Jam and Roses (19 page)

The navvy stuck out his hand. ‘My name’s Davey. Me and my mates would be honoured if you would join us. Shove up, lads.’

Milly smiled with relief, gratefully slumping on to the nearest seat. The men were dressed in rough working clothes and boots, and a couple of the younger ones looked shyly away as she glanced in their direction.

‘Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Davey. You’re a real gentleman, thanks for the helping hand.’ She smiled.

Davey sat opposite her as the train picked up speed. ‘You looked like you needed it. Why was he trying to take the littl’un, if you don’t mind me asking?’

Milly blushed. ‘I’ve been staying over at Edenvale.’

Davey nodded. ‘Changed your mind, did you?’ he said gently. ‘I don’t blame you, duck, I’ve got kids of me own. It’d break my heart to give any of ’em up.’

Tears pricked Milly’s eyes at his unexpected kindness, but Jimmy’s need was pressing and now his screams had become ear-splitting.

‘Sorry, Davey, but I need to feed him, otherwise he’ll deafen you all the way to London Bridge.’

Davey motioned to the other men, who each with great delicacy turned their backs, until Jimmy’s contented nuzzling ceased and he fell into a milky sleep.

Milly would love to have joined him in a doze, but although the eventful night had sapped her energy, she couldn’t allow herself to be rocked to sleep by the swaying carriage. Every atom of her being seemed to vibrate with an alert watchfulness. She wouldn’t rest till she knew Jimmy was safe. Davey and his mates had no such compunction. After a little conversation about their families and the tunnelling job they were doing at Moorgate, they each fell to snoring and slumbering. She spent the journey watching fields disappear, replaced by suburban tiled roofs, and it wasn’t until they had reached the dense smog of south London that she shook Davey awake.

‘London Bridge next stop,’ she said and he jumped up, lifting her bag down from the rack.

‘You got anywhere to stay?’ he asked as he handed it to her.

‘Oh yes. I can walk it from London Bridge. I’m going home.’

In fact she had no idea where she was going. The extent of her plan had been to get Jimmy as far away from Edenvale as possible, but now she was within half an hour of the only home she’d ever known, she felt as barred from it as if she’d been Eve returning to the gates of paradise.

Davey helped her down and bade her farewell. He and his mates were soon lost in the crowds of workers leaving London Bridge Station and Milly found her way to the stairs leading to Tooley Street. She started walking towards Dockhead, following the railway viaduct, packed with trains spewing steam, which descended in clouds to the street below. By the time she reached the narrow inlet of St Saviour’s Dock, Jimmy’s white blanket was covered in black smuts, and as she approached Dockhead everything struck her as dingier and more cramped than she remembered. It reminded her of the times when she’d come home from hopping, sorely missing open skies and the uncluttered horizons of Kent. But now she welcomed the warren of streets and courts. At least she knew how to lose herself in their suffocating closeness, and if Edenvale reported her as an unfit mother she might have to hide here for a very long time.

She waited in a small courtyard off Arnold’s Place, until she was sure her father would have gone to work, and then she walked with faltering steps to her house. At first there was no answer and she’d begun to think Mrs Colman was out, when she heard scuffling and the door was opened.

‘Hello, Mum,’ she said, lifting Jimmy like a shield against her mother’s refusal. ‘I couldn’t give him up.’

Ellen Colman’s hand flew to her face. ‘Oh Gawd,
Jesus
, Mary and Joseph, bless us’n spare us’n save us’n keep us!’

It was as she took her hand away that Milly saw mottled red and blue bruises on her mother’s face, and her right eye as bloodshot as her father’s usually were after a night at the Swan and Sugarloaf. Before she could say anything, her mother reached out for the baby.

‘Look at him, he’s a little angel!’ she said, cradling him in her arms, immediately entranced. Milly smiled at her unfeigned delight. It was clear that in Ellen Colman’s eyes Jimmy would never be second best.

Milly followed her mother down the passage into the old familiar kitchen. While her mother sat with the baby, examining every toe and finger, Milly made tea and answered her questions about Edenvale and her change of mind.

‘I can understand why you couldn’t give him up, love,’ her mother said, looking up after a while. ‘You’ve got some gumption, standing up to them. But if you don’t want them taking the baby away, you’ll have to prove you’ve got a home and how will you feel... coming back to live with the old man?’ She frowned and shook her head. ‘He’s been ten times worse since you left.’

