The Songbird (6 page)

‘I know. But he's tied to your father's shop, 'same as I am to mine.' His voice was irritable and sharp. ‘But not for much longer. I'll make my last pair of shoes and I'll be off.'

‘But . . .' She was horrified. That would mean that she might never see him again. ‘Isn't that a waste? I mean, a waste of your apprenticeship? What will you do? Where will you go?'

There must have been something in her voice, some hint of desperation, for he turned and looked down at her. ‘Will you miss me, Poppy, if I go away?' He smiled at her; she saw amusement and averted her head to hide her face. ‘I'll set up on my own, away from here. I'll probably go to London. Start small, you know. But I shan't be a cobbler,' he added. ‘Not mending boots and shoes that rightly belong on 'scrap heap.' He stretched his neck and squared his shoulders. ‘No. I'll be shoemaker to 'famous. To royalty and nobility, to stars of 'theatre.' He nodded, a look of pride on his face. ‘They'll all be clamouring for shoes by Charles Chandler.

‘We're here.' He stopped abruptly and Poppy would have walked past the narrow opening to Stewart's Yard if he hadn't shown her. ‘See how dark it is down here?' he said. ‘That's why I came with you.'

‘Yes,' she murmured. ‘Thank you.' But I've still to come back this way, she pondered. There were quite a lot of people about: men pushing handcarts, women scurrying along with shawls about their heads, holding children by their hands. But they were moving purposefully as if they were familiar with the area, unlike Poppy who feared she might get lost within the alleyways and passages. They were close to the river Hull; just a few steps down the staith side and they would be able to see the water and the ships. Tommy came down here sometimes to watch the barges being unloaded or the ships making their way to the town dock.

Once this was Hull's main waterway, the mouth of the river whose source was up on the Wolds. For centuries it had served the whaling and fishing fleet, which had given the town its prosperity. Some old fishermen and boatmen still called it by its original name of the Old Harbour or Haven. Now the old town of Hull was almost an island, ringed by docks which led into the Humber estuary, whilst the newer town spread its tentacles to the north, east and west.

‘I'd better wait for you,' Charlie was saying as they entered the yard. ‘Will you be long?'

I can't let him listen! How can I talk to Nan when he's there? ‘I shall be all right, thank you,' she said. ‘I'll get Nan to set me to Lowgate.'

‘What number is it?' Charles peered at a doorway.

‘Four,' she said, beginning to wish she hadn't come. It was wet underfoot and there was a fetid smell. On one side of the narrow yard was a warehouse; on the other were small terraced houses. ‘There don't seem to be any numbers.'

Someone called out to them and they looked up. A man was standing by an open loading door high up in the warehouse. ‘Who do you want, mate?' he shouted.

‘Nan Brewer,' Poppy called back before Charlie could answer. ‘Do you know where she lives?'

‘Second from bottom, left hand side. You can see 'light in 'window.'

They called back their thanks and continued down, and Charlie cursed as he trod on something slippery. Poppy knocked on the door and it immediately opened wide and Poppy wondered at that, for she would have wanted to know who was there before unlocking it.

‘Hey, Poppy!' Mattie stood in the doorway; she had an old blanket wrapped about her shoulders and a shawl round her head. Her face was white and her eyes were red as if she'd been crying. ‘Did you want Ma? She's not back from work yet. Hello, Charlie! My, we are honoured with such splendid company. Come on in. There's no fire cos I've onny just got in from work. Let me turn 'lamp up and we can look at each other.'

It's been a wasted journey, Poppy thought. And Pa will be starting to worry about me. ‘What time will Nan be in?' she asked. ‘I wanted to ask her something.'

‘Any time now, I should think. But she has to go out again. We both have. We've got two jobs of work, you see. Well, Ma has three if we count 'wash-house and coming to your da's place.'

‘I'll wait for a minute, then,' Poppy decided. ‘Thank you for coming with me,' she said to Charlie. ‘You can go if you want to.' Though she wanted him to stay. She'd be scared going back up the yard on her own.

‘I'll be outside,' he said. ‘I'll have a smoke.'

He left the small gloomy room, and Mattie raised her eyebrows. ‘I'm surprised he even came in,' she said. ‘Fancies himself as a bit of a gent, don't he?'

