‘Five bob!’ Micky looked down at the two, shiny half crowns nestling in his blackened palm, his face stretched incredulously. Shaking his head he muttered, ‘This can’t be right, Missus. Not just fer an hour’s work. Yer must ’ave made a mistake.’
Ellen, her own face a picture of happy satisfaction, smiled. ‘There’s no mistake, Micky. That’s the amount my husband paid the coalman – until I offered the job to you.’
Two bright blue eyes stared out of the blackened face in bewilderment. ‘But yer said you always had ter shift the coal by yerself.’ His voice, still quivering with excitement at the money in his hand, now held an accusation. ‘Did yer just pretend yer had ter shift the coal yerself, just so yer could give me the money? ’Cos, like I told yer before, Missus, I ain’t taking no charity, not even from you.’
Finding herself on the offensive, Ellen shifted guiltily. ‘Now, Micky. It isn’t quite like that. It’s true I did lie, and I’m sorry for that, but that money in your hand is money you worked hard for. You’re entitled to it. I’ve always resented the money my husband insisted on paying the coalman, a man who owns his own business, when there are many people who, to my mind, need the work and the money more than he does.’
Micky held Ellen’s gaze, his need for the money wrestling with his conscience. Slowly his fingers closed over the coins. He would be mad to throw it back, especially when he and Molly needed it so much. But he hated being treated as a charity case. It was only for Molly’s sake that he was prepared to swallow his pride and take the money. But instead of feeling a sense of worth for a job well done, Micky felt cheated somehow. Not only because of the money, which was almost a full week’s wage for some men, but because of the young woman who had given it to him. He had thought they could become friends. He had wanted to please her and had thought he was helping her by taking on the job. Now it seemed she only felt sorry for him. To her, he, Micky, was just another street urchin, and he was surprised and somewhat bewildered by the unfamiliar emotions swirling inside his chest.
‘Micky?’ Ellen was staring at him anxiously. They were both of the same height, and, with his entire face blackened with coal dust, the only way the young boy could be recognised was by his eyes. And for the first time, Ellen was struck by their bright, almost cobalt blue. For a few seconds they stared at each other, the boy and the young woman. No words were spoken. Ellen appeared to be mesmerised by the boy’s unflinching stare. Then a jolt rippled through her body bringing her sharply back to her senses.
Good Lord! What was happening to her? First she had made a fool of herself in front of Ted Parker, now she was being intimidated by a mere youth.
‘I’ll be off then, Missus. Thanks… yer know…’ Micky nodded at his closed palm. ‘It was kind of yer.’
Ellen gulped. ‘I wasn’t being kind, Micky. The job had to be done, and I thought you deserved the work. Call by tomorrow, and I’ll see if there’s anything else needs doing.’ Regaining her composure, Ellen gave a small laugh. ‘I hope you told your mother the nature of the job you had lined up for today. Goodness, you look as if you’ve spent a morning up a chimney. Go on now, get yourself home. I expect your mother will have a hot bath waiting for you.’
Micky nodded, his eyes now averted. He wished he could tell Mrs Mitson the truth. But even if she seemed very young, she was still an adult, and might turn him and Molly over to the authorities, thinking she was doing it for their best interests.
‘Yeah, you’re right, Missus. I’d better be off.’ Micky hesitated, his thoughts jumbled. Then he asked hopefully, ‘I was wondering if yer knew of anyone that wanted a young lad for regular work?’ Giving a nervous laugh, he added, ‘Like yer said yesterday, now I’ve left school I should be looking for a permanent job.’
Ellen thought hard. There was nothing she would like better than to take the boy on permanently, but there simply wasn’t the work. It was only a small bakery. In fact they were overstaffed since she had begun working in the shop. Arthur and Agnes could run the business perfectly well between them, as they had done for many years before she had arrived. As Agnes was always pointing out to her.
Then a thought struck her. Walking slowly with Micky to the door she said quietly, ‘I can’t think of anyone off hand, Micky, but I’ll certainly ask around.’ Conscious of Agnes’ curious stare, Ellen continued. ‘Look, let me have a word with my husband, and we’ll see what we can do, though I can’t promise anything.’
Micky nodded. ‘Can’t ask fer more than that, Missus. Ta. See yer in the morning.’
‘Yes, all right, Micky. Take care. ‘’Bye.’ Ellen stood at the door until the slim figure had disappeared into the morning gloom.
‘If yer don’t mind shutting the door, I’d be ever so grateful. Only it’s bleeding freezing fer us old ’uns. The cold gets right inter me bones. That’s if it ain’t no trouble, like.’
The sarcasm in Agnes’ voice was lost on Ellen, whose thoughts were elsewhere. Closing the door, she said absent-mindedly, ‘I’m just going to make some tea. Look after things please, Agnes.’
Agnes glared after the retreating figure. ‘I think I can manage, Missus. After all, I’ve only been doing the job fer 20 years. And I wouldn’t say no ter a cuppa, if there’s one going.’
Her mind still elsewhere, Ellen replied amiably, ‘Yes, of course, Agnes. I’ll bring one out to you.’
Taken by surprise, Agnes mumbled, ‘Oh, right. Yeah, thanks.’