‘I can see that.’

‘Oh, this.’ Her mother’s hand touched the bruise on her face. ‘I got between him and Elsie. Poor little cow’s been taking the brunt of it lately. And don’t think you can give him another pasting and make it any better because you can’t. You’ve got to live with the man, same as all of us.’

‘No, I haven’t, Mum. I’m not stopping here.’

‘But where else can you go? You’ve got your baby to think of now, Milly,’ she said, looking down at Jimmy as he lay contentedly in her arms. ‘You’ve just got to swallow your pride for his sake.’

‘Don’t you worry about me. I’ll get me job back and I’ll find somewhere to live.’

‘Worry? I don’t do nothing else
but
worry about you. I’m sorry, love, I wish I could do something to help, but he keeps me so short.’ Her mother reached down to the hem of her skirt, and began to unpick the hem. ‘Here, have this.’

‘No, Mum! That’s your emergency shilling. I’m not taking that.’

But her mother shoved it into her hand. ‘Take it, I’ll get another to put in its place.’ Milly swallowed her pride, just as her mother had said she must, and took the money.

‘One thing you
can
do for me is look after him while I go over to Southwell’s, to see if I can get a job.’

‘Of course I will, love. Just be back before the old man gets home. I can’t afford any more rows, he’s broken nearly every stick of furniture in the place.’

Milly looked round. There were indeed a couple of chairs missing and the old sideboard door was hanging off.

‘Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll be out of the way long before he’s back.’

As she turned to leave, her mother caught her by the hand and Milly saw her eyes filling with tears. ‘I’m pleased you’re home, darlin’, and... I’m glad you brought us back another Jimmy.’

July 1924

‘Milly Colman! What are you doing back?’ Tom Pelton, sitting behind an old roll-top desk in a cubbyhole next to the clocking-on machine, looked surprised to see her. In charge of hiring and firing for all the departments, she would get nowhere without his say-so. Fortunately, ever since she’d first joined Southwell’s, he’d taken a shine to her and she was confident he’d give her a job.

‘I thought you were going into service?’ he said diplomatically, and she decided to play along for the time being: if he knew she’d come back with a child, she’d have far less chance of getting a job.

‘I didn’t take to it,’ she said. ‘Cleaning up after other people! I think I’d be happier back here.’

Tom Pelton was a decent foreman and he’d always treated her fairly, but now he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Milly, but the days of walking back into your old job are gone.’

This was the last thing Milly expected and he must have seen her disappointment.

‘You could try Lipton’s or Hartley’s,’ he offered, ‘but I’m pretty sure they’ve taken on all their summer workers by now. Best thing I can suggest is come back tomorrow, in case any of the casuals don’t turn up. There might be a month in the picking room for you, while the strawberries are coming in.’

She was stunned. Things really were changing. How often had she come back from hopping on one day and started at her old place the next? Now, when she desperately needed a job, it seemed she would have to go begging.

‘I’d be grateful for the chance of that, Mr Pelton,’ she said, trying not to show how crushed she felt. But she really needed to be sure of a job today. She’d have no chance of renting a room if she couldn’t say she had a job, even a casual one. As she walked out of the gates and back down Jacob’s Street, puzzling over where to go next, she decided she might as well try at Hartley’s. It was a much bigger factory than Southwell’s, and covered a vast area just off Tower Bridge Road. They had a reputation for treating their employees well, so it was unusual for someone to give up their job there. But they did employ huge numbers of casuals in the summer months. It was worth a try.

She walked back through Dockhead towards Tower Bridge Road, and at Hickman’s Folly hurried past a group of women scrubbing pavements outside their doors. One of them carried a bucket of whitewash, and was painting the edge of the kerb. Milly stepped carefully over the still wet paint, but was stopped by a familiar voice.

‘Good gawd, look who’s turned up!’ It was Mrs Bunclerk. She put the bucket down and suddenly Milly was being embraced by whitewashed hands. ‘My Kitty’ll be so pleased to see you! But we didn’t expect you back yet, love.’ She dropped her voice. ‘Did the baby go to a nice home?’

Milly nodded. ‘I think he did, Mrs Bunclerk – he’s come home with me.’

The woman gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Well, at least you won’t be on your own. Your mum’ll help out, and even with a baby, you’ll still have a darn site more room in Arnold’s Place than us lot in ours!’

