‘I’ve ’ad enough a’ school,’ Ellie Murphy said to her great friend Ruby Miller. ‘I’m goin’ after that job in ’Opkins an’ Peggs Sat’day.’
‘Never!’ Ruby said, much impressed. Hopkins and Peggs was the local drapers and a most prestigious place. It ran the full length of Shoreditch High Street from Church Street to Bethnal Green Read, and it sold high-quality goods like they did in Barkers or Peter Robinsons in the West End. ‘That’s ’igh class, ’Opkins an’ Peggs.’ She’d been there twice with her mother and still felt overawed by it, all those rolls of expensive cloth and shop girls with snow-white collars and cuffs, and immaculately clean hands. She couldn’t imagine Ellie Murphy in a shop like that ‘You’ll never get took on in ’Opkins an’ Peggs.’
‘Just you watch!’ Ellie said. ‘Be thirteen Monday, then I’m off. I’m gonna better mesself. Job like that ’ud do me fine. They live in, yer know, at ’Opkins an’ Peggs.’
It was a Thursday evening early in May and the two girls were on their way back to work in the Lane, Ellie to wash dishes at the pie and mash shop, Ruby to help her brother sell herrings. They’d been working after school for more than three years now, and ever since the Murphys had moved to Heneage Street they’d got into the habit of walking there together.
‘I know what yer thinking,’ Ellie said, catching the dubious expression on her friend’s plump face, ‘and yer wrong. I’ll get took on, you’ll see.’
Trouble is,’ Ruby said honestly, ‘you don’t exactly look the part, do yer? Not really. Not when all’s said and done.’
‘I’ll get mesself a new rig,’ Ellie said, her jaw hard with determination. ‘’Ave a rub down. Brush me barnet’
But Ruby wasn’t persuaded, and the expression on her face was beginning to undermine Ellie’s rather limited confidence. Fortunately they’d just reached the corner of Lolesworth Street and the Lane, and that gave her an idea.
‘We’ll ask the innercent bird,’ she said. ‘That’s what. Then we’ll see.’
The ‘innercent bird’ was a bedraggled blue budgerigar who hopped dolefully about in a small wicker cage balanced precariously on a ramshackle trestle table with a label above its head proclaiming that it would take a planet from the box telling your past and future life for one farthing. Its owner, a fat affable Gypsy with a face like a flat iron, stood beside it in a bundle of old skirts and tatty shawls beaming toothless encouragement at her potential clients. Tha’s right, darlin’,’ she approved as Ellie proffered her farthing. ‘You just choose your question, my lovey, and let the innercent bird look into your future.’ And she handed Ellie a greasy card full of badly written questions. ‘Which d’yer want, dearie?’
Ellie read the card as well as she could through its coating of grime and brown grease. ‘Shall I be happy in love? How many husbands shall I have? Ought I to grant that which he asks so ardently? Have I any rivals? Shall I do well to confess all?’ What odd questions, she thought, and wondered who would ask them, but as she was wondering she saw the question she wanted to ask. Number 27, ‘Shall I be successful in my enterprise?’
‘Number 27, dearie,’ the Gypsy confirmed, and she raised a cardboard partition at one end of the birdcage to reveal a stack of miniature shelves, each containing an equally tiny card. The innercent bird was scratching its head, and had to be prodded with a straw to remind it of its duty. Eventually it hopped to the shelves and after two or three tentative pecks at the woodwork it contrived to push one of the cards through the slot behind it and out of the cage. ‘Come round the side, dearie,’ the Gypsy said, making way so that Ellie could stand beside her. There’s your answer, my love.’
Ellie took the card in her hand and turned it over. ‘Cleanliness is next to Godliness,’ she read. ‘What’s that supposed ter mean?’
‘Means you gotta wash,’ Ruby said.
‘Bloomin’ sauce!’ Ellie was very annoyed by the impertinence of the innercent bird.
‘’E don’t lie, darlin’,’ the Gypsy soothed, coming to the defence of her soothsayer. ‘Jest a feathered finger a’ fate, that’s all ’e is. Aintcher, my chuck?’
