Poor Little Rich Girl (18 page)

‘
Spying
on you?’ Ben said incredulously. ‘I thought you said the servants didn’t like your aunt. If that’s so, why would they spy for her?’

Lonnie heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘Don’t you know
anything?
’ she said, her incredulity rivalling Ben’s own. ‘Servants have to do as they are told, whether they like it or not. But since they’ve never been told to tell Aunt Emmeline if we come in late, they can choose, see? And though they did follow us at first, that’s not to say they would have told Aunt Emmeline if we
had
been up to something. Mollie and Maud wouldn’t, anyway. They’re ever so nice, aren’t they, Hester? They know we do our best not to make a mess in the schoolroom or our little kitchen or our bedrooms, to save them work, so they do little extras for us, like nicking a few of Aunt Emmeline’s biscuits, or fetching up the remains of a trifle the grown-ups had for dinner, so we can have a taste too.’

‘Oh,’ Ben said, taken aback. He reflected that this Lonnie was a very different child from the one who had been so rude to him outside the pet shop that first time. What was more, he could not help noticing how different she looked. She had grown taller and
sturdier; her coat fitted her neatly instead of being far too loose and her cheeks were pink and her face more rounded. Despite himself, Ben grinned at her. ‘Tell you what, young Lonnie, the city suits you,’ he said. ‘You look much better than when you first come from India.’ He glanced around him, but this was a quiet residential district and he could see no clock. ‘If you’ve gorra minute to spare, I’ll show you a sport what’s much more fun than snowballing lampposts. Any idea o’ the time?’

Lonnie shook her head but Hester shot back the cuff of her thick wool coat and consulted a small gunmetal wrist watch. ‘It’s five o’clock,’ she said. ‘We’ve just been to pick up some shoes which Sarah Jones has soled and heeled for me – she’s made a grand job of them, thank goodness, which means I shan’t need new ones for a while yet – and the only other visit we have to make is to the confectioner’s on Rupert Lane. D’you know Ada Staig’s shop? We’ve tried most of the confectioners near home but Lonnie positively adores Mrs Staig’s iced buns and of course she sells the most delicious homemade toffee, so I dare say we’ll be buying a couple of ounces of that as well.’

Ben swallowed and tried not to look wistful. He did indeed know the shop, which was famous for its delicious produce, but was rarely a customer there. However, the fact that they were going to walk down Rupert Lane fitted in very well with his bright idea. ‘Yes, I know Staig’s all right,’ he said. He rummaged in his canvas bag and drew out a smallish object which he waved at Hester and Lonnie. ‘But do
you
know what this is?’

Both girls stared. ‘It looks like the lid of a round biscuit tin,’ Lonnie said at last. ‘So what? Did Mrs
Staig make the biscuits that were in it? Is that why you’re carrying it around?’

‘Nah, you woolly-head,’ Ben said scornfully. ‘It’s me sledge. When I’ve sold all me bundles of kindling, I were going to make for Everton Brow and have a bit o’ fun. How about you coming along as well?’

Lonnie looked at the biscuit tin lid. ‘But how could we all get on it?’ she said doubtfully. ‘I’ve got a sledge – a real one – at home, only Aunt Emmeline doesn’t approve of playing games in the street. Hester did say she’d take me out into the country at the weekend, if the snow lasted …’

‘We don’t all gerron it at once, we goes one at a time,’ Ben said patiently. ‘It’s gerrin’ dark now, so there won’t be much traffic about, particularly on Everton Brow ’cos it’s steep and too slippy for either horses or motors. Well? Are you going to come wi’ me to have a go, or ain’t you?’

They were talking as they made their way along Rupert Lane and presently they stopped outside the brightly lit window of Mrs Staig’s confectionery shop. The two children gazed pensively through the glass, whilst Hester checked the money in her purse, then turned to Lonnie. ‘I’ll buy a bag of those delicious iced buns and a piece of slab cake for nursery tea,’ she announced. ‘You’ve got tuppence left of your pocket money, haven’t you, Lonnie? So what’s it to be? Toffee, mint balls or midget gems?’ Hester turned to Ben. ‘How about you, young Ben? Do you like midget gems? I’m sure Lonnie will share whatever she gets.’

