A Woman’s Fortune

She tried to think of people who might be able to help. The Sullivans were good friends. Perhaps she should go to Mary and Geraldine’s father, Brendan. Dad might listen to Brendan. But it wasn’t the Sullivans’ problem and it would be unfair to burden them. Besides, money was probably tight there, too, as there were so many of them.

What about Billy? He was such a good man, so reliable, and she knew he’d do anything for her. But he hadn’t got any money, she was sure. He was a postman but he hadn’t been all that long in the job. He’d got his mother to support, too, as his dad had been killed in the war. And anyway, why should Billy give over whatever savings he might have to help her dad? But he was so wise, maybe he’d know of a way out of this mess …

Who did she know who could lend Dad the money he owed to this Mr Hopkins? Evie racked her brains but could think of no one. The most well-to-do person she knew was Mrs Russell, whose blouses she had been ironing that evening. But then she remembered the mended cuff Gran had worked on, the missing button and how worn the once-fine fabric now was with repeated washing. Mrs Russell was a step up from Shenty Street, but she was widowed and lived on what she had, which was not much. And anyway, Grandma would die of shame if the Carters took their problems to Mrs Russell. So would Evie herself, for that matter.

The burden of her secret and the anger she felt towards her father kept Evie awake until the early hours, when she eventually fell into a restless sleep. It was with heavy eyes and a heavier heart that she faced the next morning.

‘You’re looking peaky, love,’ Jeanie remarked to Evie as they finished their breakfast of bread and scrape. ‘I’ve got the copper heating and if you help me fill the dolly tub first, you can go with your gran to Mrs Russell’s, if you like? Your dad’s already gone and Pete can see to Bob so there’ll be no one under my feet.’

Evie filled the dolly tub with hot water, then put in some washing soda, followed by some small items from the latest bundle. Then the sheets went in the copper with more washing soda and Evie pushed them underwater with some long wooden tongs.

‘Help me load up, then.’ Michael had made the trolley for them out of some orange boxes set on a frame with two axles, some pram wheels and a steering column handle. The box part was lined with an offcut of old sheeting to prevent splinters snagging the clothes. Evie laid the ironed and neatly folded bed linen inside, then placed the blouses carefully on top and covered them with a piece of fabric to keep off the dust. This had been Sue’s idea, to keep the clothes clean and dry, and she’d fashioned the mac to fit snugly over the boxes like a pram cover.

Evie nearly blurted out her worries about her dad to Sue before they were two streets from home, but then she remembered her resolve of the previous night: not to say anything until she simply had to. There might yet be a way to deal with the mess Dad was in without spreading the worry around.

Mrs Russell lived not far from Queen’s Park, and Sue and Evie cut through the back alleys, chatting about their washing schedule. But it didn’t stop Evie worrying that the end of next week was the deadline for her father to pay back Mr Hopkins. She fell silent while Sue chatted on, unaware of her granddaughter’s preoccupation.

‘… We’ll go to the boys’ play, I reckon,’ Sue was saying. ‘I think we need to get tickets. I hope there’s no charge for them. I’ll ask Peter. It’s no use asking Bob, bless him.’

Before long, they arrived at Mrs Russell’s, a tall old-fashioned red-brick house that had been divided into two. Sue opened the gate and Evie wheeled the pram up along the tiled path, then round to the back door. A rose bush was in full bloom in the small front garden and she noticed its delicate scent was like the perfume Mrs Russell wore.

Mrs Russell’s ‘girl’, Annie, opened the door, beaming at Sue and Evie.

‘Come in and I’ll go and tell the missus that you’re here.’

Sue and Evie unloaded the trolley, passing the items between them to lie neatly on a chair in Mrs Russell’s large kitchen.

Annie showed them to the sitting room, then went to make a pot of tea. Mrs Russell’s sitting room was like the lady herself, all pink and white and pretty.

‘Good morning, Mrs Goodwin. And, Evie, my dear, how lovely to see you. Please, sit down. Annie will bring us some tea,’ Mrs Russell greeted them.

Evie liked Mrs Russell, who was always friendly and fair and didn’t treat Grandma Sue as if she wasn’t fit to set foot in her house, as a couple of the women who sent them their washing did.

‘How did you get on with that cuff that needed your expert attention?’ asked Mrs Russell.

