Sins of the Father (6 page)

Emma bathed Susan in cool water and then put her to bed where she fell asleep almost immediately. By the time Luke and the others came home from school, she was a lot better, but still lying lethargically on the mattress.

Emma came down the ladder. ‘Susan’s in bed.

She’s been sick and was sent home from school.’

‘Serves her right,’ Luke said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘When we pass the market on the way to school, she’s always scrounging stuff. She puts on a sad face, tells the stall-holders her mum’s dead, and nine times out of ten they give her an apple or something.’

‘She does what?’ Emma was horrified. ‘But an apple wouldn’t make her sick.’

‘I know, but she’s done it so often that I think the stall-holders have got wise to her. She didn’t get anything from them this morning so she tried it on with the butcher. He was just opening up, and when she pulled the stunt he shoved a pie into her hand. She stuffed it on the way to school and the greedy cow wouldn’t even give us a bite. Still, she got her comeuppance. I reckon it must have been bad.’

Emma still couldn’t believe her ears. ‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Since just after Mum died. It started when Charlie asked us how we were doing and it was obvious he felt sorry for us. He gave us an apple each and it must have given Susan the idea.’

‘I’ll give her a piece of my mind when she gets up,’ Emma said, but then heard a knock on the door. She went to answer it, her face paling when she saw the landlord.

Mr Bell was in his mid-forties, tall and thin,
with a shock of dark, wiry hair. To Emma he was a toff, well spoken, well dressed, and he always carried a briefcase.

He gazed at her for a moment, his eyes puzzled, then said, ‘Is that you, Emma? I hardly recognised you. You seem to have grown up overnight.’

She felt gauche, unsure of herself and stammered, ‘My…my dad isn’t home from work yet.’

‘Didn’t he leave the rent with you?’

‘No, but he’ll be here in a couple of hours.’

The man sighed heavily. ‘Very well, I’ll be back later.’

‘Thank you, Mr Bell.’ Emma said, relieved to close the door on the man and the predatory look she had seen in his eyes.

An hour passed and when Dick came home, his eyes widened. ‘Blimey, Em, you look nice,’ he said, passing her a bag of vegetables.

‘It’s down to Alice,’ Emma told him, eyeing with appreciation the carrots, onions and potatoes. ‘There’s plenty here for another stew tomorrow. It’s really good of Charlie to give you the leftovers.’

‘They’re too soft to put out again tomorrow, and they’d only be chucked away. Anyway, don’t change the subject–why are you all dolled up like a dog’s dinner?’

‘I was going out to look for a job again but Susan was sent home from school.’ She then went on to tell him why, his disgust equalling her own.

‘Well, stone the crows,’ he said. ‘I’ll have a few words to say to that little madam.’

‘Me too,’ Emma said, relighting the fire to finish off the dinner.

Another hour passed, one in which they both gave Susan a telling-off, and then Emma looked at Dick worriedly. ‘Mr Bell is sure to be back soon and I don’t think I’ll be able to fob him off again. I hope Dad isn’t blowing his wages in the King’s Arms.’

Dick’s expression soured as he rose to his feet. ‘I’ll drag him out of there if I have to.’

As Dick made his way to the pub, he found himself thinking about his boss. Charlie Roper was the antithesis of his father, and a man he respected. Charlie had never married and, as far as Dick knew, had no family, but he had taken him under his wing, treating him almost like a son. Yes, he was a hard taskmaster, but he expected no more from anyone than he did from himself.

Charlie liked the occasional pint but, unlike Dick’s father, he knew when to stop. The man was hard-working, up at the crack of dawn every day, in all weathers, but never complained, despite the cold affecting his arthritic fingers. Charlie had fought in a war too, albeit the first one, and he’d had it rough, fighting in the trenches and telling Dick stories of rats the size of cats. Yet unlike his
father, Charlie never bemoaned his fate, or used it as an excuse to drown his sorrows in drink. Dick scowled, hating his father’s weakness, determined never to follow in his footsteps.

When Dick reached the pub, he flung open the door, searching for his father through a fug of stale cigarette smoke. An old boy was pounding out a tune on a wonky piano, the melody unrecognisable to Tom, and at a couple of tables he saw men playing cards. He pushed his way forward, finding his father standing at the bar, lifting a pint of beer to his lips.

Tom’s eyes narrowed when he saw Dick, and above the babble of voices he snapped, ‘What the hell are you doing in here?’

