Memories of You (16 page)

Aunt Jane had stormed into the kitchen, taken hold of Helen's arm and dragged her from her chair and then across the hall into the front parlour. She slammed the door behind them and turned to face Helen, breathing heavily.

‘What is it? What's the matter?' Helen rubbed her arm and stared at her aunt in alarm. The broken veins on her face had purpled and her eyes were almost popping from their sockets.

‘I've just had a visit from Mrs Partington.'

‘I know. Eva told me.'

‘And why do you think she came here? Why do you think a great lady like her bothered to come to my little home?'

‘I . . . I don't know.'

‘You went to visit your sister. That's why. Even though you were told not to. Ever.'

‘I didn't visit her. I just went to . . . to have a look at where she was living.'

‘Nevertheless you saw her.'

‘I didn't speak to her. She didn't see me.'

Aunt Jane suddenly clutched at her throat. She began to gasp and Helen thought she saw a flicker of fear in her eyes, but after a moment her aunt's breathing eased and the fury returned.

‘But you would have done eventually. You told your brothers in your letter. That's how the Partingtons knew you'd been there.'

‘My brothers? Letter?' Helen was confused. ‘How do you know about the letter?'

‘Because the ungrateful brats have run away, that's how, and they left most of their things behind them. Well, they needn't think they can turn up here, that's all I can say. And as for you, you needn't think you're going back to school. I should put you out. That's what you deserve. But I've decided it's time you made yourself useful around here.'

Helen gripped her pencil and stared at the blank page in front of her. The kitchen was quiet; her aunt had gone to bed hours ago, but Helen could not sleep. Even though she would have to rise early the next morning to get to work she had taken her notebook and gone down to make herself a cup of tea. It was no use. No words came. The page remained blank. As it had since the beginning of January when her world had changed once more.

She had always taken comfort in recording small events, describing people and moments that she wanted to remember, and since she had come to live with her aunt she had had the added purpose of keeping any precious memories for the sake of her sister and brothers, for she had deluded herself that one day they would all be together again.

What was the point of writing anything now? What had she to record? Oh, yes, her birthday in February. Her fifteenth birthday. There had been a card from Eileen and an invitation to tea which Helen had ignored. How could she bear to go to her old school friend's house now that she had been forced to leave school and abandon all the hopes that her mother had had for her?

Unsurprisingly there had been no card from her aunt, only a reminder that it was time she found a job and that she had better get along to the employment exchange. Aunt Jane had grudgingly acknowledged that Helen might qualify for a job in an office rather than have to settle for shop work, although she wasn't sure if it would be well paid enough for her to make a meaningful contribution towards her board and lodging.

Helen hadn't even told Eva it was her birthday. What was the point? They were barely speaking. Aunt Jane had cut Eva's hours almost by half, saying that once the rough work was done and the lunch prepared, Helen was quite capable of doing anything else such as dusting, bed-making, and seeing to the tea and supper.

Work was hard to come by, even domestic work, so although Eva had begun to look for a position elsewhere, winter, spring and early summer went by and she hadn't found a decent paying job within walking distance of her home and family.

‘Might have to settle for factory work,' she told Helen, although both girls knew that not many places were taking on new hands.

So Eva and Helen had passed from an easy-going friendship into awkwardness on Helen's part and a barely disguised state of resentment on Eva's.

During those first dreadful weeks after Mrs Partington had called to see her aunt, Helen had been up early every morning, waiting for the postman in the hopes that she would hear from her brothers. The letter when it came was welcome but far from reassuring. For a start there was no stamp on it, which meant Helen had to pay the postman, but that also meant there was no postmark, so she had no idea where it had come from.

The message was brief:

 

 

That was all. They hadn't told her where they were, what the job was or why they had run away in the first place. For weeks Helen waited for another letter, but one never came, and by the end of a hot dusty summer she had accepted that she might never hear from them again.

As for Elsie, despite her aunt's explicit instructions that she should never go near the Partington house again, Helen could not resist it. She had gone one morning when she was supposed to be going to the employment exchange. She had stood in the gateway opposite all morning and had seen nothing at all. No one came or went. Eventually, unable to stop herself, she had crossed the road and walked up the long drive to the house. Daringly she stared in through one of the windows. As she had suspected, the furniture was covered with dust sheets. The Partingtons had gone away.

‘What do you think you're doing?'

An angry voice behind her startled her and she spun round to face a man who looked like the gardener.

‘Nothing . . . I just wanted to know where they were.'

‘If by “they” you mean Mr and Mrs Partington, what's it to do with you?'

Helen had no answer.

‘Now get along with you,' the man said. ‘And there's no need to think that just because the family isn't in residence there isn't someone looking after the place. So it's no use going back and telling your father that there's rich pickings here. That's what you are, isn't it? A thief's nark. I've seen your like before. Dressed all respectable so you think you won't be noticed in this part of town but dishonest as they come. Now clear off before I call the police.'

