A Mother's Promise (12 page)

After Hetty had eaten her bread and butter, finishing off her meal with an apple, she suffered a sharp pang of conscience when
she saw the empty space on the shelf where the straw bonnet should have been. Granny seemed to be in a mellow mood, but she would almost certainly be mad as fire if she discovered that Hetty had taken the bonnet without asking. She decided to confess and get the worst over, and she was taken aback when Granny simply shrugged her shoulders. ‘I know,’ she said, wiping her fingers on a dish-cloth. ‘I’m not blind and I’m not stupid, Hetty, as you’ll discover if you stay here much longer. I know you took the bonnet, but I suppose I can hardly blame you for wanting to look your best when you went out looking for work. Luckily for you, that particular piece of millinery is not wanted urgently, or I might have been extremely angry.’

‘I’m sorry, Granny,’ Hetty said, hanging her head. ‘I know it was wrong of me.’

‘We’ll say no more about it, but, next time, you must ask my permission before you borrow anything.’ The clock on the mantelshelf struck the hour and Granny glanced at the time, then she pointed at Eddie and Sammy. ‘It’s time you two were in bed. Jane, go with them and make sure they wash their hands and faces before they get between my clean sheets.’

‘Yes’m.’ Jane shooed the boys out of the parlour. ‘I think I’ll go to bed too, I’m fair wore
out and little Nat is kicking me to bits. Are you coming, Hetty?’

‘I want a word in private,’ Granny said, motioning Hetty to sit down.

‘I won’t be long, Jane,’ Hetty promised. ‘I’ll try not to disturb you.’

Jane closed the door behind her, leaving Hetty and Granny Huggins sitting on either side of the fireplace, facing each other.

‘Well?’ Hetty said, expecting the worst. Granny had made it plain from the start that they were here on a temporary basis. She braced herself, waiting to hear that they must pack up and leave. ‘What did you want to say to me?’

‘I may have been a bit harsh with you yesterday when you arrived on my doorstep.’ Granny held up her hand as Hetty opened her mouth to reply. ‘No, let me speak. I will help you, because I can see that you are not to blame for your current situation. Don’t expect me to become a doting grandparent overnight, that’s not my nature, but you may stay here for as long as it takes you to get enough money together to find more suitable lodgings. I hope it will be before Jane’s time comes. I can’t stand squalling babies, but we’ll meet that fence when we come to it.’

‘Thank you, ma’am. I’m very grateful to you, especially since you stood up to old Clench
earlier. He’s a dirty old dog and that’s for certain.’

‘I could see that. I’m not a fool, Hetty. And you can stop calling me ma’am. You may call me gran or granny as you please. Just remember that I will stand no nonsense and I expect you all to abide by my rules.’

‘Yes, Granny.’

‘Now tell me how you propose to support yourselves while you are under my roof. I’m not a rich woman, and I can’t keep you all indefinitely.’

Hetty looked her in the eyes, and she realised that honesty was the only way with Granny Huggins. ‘I couldn’t get work anywhere today. I tramped the streets from Bethnal Green to Whitechapel with no luck.’

‘But you helped a costermonger on his barrow, and he paid you in kind.’

‘Yes, and we talked about an idea that I’d had for some time.’

‘Don’t beat about the bush, girl.’

‘I believe I could earn twelve to fifteen shillings a week selling hot taters in the street.’ Hetty held her breath, waiting for Granny to make some scathing remark, but she was silent for a moment as if giving the matter due consideration.

‘I suppose it’s possible,’ Granny said after a long pause. ‘I’ve only ever seen men selling
hot potatoes on the streets, but in my opinion a woman is capable of doing most of the things done by men, and probably better in most cases. However, you would need money to start up such a venture, and you would have to face the rigours and dangers of working on the streets. Could you do that, Hetty?’

‘I was raised in Autumn Road – it ain’t exactly Mayfair. I can handle meself, Granny.’

‘I don’t doubt it. But what about the money? How much would you need?’

Hetty did a rough calculation in her head, based on what George had told her. ‘Two pounds nine and eleven. That would be everything, including a shilling to pay the baker for roasting the taters.’

‘I see you may have inherited your grandfather’s head for figures, my girl. Well, Hetty,’ Granny leaned forward, lowering her voice, ‘I have a little money saved for a rainy day. I’ll put up the necessary to start you in business, but I shall want repayment at a set rate each week and five per cent interest on the capital sum. Do you understand?’

