Memories of You (2 page)

Joe must have been looking the wrong way, for he was as startled as everyone else when there was a loud knock on the front door. A moment later Aunt Jane ushered a tall, thin gentleman into the room. ‘This is Mr Jenkins from Haven House,' she said. ‘He's come for the boys.'

The last sentence was unnecessary. They all knew very well why Mr Jenkins had come. The gentleman removed his hat and clutched it against his dripping mackintosh. His face was gaunt and his wrists were scrawny. He gazed with hopeful pleasure at the spread on the table.

‘Have you time for a cup of tea and a sandwich?' Aunt Jane asked him. ‘I made the fruit cake myself.'

That was a lie. Helen had made the cake the day before, using up everything that was left in the larder. Mrs Andrews entered the room carrying the teapot. Mr Jenkins' thin features stretched into a smile.

‘How kind of you, Mrs Roberts,' he said.

He took a seat at the table and for a moment looked as though he didn't know what to do with his hat until he put it on the floor underneath the seat. He helped himself to a sandwich then looked up and said, ‘What about the boys? Are they going to join me?'

‘Oh, no, the boys have already eaten.'

Danny and Joe stared at their aunt, disbelief in their eyes. ‘We haven't already eaten,' Joe said. ‘And I'm hungry.'

‘Me too,' Danny added.

Aunt Jane looked flustered. She attempted an amused smile. ‘Now really, boys,' she said. ‘How can you be hungry after that lovely dinner we had?'

‘It wasn't lovely,' Joe said. ‘And there wasn't enough.'

An angry flush suffused their aunt's puffy features. ‘Ungrateful child!' She turned to Mr Jenkins. ‘Their mother spoiled them with fancy foods – more than she could afford, that's what the trouble is. They are completely unaccustomed to good, plain old-fashioned meals.'

Before Mr Jenkins could reply, their neighbour, Mrs Andrews spoke up. ‘I've made up a few sandwiches with the ham that was left over. The boys can eat them on the train,' she said. She looked at Aunt Jane defiantly. ‘I hope you don't mind?'

Helen watched the conflicting expressions chase across her aunt's face. ‘That's kind of you,' she said. ‘Although as it was me that provided the ham, you should have asked.'

Mrs Andrews refused to be intimidated. ‘And I've got them a comic each they can read on the journey.'

‘I'm not going!' Joe said. ‘You can't make me! Danny and I will stay here with Helen and Elsie.'

‘I've already told you that's not possible,' Aunt Jane said. ‘Helen is only fourteen. She is too young to look after you on her own. And in any case, what do you suppose you would live on? Where would the money come from?'

‘I'd get the money!' Joe said. ‘I'd get a job.'

‘Don't be ridiculous, boy. You are only eleven years old, and even supposing you were allowed to leave school you wouldn't be able to earn enough to keep the four of you.'

‘I'll be twelve next April,' Joe said. ‘You're allowed to leave school at twelve if you have a proper job.'

‘I could work, too,' Danny said. ‘We'd make enough between us. Tell, them, Helen. Tell them we want to stay together!'

The boys looked at her beseechingly and Helen felt as though her heart was breaking. ‘Aunt Jane is right,' she said. ‘She cannot afford to take all of us.'

‘She's taking you and Elsie,' Joe said. ‘You two will be able to stay together. It's only us that's being sent away!'

‘It won't be forever,' Helen said. ‘We'll write to each other, won't we? And one day, I promise you, we'll be together again.'

‘That's what Grace would have wanted,' Mrs Andrews interjected. Helen saw that their old friend was fighting back tears. ‘
I
would take the bairns if I could, but now that Albert's on the dole and no prospect of a decent job, it's all I can do to feed the two of us.'

‘All I can say is that my sister should have made proper provision for her children. But she was always feckless. Living from one day to the next without a care to what might happen.'

‘What else could she do?' Mrs Andrews asked. ‘Grace was the sole breadwinner since Richard died. She spent her days cleaning other people's houses and she spent every penny she earned on the bairns. And she never had any help from anyone except me.'