‘I’ll show you. Evie, love, will you fetch that blouse so Mrs Russell can see?’

Evie did as she was asked, admiring the soft colours of the wallpaper, so different to their home on Shenty Street with its constant smell of washing soda and damp sheets draped over the maidens. How quiet this house was, too. Kind of restful … Evie glanced into another room opening off the corridor before she reached the kitchen. There was a large comfy-looking sofa, and a small pile of books that looked as if they’d been read a lot. A piano, far bigger than the one at the school, stood at the window end.

Mum would love to sit there and sing a few songs around that piano, Evie thought. So would I …

She knocked on the kitchen door and retrieved the blouse, then Annie followed her back with a tray of tea and some plain biscuits.

Mrs Russell admired the mend, which pleased Sue, although Evie knew that it had been an easy job for her, and then the two women drank their tea and chatted while Evie sipped hers and gazed round the room, daydreaming about living in such a house. On a side table in a smart frame there was a photograph of a man in air force uniform. Evie guessed it was Mr Russell.

‘Well, must be getting on,’ said Sue as soon as she’d finished her tea.

Mrs Russell counted the payment for the washing into her hands and Sue put the coins in her jacket pocket and thanked her for the tea.

‘Annie will bring round the next wash on Wednesday morning as usual, Mrs Goodwin,’ Mrs Russell assured her.

‘Thank you, Mrs Russell. I’ll see you next week,’ answered Sue with a smile.

Then Annie showed Sue and Evie to the back door where they’d left the trolley.

‘She’s so nice,’ said Evie as she wheeled the empty trolley back along the footpath.

‘And a good woman. Doesn’t think that just ’cos she’s seen a bit of money she’s any better than the rest of us. But poor woman lost her husband in the war, like Granddad Albert. She’s got no children either and I think she might be a bit lonely. It’s family that’s important, not how smart your house is. Always remember that.’

‘Yes, Gran,’ said Evie, though she thought it would be nice to have some pretty things at home as well as her family.

The thought of family started her worrying about Michael and Mr Hopkins’ man again. The coins Mrs Russell had paid Sue for the washing and mending would go nowhere towards a debt of pounds.

By the time Evie and Sue had wheeled the trolley as far as the top end of Shenty Street, they were both hot and tired.

‘Look, there’s Billy,’ said Sue, seeing the postman pushing some mail through the last letterbox in the road.

‘Hello, Mrs Goodwin. Hello, Evie. That’s lucky, seeing you now. I’ve just finished my round for the day. Been up since cockcrow.’

‘So have we,’ Evie smiled. ‘Best bit of the day, first thing.’

‘I’ll take the trolley home and you can join us in a minute, Evie,’ suggested Sue, fully aware that her granddaughter and Billy had a special fondness for each other.

Evie had never been so glad to have a few moments alone with Billy. All the way home the worry about her father’s debt had festered and she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. Billy was so wise and, not being family, he might be able to see straight what needed to be done.

Evie perched on the low wall at the side of the end house and Billy sat next to her, putting his empty bag down at his feet.

‘What’s up, Evie? You look like something’s fretting you.’

‘Oh, Billy,’ her brown eyes filled with tears, ‘it’s a family thing really but I don’t want to worry Mum and Grandma unless I have to. Trouble is, it’s too big. I don’t think I can deal with it on my own.’

‘Is it your dad?’ Billy knew Michael Carter had a reputation for being feckless but then a lot of men round here put their beer and their bets before their families. ‘What’s he done that’s so bad you can’t even tell your mum and grandma?’ He’d heard Michael had been placing some heavier bets lately, more than just the odd shilling. He hoped it hadn’t got out of hand.

Evie told Billy about the creepy man sent by Mr Hopkins and what she’d heard in the night.

‘Oh, Evie, Hopkins is bad news,’ said Billy, lowering his voice. ‘He runs a card game. I’ve heard all sorts about it: that it’s held upstairs at the King’s Head. It sounds as if your dad’s been playing cards there and has run up this debt.’

‘Cards? Are you sure? Not horses or dogs? What do you think’s going to happen, Billy?’

Billy thought better of telling Evie everything he’d heard about Mr Hopkins. ‘Let me think … Hopkins will want to get the money off your dad if he can. Maybe your dad can agree to pay it back a bit at a time.’

‘But it’s pounds already. That might mean it’s never paid off!’ Evie was indignant.