Hetty nodded, hardly able to believe her luck.

‘You will pay me for your board and lodging and the boys will attend the school in Sewardstone Road. I don’t want them to grow up
uneducated with no prospects. You and Jane will behave yourselves while you’re under my roof – no followers and no hanky-panky. What do you say, Hetty?’

Hetty accepted Granny’s offer gratefully, but she worried about how Tom would take the news that he was not allowed to visit them. It seemed, however, that she had reckoned without his dogged determination to get his own way. He arrived in Totty Street one evening armed with a bunch of flowers which he presented to Granny, and asked very politely if she would spare him a few moments of her valuable time. Hetty and Jane exchanged amused glances, fully expecting her to send him packing, but she surprised them by saying she would be happy to speak to such a well-mannered young man. Hetty and Jane were banished to the back yard and they had to wait until Tom emerged, smiling and triumphant, with permission to call on them whenever he was passing by.

‘How did you do it?’ Hetty demanded in astonishment. ‘Granny doesn’t approve of gentlemen callers.’

‘I said I had looked out for you since you was a nipper and that I had no intention of
abandoning you now.’ Tom winked and tapped the side of his nose. ‘That’s all you need to know, but Mrs Huggins and me have come to an understanding.’

Jane rushed over to give him a hug. ‘Well, I’m glad. We would all miss you if you didn’t come round regular.’

Hetty nodded in agreement, and she smiled. ‘I don’t know how you did it, Tom, but you certainly worked a spell on Granny.’

‘I’m a part of this family, girl. You won’t get rid of me that easily.’

‘And I wouldn’t want to.’

‘Now what’s all this I hear about you planning to sell hot taters? I think you’d best come clean, Hetty.’

Now that she had made up her mind to become a street seller, Hetty couldn’t wait to put her plans into action. Life in Totty Street was far from easy. Jasper Shipworthy’s continued occupation of the front parlour was a constant reminder of Clench and all that he stood for, but at least Granny seemed to have relented a little towards them. She was still as spiky as a holly bush and Hetty was conscious that they were only there on sufferance. It was all too obvious that Granny had little time for her or Jane, but she doted on Sammy and seemed to have grown quite fond of Eddie. It was fortunate, Hetty
thought, that Jane was too wrapped up in herself to worry about what went on in the house. She seemed content to sit all day, dutifully stitching material for bonnets under Granny’s strict supervision. For Jane the future was limited to birthing her baby. After that she seemed to assume that everything would naturally follow.

Sammy and Eddie started at the school in Sewardstone Road, reluctantly at first, but to Hetty’s relief they came home on the first day with glowing faces and actually seemed to have enjoyed the experience. Sammy was a different child now that his new spectacles enabled him to see properly, and he said proudly that the teacher had held his ability to read up as an example to the other boys in the class. He had not, he said, told Miss that his first reading primer had been the labels for Bryant and May matchboxes. Hetty told him he was a clever boy, as was Eddie, who had also proved to be an apt pupil. She was glad now that she had searched the street markets for second-hand books, reading to them before they fell asleep at night and teaching them the alphabet in a sing-song voice by way of a lullaby. Ma had been very keen that they should all be literate, and Hetty could see that she had, as always, been right.

At the beginning of August, Hetty was almost ready to set up business as a huckster. She had
ordered a can to be made by the tin man in Ratcliff Highway, and a fire pot to hang beneath it. She asked George if he could supply her with sacks of potatoes, and he advised her to use the cheaper imported French Regents, which were waxy and would not shrivel up when cooked. She walked the streets looking for suitable sites on which to start trading, and having watched street sellers at work she realised that there was something very important that she had overlooked. She would need some means by which to transport a heavy can filled with potatoes.

It was George who came to the rescue. He turned up in Totty Street one evening pushing a small handcart, which he said he had found half submerged in the canal. He had rescued it from a watery grave and had fixed the broken wheel. Now it was almost as good as new. He brushed aside all offers of payment and Hetty thanked him profusely. After he had left, having exerted his charm on Granny who fell instantly under his spell and invited him to call again whenever he was in the neighborhood, Jane teased Hetty mercilessly. ‘George fancies you,’ she said, giggling. ‘Hetty’s got a fellah.’

The boys took this up immediately and ran around the yard chanting, ‘Hetty’s got a new fellah. George loves Hetty.’