‘Oh, I’m not going back home! I couldn’t live with him, so I’m looking for a room.’

Mrs Bunclerk nodded doubtfully. ‘It’s just a matter of finding one that’ll be better’n what you’ve got at home. You’ll be lucky there, love.’

Milly knew there were plenty of rooms for rent all over Bermondsey. Often families of five or six would squeeze into one room and let out the spare room to a lodger, for the income. She hoped to do better than that, even if she had to go further afield than Dockhead. Still, her first priority was a job.

‘Got to go, Mrs Bunclerk, let Kitty know I’m back!’ she said, hastily kissing the woman goodbye.

‘I’ll keep an eye out for you, love, see if there’s anywhere decent round here,’ Kitty’s mother called after her.

It was only after she walked away that Milly realized why Mrs Bunclerk was painting the kerb. Tomorrow was a festival day for the Catholic churches. The whole area was spruced up, ready for the children’s parade. Crowds six deep lined the way and children, dressed in Sunday best, marched through riverside streets, carrying flowers and banners. There was a band and afterwards a tea at the church hall. In the evening, if it was fine, someone would trundle a piano into the street and there’d be an impromptu party.

How could she have forgotten the date? It had always been one of the highlights of their year, a day when beauty flooded the dour terraces and colour burst into the unrelieved drabness of slate roofs and brick walls. No doubt Elsie and Amy had been excitedly preparing their clothes for weeks, and once Milly would have been at the heart of it too. How different her life would be now! She might be home, but she was still in a sort of exile and festivals were not for her. She set her mind to the task at hand.

When she reached Tower Bridge Road, she turned into Green Walk and marched up to Hartley’s gates, all the while praying there would be a job for her. The bandy-legged porter rolled out of his little sentry box and, without even asking what she wanted, pointed to a board.
No job vacancies
.

Not to be put off, she asked, ‘I was wondering if you needed any summer casuals?’

‘Can’t you read?’

‘No need to be so rude, I’m only asking.’

The porter growled and coughed. ‘You try answering the same question umpteen times a day and see how you like it.’

‘Miserable old git,’ Milly said none too quietly. As she walked away, she gave the board a deliberate kick.

Hopping from one bandy leg to another, he shouted after her: ‘And don’t come back here expecting a job any time soon, you won’t get through the gates!’

All her old bravado rising, she flung back, ‘Wouldn’t work in this dump if you paid me!’

She knew she’d just scuppered her chances of a job at Hartley’s, at least as long as he was porter, but after so many weeks of being ordered about she’d felt compelled to strike a blow for her own dignity. She was beginning to realize that running away from Edenvale had been the easy part. But not to be deterred, she decided her next stop would be Feaver’s, the tin bashers at the other end of Tower Bridge Road. She traipsed all the way back down the stall-lined street, with costermongers enticing her to buy fruit and veg she couldn’t afford, and the bustle of women with baskets and purses making her feel even more of an outsider from her own life.

She was still wearing the winter clothes she’d travelled to Edenvale in, and now, as the sun broke through, she shed her woollen overcoat. The old clothes market was in full swing as she passed and Milly couldn’t resist weaving her way through the stalls. Her eye caught flashes of good material or dresses that she knew she could improve upon, if only she’d had an extra bob or two in her pocket. There was a light knitted two-piece, perfect for summer, that she lingered over.
Your dress-buying days are over
, she told herself sternly and hurried on. But at Feaver’s she was met with the same answer as at Hartley’s. There were no extra workers needed.

By this time Milly’s mouth felt like sandpaper and her stomach was cramping with hunger. She’d had nothing to drink since the cup of tea with her mother, and nothing to eat since finishing the verger’s sandwich on the train that morning. Realizing that if she felt hungry, then poor little Jimmy must be as well, she made quickly for home. As she walked, the practicalities of keeping him began to hit home. She’d brought Jimmy back with nothing but the clothes he slept in and a handful of nappies filched from the nursery. How much would it cost to feed and clothe him? She’d have to buy bottles and tins of milk as her own wasn’t enough for him. Where would the money come from? Now that Jimmy had cast his spell over Mrs Colman, Milly knew her mother would help however she could, but she’d have no money to spare. Anxiety knotted in her stomach. Perhaps bringing Jimmy away had just been selfishness? She’d told herself she was doing the right thing for him, but had she just done it for herself?