Helen was mortified but she tried to leave with dignity. It crossed her mind that the gardener, or whoever he was, might report that a girl had been looking in the house and that Mrs Partington would guess who it was. But what could she do? The damage had already been done and it would only make the Partingtons more determined to stay away and keep Elsie to themselves. When she got back her aunt asked her if she'd had any luck at the employment exchange.

‘No,' she had replied. ‘No luck at all.'

Then she had been offered a job in the office of a pickle factory. After the first day she realized that rather than a clerk she was just a general dogsbody. She wasn't going to learn anything and furthermore she went home smelling of vinegar. But her wages were just enough to allow her to put a little by every week even after her aunt had taken what she considered to be a fair contribution towards household expenses.

She wasn't too sure what she was saving for. She only knew that during the weeks she had been given ninepence a day she had also been given a measure of independence. She had learned that it was good to have a little money of your own.

Helen stared once more at the blank page, then she closed her notebook and leaned forward on the table, resting her head in her hands. She would rest here a little before she went back to bed.

‘What the hell are you doing?'

Helen looked up startled to find Eva standing over her.

‘You look bloody awful. Have you been down here all night?'

‘I suppose I must have been.'

‘And now you're going to go to work?'

‘Of course. How could I miss another fun day at the pickle factory?'

‘You poor, poor thing!' Helen had never seen Eva so angry. ‘How dare you complain? You've got a job when hundreds of people haven't and if it isn't exactly what you consider good enough for you then just think on what exactly you're good for!'

Helen stared up in astonishment.

‘You don't know what I'm talking about, do you? Not the faintest idea! Listen, Helen, I felt sorry for you when you first came here – being parted from your family and all. And I felt sorry about what happened next, I mean, you must be worried sick about your brothers running away. But all this moping on about your little sister when anyone would tell you she's really fallen on her feet. And you – look at you. Feeling sorry for yourself all the time.'

Helen was stung into replying, ‘I don't feel sorry for myself.'

‘Oh, yes, you do. You go on as if you're the only person in the world who has troubles. You can't see further than your own nose. I don't think I've ever come across anyone so self-centred!'

‘Self-centred?'

‘Yes, self-centred. And don't just sit there staring at me. I've no sympathy for you. I'll make you a bit of toast while you hev yourself a wash and then for God's sake get out of here and get on with your life.'

The two girls didn't speak again that morning. Helen was surprised and hurt by Eva's outburst but after the initial shock she realized immediately that she deserved it. She tried to put herself in Eva's shoes. Her friend's family worked hard and struggled to survive. Eva herself had left school at the age of twelve and had worked ever since. As far as Helen could see, Eva had no prospect of bettering herself whereas she, Helen, had at least had a good schooling up till now and it was entirely up to her what she made of it.

 

On Friday, with her pay packet safely in her pocket, Helen didn't go straight home after work. She knew her aunt would complain if her tea was late but she didn't care. Why should she? She knew by now that Aunt Jane would not turn her out. She had become too useful, not just because she had taken over much of the housework but also because she had come to perform the countless small duties demanded by a lonely woman who was increasingly fussy about her health. Helen had not been able to make up her mind about whether Aunt Jane was really ill or whether she was becoming a hypochondriac.

Margery was wiping the tables down and she looked up in surprise when Helen walked into the Cosy Café. ‘My, my, stranger. Where have you been?'

‘Have you missed me?' Helen smiled as she took a seat at a table by the window and looked at the menu.

‘Well, yes, I have. Did you leave school, then?'

‘I'm a working girl now.'

‘Right-ho, madam. What can I get you?'

‘A pot of tea and poached egg on toast, please.'

‘Coming up.'

While Helen waited she looked around at the other tables. The café didn't remain open in the evening and one or two customers were finishing their meals. By the time Margery got back with her poached egg she was the only one left. She'd brought two cups with the pot of tea.

‘Mind if I sit with you?' she asked.

‘I hoped you would.'

Margery reached into the pocket of her pinafore and took out a packet of Craven “A” and a box of matches. ‘Like one?' she asked.

‘I don't smoke.'

‘I did at your age. Helps the nerves.'

‘But what about your throat? I mean, you're taking in hot smoke, aren't you?'

‘No worry about that.' Margery opened the pack and took out one cigarette. ‘Look, it's got a cork tip – it's specially designed to prevent sore throats. In fact it may be good for them. That's what Dot told me last time she was home.'

‘Dot?'

‘My daughter. Dorothy.'

Helen knew very well who Dorothy was but she said, ‘Of course. How is she? Does she like working in London? Why don't you tell me all about it?'

 

Mabel Norris peered through rheumy eyes out of her kitchen window as the lad trudged across the yard towards the path that led down to the stream. A year or two ago she would have gone with him. Taken her bread and cheese and apples and a flask of milk and sat on the bank for a while, and maybe even had a little snooze before getting back to work. But now her arthritis had made her a prisoner, confined her to within a very short distance of the farmhouse.

She would have liked a bit of company. She'd told him often enough that he was welcome to sit at her table but who could blame him for wanting to be outside on a day like this? Even on rainy days, she reflected, he seemed uneasy to stay inside for too long and didn't even sleep here. He was quite happy to take the blankets she had given him and sleep in the barn.