‘I don’t see that he’s any choice if he can’t pay it all. He has to take responsibility, love.’

‘But I’m afraid if I tell Dad all this he’ll take no notice of me. He never likes to face up to problems and I’m sure he’d rather carry on as usual at the pub and betting on the races than pay what he owes Mr Hopkins. And I don’t want Mum and Grandma to be scrimping and doing without because of what Dad owes, Billy. They’ve been working so hard and Mum’s getting all worn out, and Grandma’s feet are so swollen in the heat and she’s bone-tired. She should be sitting down in a comfy chair and drinking tea like that nice Mrs Russell, not working to keep Dad in beer and card games.’ Evie felt hot, angry tears springing to her eyes.

Billy put his arm around her shoulders and drew her to him, wrapping her in his comforting embrace.

‘Do you want me to talk to your dad?’ he asked after a minute in which Evie’s tears subsided as he hugged her against his jacket.

Dad might take some notice of Billy, who was older than she, and a man, of course, but she felt the responsibility for her family should be hers.

‘Shall we both talk to him?’ she suggested. ‘I think he’ll listen to you but it was me that found all this out, and he is my dad, after all.’

Billy stood up and took her hand. ‘I’ll come round this evening after he’s had his tea and we’ll say our piece then, all right?’

‘Thank you,’ said Evie, giving Billy a hug. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Billy kissed the top of her head, then let her go. As he took up his bag to go back to the depot, he watched Evie walking back to her house halfway along Shenty Street. Before she disappeared down the passage she turned to wave with a little smile and Billy felt his heart lift.

He retrieved his bicycle from where he’d chained it to a lamp post, worried about Evie’s future.

Mr Hopkins had a reputation as a bully and there were some nasty stories about him. Billy didn’t want anything violent to happen to Michael Carter. He was Evie’s dad, and Evie’s happiness was very close to Billy’s heart. She was a hard worker and everything she did was to help her family, even giving up school, for all she loved it, to help her grandmother with the washing business.

As he cycled back to the mail depot, Billy resolved to help Evie in whatever way he could. She was an angel and he would never let her down.

CHAPTER TWO

Evie met Harold Pyke from down the road at the back of her house as he was leaving.

‘What did Mr Pyke want?’ she said, going into the scullery.

‘He brought us some peas from his allotment. Says they’re the first of the season,’ Jeanie said.

Sue was wringing out some garments from the dolly tub and putting them in a large bucket, her hands red-raw from the morning’s work. She winked at Evie and looked sideways at Jeanie, who was poking stray curls back under her turban with a damp hand.

‘Just an excuse to come round and admire you in your pinny, if you ask me,’ laughed Sue.

‘Go on with you. He was only being kind,’ said Jeanie, though she looked pleased.

‘It wouldn’t be the first time Harold Pyke’s come round offering veg,’ said Sue. ‘You want to be careful, our Jeanie. He’ll be asking for something in return before long.’

‘Well, what a thing to say!’

‘Don’t encourage him, then, lass.’

‘I can’t help it if the fella’s taken a shine to me,’ Jeanie gave a comical but telling little grin.

‘Not just that fella, either,’ said Sue. ‘I’m not surprised he’s bringing round peas, the way you’ve been tossing your hair around. It’s nice to have the peas and that, but be careful not to fascinate him with your smiles and tossing your curls around.’

‘How can I toss my hair when I’m wearing a scarf?’

‘It’s what you were doing, turban or no turban. And, as I say, there are others, too. That Derek Knowles, for instance. And Patrick Finlay from round the corner. We’re not doing their washing for nowt but a cabbage and a bit of flirting.’

‘I’m a happily married woman and I’m certainly not labouring over a hot copper for a cabbage or a bag of peas, so don’t you worry.’

‘So long as you’ve got that straight,’ said Sue. ‘Now, our Evie, what’s Billy’s news?’

‘He’s coming round later, after tea.’

‘He’s always welcome. He knows that,’ said Jeanie.

Evie wished the business of her father’s debt wasn’t the reason for Billy’s visit, but maybe with his help it could all be resolved without upsetting Mum and Grandma. Evie was feeling better now she’d spoken to Billy.

As she carried the bucket of clean wet clothes to the mangle in the outhouse, she decided not to worry any more about her dad until she had to. There was work to be done, and plenty of it.

