It's chucking down, so our Jenny lets me in from the rain. Mrs Baker don't say nothing when she sees me — just grunts. Makes me a soft egg, though.
‘Lord,’ our Jenny says, looking out of the window while I sit at the table eating. ‘What a day to be visiting prison.’
‘Who's going to prison?’ I ask.
Mrs B. bangs a pot of water onto the range and gives our Jenny a look. Jenny ignores her — she says whatever she likes.
‘The master and Miss Maude. They ain't been able to visit till now — them suffragettes can't have visitors the first four weeks. First it were to be just the master, but I heard 'em arguing and Miss Maude got her way, bless her. She misses her mum. Though heaven knows why, the woman were hardly round before anyway.’
‘That's enough, Jenny,’ Mrs B. says.
‘It don't matter — it's just Simon.’
‘What doesn't matter?’ Maude has come down the stairs, and is standing with her arms clutched over her stomach. She looks peaky to me.
Our Jenny and Mrs B. both turn quick to look at her. ‘Nothing, Miss Maude,’ our Jenny says. ‘You had enough to eat?’
‘I'm not much hungry, thanks.’
‘Terrible luck, getting the curse on top of the rain on your visiting day.’
Maude looks at me then glares at our Jenny.
‘For pity's sake, Jenny, leave the girl alone!’ Mrs B. don't often shout. ‘Get upstairs and clear away the dishes.’
Our Jenny runs off. I've enough sense not to say nothing 'bout the curse. ‘Hallo,’ is all I says.
‘Hello.’
Hard to imagine Maude's ma in prison. Whoever thought she'd end up there? When I first found out from our Jenny, I let it slip real casual one day to Mr Jackson that Mrs C. were in Holloway. He jumped like someone'd pinched him.
‘Good Lord. Why is she there?’
I didn't really know why, to be truthful. ‘Women's things, sir.’
He stared at me so hard I had to say something more. ‘You know, them women what goes round on bicycles, chalking signs on the pavement and shouting at rallies and that.’
‘You mean suffragettes?’
‘I suppose so, sir.’
‘Good Lord,’ he said again. ‘Prison is a terrible place for a woman. I hope she is not being mistreated.’
‘Probably no more'n anyone else in prison, sir. My cousin got out after six months with nothing worse'n flea bites.’
‘That is not much comfort, Simon.’
‘Sorry, sir.’
I want to say something to Maude now, but can't think of nothing that would help. Then there's a knock at the back door, and Livy comes in dripping wet, and there ain't much chance for me to get a word in. Maude don't look too happy to see her. Livy rushes over and gives her a big hug. She sees me over Maude's shoulder but don't say nothing. She's been funny with me ever since I kissed her. That were over a year ago and she ain't been the same since. Our Pa were right, I guess.
Fact is, this is the first time all three of us has been together in a long while. Not like when the girls was younger and used to visit the cemetery all the time.
‘Oh, my dear, you look so pale!’ Livy says now. ‘You must be terribly upset about your visit.’
The thing about Livy is that she says things like that but she means something else. She don't think it's terribly upsetting Mrs C. is in Holloway — to her it's great fun, though she would never admit it. She looks so excited now, that I know what's to come next.
She sits Maude down at the table. ‘Now,’ she says, ‘I want to suggest something to you.’ She's acting like no one else is there — like I'm not sitting at the table too, and Mrs B. ain't peeling potatoes at the sideboard, and our Jenny ain't taking a tray with the breakfast things through to the scullery. But she knows we're there and listening. ‘I know you'll say no, so I want you to promise to be quiet until I've finished what I have to say. Do you promise?’
‘All right,’ Maude says.
‘I want to come with you this morning to visit your mother.’
‘You can't —’
Maude frowns but stays quiet.
‘You know it will be horrid and it will upset you. Don't you want your friend to be there with you, holding your hand and helping you to be as brave as you can in front of your mother?’
We all wait to hear what Maude will say — our Jenny standing in the scullery door, Mrs B. frowning at a potato skin like she's not listening. ‘But what about your mother?’ Maude says. ‘And Daddy? I'm sure he won't let you.’
Livy smiles. ‘Mama needn't know, and don't you worry about your father. He'll say yes — I'll make sure of it.’
She will, too. Livy can make a man do anything she likes. I've seen her at the cemetery, rolling her eyes and swirling her skirt, and men do what she says. Even Mr Jackson fetches her a watering can if she wants one — though that may be 'cause he still feels bad about her angel getting broke. Unless you look real hard you can't see the join in the neck where the mason fitted the head back on, but they made a mess of the nose. Probably should've left it chipped. Once I took Livy round the angels and showed her all the chips and scratches on them. I did it to make her feel better but it just seemed to upset her.
‘Maude, are you ready?’
Everybody turns to stare at Maude's Pa come down the stairs. The way our Jenny and Mrs B. act — Jenny's eyes get big, and Mrs B. lets her knife slip so she cuts her thumb and has to suck it — it's clear he don't ever come down here. He must be feeling nervous about going to Holloway, or he don't like the whole house above us all empty, and has come looking for people.
Even Maude jumps to see him here. ‘Yes, Daddy, I just need to — to get one thing in my room. I'll be right back.’ She looks at Livy, then squeezes past her Pa and runs upstairs. He still stands at the bottom of the stairs, looking like he's surprised himself that he's down here.
Livy's getting ready to work her charm. ‘Mr Coleman —’
But Mr C. has spotted me. ‘Mrs Baker, who is this boy eating our bread?’
Mrs B. don't even flinch. ‘Gardener's boy, sir.’ She chose well — the garden is Mrs C.'s territory. Mr C. probably don't even set foot in it except to smoke a cig. He won't know which is the gardener's boy.
Mr C. looks out at the rain. ‘Well, he certainly picks his days, doesn't he?’
‘Yes, he does, sir. Do you hear, Simon? There'll be no gardening for you. Off you go, now.’
I gulp down the rest of my tea, put on my cap and step out into the rain. I don't get to say nothing to Maude, nor hear Livy's sweet talk. Never mind — at least my turn's full.