Ellie growled away from her fortune and its teller. ‘’E’ll end up in a pie, ’e goes on saying things like that.’
But despite her initial indignation the message took hold, and when she considered it coolly lying in her truckle bed that night with Tess and Maudie, the new baby, kicking on either side of her, she could see the sense of it. She’d been planning to nick herself some clothes from the secondhand stalls in the Lane. Perhaps the bird was trying to tell her secondhand wasn’t good enough. Perhaps she ought to go for something brand new. Be a darn sight more difficult of course, but this was worth it.
But then again there was the business of Godliness. That meant doing the right thing, didn’t it? And she knew it wasn’t right to steal. Tell yer what, she said, partly to herself and partly to that vague God she wasn’t sure she believed in, if I can get mesself the clothes for this job, I’ll turn over a new leaf an’ never steal another thing so long as I live. I’ll keep mesself nice and clean, earn me own way. How about that? It seemed a fair bargain so she turned her attention to the practical business of how it could be done. I’ll ‘op school termorrer, she thought, an’ go an’ ’ave a look-see. I’ll pop round Ruby’s first thing an’ see if she’ll give me a lend of ’er Ma’s old carpet bag, an’ I’ll take a few coppers jest in case. I’ll bet I can do it. Be nice to ’ave really new clothes fer once in a while.
Ruby’s Ma said she could have the carpet bag providing she didn’t get caught with it, and providing she brought it back before three o’clock. And Ruby said she’d tell Miss Silverman she’d been sick or something, and would she be back in time for work? And then it was seven o’clock and time for her shopping expedition to begin, so they came to the door to see her off and wish her luck.
‘Poor little blighter,’ Mrs Miller said, watching her as she ran off towards Brick Lane. ‘I ’ope she gets ’er job, Ruby. Be the making of ’er if she could leave ’ome. She deserves a bit a’ luck wiv an ol’ man like that Paddy Murphy. If she gets ’er new clothes you tell ’er ter come round ’ere termorrer an’ ’ave a good wash afore she gets dressed. Tell ’er she can use the tub if she’s early. Afore six mind, or yer Dad’ll ’ave sormmink ter say.’
‘Ta, Ma,’ Ruby said. ‘I’ll tell ’er.’
Shoreditch High Street was a classy place, presided over by the bow bell chimes of St Leonard’s Church at the northern end and just up the road from Liverpool Street Station to the south. It was full of fine shops and well-to-do shoppers, there was a cut-glass pub on every corner, and the London Music Hall did a roaring trade next door to Rotherham’s. Even the stalls were classy here, Ellie thought as she walked towards Hopkins and Peggs, clutching her carpet bag. The fruit was a sight for sore eyes and the jellied eels fair made her mouth water. But there wasn’t time for food this morning. There was too much to be done.
By dint of standing outside the shop and peering through the windows it didn’t take her long to establish that the women who worked at Hopkins and Peggs all wore black skirts and blouses, and dressed their hair in the most sober style, with the merest suggestion of a fringe across their foreheads and the neatest of buns at the nape of their necks. I shall need ‘airpins, an’ a brush an’ comb, she thought, making a mental list. Black skirt, black stockings, garters, black boots. I’ll ’ave a white blouse fer termorrer though, all that black looks like a funeral. An’ a straw boater ter top it all off. That Morrie Isherman bloke sells boaters. Gaw dearie me, I shall ’ave me work cut out ter get all that lot.
She looked wistfully through the plate glass at all the tempting goods on display. Clothes for other women in another world. She knew they were beyond her, but she couldn’t help lusting after them just the same. One window was curtained with elegant skirts, in serge and grosgrain and cravenette with neat little bolero jackets to match, waterfall skirts and mermaid skirts and gored skirts, with box pleats and pin tucks and elaborate braiding; another was tiered with fine blouses, milk white and cream and very pale lavender, in chiffon and ninon, lawn and muslin and embroidered linen, with high, boned neckbands and pouter pigeon bosoms frothing with lace. Right in the middle was an elegant creation in cream muslin with long Renaissance sleeves, puffed at the wrists, and dear little lingerie buttons all the way down the front between the lace panels and the fine tucks. Ellie found she was licking her lips at the sight of it How the other ’alf live, she thought. Lucky devils! Fancy bein’ able ter dress like that.