It was mid-afternoon when the boys erupted into the house. Jeanie made them each a jam sandwich – thick bread, thin jam – and they went off noisily to play in the street with Paddy and Niall Sullivan, passing the Sullivan boys’ sister Mary on their way out.

‘Hello, Mrs Carter,’ said Mary from the back door.

‘Come in, lass,’ Jeanie called out. ‘That frock’s come up smart, hasn’t it?’ she added to Mary. The school summer dress was second-hand, and Sue had altered it to fit Mary a treat. School uniform was expensive and Mary didn’t mind that hers wasn’t new. She was well aware how fortunate she was to be allowed to continue at school and study, the only one of the seven Sullivan siblings to do so.

‘Mrs Goodwin’s done a stupendous job with it,’ said Mary.

Stupendous – whatever next? thought Jeanie.

‘Is it all right if Evie and I go for a stroll up to the park? I won’t be keeping her from her work, will I?’

‘I’ve just finished,’ announced Evie, beaming at her best friend. ‘Gran says she’s got mending to do and I’ll help Mum with the tea, so we won’t have to be long.’

Mary looked to Jeanie for confirmation.

‘Best get going, then,’ Jeanie smiled.

Mary produced a paper bag of bull’s-eyes from her pocket as the girls went outside and Jeanie could hear them giggling as they skipped down Shenty Street as though they didn’t have a care in the world.

She smoothed down her pinny and put the kettle to boil, pleased to hear Evie’s laughter. Her daughter had been oddly preoccupied today. Evie worked hard, and Jeanie worried that she sometimes forgot Evie was only sixteen, barely a woman yet.

Sue and Jeanie were enjoying a few minutes’ sit-down with a well-deserved cup of tea when they recognised Michael’s heavy footsteps approaching.

‘Got the sack, didn’t I?’ Michael told them, untying his work boots before hurling them through the open back door in a show of temper. ‘There was a mix-up about the maintenance of some pipes and there was a bad leak this afternoon and a lot of beer was lost. Mr Denby called me in. It was like he’d made a note of every single thing I’ve ever missed. I reckon he’s had it in for me for a long while.’

‘Oh, Michael!’ Jeanie’s face was completely white. Deep down she knew her husband was a slacker. He sometimes went into work the worse for wear from the night before, but he was popular at the brewery with his mates and it hadn’t occurred to her that he might be less popular with his boss.

Sue kept quiet but her expression was grim.

‘Couldn’t you go and ask him for another chance?’ Jeanie suggested quietly.

Michael gave a hollow laugh. ‘No hope of that. I told him he could stuff his job and I was well out of it. He never remembers when I’ve done summat properly, only when he wants to pick holes. I told him that straight. I’ve had it with smarming round Denby, at his beck and call all day.’

‘But he’s the boss, Michael.’

‘Aye, well, not any longer,’ muttered Michael. ‘I’ll be my own boss from now on. I’ll answer to no one. If you women can do it then so can I. I can tout my skills around, earn some money from my own gumption.’ He gave a brief smile. ‘Give folk a bit of the old charm, butter ’em up, like, I’ll soon have plenty of satisfied customers.’

‘Like you did Mr Denby, you mean?’ muttered Jeanie.

Sue passed Michael a strong cup of tea with sugar in it. ‘I think Jeanie means you’ll need to find paid work straight away,’ she said diplomatically, trying to keep the peace. ‘It can take a while to build up customers when there’s only you to do it.’ She was fond of her son-in-law but she thought he lived too much by his belief in his luck, and not enough by hard graft.

‘Look, I’m sorry, love. It’s not your fault,’ he went on, taking Jeanie’s hand. He lifted it to his lips and planted a kiss on her rough skin. ‘Mebbe I do need to find work with someone else. I’ll have a look around and see what’s going. There’s proper house-building now – I’m sure I’ll be able for summat. I’m going to have to be,’ he added quietly, sounding unusually forlorn.

Jeanie got up and hugged him to her. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll find a new job,’ she said. ‘In the meantime the washing’s going well and we can take in some more for a week or two, just to tide us over.’

‘I’ll ask around at church,’ said Sue, though they were already working to capacity. ‘That’s where I heard about Mrs Russell, after all.’

