else someone in the court will be keeping an eye on you.’

Diana sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes briskly. ‘I like Nightingale Court,’ she said, picking up the bread and jam she had abandoned and eyeing it thoughtfully. ‘I like Aunty Beryl and Uncle Wally and I like the kids – Charlie’s me favourite – but what’ll happen at teatime, Mammy? When you’re not here, Lucy gets the tea, but if you’re going to work . . .’

‘Don’t worry, someone will get your tea,’ Emmy said, trying not to smile. Diana was not a greedy child but she did enjoy her food. ‘Or I could leave you some tea on the kitchen table, only that would mean you’d have to go into an empty house to eat it, and you might not like that.’

‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Diana said airily, beginning to eat her bread and jam once more. ‘Becky telled me that when her mammy’s out, she leaves the door key dangling through the letter box, on a piece of string, so any of the kids can get in if they want to. Why, when I’m six, I could make
your
tea, Mammy, as well as my own. I often help Lucy to cook, don’t I, Lu?’

Lucy laughed and winked at Emmy, then said gravely: ‘Indeed you do, and I’m sure you’ll be a
great help to your mammy, but you won’t be six for a long while yet. Now how about getting into practice and tidying your room? Last time I looked in, there were toys all over the floor, books all over the bed and a half-eaten apple gathering dust on the window sill.’

Diana giggled, gobbled down the last piece of bread and jam and skipped out of the room, saying that all the toys would be in their places and the apple thrown out for the blackbirds to enjoy in no time at all. She had reached the stairs when something seemed to occur to her for she turned back. ‘Mammy, what about my toys?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Will we have to sell
all
of them or just the newest ones? Only, Raggedy Jen and Barnacle Bill always come to bed with me, and I’d miss them terrible bad if we had to sell them.’

Emmy felt the tears come to her eyes but blinked them resolutely away. ‘We aren’t going to sell
any
of your toys, queen, and certainly not either Barnacle Bill or Raggedy Jen. Why, Daddy bought Raggedy Jen the day you were born and Barnacle Bill not long afterwards. I wouldn’t dream of letting either of them go. And then there’s Big Teddy and Little Teddy, the ginger dragon and the beautiful clockwork train set, and all your Meccano . . .’

‘Well, I would like to keep the Meccano and the jigsaws and some of the other games,’ Diana called over her shoulder, beginning to mount the stairs. ‘But so long as Jen and Bill come too . . .’ She stopped talking and began to give a spirited rendering of her favourite song. ‘
“Who’s that knocking at my door, who’s that knocking at my door, who’s that knocking at my door,” said the fair young maiden. “It’s only me from over the sea,” said Barnacle Bill, the sailor
.’

As soon as they were alone, Emmy and Lucy gave a simultaneous sigh of relief. ‘I’m awful sorry, Mrs Wesley; perhaps I should have left it to you to tell Miss Diana what were goin’ on, but I could see you’d got your hands full and she’s bright as a button is Miss Di. She began asking questions . . .’

‘Lucy, you are wonderful,’ Emmy said sincerely. ‘You did what I should have done, which has made things much easier all round. But anyway, I’m truly sorry I didn’t tell you earlier how things stood with us.’ She glanced curiously at the younger girl. ‘Are you really going to work for Captain Marriott?’

Lucy giggled. ‘He doesn’t know it yet, but yes, I think I am. His housekeeper is a real old dear, but she’s finding the work too much. She approached me months back, said if I ever wanted to change me place of employment, then there’d be a snug billet at the Captain’s house. She knows I’m from an orphanage an’ don’t have no parents an’ she knows I don’t go out with fellers much, so I reckon she guessed I’d quite like a place which might lead to greater things. She said she’d train me up as a sort of assistant housekeeper, so that when she wants to retire, I’d be able to take over.’

Poor Emmy felt worse than ever. She had never bothered to enquire into Lucy’s background; had not asked one single question about her parents or her home.

Now, she said, guiltily: ‘Lucy, I feel thoroughly ashamed. I – I didn’t realise you were an orphan. Where do you go on your days off? I suppose you only applied for this job because it was live-in . . . oh dear, why do I never
think
?’

Lucy was a small, skinny girl, with soft fawn-coloured hair cut in a Dutch bob, a snub nose and a
large, generous mouth. She had rather watery blue eyes but now these smiled at Emmy, her glance frank. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Wesley. Folk don’t take much notice of servants but you’ve been a grand person to work for, so you have, an’ I’ll be real sorry to leave you – and Diana, of course. As for where I go on my days off, I go back to the orphanage; I’ve got a heap o’ pals there still and I’m fond of the old place.’

‘But I expect you’ll live in again at Captain Marriott’s, won’t you?’ Emmy said shrewdly. ‘It’s a big house and with only him and the housekeeper, there’ll be plenty of room for you.’

‘Yes, I will, because it’s easier for everyone if I do, but Captain Marriott’s got other servants, you know. There’s a starchy old parlour maid called Edith, a manservant – he’s a sort of valet really – who looks after the Captain, a gardener and a gardener’s boy. So I don’t think I’ll be lonely, particularly as I can still visit the orphanage to see me old friends whenever I want.’ She had been sitting at the table opposite Emmy as they talked, but now she got briskly to her feet. ‘Well, if you’ve a mind to move fairly soon, you’d best start deciding what you’re goin’ to take and what you’re goin’ to leave. Would you like me to have a word with Bailey & Neep, the auctioneers on Lord Street? They’ll come and collect, I believe.’

‘Yes please, Lucy,’ Emmy said humbly. ‘I’ll start making lists at once.’

A couple of days later, Emmy answered a tap at the door and found young Mr Johansson, accompanied by four grinning seamen, on the doorstep. He pulled off his cap, revealing rumpled fair hair, then gestured to the men behind him. ‘Here we are, Mrs Wesley,
ready to give a hand in any way we can. If you’ll show us to your new house, we can take a look around, see what’s needed and start work at once. D’you have a key yet?’

‘Oh . . . yes, I’ve got a key,’ Emmy said. She had paid a whole month’s rent in advance in order to get the key immediately and was glad now that she had done so, though at the time she had been doubtful. In all the years that she had lived in Nightingale Court, she had never come across their landlord, and when she had met him she had not taken to him at all. He was a skinny, weaselly-faced man with thinning, raggedly cut hair, a long pink nose which seemed to have a perpetual dewdrop on the end, and small, over-bright eyes. When he had smiled, ingratiatingly, at her, he showed a mouth over-full of dirty, rotten-looking teeth, and she soon discovered that when he spoke he tended to spray saliva over anyone who stood too close.

He had pretended that he already had a tenant waiting to go into No. 2, but as soon as Emmy turned away, saying that she was sorry to have bothered him, he had broken into hurried speech, assuring her that he would far rather she occupied the house since her mother had always paid her rent promptly and had kept the house in good condition.

‘Unlike them bleedin’ Vaughans,’ he had added viciously. ‘They did a moonlight on me, else I’d ha’ made ’em pay up for the damage what they’d done.’ He eyed her cunningly. ‘They should’ve handed the place over decent, but as it is, you’ll have to clean up for yourself. It ain’t no duty of a landlord’s to mek good what others ha’ ruined else I’d be penniless in no time.’

‘I’ll get it nice, Mr Freeman,’ Emmy had promised
eagerly. Later, Beryl had told her that it was a landlord’s duty to supply the materials for such repairs as were needed at the house, or to lower the rent. Mr Freeman, of course, had done neither. In fact, he had charged an extra sixpence, saying, rather obscurely, that this was the rent he charged new tenants.