Poppy gazed at her. How could she say that? Didn't she see that he was very special? Different from most young men?

‘How's that brother of yourn?' Mattie sat down and eased off her boots. ‘Sit down,' she said. ‘Make yourself at home.'

‘I can't stay long.' Poppy sat on a wobbly wooden chair. ‘I should be getting back. Pa will be worrying. I thought Nan would be in. Tommy's fine, thank you,' she added.

‘What did you want to see Ma for?' Mattie asked curiously. She had an open freckled face, with fair hair like her mother's, and she stared at Poppy with a frank expression.

Poppy hesitated. Mattie would know, she thought. She works, so she's grown up I suppose. ‘Erm, I wanted to know about, erm – reaching womanhood,' she muttered. ‘My dance teacher, Miss Davina, said I should ask somebody if I hadn't reached it. And I don't know if I have or not.'

Mattie grinned. ‘She meant your monthlies, didn't she? Some women don't like to say it.'

‘I don't know. I don't know what she meant. She just asked if I'd reached womanhood and said to get somebody to tell me about growing up.'

‘She meant your monthly bleed! Every female has it. Some start sooner, some later. I started mine when I was thirteen and I could wish that I hadn't.' Mattie pulled a face. ‘Damned nuisance it is, I can tell you. Didn't your ma tell you about it?' she asked. ‘Mine did, when I was twelve, so that I'd be prepared.'

Poppy shook her head and then listened carefully to Mattie as she explained. She was glad that Charlie was outside the door and not able to hear.

‘Tell you what, Poppy,' Mattie said at last. ‘I'll get Ma to fix you up with what you need, and then when it happens you can tell her. You don't need to tell your da or Tommy. Just say you've got a headache when it starts. You probably will have,' she added cheerfully, ‘but you'll have to put up with that. It's just one of those things in a woman's life that we have to get on with.'

‘Will it make my face white and my eyes red like yours, Mattie?' Poppy asked, thinking that if it did, she would wear some colour, on her cheeks as the stage people did.

Mattie threw back her head and laughed. ‘No! This is flour! I work in 'flour mill, don't I? And 'flour irritates my eyes and makes 'em sore. I try not to rub them but they really itch sometimes. I'd like to leave,' she said, ‘and get work in a shop like your da's, but 'money's better in a mill and money is what we need, my ma and me.'

They heard voices outside. ‘There's Ma now,' Mattie said. ‘Do you want to stop and talk to her or shall you get off home?'

‘I'll go,' Poppy said. ‘But will you tell her why I came?' I'm glad that Mattie was here, she thought. I'd have been so embarrassed if Nan had had to tell me.

Mattie nodded. ‘Mind how you go now. And . . .' She hesitated as the door started to open and she dropped her voice. ‘Well, when you're a bit older, we'll talk again, about fellers, you know, and babbies and that.'

‘Oh,' Poppy breathed. So there's more. ‘Yes. Thank you, Mattie. Thank you very much.'

She said hello to Nan and said that she'd just come on an errand and that Mattie would tell her about it, then Charlie walked with her to the top of Scale Lane. ‘You'll be all right now, won't you?' he said. ‘I'd better get back or my father will start creating about me slacking.'

‘Thank you very much, Charlie. I hope you don't get into trouble because of me.' She paused for a second before saying, ‘Don't tell Tommy where I've been, will you? Please. He'll want to know why I went to see Nan and it's nothing to do with him.'

He gazed at her curiously. ‘But you didn't speak to Nan, or hardly,' he said.

‘No, but Mattie told me what I wanted to know.'

‘Mattie! Ah, well.' His lips curled downwards. ‘Mattie knows about most things,' he said. ‘She's a fund of knowledge is Mattie. Knows more than her ma I shouldn't wonder.'

For a moment she thought he was scoffing and she was prepared to stand up for Mattie, but then he took her hand in his and gently squeezed it. ‘Get off home then, Poppy.' He smiled down at her and she thought her heart would turn over. ‘I'll see you again soon.'

As she walked into the shop, her father raised his hand and pointed a finger. ‘Where've you been? You're late again! You'll have to stop this, Poppy. I'll not have you running round 'streets without me knowing where you are.'

Poppy glanced at Lena, who was standing with a smug expression on her face. ‘I had to go somewhere,' she said. ‘It was important.'