Ben grinned up at her, suddenly acknowledging the warmth and friendliness he could read in her face. Abruptly, he dismissed all his doubts over the
truthfulness of their story. Why should they lie, after all? If they had simply not wanted to know him or his family, they would scarcely accompany him along the crowded pavements, or offer him a share in the nice things they meant to buy. ‘If you’d like to take me last two bundles of kindling – they cost a ha’penny each – then I could buy me own sweets,’ he said grandly. ‘That way, Lonnie and me could have a bit o’ choice, like. Now how about it, eh? Are you going to have a go on me tiddy little sledge?’

‘I will, I will,’ Lonnie squeaked, obviously overjoyed at the prospect ahead of them, but Hester shook her head, though she was still smiling.

‘I’m afraid my b t m is too big for even the largest biscuit tin lid, but I’ll come and cheer you on with pleasure,’ she said. ‘And yes, dear, I’d be happy to buy your two bundles of kindling because the maids are always complaining that when it’s snowing or raining, and they have to run from the woodshed to the house, the kindling and the logs get wet.’

‘Well this ain’t wet, nor it won’t get wet,’ Ben said cheerfully. He had wrapped the kindling in old newspaper but did not hand it over to Hester at once, though he accepted the penny gratefully. ‘I’ll keep it in me canvas bag until we reach your back gate and then it can go in wi’ the shoes and the buns and that,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Now what’ll I blow me penny on?’

They went into the shop and after considerable thought, Lonnie bought an ounce of midget gems, ‘because they last longer’, and an ounce of acid drops. Ben decided on a whole penn’orth of toffee and both children emerged from the shop with one cheek satisfactorily bulging. After that, they made their way to Everton Brow and by the light of
the street lamps Ben climbed aboard his biscuit tin lid and shot off down the pavement, using his heels both to steer with and to break when it was necessary. When he came panting up again, all aglow with the delight of the ride, he found Lonnie eager for her turn, though he noticed that Hester was looking distinctly troubled. ‘I wonder if Lonnie might try to have a turn in Haig Street, rather than Everton Brow?’ she said, rather timidly. ‘It’s pretty dangerous, you know, Ben, even for someone as experienced as yourself. My blood turned to water when you had to steer round that big fat woman with all the shopping bags.’

‘I see what you mean,’ Ben said, having thought the matter over. ‘But Haig Street’s got no sort of slope to it. She’d just sit on the tin lid and look silly. Tell you what, though, if I go down behind her – on me bum like – I could brake for her with me boots and make sure she doesn’t tip over sideways or career into Cazneau.’

Hester agreed to this, though still a trifle doubtfully, Ben realised, but Lonnie had no such qualms and squeezed on to the biscuit tin, clutching Ben’s knees, and presently the two of them shot off, ending up in a snowdrift at the corner of Soho Street. Lonnie was laughing helplessly when Ben dragged her out of the drift, and told her that she wasn’t bad at sledging, for all she was just a girl. Lonnie, clearly delighted with this temperate phrase, demanded another turn, then another. But Hester, who had kept an eye on her wristwatch, called a halt to their fun and told Ben, regretfully, that they would have to go home now or risk being in real trouble.

‘I don’t want to go,’ Lonnie wailed, clutching at her
governess’s sleeve. ‘It isn’t half-past six yet, surely. Oh, it can’t be!’

‘No, but it’s ten past and your coat, boots and stockings are all wringing wet,’ Hester told her. ‘Come to think of it, Ben, you must be even wetter because you didn’t have the benefit of sitting on the tin lid.’

Ben glanced indifferently down at himself. ‘Me kecks is ruined, I wouldn’t wonder,’ he said. ‘Never mind, Mam always makes me wear old rags when it’s snowy ’cos she knows I’d likely ruin decent things. These ’uns are more patch than trouser, if you know what I mean, but me mam’s a rare one with her needle. She’ll patch ’em again, never fret, once they’s been hung on the clothes horse to dry.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Hester said, rather doubtfully, then held out a brown paper bag. ‘Give these to Mrs Bailey, Ben, and tell her I’m sorry if I’ve led you into mischief. And now you’d best give me the kindling and we’ll be off.’

‘What’s this ’ere?’ Ben said, peering suspiciously into the bag. ‘Hey, you can’t give me your tea, Hester! Them buns was for your tea, I heered you say so.’

‘Yes, but I bought eight buns altogether, six for you and two for us. After all, you’ve given Lonnie the most fun she’s had since we came to England – wouldn’t you agree, Lonnie?’