Then the bow bells struck half past eight and a gentleman in a dress suit opened the doors for custom so she thought she’d better make herself scarce, Moochin’ about ’ere’ll never do, she scolded herself. Better cross over the road and get cracking, straight away. There was no hope of nicking anything from the shops, but the stalls were far more likely.
It took her all morning to collect her outfit, for the men who sold new clothes were a great deal more careful of them than the secondhand sellers, and they watched their merchandise like hawks. She had to wait more than half an hour for the chance to lift a blouse, and by then she was so impatient and so cross she took two as a sort of revenge. Stockings were easy because someone had pushed three pairs right off the stall onto the pavement and all she had to do was pick them up, but boots were impossible. The crafty devils hung ’em outside the shops, right enough, but never in pairs, and what was the use a’ one boot? In the end she had to settle for a secondhand pair after all, which was a bit of a disappointment. But by midday Mrs Miller’s carpet bag was full to the brim, and Ellie was feeling well pleased with herself. She’d even pinched a pair of scarlet garters and two cakes of scented soap. Now she was loitering near Morrie Isherman’s hat stall in the Lane, fingering the boaters.
‘Tanner!’ Morrie said, creeping up behind her so suddenly it made her jump.
She recovered quickly and gave him a bright smile. ‘Aintcher got nothink fer frupence?’
‘Do me a favour,’ he said. ‘That’s ’ats we’re talkin’ about.’
‘Tell yer what,’ she tried. ‘I’ll give yer tuppence an’ a cake a’ scented soap. How about that?’
‘Nicked it, aintcher?’ he said amiably. ‘Holy terror, you are, Ellie Murphy.’ Then as she went on looking at him imploringly, ‘Oh, all right then. Go on. You can ’ave it. Where’s yer tuppence?’
She fished the coins and the soap from the pocket of her old green coat and handed them across.
‘Good gel,’ he approved. ‘’Ang on a tick. You can sling that in an’ all.’ And he opened a battered hatbox and fished out an enormous hat
It was a Floradora, weighed down with plump red roses that curled and curved above a brim even wider than her shoulders. The flowers were dusty and the rim bent but it was the most luxurious hat she’d ever seen. She couldn’t believe her luck.
‘Cor!’ she said. ‘You’re a pal, Mr Isherman! Ta.’
‘’S a pleasure,’ he said grinning at her and admiring her pretty blue eyes. ‘Now you cut off ’ome like a good gel an’ don’t you go nickin’ nothink else.’
‘I won’t,’ she promised happily, and her expression was as honest as her vow. She’d nicked all she needed now.
She wore the Floradora all the way back to Mrs Miller’s, feeling pleased with her prowess and happily aware that she was causing a stir. Well, I earned it, she thought. I done a good job a’ work this morning.
Mrs Miller was impressed too, and told her she could leave her ‘shopping’ in Ruby’s bedroom till she needed it, which was a great relief because she didn’t want to take it home for fear of the bugs and all those grubby kids. Then she thought she might as well go to school for the afternoon, seeing it was the last time she’d ever have to.
Nobody said goodbye to her at the end of the day, but that didn’t surprise or upset her, because they’d never said goodbye to anybody as far as she could remember. Miss Silverman gave her a certificate that said she’d achieved an adequate standard in English and that her arithmetic had earned a credit, and then she was out in the sunshine and free to start earning her own living. She was so happy she danced all the way home.
She slept very little that night, what with the bugs and the babies, but that didn’t worry her either, because she knew it was for the very last time, and anyway she had to be up early to get to Ruby’s in time for her wash. At five o’clock her mother creaked out of the double bed and began to stir the ashes in the stove, and at that Ellie extricated herself from the babies and got up and dressed.