Helen thought Aunt Jane was going to choke on her own bile. ‘My sister married Richard Norton knowing he had a weak constitution. Our parents begged her not to. They wanted her to follow my example and marry a man with prospects and a good pension to provide for his widow when he died. But Grace would have her own way and this is the result.' She glared angrily at Mrs Andrews but their neighbour would not be silenced.

‘It's almost as if you blame the poor woman for getting knocked down,' she said.

‘She just ran out without looking,' Aunt Jane retorted. ‘The driver didn't stand a chance. That's what the policeman said.'

Joe and Danny were white-faced with strain. Elsie was frowning as if she was trying to understand the terrible world she had been thrust into.

‘Please stop!' Helen said. ‘You're upsetting the children.'

Mrs Andrews was mortified. ‘God forgive me,' she said. ‘I never meant to upset the bairns.'

‘Well, you have,' Aunt Jane said. ‘Fancy bringing all that up about the accident in front of them.'

‘It's your fault,' Joe exclaimed. ‘You started it.'

Aunt Jane turned on him. ‘How dare you!' She became aware that Mr Jenkins was watching her. She pursed her lips angrily, then said, ‘Let me apologise for this disgraceful scene, Mr Jenkins. But I'm sure you'll understand how upset we've been since poor Grace was run over.'

Mr Jenkins had had his fill of sandwiches and was on his second piece of fruit cake.

‘Would you like another cup of tea?' Aunt Jane asked.

Mr Jenkins cleared his throat and glanced at the clock on the mantel. ‘I wouldn't say no to a fill up,' he said. ‘I must say, Mrs Roberts, if this is the way you feed these children then they have no cause for complaint. None whatsoever.'

Helen saw the fury in Joe's eyes and she rose quickly and went over to the boys. ‘It's all right, Joe,' she said quietly. ‘We know the truth of it. Why don't we go to the kitchen and collect those sandwiches that Mrs Andrews has made for you? You'll enjoy them on the train. It will be like a picnic – a day out. Won't it, Mr Jenkins?'

‘Erm, ah, yes,' he said and Helen took no comfort from the unfocused look in his eyes.

Helen hurried the twins along to the kitchen with Mrs Andrews following. The sandwiches were in two paper bags on the scrubbed wooden table. Helen took down the string shopping bag from the hook on the larder door and put the sandwiches in it.

‘Here you are,' Mrs Andrews said as she put a couple of comic strip papers in with the sandwiches. ‘My grandson is finished with them.'

Neither of the boys spoke. Joe looked angrier than ever and Danny had retreated to some lonely place inside himself. The overhead gas mantle flickered, dimmed, then went out. The fire in the range was hardly bright enough to keep the shadows at bay. Helen heard one of the boys sob and was surprised to see that it was Joe; plucky, spirited Joe. She reached out and put her arms round him but he shook her off.

Their aunt entered the kitchen. ‘It's time for you to go,' she said.

Joe scrubbed at his face angrily with white clenched knuckles but Danny said, ‘It's all right, Helen. I understand. We'll write to each other like you say.'

Helen gave him a hug but although he didn't shake her off like Joe had done, he held himself stiffly.

‘Mr Jenkins is waiting,' Aunt Jane said impatiently. ‘Now come along and get your parcels. You have a train to catch.'

‘Goodbye, lads,' Mrs Andrews said. ‘I won't come to the door, if you don't mind.' She sank down on to one of the wooden kitchen chairs.

Neither of the twins answered her. They followed their aunt along the passage to the front parlour and picked up the parcels containing all their clothes.

‘Don't forget your sandwiches,' Helen said, and Danny held out an arm so that she could slip the string bag over it.

Mr Jenkins rose from the table and got halfway to the door before he remembered the hat he had placed under his chair. Once he had retrieved it he hurried ahead. ‘Come along, lads,' he said with an air of hearty cheeriness. It was the first time he had spoken to them directly. He turned to Aunt Jane. ‘And I can assure you, Mrs Roberts, that you have done the right thing. Your nephews will be very well looked after at Haven House.'

Suddenly both boys dropped their parcels and rushed back to the sofa where Elsie still sat. They both dropped to their knees and hugged her in turn.

‘Goodbye, little'un,' Joe said. ‘Promise not to forget me.'

‘Nor me,' Danny said.

