The Urchin's Song (10 page)

‘I’m
saying
working men and women have got the upper hand if only they had the sense to realise it! There’s thousands of us and a few of them, and if we all stood together - which is what the unions advocate, after all - things would change.’

‘Aa dunno aboot that, lass.’

Josie also noticed that Frank’s northern accent was particularly predominant at such times, and when he smiled and winked at her and Gertie after Prudence had flounced out of the room - a common occurrence - she’d smile back. It was about the only time she did smile these days, she thought sombrely one evening in the first week of December when she was sitting on the settle in the kitchen, too tired to move. Nothing had gone the way she’d dreamed that day on the train when she had left Sunderland. She didn’t regret leaving - she’d do the same thing again, she reassured herself firmly, but nevertheless . . .

She flexed her toes in her hard black boots, every muscle and joint aching, and then picked up the shirt she had offered to darn. There was always a stack of mending to do in Betty’s household, and Prudence would come up with every excuse under the sun before she would help. It had taken Josie no time at all to realise there was little love lost between Betty and her stepdaughter. In fact, there was little love lost between Prudence and anyone else in the household - other than Barney - if she thought about it.

In her capacity of assistant head laundress at the laundry in Higham Place off New Bridge Street, Prudence had secured an interview for Josie the very next day after she had arrived in Newcastle, with the result that the young girl had started work immediately.

The post was described as laundry checker and sorter, and it was at the very bottom of the ladder. Checking in the dirty washing and entering each receipt of an article into a ledger was the worst bit. Josie hated handling the soiled linen, and somehow it seemed as if the vilest items came her way when Prudence was around. Invariably the other girl on duty with Josie would be given the task of checking and booking out the clean laundry. The heaviest baskets, the most disgusting and smelliest clothes and bedding were piled high at her station of work, and always -
always
- Prudence would be constantly deriding her for being too slow, too stupid, and a hundred other things besides.

The baskets which transported the linen to the washing bays ran on little wheels, and oft times the ones which Prudence put Josie’s way were so heavy it took every ounce of her strength to even move them a few yards. Every evening she walked home with Prudence and Barney in an exhausted daze, and it was only Barney drawing her out that broke through the stupor.

Josie was well aware that the attention she received from Prudence’s brother during these walks was another nail in her coffin as far as the other girl was concerned. The next day, Prudence would make her pay dearly for every smile, every thought she shared with Barney, but Josie didn’t care. It was worth it. Prudence’s veiled glares made it clear she bitterly resented Barney bothering to talk to her at all, and the fact that they got on extremely well into the bargain was salt in Prudence’s wound.

But Barney was so
nice
. And funny. Definitely funny. Sometimes Josie thought he must have made up some of the stories he told about the happenings of his day - just to make them laugh - but whether he did or not she always entered the house in Spring Garden Lane feeling as though the world was a good place. And she liked to listen to him too, when he talked about the unions and politics and things like that. She even liked to listen to Prudence because Barney’s sister was interesting in her own way, besides which Josie found herself silently agreeing with Prudence’s sentiments regarding the downtrodden working class and a whole host of things. She had tried to tell Prudence this more than once, but had always got her head bitten off for her efforts. All in all, Josie enjoyed the walk home at nights, even if she was so tired at times she wondered how she was managing to put one foot in front of the other.

Once in the house though, after she had had a couple of cups of the strong black tea Betty seemed to drink all day, she found what her mam would have termed her ‘second wind’. She usually helped Betty dish up the evening meal and would feed the youngest Robsons their portion before she ate her own, but she rarely managed more than an hour or so of darning and mending before she collapsed into the hard pallet bed she and Gertie shared in the room where Prudence also slept, comfortable in a single bed with a thick mattress, and little Freda and Clara, who shared a bed identical to the one Josie and Gertie slept in.

Gertie, too, had her share of problems. Unlike the teacher at the Board school in Sunderland’s East End, the one in the school in Douglas Terrace just a short walk away was a stern disciplinarian.

