‘I’m going to ask you a straight question and you’d better give me a straight answer.’ Tilly was talking to Sophy but she suddenly shot a frown at Alice. ‘Wait outside.’
Alice did as she was told and descended the stairs. She loitered first in the musty hallway then, when the sensation of debris, blown in by the wind, fluttering against her feet began to irritate, she went to breathe in the sweeter atmosphere of a dull and misty mid-November morning. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and shivered against the chill whilst her mind began turning over possible reasons why her mum would want a private talk with Sophy. From several painful experiences Alice had learned that usually no good reason prompted their mother to get you on your own.
She heard a clattering of footsteps on the stairs and saw her cousins Bobbie and Stevie emerge from the murky hallway. Alice noticed that one of Stevie’s cheeks looked red.
‘Your dad clouted yer?’ Alice asked him sympathetically.
Stevie sniffed and cuffed at his nose. ‘Nah . . . got it off me mum,’ he said.
‘He wet the bed again,’ Bobbie said and dodged as his brother swung out at him. ‘He’ll get a belt off dad ‘n’ all tonight if he smells piss on the sheet.’ Bobbie started trotting down the road.
‘Why don’t you shut yer gob,’ Stevie snarled after him before he slunk past Alice.
Various people were coming out of the tenement houses: adults going off to work, children on their way to school. Alice returned a simple greeting to people who hailed her whilst her mind still brooded on what was going on upstairs. She gazed up at the battered sash window as though wishing to peer in it and ease her curiosity. It seemed she’d been waiting ages for Sophy. Slowly her faraway vision dropped, focused on Sarah Whitton who was on her way down the road towards her.
Sarah had lodged with the Keivers until last month. Then Tilly had said enough was enough. She’d wanted Beth out of her bed and again in the back room with the other girls. So Sarah had had to return home. Sarah had wanted to stay but Alice had been oddly relieved and had only half-heartedly backed her friend’s pleas to stay. Since the piano had arrived and taken pride of place in the front room their home was even more cramped than usual. But it certainly had been well used and even her mum had grudgingly said it had been worth shelling out for.
‘What you hangin’ about for?’ Sarah asked as she drew level with Alice. ‘Be late if you don’t get going.’
‘Waiting for Sophy. Mum’s got her upstairs . . . talking to her,’ Alice added darkly.
‘She in trouble?’ Sarah asked with a grimace.
‘Dunno . . . hope not,’ Alice replied and sent another look up at the top-floor window. She suddenly realised that she needed to get rid of Sarah so that when Sophy eventually appeared she could find out what’d gone on. Sophy would clam up in front of Sarah. Their mum had drummed into them enough times that you never let anyone, including your friends, know too much about your family’s business. ‘You’d best be getting off or you’ll be late. Don’t hang about waiting for us.’
Sarah gave a shrug as though indicating she wasn’t too bothered about being late for registration but, after a few silent minutes, she sensed Alice’s withdrawal and mumbled a farewell. Alice watched her friend go and then took a few paces towards the desolate hallway. She wondered whether to creep back in and listen on the stairs to try and find out what was going on. She decided not to bother. If her mum were in any sort of paddy she’d be able to hear all about it just where she was.
‘I know you ‘n’ Danny Lovat have been friendly for a while and I ain’t put a stop to you seeing him because I ain’t seen you misbehaving.’ Tilly paused and considered. ‘Ain’t seen him misbehavin’ either. Fact is he’s been alright giving you bits ‘n’ pieces he’s got hold of.’ Tilly remembered that Danny had given Sophy bread and biscuits when he’d worked at the grocery store. Now he was helping out old Mr Greene on his market stall, Sophy often brought in a bit of buckshee fruit or salad stuff. In fact, Tilly had been happy to foster the little romance between her eldest daughter and the lad next door. But something was niggling at her and Tilly’s way was to have it out rather than brood on it.
‘Have you let him touch yer?’ Tilly demanded to know. She fixed on Sophy a stare that made her daughter blush crimson and fidget on the spot.
‘’Course not,’ Sophy spluttered, guessing at once what was worrying her mother. She’d thought she might not have noticed. Recently their mother had been boozing most nights now they were more flush with money. Their dad was working late distempering and so on and getting more of Basher Payne’s houses ready for the sanitary inspector. But, drunk or sober, it seemed Tilly managed to keep an eagle eye on all that occurred, or didn’t occur, in the Keiver household.
‘I’ve not seen you take any rags out the drawer this month.’ Tilly continued cutting bread for Bethany’s breakfast but she slid Sophy another piercing look. ‘You’d better not be lying to me, my gel,’ she said in a quiet, sinister voice, so unlike her usual harsh tone. ‘I’ve told you what happens when boys take liberties with gels. The gels get in the family way ‘n’ then it’s right big trouble. So even with boys you really like you don’t ever let them take liberties like that. Right? Remember what happened to Maisie Brookes?’
Sophy nodded, quickly edging towards the door. She remembered that alright. It’d gone round their school like wildfire that poor Maisie had almost died to get herself out of the trouble that Tommy Greenfield had got her into. But Sophy knew she wasn’t that daft. She and Danny had already worked that one out and knew what to do. ‘I’d better get going to school,’ she said. ‘I’ll be late.’ She shoved an arm into a sleeve of her coat.
‘Yeah . . . well, end of this month you won’t have no more school. The day you turn fourteen you’re out ‘n’ earnin’ full-time,’ Tilly called after her. ‘Christmas ain’t far off ‘n’ we need all the wages we can get to make it a good ’un fer once.’
Sophy gave a nod. She was glad to change the subject. ‘I’m already keeping me ears ‘n’ eyes open for something.’
‘I’ve been looking too. Don’t yer worry about that, my gel.’ Tilly gave a rare smile. ‘I think I’ve found something for you to start off with. Rag shop in Fonthill Road needs a sorter. One of ’em’s leaving to have her baby come the end of the month. I already put your name forward fer it.’
‘I ain’t doing that!’ Sophy stopped her sidling towards the door. She showed her mother an expression of total disgust. ‘I ain’t coming home stinking ‘n’ dusty ‘n’ covered in fleabites for a measly seven bob a week. I’ll stick with me doorsteps if nothing else turns up.’
‘You’ll take whatever full-time you can get hold of. If you want to keep your doorsteps then do them Saturday morning or give ’em to Alice to take on. Doorsteps are kids’ work for weekends. You’re out of here working every day, pulling in full-time, or you’re outta here fer good. I mean it.’
‘I’ll sort out me own work,’ Sophy mumbled and slipped out onto the landing before adding, ‘Pam Greenfield got a job packing in the laundry in Fonthill Road. I can try there.’ She turned and was soon hurrying down the stairs.
‘I already tried the laundry. They don’t want no one else right now,’ her mother yelled after her.
‘What’s she on about?’ Alice asked Sophy as they started trudging down the road towards school.
‘Reckons she’s got me a job ready ‘n’ waiting in the rag shop in Fonthill Road for when I turn fourteen. Fine birthday present that’ll be! Ain’t havin’ it ‘n’ that’s that. I’ll try one of the factories for a job as a tea gel. But I ain’t workin’ in no poxy rag shop sorting