Two for Three Farthings (30 page)

‘Molly, I shan't be able to thank you enough—'

‘Don't fuss, old thing, let's get on with the books.'

She introduced him to the ledgers, journals, petty cash book, system of entry and everything else relating to the club's accounts. Jim had a morning of concentrated study and work, with Molly sitting beside him. She left him to it just before noon to do some shopping in the West End.

‘I'll be back at two,' she said, putting her hat on, ‘when I'll have my own work to do.'

‘You're a sweet girl, Molly,' he said, looking up at her. Impulsively, she bent, lightly ruffled his hair and kissed him.

‘They don't make too many like you, either,' she said.

Jim had a satisfactory day and a free lunch.

At Scripture lesson on Tuesday morning, Mr Hill had members of his class reading aloud. He believed in that, as did most of the teaching fraternity.

‘Fair, young madam, fair,' he said to a girl as she finished her stint. ‘You next, Withers,' he said to Orrice.

Orrice came to his feet. Beside him, Alice looked dewy-eyed. Orrice thought of Miss Pilgrim's stern blue eyes and firm, scolding voice. For over a week now she had had him going through Robert Browning's famous poem. He began his reading aloud, from St Luke. He did not gabble.

‘“When Jesus heard these things, he marvelled at him and turned him about, and said unto the people that follered him, I say unto you I have not found so great faith, not in Israel.”'

Mr Hill looked up.

‘“And they that were sent, returnin' to the house, found the servant whole that had been sick. And it came to pass the day after that he went into a city called Nain, and many of 'is – his – disciples went with him, and much people.”'

‘Dear me,' said Mr Hill, tongue in cheek.

‘That all right, sir?' queried Orrice.

‘Very good, my lad, very good.'

‘Bleedin' cissy,' whispered Higgs to Cattermole.

‘You next, Higgs,' said Mr Hill.

‘Oh, bleedin' 'ell,' muttered Higgs, and proceeded to make a hash of his reading.

‘Headmistress?' said Mr Hill, encountering Mrs Wainwright in the corridor later that morning.

‘Trouble?' enquired the headmistress.

‘It's wise to fear the worst,' said Mr Hill, ‘then ordinary bad news sounds like good news. No news, however, on this occasion, merely a request for Horace Withers to be placed on the list of prospects for West Square next year.' West Square Secondary was the only school in Southwark that offered the equivalent of a grammar-school education. ‘He's bright, he pays attention, and he's deserving.'

‘Recommendation noted with pleasure, John,' said Mrs Wainwright, ‘I've remarked his brightness myself. And I like him.'

‘So does young Alice French,' said Mr Hill.

‘How very nice for Horace.'

Mr Hill laughed.

‘It's purgatory to him. Boys of ten don't inhabit the same world as girls.'

‘When I was a girl I was grateful for that,' said Mrs Wainwright.

Miss Pilgrim was continuing to provide a midday dinner for Orrice and Effel. Jim prepared tea for them at six o'clock, and they had it around the little table in their living-room. Their midday dinner they ate in Miss Pilgrim's kitchen. Effel regularly played up in her dislike of green vegetables. Miss Pilgrim did not say greens were good for her, nor did she force the girl to eat them up. She merely said that if Ethel did not take a sufficiency of such vegetables she would get spots and pimples.

‘Don't care,' said Effel.

‘Don't you go gettin' no spots, sis,' said Orrice, ‘I'll only 'ave to fight everyone that calls you Spotty.'

‘Master Horace, you'll do no such thing,' said Miss Pilgrim.

‘But, Miss Pilgrim, if you don't fight anyone that calls your sister names, you ain't never goin' to hold yer head up, yer might as well lie down dead.'

‘Say that all again,' commanded Miss Pilgrim. Orrice began to say it all again. ‘No, not with your mouth full, boy. And more slowly.' Orrice cleared his mouth of food and said it all again in slower time. ‘Much better,' said Miss Pilgrim. ‘Ethel, sit up.'

‘Yes, a' right,' said Effel.

‘Miss Pilgrim,' said Orrice, ‘you got to understand, a bloke can't let no-one call his sister Spotty.'

‘I ain't Spotty,' said Effel.

‘No, but Miss Pilgrim says you might be.'

‘She's spotty,' said Effel.

‘Who's she?' asked Orrice.

‘Her,' said Effel. She cast a quick glance at Miss Pilgrim. ‘She's 'is sweet'eart.'

Orrice growled.