Hetty felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment and she attempted to laugh it off, but she could see that Tom was simmering with resentment. She did her best to placate him. George was a good-hearted rattle-brain, she said, and not to be taken seriously. She did not add that she liked him immensely, or that he had an undeniable way with the ladies. He was not what most people would consider handsome, but his larger than life personality made up for a nose that was a shade too big, a chin that was a little too square, and a wide mouth that curled in a wicked grin when he was amused. His brown eyes, which seemed to vary in colour according to his moods, could glow with sympathy or twinkle with good humour and she could quite understand why women customers favoured his stall. She recalled the day when they had first met, and how his merry laughter had rung out across the market place, causing people to turn their heads and smile in a natural reaction. Yes, she thought, giving Tom’s arm a companionable squeeze, George was good fun but not a man to be taken too seriously.

As the time for collecting the finished can drew near, Hetty approached the local baker and he agreed to bake a hundred potatoes at the cost of ninepence. She used the last of her
money to buy butter, salt, pepper and charcoal, and when she collected the can she polished it until it gleamed like silver. She was now ready to launch herself in business, but Tom was becoming increasingly worried about her decision to work alone on the East End streets. He visited them almost every evening after work, and he did everything he could to dissuade Hetty from her purpose, but she turned a deaf ear to his pleadings, cajoling and downright sulks.

Their final argument, on the evening before Hetty was due to start work, was conducted in Granny Huggins’ back yard, which was the only place where they could have a little privacy. Even so, Hetty had been aware of Sammy’s and Eddie’s faces pressed against the windowpane in the upstairs bedroom, and she supposed that Granny and Jane had overhead every word as they sat in the parlour, finishing off her new work clothes.

‘You’re an obstinate, stubborn mule of a girl,’ Tom cried passionately. ‘Don’t come crying to me when you get bullied or worse by the other hucksters, or your takings are stolen by villains.’ He strode out of the yard, slamming the gate behind him, and Hetty went back indoors. She was too angry for tears, but she was deeply hurt that Tom had not supported her. She tried to tell herself that she didn’t care,
and that he was just a stupid man, but somehow she felt betrayed. She did not feel like facing the family. If she had been a man she could have gone to the pub and drunk herself into oblivion, but she was a girl and she had no choice but to join Jane and Granny in the parlour.

Jane looked up from stitching the hem of the navy-blue linsey-woolsey skirt and her eyes were filled with sympathy. ‘Are you all right, Hetty?’

‘Of course she’s all right,’ Granny snapped, biting off a thread of white cotton with her yellowed teeth. ‘I thought he was different, but that boy is an idiot, just like most of his gender, with the exception of my dear, departed Harold. He would never have behaved like that, shouting and storming just because he couldn’t get his own way.’

‘He wouldn’t have dared,’ Jane whispered as Hetty sat down on a stool beside her.

‘What was that?’ Granny fixed her with an angry stare. ‘I hope you weren’t being cheeky, miss?’

‘No, Granny,’ Jane murmured, suppressing a giggle.

Hetty was too emotionally drained to suffer yet more unpleasantness, and she leaned over to touch the crisp white cotton blouse that Granny was just finishing off. ‘That’s too good
to wear for work, Granny. I ought to keep that for Sunday best.’

‘It is a fine piece of work, although I say it myself. I’ve always been good with my needle. As to being kept for best, that is not the point. I won’t have a granddaughter of mine going out to work looking like something the cat’s dragged in. You’re starting up in trade now, Hetty. You’ve got to look businesslike. ‘She fastened off the cotton on the last button, and handed the garment to Hetty. ‘Wearing that and the new straw bonnet I made for you, you’ll look respectable and people will have confidence in you. If you look clean and tidy, they won’t be afraid to taste your wares.’

Next morning, Hetty and Jane took their wicker baskets to the bakery where they collected the hot potatoes. They wrapped them in green baize to keep them warm, and then hurried back to Totty Street where the can was wedged in the handcart waiting to be transported to Hetty’s chosen pitch outside Bethnal Green station. Jane insisted on accompanying her, but it was a hot day and about halfway there she began to complain that her feet were sore and swollen. Hetty was sympathetic but eventually she could stand it no longer and sent Jane home with strict instructions to rest. When she reached the station Hetty found to her dismay that another potato vendor had
already set up his pitch. He scowled at her and shook his fist. She did her best to ignore his threatening looks, but as she called out her wares her voice quavered and was lost in the blast of a whistle from a steam engine. She tried again, and was drowned out by her competitor’s stentorian tones.