‘You off out?’ her mother asked.
‘Urn.’
‘Get us a pinch a’ tea, will yer.’
‘I’m off after a job, Ma. Shan’t be back fer a while.’
‘Oh,’ her mother said. ‘I shall ’ave ter send Tessie then. Give ’er a shake, will yer.’
‘Is there anythink to eat?’
‘Not till someone goes an’ gets it.’
‘I shall ’ave to ’ave air pie then, shan’t I,’ she said, shrugging her hunger away and wondering whether she’d have time to nick something. ‘I’m off then. Tat-ah.’
‘Mind ‘ow you go,’ her mother said automatically. But she didn’t look up, and Ellie had a sinking feeling that she didn’t mean it.
Mrs Miller was far more welcoming. ‘There you are, lovey,’ she said. ‘You’re in nice time. Go an’ get yer things,’ The tin bath was already in position on the rag rug and there were two kettles and a large saucepan heating on the stove and a towel warming on the clothes horse.
Nobody won’t come in, will they?’ Ellie asked nervously. She’d never had a bath in a tub before and the thought of standing naked to wash herself, even in a kitchen as warm and welcoming as this one, was suddenly very daunting.
‘No fear a’ that, duck,’ Mrs Miller reassured. ‘Back door’s locked an’ I’ll draw the blinds for yer. You’ll be quite private, don’t you worry. Men ain’t due back till past six. You look sharp, we’ll be over an’ done long afore that.’
Even so, as she sped upstairs to collect her new clothes Ellie’s heart was thumping with a most uncomfortable embarrassment. She’d got to have that bath, cleanliness being next to Godliness an’ everything, but she wished having a bath didn’t mean showing herself up. Her old clothes were little more than smelly rags and now they’d be left on the floor for Mrs Miller to see. It made her feel ashamed just to think of it And besides that, they’d see her wiv nothing on, and she’d got titties coming. ‘You got ter do it, gel,’ she told herself sternly as she picked up her bundle. ‘You wanna get on, you got ter do it.’ But embarrassment was making her eyes bolt.
She needn’t have worried, for Mrs Miller was a tactful woman and sensitive to the fears of a thirteen-year-old. When Ellie got back to the kitchen, the bath was ready and steaming and the clothes horse had been arranged around the tub like a towelled screen. She crept behind it gratefully and removed her tatty clothes.
‘If I was you, gel,’ Mrs Miller’s voice said calmly from behind the towel, ‘I’d get shot a’ that lot, now you got all new. I’ll burn ‘em for yer if yer like.’
‘Oh yes,’ Ellie said, lowering herself rather gingerly into the warm water. ‘I would like, please Mrs Miller.’
So the old clothes were wrapped in brown paper and put on one side to be burnt and the old dirt was scrubbed away, and ten minutes later the new Ellie emerged from the steam, pink and pretty and wrapped in a white towel ready to face the world.
And realized that she hadn’t got any underwear.
‘Oh Ellie!’ Mrs Miller said, laughing out loud. ‘If that don’t beat all! Ne’er mind, duck, our Ruby’s got an old chemise we was keepin’ fer Amy. Nip up an’ get it, Rube, an’ a pair a’ drawers an’ all. We can’t ’ave ’er goin’ fer a job wiv no drawers.’
‘You’re ever so good ter me,’ Ellie said gratefully. ‘I’ll bring ’em back, I promise.’
‘You ’ave a good rub down, and get yourself dressed quick as yer can,’ Mrs Miller advised tactfully. ‘I’m off ter make the beds. I’ll bring yer down a lookin’ glass if yer like.’
The new clothes were lovely, soft and clean and smelling so fresh. The boots weren’t a very good fit, but what a’ that. Everything else was just right. She pulled the belt as tight as she could and looked down happily at the smooth cloth of her new black skirt, her two neat black ankles, and her hands emerging from her neat white cuffs, so clean and pink she hardly recognized them.