‘Your brother has a sweetheart?' said Miss Pilgrim, watching them clear their plates of savoury toad-in-the-hole. ‘Do you mean Alice French?'

‘She kisses 'im,' said Effel. ‘Orrice blushes.'

‘Oh, yer bleedin' monkey,' said Orrice.

‘Young man, leave the table,' said Miss Pilgrim freezingly.

‘Crikey, Miss Pilgrim, don't I get no afters?' asked Orrice in protest.

‘None. Leave the table and return to school.'

‘Yes, Miss Pilgrim,' said Orrice gloomily. Their landlady always served scrumptious afters, like fruit roly-polies, gooseberry pies and creamy rice puddings. ‘Well, I just ‘ope Jesus forgives you yer 'ard-heartedness, Miss Pilgrim.'

‘You must learn, young man, that my house is not Billingsgate fish market.'

‘Yes'm,' muttered Orrice and got up and went out. His head came back as he put it round the door. ‘I want you to know, Miss Pilgrim, I forgives you meself.' He disappeared. Effel got down.

‘Where are you going, miss?' asked Miss Pilgrim.

‘Wiv Orrice,' said Effel.

‘You have not received permission to leave the table.'

‘Don't care, I'm goin' wiv Orrice, you ain't our mum,' said Effel, and darted out.

Miss Pilgrim sat in frowning contemplation of the table. She was at the Bermondsey Mission during the afternoon, doing her regular stint there. She was still frowning. The children at the mission were quite unlike Horace and Ethel. None spoke out of turn, they were all polite, all in good grace, all giving thanks for what was being done for them, and all showing humility before God.

It was a shock suddenly to realize they were all regimented.

She searched around. In a cupboard full of odds and ends she found a large rubber ball, the size of a football. She carried it down to the hall, to the congregated boys and girls. She explained the rules of simple handball. She divided them into two teams, each team a mixture of boys and girls.

When the Reverend Pearson put in an appearance, he found the hall in an uproar of girls and boys at rousing play. A large ball was the centre of the activity as it was thrown from one to the other of the joyful participants. The girls shrieked, the boys bawled.

And Miss Pilgrim? Miss Pilgrim was running about, whistle in her hand, following the flight of the ball and blowing her whistle whenever a foul too atrocious to be overlooked was committed. The clergyman, an austere vicar, looked on openmouthed as the whistle blew and Miss Pilgrim raised her voice.

‘Elsie! Elsie! Leave go of Mary's hair!'

‘But she went an' kicked me, Miss Pilgrim.'

‘No touching, no bruising, no handling, kicking or pulling of hair,' commanded Miss Pilgrim. ‘The ball alone is to be handled. Play on.' She blew the whistle and the lively, rousing game restarted.

‘Miss Pilgrim, what on earth is going on?' Reverend Pearson entered the fray to get to Miss Pilgrim's ear. ‘What has happened to the Bible reading?'

‘Oh, we've had that, vicar. I've established they all have faith in the Lord. Vicar, do mind out – oh, dear.' The thrown ball struck the vicar on the back of his head.

‘Upon my soul, this won't do at all, Miss Pilgrim.'

‘I'll speak to you later,' said Miss Pilgrim, and she ran towards a shrieking scrum of boys and girls. She blew her whistle, the scrum unfolded, and there on the floor was a rosy-red, breathless girl with the ball clutched to her tummy, eyes full of delight. ‘Foul,' declared Miss Pilgrim. ‘Two points to team A. Play on.'

The game went on and on, the repressed energy of the boys and girls in full, exhilarated flow.

Jim went down to answer a knock at the door. He had just returned from his day's work. Mrs Lockheart stood on the doorstep, smiling.

‘Hello, Mr Cooper, how nice to see you. Is Rebecca in? Yes, she will be at this time of the day. I'll come in, shall I?'

‘Sorry,' said Jim, ‘Miss Pilgrim isn't here.'

‘Isn't she? My word, she really isn't? And she's such a creature of habit. Well, I'll come in and wait, and perhaps you and I can have another lovely talk. I so enjoyed meeting you.'

‘So sorry,' said Jim with cutting politeness, ‘but I'm busy seeing to tea for my wards, and I've no idea when Miss Pilgrim will be back. Call again another time. Good evening.'

‘That isn't very friendly,' said Mrs Lockheart reproachfully.

‘One can't be informal all the time,' said Jim, at which point Miss Pilgrim turned in at her gate. Miss Pilgrim froze. Mrs Lockheart smiled.