Gertie was not a bright child and was easily reduced to tears, and besides the cane applied at frequent intervals she’d had to endure sitting in a corner with her face to the wall and a paper hat on her head. One day she had arrived home hysterical after the teacher had shackled her to the desk all afternoon until she could repeat a verse of scripture to the woman’s satisfaction. When Josie had got in from the laundry over two hours later, Gertie’s thin little wrist had been chafed raw from the harsh rope used to secure her.

The fact that such practices seemed quite normal and acceptable to Betty and Frank had not reassured Josie in the least, and she had made her feelings known. Prudence had laughed at them both and sneered at Josie’s concern for her sister down her long nose, and Betty and Frank, kind though they were, had been quite unable to understand her concern. It was only Barney who had taken Josie’s distress and Gertie’s terror seriously.

‘Do you want me to go and have a word with Mrs McArthur?’ he’d asked Josie quietly the next morning on the way to work.

‘Have a word?’ Prudence had snorted on Barney’s other side. ‘What good would that do? You and I have both survived under Mrs McArthur and are none the worse for it. The girl needs to toughen up, that’s all. Besides, you know what Mrs McArthur’s like. If you go and see her she could well take it out on Gertie. She’s like that. Spiteful.’

The pot calling the kettle black.

Josie’s thoughts must have been written all over her face because Prudence had glared at her in the next instant, and that morning the baskets had been so heavy and so disgusting Josie had been quite unable to stomach any lunch. However, after she’d considered Barney’s offer in her mind Josie had to admit she thought Prudence was probably right. Barney complaining would not endear Gertie to the teacher, and with the absolute power the woman had over her pupils she could make Gertie’s life even more miserable. But it had been grand of him to offer. The thought warmed Josie for the rest of the day. When she thanked him that night on the way home for his suggestion and explained her reasons for refusing, he took her hand in his for a brief moment, squeezed it and told her she must tell him if she changed her mind, and she felt a warm glow right down to her toes.

However, Gertie continued to weigh heavily on her mind. The child had complained of stomach-ache for the last few days and stayed off school - encouraged by Betty who made good use of her - but a visit by the School board man the day before, followed by a stern admonition that he expected her to attend school for the next nine months until she was eleven, had put paid to that ruse.

Josie thought it ironic that in all the time they had lived in Sunderland, and with her brothers attending school just an odd day here and there more often than not, they had never once had a visit by the School board man. But things were different in Newcastle. As she was finding out more and more.

‘Well, lass, how do I look? Good enough to pass with Lord an’ Lady Muck?’ Betty stood in front of her, clad in her Sunday best.

Betty had long since christened Barney’s prospective in-laws with the title, something which made Prudence tight-lipped but only made Barney laugh. Pearl Harper was an only child and her parents ran a substantial inn at the end of Pitt Street; they had made it quite clear in the past that they considered their daughter a mite above a miner’s son. Nevertheless, in much the same way they had conceded to Pearl’s friendship with Prudence, they allowed their headstrong daughter her way with regard to Barney. Betty had often longed to point out that it was Pearl who had done all the running. ‘Set her cap at him from when she was nowt but a bairn,’ Betty had confided in Josie one night when Gertie and the children were in bed and the others were out; she and Josie were sitting in front of the fire with a basket of mending between them. ‘Shameless at times, she was, but he couldn’t see it. Men can be right fools when it comes to a certain type of lass. Still, it’s done now.’

Josie was reminded of this conversation in the next moment when Frank ambled through from the front room attired in his Sunday suit, his neck straining awkwardly out of his stiff white collar and his face as black as thunder. His wife glanced at him before saying, ‘It’s no use lookin’ like that. The weddin’s only two weeks away an’ there’s things to be sorted, you know that as well as I do, an’ I’m not havin’ them lookin’ down their noses at us. We can show ’em we’re just as well set up as them, leastways.’

‘Don’t talk daft, woman.’

‘Well, we can offer to pay a bit towards the jollifications, can’t we, an’ I can do a bit of bakin’.’

‘An’ I had to be wearin’ me suit for you to say that?’