‘You look a treat,’ Ruby said. ‘Whatcher gonna do wiv yer barnet?’
‘Give us a lend a’ your scissors, I’ll show yer.’
Ten minutes later, the transformation was complete. Her long curly hair had been brushed and combed and pinned into a bun on the nape of her neck and she’d cut herself a curly fringe. ‘Well, you do look a swell,’ Mrs Miller said. ‘If you don’t get took on this morning, I’ll go ter Jericho.’
But the nicest moment came two minutes later when Mr Miller came home for his breakfast and didn’t know who she was.
‘’Oo’s the young lady, mother?’ he asked, and Ellie was gratified to notice that he looked quite uncomfortable at the sight of her, as though she was someone special. A young lady, eh? she thought, and she took another glance at her new clean face in the looking glass on the dresser.
‘Well, blow me down!’ Mr Miller said when he’d been enlightened. ‘I’d never ’a know’d. Never in a month a’ Sundays. Where’s me breakfast then, woman?’
‘I’d better be off then,’ the young lady said, because Mrs Miller was putting a loaf of bread on the table and the sight of it was making her mouth water.
‘Good luck!’ they all said as she pinned on her boater. And Mrs Miller gave her a kiss and a neat brown paper parcel. ‘I’ve wrapped up all yer new things for yer.’ And Ruby came to the door and launched her into the early morning sunshine. ‘Remember the innercent bird?’ she giggled. ‘I’ll bet yer get took on now.’
‘Fingers crossed,’ Ellie said, because it didn’t do to tempt Providence. Then she set off on her adventure.
Shoreditch High Street was still empty when she arrived and the shops hadn’t opened yet, although the assistants were all in position behind the counters and the windows were washed sparkling clean, like a line of dazzling mirrors all along the street. A line of reassuring mirrors, reflecting her new, clean, pretty, grown-up image everywhere she looked. By the time she reached Hopkins and Peggs, she’d almost grown accustomed to it.
The porter at the staff entrance didn’t even look at her. ‘You an’ all the others,’ he said when she’d explained why she’d come. ‘Straight up the stairs. Second door on the left.’
It was a small brown waiting room, with an empty table in the centre and a collection of odd cane chairs set rigidly against the walls. Half a dozen of them were already self-consciously occupied by an even odder collection of girls, all of whom made a point of not looking at her when she came in, although they looked up at once when she went to sit down, and barked at her almost with one voice, ‘Not there!’ indicating with their eyes that she was to sit on the seat at the end of the line. It wasn’t very encouraging.
Then there was nothing to do but wait. Three more girls arrived and were barked into the right seat and presently an apologetic woman with wispy grey hair put her head in at the door and whispered ‘Next’. The girl nearest the door got up and tiptoed out. Time passed. More new girls arrived and four more originals were whispered away, never to return. The silence was oppressive.
I shall ’ave ter say sommink soon, Ellie thought, or we’ll all go barmy. They don’t come back, do they,’ she tried, looking at the girl beside her. ‘I reckon someone’s ate ’em.’
They all looked up at once, shocked and anxious, and one or two said ‘Shush!’ very fiercely. So that was a waste a’ time. They’d better give me this job, she thought, after all this.
But at last, after more than half an hour, the grey-haired woman called her and trotted her down the narrow corridor into a carpeted office where a very grand lady sat behind a desk, a fierce pince-nez dangling on a chain round her neck and a pile of papers on the blotter before her.
‘Name,’ she said as Ellie came to a halt before her.
Until that moment it hadn’t entered Ellie’s head to change her name, but now, as the woman looked up at her with calculating eyes, she took a deep breath and a new identity.
‘Ellen White, ma’am.’
‘Address?’
She gave Mrs Miller’s address so effortlessly she could have believed it herself.
‘References?’
What does she mean by references? Ellie thought. Was it that certificate they gave her at school? She took the little paper from her skirt pocket and handed it across hopefully, but when the lady read it she gave her a very odd look.