‘Rebecca, there you are,' she said, and Jim, sure that Miss Pilgrim could deal with the woman, made himself scarce. But as he reached the landing, he heard Mrs Lockheart say, ‘I called to ask if there was an epidemic of snakes at the time or if your father's menagerie escaped. Was there some talk of an epidemic? Of course, even in China—'

Her voice was cut off by the sound of the front door being closed on her. Miss Pilgrim swept rustling into her kitchen. Jim came down the stairs and knocked.

‘Yes?'

Jim entered the kitchen. Miss Pilgrim eyed him coolly.

‘I'm not sure I like that woman, or what she's doing,' he said.

‘It would be preferable, Mr Cooper, if you did not trouble yourself about her, or put yourself in a position of having to listen to her. Be so good as to forget the unfortunate woman. Now, about your wards. They may be hungrier than usual. Have they told you they had no dessert with their midday meal?'

‘They've said nothing to me.'

‘Really?'

‘Really,' said Jim.

She frowned.

‘I should have thought they'd have said something.'

‘Not if it meant telling tales,' said Jim. ‘Horace is strictly against that sort of thing, and Ethel can keep fiendishly mum.'

Miss Pilgrim explained why she had dismissed Horace from the table, and that Ethel had left of her own accord.

‘Fair do's with Horace,' said Jim.

‘Fair do's? What kind of English is that, Mr Cooper?'

‘No idea,' said Jim. ‘Might be Clapham Common or Ilkley Moor for all I know. But it means you were quite right and fair in your treatment of Horace. Actually, I think the boy's got a natural respect for your sex, witness his protective attitude towards his sister, but he's still a Walworth lad and comes out occasionally with a choice piece of the local language irrespective of the company at the time. And Ethel, of course, was bound to follow him out, she seldom allows anything to divorce her from her brother. You aren't worried, are you, about your moment of firmness?'

‘One does feel some firmness is necessary with children at times.'

‘I'm not going to argue with that,' said Jim, ‘I'm with you all the way. Do unto them as you think best whenever I'm not around. By the way, Mrs Lockheart is a peculiar woman, isn't she?'

‘Very. And that is all,' said Miss Pilgrim, rustling dismissively about her kitchen. Jim, going back upstairs, smiled to himself because of the rustle. He could not help remembering the sudden breathtaking display of dazzling white garments, lacily delicate, and the long long legs superb in their grace.

He began to prepare tea for the kids. Orrice helped. Effel read
Rainbow
comic, one that Jim had brought in for her. Orrice was partial to the
Magnet
alone, and to Billy Bunter.

‘Everything all right today?' asked Jim casually, slicing a fresh loaf, and using his elbow stump to hold it.

‘I 'ad to stand on someone's foot,' said Orrice.

‘Higgs again?'

‘Don't remember 'is name,' said Orrice. ‘I dunno, Uncle Jim, the troubles I got on account of that Alice. Well, yer see, she's supposed to be pretty—'

‘She is pretty.'

‘Ugh,' said Effel, nose in the
Rainbow
.

‘I don't notice things like that meself,' said Orrice. Things, not fings, thought Jim, and smiled. ‘Anyways, it don't seem right Alice gettin' teased all the time because she's supposed to be pretty, not when it means I'm always 'avin' to go an' stand on some bloke's foot. Or put me elbow in 'is mince pie.'

‘Then she kisses 'im,' said Effel in disgust. ‘Kisses me bruvver.'

‘So you can see the troubles I got, Uncle,' said Orrice.

‘No other troubles today?' said Jim.

‘She's not our mum,' said Effel with apparent irrelevance.

‘Meaning Miss Pilgrim?' said Jim. ‘No, she's not, but she's a very fine woman and a very helpful landlady. I'd like both of you to remember that. No sauce, Ethel. Nor you, Horace.'

‘Me?' said Orrice. ‘I like her, Uncle Jim, she can't 'elp being a woman an' gettin' the rats at times. Effel's always gettin' the rats, but you can't not like 'er.' He paused for thought. ‘Dunno why, though,' he said.

Jim gave up any attempt to lead them into disclosing why they hadn't had any afters with their midday dinner. He liked the fact that they'd said nothing, that they hadn't complained. Orrice had accepted his medicine, and Effel had accepted she'd given up her afters in favour of comradeship with her brother. They were good kids, even if Effel did have her mutters, mumbles and little sulks. As for missing their afters, generally speaking they were probably among the best-fed children in Walworth. Miss Pilgrim cooked to perfection and gave them plenty.