‘The landlord’s after the rent money.’

Tom’s eyes flicked to the group of men who were drinking close by. ‘Keep your bloody voice down!’ he hissed.

Dick glared at the pint glass in his father’s hand, knowing it wasn’t his first and uncaring of who might overhear. ‘Mr Bell will be back soon and wants his money.’

‘So what? He’ll get it when I’m good and ready. Just tell him to sod off.’

‘Tell him yourself.’

Tom’s lips tightened in anger. ‘Watch your mouth, son. Now bugger off or you’ll feel the back of my hand.’

‘I ain’t going anywhere unless you come with me.’

There was a titter of laughter, a man saying, ‘It sounds like your young whippersnapper’s laying down the law, Tom.’

Tom’s grip was tight on his glass. ‘That’ll be the day,’ he quipped. ‘In fact, I think I’ll take the lad home for the hiding he deserves.’ He then lifted his pint, gulping it down and slamming the empty glass on the bar before glaring at Dick and adding, ‘Right you. Home–and now!’

Emma heard footsteps on the stairs and her father’s yelling before he shoved open the door, his eyes dark with anger as he glared at Dick.

‘You’ve got a bloody nerve, kicking up like that in the pub. I didn’t know where to put my bloody face.’

‘Can you blame me? If I didn’t drag you out, the rent wouldn’t be paid–again. Mr Bell isn’t going to put up with it for much longer.’

‘I paid some of the arrears last week. Anyway, Bell’s all wind and water. He’s always threatening to chuck us out, but we’re still here, ain’t we?’

‘One of these days you’ll push him too far.’

‘I’ll handle Bell, but if you ever show me up again in my local, you’ll live to regret it.’

For a moment they eyed each other like combatants, but it was Dick who finally turned away.

For a moment Tom continued to glare at his son, but then his eyes lighted on Emma. He paled, shaking his head as though to dismiss the sight. ‘Christ, you gave me a turn. You look just like your mother. Where did you get those clothes?’

‘Alice gave them to me.’

‘Have you found a job?’

‘Not yet. Susan was sent home from school and I had to stay with her.’

‘Bloody kids,’ he muttered, flopping onto his chair. ‘You’d better find a job soon, my girl.’

Shortly after there was a tap on the door and Emma went to answer it.

‘Is your father home now?’ Mr Bell asked.

‘Yes, I’ll get him.’ But when she turned round, her father was already on his feet.

‘I’ll speak to you outside,’ he told the landlord, stepping into the hall and pulling the door closed behind them.

They heard raised voices and Dick put his fingers over his lips, pointing to the door. It hadn’t closed properly, so both of them moved to the small gap, listening to the conversation.

‘I can’t pay all the arrears today, but you’ll get the rest next week, I promise.’

‘You said that last week, and the week before. I’ve been lenient, but there are still eight weeks outstanding. Either you pay me in full now, or I’ll be forced to evict you.’

‘Have a heart, Mr Bell. Since my wife died things have been hard, but my daughter is looking for work now. As soon as the girl gets a job there’ll be more money coming in.’

‘Emma? Are you talking about Emma?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

There was silence for a moment, and then a cough. ‘What sort of work is she looking for?’

‘She’ll do anything, shop work, a factory.’

Again there was a short silence, and then Emma’s eyes rounded like saucers when Mr Bell spoke again. ‘I too have lost my wife, Mr Chambers, and since then my house lacks a woman’s touch. I’ve been considering employing someone as a cleaner-cum-housekeeper and, as Emma is looking for work, maybe she’d like the position.’

‘What sort of pay are you offering?’

‘It will depend on how many hours she works but approximately one pound ten shillings. If you’re agreeable a portion of that could be stopped each week to pay off the arrears.’

Without thought, Emma flung the door open. ‘Dad, I don’t want to be a cleaner!’

Mr Bell looked at her briefly, but then his eyes narrowed. ‘Well, Mr Chambers, if Emma isn’t prepared to work for me, I must insist that you now pay the rent in full.’

‘I haven’t got it. I can give you this week’s rent and a couple of bob off the arrears.’

‘No, that isn’t good enough.’ He then opened his briefcase, taking out a sheet of paper. ‘This is an eviction notice and states that you must vacate the premises in one week’s time.’

‘Wait, hold on. What if Emma takes the job?’