‘It says here that your surname is Murphy and that you live in Heneage Street,’ she said.
Ellie opened her blue eyes as widely as she could and prepared to lie her way out of trouble. ‘That was me mother’s name,’ she said. ‘I used me mother’s name at school yer see, ma’am.’
‘Ah!’ the lady said and she wrote something on the certificate and pinned it to the top of the pile. Illegitimate of course, she thought. We would have to watch this one if we took her on. Then she fixed her pince-nez firmly on her nose and stared at the girl.
‘Tell me why you want to work in Hopkins and Peggs.’
That was a lot easier. ‘Because it’s the best store in the district, ma’am.’
The answer pleased. ‘And if we take you on, I’m not saying we will mind, but if, what would you have to offer us?’
The new Miss White was taken aback for the second time, but while she was gulping towards an answer the door opened and a tall man strode into the room, coat tails flapping behind him. ‘Sorry to disturb, Miss Elphinstone,’ he said. ‘Must have those accounts, d’you see.’ And then he noticed Ellie, and his eyes flickered and lit up, and held their glance for quite a lot longer than was necessary. He put his hand on the desk and stopped rushing and stood still.
He likes the look of me, she thought, and hard on the heels of that realization came another, even more pleasant. He thinks I’m pretty.
‘Well,’ he said, still looking at her. ‘Who have we here, eh? New recruit, Miss Elphinstone?’
‘Yes, Mr Hopkins.’
Mr ’Opkins? He couldn’t be the Mr ’Opkins, surely? He didn’t look old enough.
‘Let’s try some adding up, shall we?’ he said, still gazing. ‘Two yards at two and eleven three, three at one and eleven three, and a yard at – oh, say four and six.’
You don’t catch me wiv that sort a’ stuff, Ellie thought delightedly. That’s jest mental arithmetic. And she did the sums quickly. Six an’ six an’ four’s sixteen. Sixteen an’ six take away five farthings, ‘Sixteen an’ fourpence three farthings.’
He beamed his approval. ‘Just the sort of girl we want, eh Miss Elphinstone?’
The pince-nez glittered. ‘If you say so, Mr Hopkins. Here are the accounts you wanted.’ He clutched the folder to his linen bosom and rushed out of the room again.
I’ve got the job, Ellie thought, with excitement rising into her throat like a fountain. But she stood still and waited, looking down at the carpet so that Miss Elphinstone couldn’t see how triumphant she was feeling.
‘We pay two and sixpence a week to start with,’ that lady said, ‘laundry deductable, board and lodgings found. When can you start?’
‘Now, if yer like, ma’am.’
And now it was. Miss Elphinstone rang the bell and the grey-haired lady put her head obediently round the door and instructions were given.
‘Dress lengths with Miss Morton.’
Ellie was so excited she grinned all the way down the corridor. I’ve done it! I’ve done it! she thought. I’ve left ’ome. I’ve got a job. I’m on me way! From now on Smelly Ellie was gone and forgotten. Ellen White had arrived.
It was a long first day and a very hard-working one, especially on an empty stomach. First she was taken upstairs to the attic and introduced to another Miss Elphinstone, who looked even more formidable than the first one and read her such a lengthy list of rules and regulations it made her head spin. ‘We rise at six sharp when you will be expected to sweep the shop and clear etcetera, in your own clothes, of course. Breakfast is at seven thirty, after which you will wash and dress properly, dinner at one, supper at eight, except for Saturdays, when it is usually nine, depending on our closing time. Laundry is sent out at seven o’clock on Thursday mornings and returned on Monday at the same time. Wednesday half day, when you are not allowed on the premises, and Sunday of course. We serve breakfast and supper on Sundays but apart from that we don’t expect to see you at all. Those who are late for meals go without. You will always use the north stair to get to the dormitories. The south stair is out of bounds for female staff. I trust that is clearly understood. We have our reputation to consider. Doors are locked spot on ten o’clock at night and the gas in this dormitory is put out at half past This is your bed. You may leave your parcel in the cupboard.’