Lonnie nodded vigorously and beamed at Ben. If she regretted the loss of the buns, she clearly did not intend to say so. ‘Go on, Ben, take ’em,’ she urged. ‘Oh, and we never asked why you were around so early, because you’re usually in the shop until six o’clock, or even eight. Did Mr Madison close sooner than usual because of the snow?’

‘That’s right. Well, to be honest it were more
because there weren’t no trade to speak of,’ Ben admitted, continuing to walk along beside them. ‘Norra soul came in after we’d ate our sandwiches, and it were mortal cold in that shop, even for us, behind the counter. The animals in the window – we’ve got four lovely spotted puppies, have you seen ’em? – fair freeze, Mr M thinks. So when we close we empty the window and stand the paraffin burner in the middle of the shop. Then we put the cages all round it, like Injuns surrounding a covered waggon in a cowboy fillum, then o’ course we heads for home ourselves, so we’re all better off.’

‘That’s nice,’ Lonnie said. ‘Ben … you
do
believe us, don’t you? About being followed, I mean? Only we don’t tell lies, do we, Hester? Well, only to our enemies, and people who want to do us harm, like Aunt Emmeline,’ she added darkly.

Ben grinned at her. They had reached the green door in the tall wall now and Hester was fumbling in her bag for her key. Ben was extremely eager to see into the garden which he had so often imagined, and stood close, the kindling in its newspaper wrapping already in his hands. ‘Oh aye, I guess you were tellin’ the truth,’ he assured his young companion. ‘I try not to tell lies meself, but sometimes you have to say something which ain’t quite right. Our mam calls it tellin’ white lies, like saying to your pal that his new suit’s real sharp, when you think it’s too short in the sleeve and too wide in the body … that sort o’ thing.’

Hester unlocked the door and held it open so that Lonnie could slip through, then held out her hands for the kindling. ‘Thank you very much, Ben. It was kind of you to carry the wood for me, and kind to give Lonnie such a treat, too. I don’t know how
long the snow will last, but if it is still thick at the weekend, perhaps you’d like to come into the country with us? We’ll either take the ferry across to Woodside, or a bus along the coast to Crosby or Formby, somewhere like that. How are you fixed on a Saturday?’

‘I’m working,’ Ben admitted gloomily. ‘Dawn to dusk on a Sat’day, just about. Now if it were a Sunday …’

But Hester and Lonnie assured him, in a sad chorus, that Sundays were impossible for them. ‘Never mind, we’ll manage that outing some time,’ Hester said. She hesitated. ‘Umm … I suppose the men at Cammell Laird’s work on a Saturday?’

Ben, admitting that some weeks they only worked up to lunchtime, noticed that Hester’s cheeks turned very pink and idly wondered why, but before he could say anything Lonnie squeaked: ‘The back door’s opening. Come on, Hester! Let’s hope it’s just one of the maids, or Fletcher!’

Ben took a quick and comprehensive glance around the winter garden with its neat rows of cabbage and sprout plants. Beyond the kitchen garden, he could see a long, green lawn, deep flower beds and a terrace surrounded by a stone balustrade. To the right of the terrace was a range of brick-built, slate-roofed buildings which he imagined were storage sheds. Then he moved quickly out of the way as Lonnie flew towards the house, her small feet pattering on the cleared pathway. Hester began to close the green painted door. Seconds later he heard the governess’s key snick in the lock and her more measured tread growing fainter. He wished quite desperately that he could know who had come to the back door and whether his friends would be caught by Miss
Emmeline, but it was impossible. To try to discover just what was happening in that tall, imposing house could only mean real trouble for the two girls. He was beginning to walk back along Haig Street when he suddenly remembered the glimpse he had got back in the summer of a pale little face at the attic window. Hastily he crossed the road and stood beneath one of the few gas lamps which adorned it, gazing earnestly up at the house. At first he could see nothing, then a light bloomed and to his joy a small black figure appeared in the window and waved, making some sort of gesture before, reluctantly it seemed, drawing dark curtains across the lighted panes.

It’s all right, Ben told himself, making his way slowly along Everton Brow once more. They got in safely, without being questioned by that old brute of an aunt. I’m almost sure Lonnie give me the thumbs-up before she pulled the curtain. And with that cheery thought – and nine lovely brown pennies in his canvas bag, as well as his sweets and the iced buns – Ben set off for Elmore Street, already enjoying the sensation he would cause when he told the family how he had spent the afternoon.