‘As I said, the arrears can be deducted from her wages. However, this doesn’t mean that I’ll allow any further to accrue. I’ll expect the current rent to be paid on time, each week, without fail.’

‘Agreed. Right, she’ll start on Monday. I’ll leave you to sort out the details with her.’ On that note Tom Chambers turned to go back inside.

Dick held the door open, saying to his father, ‘Hang on. Emma said she doesn’t want to be a cleaner.’

‘She’ll do as she’s bloody well told!’

Emma saw her brother’s face darken with anger and broke in quickly, ‘It’s all right, Dick. I don’t mind.’ In truth she hated the idea, but there was no choice. If she didn’t work for Mr Bell they’d all be out on the street.

‘Are you sure, Emma?’

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she said, and as Dick withdrew, he left the door ajar.

She turned to face Mr Bell and for a moment his eyes roamed over her body. There was something in his expression that made her shiver, but then he spoke brusquely.

‘Right, Emma. As I said, I need someone to
look after my house. Here’s my address, and I’ll expect you on Monday morning at eight.’

She looked at the piece of paper he handed her. ‘Er…I’m not sure where this is.’

‘My house faces Clapham Common, and isn’t far from St Barnabas’ Church.’

Emma swallowed. It was a long walk. Nervously she asked, ‘Could I start at nine? I…I’d like to get the children off to school before I leave.’

For a moment his lips tightened, but then he nodded. ‘Very well. I’m not a hard man, or a hard employer. I’m sure we’ll jog along nicely.’

He reached out to pat her arm, and Emma shivered again at his touch.

‘Goodbye, my dear. I’ll see you on Monday.’

He smiled again, this time warmly, and Emma relaxed a little. Maybe it would be all right. She could cope with housework. After all, she’d had plenty of practice.

‘I start on Monday,’ she told her father as she went back inside.

‘Good. Get the dinner dished up and then I’m off out again.’

As Emma spooned the stew onto tin plates, she consoled herself with the knowledge that at least the family were safe from eviction. Then another thought struck her and she smiled. Once the arrears were paid off she could leave. After all, what would there be to stop her?

On Monday morning Emma was frantically trying to get the children off to school. Susan was unusually compliant, but after the telling-off Emma and Dick had given her, it wasn’t surprising.

‘Come on, off you go,’ Emma urged. ‘I won’t be home until after five o’clock, so do as Luke tells you, and don’t forget your little jobs.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll see to them,’ Luke said, and Emma smiled gratefully, again thankful that he was such a sensible and intelligent boy. As they all trooped out she watched them for a moment. Surely, even after Mr Bell taking some of the arrears out of her wages, she’d have enough left to start buying them all some decent clothes. She cast a quick glance around the room, making sure the fire was doused, and then five minutes after the children, she left for her first day at work. It wasn’t what she had hoped for, but even so, she felt a spark of excitement to be out of the dismal
flat and facing something new, albeit someone else’s housework.

The June day was warm and Emma’s feet were already aching from the long walk as she approached Mr Bell’s street, but she couldn’t fail to notice the difference. The air here was cleaner than at home, with no taint of smoke from factory chimneys. The houses she walked alongside were large, immaculate, smacking of wealth, and on the opposite side was Clapham Common, a wide expanse of green grass and trees.

She passed St Barnabas’ Church and soon after was standing outside Mr Bell’s house. Like the neighbouring ones, it was huge and four storeys high. Emma took in the lovely, mellow red-brick façade and, her heart jumping with nerves, she tentatively walked down a drive lined with huge rhododendron bushes. There were bay windows on the ground floor, and a wide stone staircase leading to the front door. For a moment she halted, floundering. Should she use the front entrance or look for one at the side? Unsure, she decided on the front, hand trembling as she rang the bell.

When the door opened, Mr Bell stood there, a wide smile on his face. ‘You found it then,’ he said unnecessarily.

‘Yes,’ she murmured, shocked that he had answered the door himself. Surely in a house this size there were other staff? Mr Bell gestured her
inside. Her eyes rounded as she followed him into a large hall with a sweeping, carpet-covered staircase. They almost popped out when she was led into a huge, plush room with wonderful views across the Common. The furniture looked sumptuous, large sofas with mahogany side tables, these covered with a thin layer of dust. Huge gilt-framed paintings lined the walls, and inlaid cabinets held beautiful porcelain figurines.