Elsie, eyes wide but unseeing, nodded mutely. She had not spoken for days. Pain and bewilderment had imprisoned her in a silent world.

Mr Jenkins cleared his throat. The boys rose, picked up their parcels and without another word they left the house they had lived in since the day they were born.

Aunt Jane, having seen them off, came back into the front parlour and frowned. ‘It's dark in here,' she said. ‘I suppose I'll have to put something in the gas meter.'

She left the room and went along to the kitchen where she had left her handbag. A little later Helen heard a coin drop into the meter on the wall behind the front door. One penny, Helen thought. One penny to measure out the time we have left here. She knew they would be going to Aunt Jane's house that very night and she wondered why they weren't setting off straight away, unless their aunt had decided to let them eat up the sandwiches and fruit cake before they left.

Helen heard raised voices from the kitchen. Both the parlour and the kitchen doors were open and the angry words echoed along the passage.

‘Do it yourself,' Helen heard Mrs Andrews say at full volume. ‘Get your own hands dirty. I'm not your servant, you know. I came to help because Grace was my friend and I love those bairns like they were my own.'

Her aunt did not reply. After a short while she appeared carrying burning coals on a shovel. She must have lifted them from the kitchen range. She knelt down and tipped them into the grate. After arranging them carefully she stood up and sighed. ‘There's no more coal,' she said. ‘So that will have to do.'

‘Are we staying here for tea?' Helen asked.

Her aunt did not reply. Glancing briefly at the clock, she took a taper from the jug in the hearth and lit the gas mantle before closing the curtains and returning to the kitchen. A faint warmth now emanated from the fireplace and, with the curtains drawn against the miserable November evening, the room seemed to give faint echoes of happier times.

Helen gazed into the heart of the fire. She remembered the games they had played trying to see pictures in the fire. As she watched the coals shifted and settled, sending a shower of ash on to the hearth. She half rose, intending to sweep the hearth clean, but sank back on to the sofa when she realised there was no point.

Aunt Jane returned and went to check her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall above the fireplace. Her greying brown hair was parted in the centre and scraped back into a bun at the nape of her neck. She tucked a stray wisp behind one ear and then picked up the comb that was kept on the mantelshelf.

‘Tidy your hair,' she said to Helen. ‘Come here, Elsie. Your ribbons are falling out.'

Not understanding why they should have to do this right now, Helen, nevertheless, went over to the mirror, removed the hairclips that kept her unruly dark blond hair from falling across her face, dragged the comb through it and replaced the clips. By the time she had finished Aunt Jane had retied the blue ribbons in Elsie's hair and had led her to the table.

‘Time for tea,' Aunt Jane said and the younger girl looked at her uncomprehendingly. ‘Hurry up, Helen,' their aunt added. ‘We haven't got all day.'

‘You want us to eat the sandwiches and cake?' Helen asked.

‘What a silly question. Of course I do. Now sit there with Elsie while I go and get a jug of milk.'

Helen was utterly confused. Mr Jenkins had been given tea, probably so that Aunt Jane could make a good impression – pretend to be the caring aunt. The boys, who might have eaten everything that Mr Jenkins left, had been denied. And now she and Elsie had been prettied up and asked to sit at the table. Was Aunt Jane expecting another visitor or was this gesture simply to impress kind old Mrs Andrews? Helen doubted it.

Elsie was staring at her plate. The best china, Helen realised. Her mother's precious rose-patterned tea set. It wasn't really valuable but it had cost more than they could afford. Her mother had bought it from a stall in the Grainger market week by week, a cup and saucer, a tea plate, the sugar bowl, the milk jug and eventually the teapot. How excited they had all been when their mother had brought that teapot home. She had placed it in the china cabinet along with the rest of the set.

She had stood back and regarded the display with pleasure for a while, then she had said, ‘Well, I'm not going to let them sit there all the time. If we have nice things we should use them. And not just for high days and holidays like birthdays or Christmas. We'll get them out each Sunday teatime. Make the day special.'

Aunt Jane was going to take the tea set. She had told Mrs Andrews that most of the things in the house were worthless but, even so, she had arranged for Gardiner's auction rooms to come and collect everything. Everything except the tea set and her sister's few pieces of jewellery.