‘Aye, you did.’ It was sharp and pointed. ‘An’ don’t you have more than a pint or two, should they offer.’ Betty now turned to Josie, and her tone was warm and soft when she said, ‘You’ll be all right, hinny? There’s a pap bottle on the side should you need it, but she’ll likely sleep till I’m back after screamin’ all day, poor little blighter.’

Barney and Prudence had already left for Barney’s future in-laws’, and Josie was in charge of the house and the children, including three-month-old Millie, who had been suffering from a bout of diarrhoea. ‘I’ll be fine.’ Josie smiled at Betty but didn’t add, as would be customary in the circumstances, ‘Enjoy yourself,’ because she knew that was the last thing Betty was concerned with. She hadn’t been looking forward to this evening and had approached it like a necessary military procedure, instructing Frank on what he could and couldn’t say until the two had finished up having the mother and father of a row the night before.

Josie followed Frank and Betty to the front door, waving them down the street before reseating herself on the settle. She didn’t take the more comfortable armchair that was Frank’s in spite of the fact she was now effectively alone downstairs, apart from little Millie asleep in her crib. No one in the household, not even Prudence, would have dreamed of sitting in the large, high-backed seat which dominated the kitchen and was set at an angle to the range.

Josie gathered up Frank’s spare working shirt again and commenced her task of attempting to draw the frayed pieces of cloth together. The shirt had been washed and darned so many times it was threadbare. The monotony of the job allowed her mind to wander to thoughts of her mother, something it did frequently. Although Vera had called the weekend before and told the two girls that their mother was fine, worry was an ever-present spectre sitting on Josie’s shoulder, restricting her appetite and causing her to imagine all sorts of things. After a while her fingers became slower, the warmth of the fire and the steady ticking from the wooden clock on the mantelpiece above the range bathing her in exhaustion. Within moments she was fast asleep.

 

Prudence sat watching her father and his fat waddling piece of lard - as she termed Betty in her mind - attempting to make small talk with Pearl’s parents, and it was all she could do not to let her contempt show on her face. Ignorant halfwits, the pair of them. Him, with his narrow bigoted way of looking at things, and Betty laughing her way through life like an idiot. How they irritated her! They all irritated her - her brothers, and her half-brothers and half-sisters. All except Barney, of course. He was different from the others, you could hold an intelligent conversation with him, and he was the only one of her brothers with the gumption not to blindly follow their da down the pit.

Prudence became aware of Pearl looking at her, her friend’s finely arched brows raised in amused understanding. Pearl was well acquainted with Prudence’s views on her family; moreover she shared them with regard to Betty and Frank although she’d always been very careful not to express her disdain in front of Barney.

Prudence straightened her scowling face quickly; there’d been a warning in Pearl’s eyes too. Don’t rock the boat, it had said. Keep everything sweet and hunky-dory tonight. They might be senseless clods but we know what we’re doing, you and I. And what they were doing was removing Barney from her da’s and Betty’s influence. Pearl would make something of Barney; she’d always wanted him and had played him like a violin for years. This thought carried mixed emotions. Reluctant admiration that her friend could keep up the pretence of being all sweetness and light when Prudence was well aware there was another side to Pearl, and faint guilt regarding her brother. But Pearl would make sure Barney got on, Prudence comforted herself quickly. He’d soon be living in the smart little house in St James Street which overlooked the park, and which Pearl’s mam and da had insisted on doing up and furnishing throughout as their wedding present. And that was just the first step as far as Pearl was concerned. She wouldn’t rest until Barney left the concrete works and joined her uncle who managed Ginnett’s Amphitheatre in Northumberland Road. Big business, the halls.

‘So, Frank . . .’ Prudence was brought back to the conversation in front of her by Pearl’s father’s heavy patronising tones. ‘We will have a little do back here then after the church, and provide a bite and such. Can’t have folk saying me only daughter had a dry wedding, now can we?’ He gave a hearty smile. ‘But me and Marjorie’ll stand it - you and Betty have got enough to do with your brood.’ He made it sound as though they were animals in a farmyard.