Then she was provided with the regulation black blouse and three sets of white cuffs and collars. Suitably attired, she was sent down to the shop and her duties. It was like stepping into another world. The dormitory had been a spartan place, smelling of damp and carbolic soap, with its bare walls distempered yellow and floorboards underfoot, the bedsteads iron and the cupboards cheap white deal. The shop was luxurious. Here the walls were covered in thick flock paper and the floors in polished linoleum, the high counters were made of fine carved oak, and above their head a complicated network of miniature rails and points buzzed the all-important cash from customer to cashier in a series of drum-shaped containers. It was an exotic place, smelling of new cloth and the expensive scents of its expensive customers. The old Smelly Ellie might well have found it daunting, but the new Ellen White took it all calmly, as though she was accustomed to it.
Miss Morton turned out to be a wisp of a woman who did everything at speed, flicking material from the roll so rapidly that the counter was draped with it in seconds and ripping off the required lengths with a whip-crack alacrity that was most impressive. Ellie spent the morning tying up parcels, holding up lengths of cloth for the customers’ inspection and tidying up after the sale, which meant re-rolling all the materials that had been displayed and carrying the heavy rolls back into their original positions again. She was mightily relieved when one o’clock came and they all trooped off to the basement for their dinner.
As she suspected that there would probably be a hierarchy in the dining order in this place, just as there was in everything else, she stood beside the door and watched, hoping that somebody would enlighten her, or that she’d be able to work out what it was. Presently she was joined by a girl she recognized from the waiting room that morning, a pale skinny girl with a fuzz of straw-coloured hair and pale grey eyes. ‘They took you on an’ all,’ she said to the girl, grinning a sort of welcome.
‘Never thought they would,’ the girl said. ‘They’re ever so sticky. Where are we supposed ter sit?’
By now Ellie had noticed that the important people had already settled themselves at the tables in the middle of the room and that the oilcloth on the tables nearest the wall was chipped and stained. ‘Likes of us by the wall, I reckon,’ she said, so by the wall they went, and waited hungrily while steaming plates of meat and potatoes were served to the centre tables.
‘You’re sharp, intcher?’ the new girl said admiringly. ‘Where d’yer come from?’
‘Whitechapel.’
‘That accounts,’ her new friend said sagely. ‘You gotta be sharp you live round there.’
True enough, Ellie thought. And was glad of it
They introduced themselves, and the new girl, who said her name was Maud, tried to catch a glimpse of the meat as a tray full of plates was carried past them. ‘Hope it ain’t mutton,’ she said. ‘I got a sensitive stomach.’
Ellie didn’t mind what it was. ‘I’m so ‘ungry I could eat a horse,’ she said.
‘You probably will,’ her new friend said.
Ellie laughed, but secretly she was counting her good fortune again. Meat and potatoes served up to you piping hot in the middle of the day. This is the life, she thought.
She was still of the same opinion at half past seven that evening when the store had finally closed and she was covering the goods with dust sheets. Her arms ached and her feet were sore, but what of that? Presently she’d be going down for another meal, and tonight she would sleep well in a clean bed all on her own. And on top of all that there was the marvellous moment when she would tell her family what she’d done.
After supper she bought a stamp and a postcard and wrote a thank you note to Mrs Miller. ‘I got the job. 2/6 a week and my keep. Not so dusty. Thank you ever so much for all you done, especherly the bath. I will come and visit on my day off Wednesday and return the things, Love from Ellie. x x x.’
Then she went to Heneage Street.
Her mother was hard at work pulling fur so the room was full of drifting fibres and the smell of rotting flesh. There was no sign of her father and the kids were all over the place as usual. She noticed that Tessie had already taken her place as substitute mother and was carrying the baby about on her hip, poor kid. After a day spent among the refinements of Hopkins and Peggs, they all looked dreadfully dirty to her but they were pleased to see her and thought she looked ‘a real swell’.