‘You should have come to tell me first,' he said sharply. ‘And what was important?'

‘I can't tell you, Pa. I've been to see Nan.'

She heard Lena give a snort. Her father heard it too and it seemed to make him angrier. ‘You've never been down 'High Street on your own?'

‘It's quite safe,' she said. ‘There were a lot of people about.'

‘Come with me, young woman,' he said, and led her out of the back of the shop. ‘Now,' he said when they reached their rooms. ‘I don't want to discuss family affairs in front of Lena, but she must see how things are when you don't arrive home from school and Tommy clears off every afternoon. I shall have to take you out of school if this happens again, and I shall stop your dancing and your visits to 'theatre.'

We hardly ever go to the theatre now, she thought gloomily. Pa won't take the time off and he won't let me go on my own. She unwound her scarf and slipped her coat off.

‘Are you listening to me, Poppy?'

‘Yes.' She pressed her lips together and stared up at him. I could tell him I have a headache, she thought, like Mattie said. And in fact I have. ‘I'm sorry, but I had to go to see Nan. I didn't know who else to ask.'

‘Ask? Ask what? If there's anything you need to know you ask me!'

‘About – about women's things.'

He opened his mouth and blew out a breath. ‘W—' The words formed but he didn't speak them, only looked at her. Then he sat down, his bluster gone. ‘Women's things?' he said in a whisper. ‘Has my little girl come to that and no mother to talk to?'

He blinked rapidly and she thought he was going to cry, so she quickly reassured him. ‘Not yet, Pa,' she said. ‘But I soon will. That's why I had to ask.' She suddenly felt grown up and yet rather shy, and she understood now why Mattie said she shouldn't tell her father or her brother. ‘You don't have to worry about it,' she said soothingly. ‘It happens to all women!'

He gave a lopsided smile. ‘I suppose it does.' He drew her towards him and patted her hand. ‘Even more reason for me to worry about you,' he said. ‘But there we are. You'll cope, I expect.'

She came home straight from school the next day and didn't loiter. She took off her coat and fastened an apron round her waist, prepared to help in the shop. Lena was behind the counter serving a customer and a sullen-looking Tommy was preparing supper food for the café.

‘I want to speak to you, Poppy,' her father called to her from their parlour. ‘I've something to discuss with you.'

She had a sinking feeling. She was convinced he was going to say she must finish school. But please don't make me give up my dancing or singing lessons, she prayed. Anything but that. She glanced towards Tommy but he didn't even look at her, and she went out of the shop.

‘I've decided,' her father began. ‘I've been thinking about things, and, well, I know it would be what your mother would have wanted.' He paused and gazed into space. ‘She would have wanted you to stay on at school. She always said how important it was that girls should have 'same advantages as boys, and you and Tommy have been treated more or less 'same, except you've stayed on longer at school than he did.'

‘Tommy didn't want to stay on. He didn't like school,' Poppy said.

‘No, he didn't.' Her father sighed. ‘I'm sure I don't know what he does like, but anyway . . . You can stay on at school for another year, and you can continue your dancing and singing as well.'

Poppy beamed. ‘Oh, thank you, Pa,' she began, but her father had not finished.

‘So what I propose is: Tommy can do 'baking as he does now. He's got a good hand at it – takes after his ma; Lena can look after 'coffee shop during the day until he's finished with 'baking; and her son, Albert, can help me in 'shop. He'll come in early to do deliveries, stack 'shelves, serve customers and so on. There's plenty for him to do, and that means you just have to help for an hour or so of an evening after school.'

‘Albert!' she muttered. ‘But we don't know him, Pa! How do you know if – if he can do the work?'

‘His mother says he's good at figures and he's worked in a shop before. He used to be a manager somewhere out of town, but he came back to Hull to live with Lena when his father died.'

Poppy didn't know what to say. It's our fault, she thought, Tommy's and mine. If we'd been more willing we wouldn't have had to have Lena here, or that odious Albert. ‘Just for a year then, Pa?' But even as she asked, she thought, I shan't want to be in the shop. She knew what she wanted. She wanted to perform. She wanted to sing and dance for her living. She wanted to see her name up on posters outside theatres and music halls.
Poppy Mazzini
, the celebrated shining star. She heaved a deep sigh. It would be impossible.