As the two women rallied their own spirits and tried to pull him up with them Michael felt even worse. He wondered when would be the best time to break the news of his debt from the card game, realising even as he considered it that there would never be a good time. Maybe if he held his peace something would turn up …

‘Dad, you’re home early,’ said Evie, appearing with the boys at the back door. ‘Here, have one of these sweets – they were giving them away at the shop ’cos the box got wet or something. Anyway, they’re all right.’ She passed round the sweets and then looked properly at her parents.

‘What? You two are a bit gloomy. You haven’t had bad news, have you?’ she asked, wondering whether her father had told her mother about the debt to Mr Hopkins. Then again, it might be something quite different that was making them look so down; perhaps they’d heard someone was ill or even dead.

‘Evie, would you go and collect Bob, please – you’ve probably seen him playing in the street – and Peter, too?’

‘Yes, Mum.’

Evie’s stomach was churning by the time she’d rounded up her brothers and they all trooped into the kitchen where their parents and Grandma Sue were now sitting round the table. Whatever it was, it was very serious.

‘Mum, Dad, tell us. What’s happened?’ asked Evie.

‘I’m out of work, lass,’ said Michael solemnly.

‘Oh, Dad …’ Peter said. ‘But you’ll find another job.’ He sounded confident.

‘Of course, Pete. I shall have to.’

‘Will we starve?’ asked Robert, looking anxious. ‘Will we have to go and live in the woods, and eat berries and boiled nettles?’

‘Give over your nonsense,’ said Jeanie. ‘I don’t know where you get such daft ideas. We’ve got the washing, and your dad’s going to find another job, so in a week or two it’ll all be back to normal.’ She ruffled Bob’s hair and gave him a reassuring smile.

‘But it won’t be,’ Evie blurted out. It was as if her mouth suddenly had a mind of its own.

They all turned to look at her and in that moment her suspicions were confirmed: Dad hadn’t told Mum and Grandma Sue a word about the debt. It was time to face up to the truth. She couldn’t keep quiet a second longer, as if she didn’t know, while Mum and Grandma Sue tried to make the best of things and Dad sat there taking them in, pretending it was all going to be all right.

‘What do you mean, love?’ asked Sue. ‘There’s no need to get upset. We’ll manage somehow.’

‘I mean, what about Mr Hopkins? How on earth are we going to pay what you owe him, just from the washing, Dad?’

Michael sat open-mouthed and there was total silence. It was broken by Sue, who sprang to her feet with surprising speed, looming over Michael, her face a picture of fury.

‘And who the hell is Mr Hopkins?’ she roared.

‘Right, Mum, I’m off to see Evie,’ said Billy, putting a cup of tea down beside his mother’s armchair. ‘Have you got everything you need? I won’t be late.’

‘You’re a good lad, Billy. I’m right as rain, don’t you fret.’

Billy wasn’t looking forward to helping Michael Carter sort out his problems repaying Mr Hopkins. Being a postman, Billy tended to know more than most what happened in several neighbourhoods, though he wasn’t a gossip. He’d heard of at least two men who had been beaten up when they couldn’t pay Hopkins, and some who had had their possessions taken by Hopkins’ men in payment of their debts. Billy had thought before now that, what with Michael’s drinking and his betting, if it hadn’t been for the laundry the family would probably have gone under.

Billy got as far as the corner shop on Lever Lane, at the junction with Shenty Street, when Geraldine Sullivan emerged, rummaging in her handbag and bringing out a packet of Craven ‘A’ cigarettes.

‘Hello, Gerry. Just finishing work, are you?’

‘Yes, it’s been a long day. Mr Amsell does the evening papers but it’s my job to sweep up and tidy the storeroom. I’ll be glad to get home and take these shoes off – and these stockings. It’s that hot in the shop.’ She fanned herself prettily and Billy tried not to think about her taking off her stockings.

Geraldine Sullivan was a real looker, with her glossy dark hair and her big blue eyes. If Mary had more than her fair share of brains, there was no doubt that her elder sister had got the beauty. Geraldine had worked at the corner shop ever since she’d left school. Billy thought she was seventeen or eighteen now but it was hard to tell, what with her red lipstick and her hair always nicely done. She had an easy way with the customers and Billy thought Mr Amsell had realised her beauty was an asset behind the counter as well as her manner, because he knew of several men, old and young, who would choose to go to Amsell’s shop just to be sold a paper by Geraldine Sullivan.