‘Where’s Pa?’ she asked. Trust ’im ter be out.
‘Up the pub,’ Paddy told her. ‘Where d’yer think?’
‘D’yer manage ter get anythink to eat?’ her mother asked, looking up briefly from a rabbit skin.
‘I live in, Ma. Meals an’ bed an’ all. I just come down ter say goodbye.’
Nell sighed heavily. ‘You’re a good gel, Ellie,’ she said, ‘an’ I’m glad yer got out of all this, but I shall miss yer, lovey, an’ that’s a fact.’
‘You takin’ your green coat?’ Tessie asked hopefully.
‘No. I got all the clothes I need. You can ’ave it if yer like.’
‘Be my turn ter leave school next,’ Paddy said, stung to a momentary jealousy by all the attention she was being given. ‘Jest you wait then!’
‘I shall ’ave ter be off in a minute,’ Ellie said. ‘They shut the doors at ten o’clock. Don’t wanna be locked out me first night.’
But just as she put her hand on the doorknob, Paddy Murphy came rolling home from the pub. He was dramatically amazed at her appearance and his amazement gave Nell the chance to scramble the skins out of sight before he could complain. ‘Well, will ye look at that!’ he said. ‘Here’s me daughter all dressed up like a lady, so she is. Wonders’ll never cease.’
‘She’s got ’erself a job,’ Nell told him, throwing the sack under the bed.
‘An’ not before time, child. We could do with the money, an’ that’s a fact. When d’ye get paid?’
Gaw, ’e’s ugly! Ellie thought. Crafty old thing, and she began to smile, thinking of the shock he’d get when she told him. ‘It’s my money, Pa,’ she said. ‘I ain’t livin’ ’ere no more. I’m livin’ in. My wages. My keep. You ain’t gettin’ a brass farthin’ out a’ me.’
He was furious. ‘You mind yer mouth, gel,’ he roared. ‘Remember who ye’re talkin’ to.’
But she laughed at him. ‘Yell all yer like. Don’t make no odds ter me. I don’t live ’ere no more.’
‘It’s come to somethin’ when your own daughter won’t help you,’ he said, whining and assuming his ‘hurt’ expression. But she ignored him, feeling her power, despising him. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her craftily for a few seconds. Then he changed his tone and his line of attack. ‘Very well, daughter,’ he said. ‘I’m not a man to bear a grudge. I’m a loving man, so I am. So I’ll give you a word of advice. You wanna watch those fingers.’
‘What’s ’a matter wiv ’em,’ she said hotly.
‘They’re light so they are,’ he said and now his grin was malevolent. ‘An’ light fingers end up in quod. Ye’ve been warned! Now I can’t say fairer than that, can I?’
‘Fair!’ his daughter snorted contemptuously. ‘You don’t know the meaning a’ the word. You never been fair in all yer natural.’
‘You just mind your mouth, missie,’ her father growled again. ‘You’re not so big that I can’t take me belt to ye.’
‘You ain’t never takin’ that belt ter me no more,’ Ellie said looking him straight in the eye, her expression icy. ‘You done that fer the last time. You ever lift a finger ter me ever again, and I’ll kick you from ’ere to the middle a’ next week. So you can put that in yer pipe an’ smoke it!’
She was aware that the kids were huddling together in the furthest corner of the room, their eyes wide with amazement at her daring, and that her mother was sitting back on her heels enjoying it, and that her father’s face was turning puce with extreme rage.
‘Nell! Nell!’ he cried. ‘Will ye hark at the girl! Have I to be spoken to in this way by me own daughter? Sure she’ll make me ill so she will. Me that’s given her the most priceless commodity known to man.’
‘What cermodity?’
‘Why life, daughter. Life!’
‘What a load of old guff an’ gubbins. You never gave nothink ter no one.’
‘Oh, oh,’ her father wailed, holding out his hands to her mother and trying to look appealing. ‘Will ye stop her, Nell. She’s makin’ me ill!’
‘See if I care,’ Ellie said.
And on that note she left them.