Arthur, as usual at this early hour, was busy baking. Glancing up, he looked at his wife and gave her a curt nod, before returning his attention to the job in hand. Ellen sighed impatiently, then shrugged. So he was still sulking, was he? Well, let him. Putting the kettle on, Ellen thought back to earlier that morning when Mr Dobbs had arrived, his sooty face wreathed in smiles. That was until Ellen informed him his services in unloading and carrying the monthly supply of coal to the basement would no longer be required. Arthur had been present at the time, but instead of backing her up, he had launched into a spate of apologies. Reliving the scene Ellen felt a fresh burst of anger. Watching and listening to the pitiful spectacle, Ellen had cringed. And when Mr Dobbs, his countenance no longer amiable, had begun a blistering attack on Ellen for what he termed an act of treachery, Arthur, instead of making a stand and taking his wife’s side, as most men would have done, had quickly washed his hands of the whole affair, placing the situation squarely on Ellen’s shoulders. Ellen could still feel the shame at seeing her husband, the man who was supposed to put his wife first, humiliating himself. She had thought that hearing Mr Dobbs berate her would have infused some gumption into Arthur. But he had let her down and for that she would never forgive him, nor respect him ever again. Ignoring the bulky form, Ellen set about making the morning tea.
‘Well! Don’t you have anything to say?’ Arthur’s voice cut into the silence of the stuffy room.
Turning to face him, Ellen looked at the plump, red face, filled with self-righteous indignation and immediately went on the defensive. ‘Excuse me, Arthur?’ she answered, her voice deceptively soft. ‘I’m not sure what you mean. Unless of course you’re referring to that embarrassing spectacle you made of yourself this morning.’
Still smarting after being, as he thought, put into an impossible position, Arthur flinched as the truth struck home. His lower lip quivering, he tried to restore his humiliated ego, even though, deep down, he knew full well he had disgraced himself. Not only in the eyes of Mr Dobbs, whose scathing look had said more than mere words could ever convey, but also in the eyes of the one person he so desperately wanted to impress. But instead of admitting his shame, Arthur, like most ineffectual men, tried instead to shift the blame on to the nearest person, and that person was Ellen.
Drawing himself up to his full height he said angrily, ‘You made me look a right fool in front of Mr Dobbs. And all for some little guttersnipe. Huh! It says a lot for me, doesn’t it? How do you think I felt with you taking over the conversation, pushing me out of the way as if I counted for nothing…’
Ellen rounded on her husband, her fierce anger more than a match for Arthur’s feeble blusterings. ‘How do I think you felt?’ she shouted. ‘How do you think I felt having to witness my husband, the one man I thought I could depend on for support, practically grovelling to the coalman, apologising over and over until I felt I would be sick with shame. Even if you didn’t agree with me, you should have stood by me; that’s what husbands do. I wouldn’t have minded you having a go at me in private, but to take Mr Dobbs’ side against your own wife, well that says it all, doesn’t it, Arthur?’
Her voice had risen and Arthur, already humiliated once today, didn’t want everyone in the shop hearing his wife laying into him as well. Adopting a different tack, he put his hands up in a feeble attempt to stifle Ellen’s tongue. ‘All right, all right, love. There’s no need to broadcast our private lives to everyone.’
Coming nearer he laid a tentative hand on Ellen’s arm, his face now sheepish, but Ellen, who once would have relented, now shook off the offending hand with disdain. ‘There you go again, Arthur. Thinking of yourself as usual. All you’re worried about is saving face, but I think it’s a bit late for that, don’t you?’
The colour in Arthur’s face deepened, and it had nothing to do with the heat of the kitchen. His stomach churning, he tried once again to pacify Ellen. ‘Please, love, let’s leave it, eh? I mean…’ He uttered a small, nervous laugh. ‘There’s no point in going on about it, is there? I mean, it’s done now, so let’s forget about it, all right, love?’
Ellen’s gaze remained stony. In their short married life, there had been plenty of times she had kept quiet, or given in, just to keep the peace and to keep Arthur happy. But that had been when she was still in awe of the man who had saved her from the workhouse and was willing to be a pliable and good wife. But things had changed. She had changed. With a sudden start of awareness, Ellen knew that her life would never be the same again.
Arthur, too, was experiencing the same emotions, and felt a surge of blinding panic. What he had always feared now seemed to be in danger of happening. His feverish mind turning this way and that, he tried to think of the best way of defusing the situation. Should he be compliant and ask Ellen’s forgiveness? Or should he do what he should have done that morning and make a stand? To be the strong man Ellen wanted him to be. The silence in the stifling room was becoming unbearable, then Arthur made his decision. Unfortunately it was the wrong one. Adopting a manly stance, he said firmly, ‘Now then, Ellen. I think I’ve been very patient with you over this sorry affair. I let you humiliate me in front of a very close friend, just to keep you happy, but no more. In future the running of the business will be mine and mine alone. You may continue to serve in the shop, if you wish, but you will disassociate yourself from making any decisions and you will also sever all ties with the boy. There’ll be no more encouraging the boy to come here for hand-outs in return for some small job that could easily be done by either you or Agnes.’ Well into his stride, Arthur began to pace the room, his hands clasped behind his back.
He should have looked instead at his young wife to see her reaction to his words. But he was too far into his new persona to notice the danger signs in Ellen’s face. ‘I know it will be difficult for you, so I think it would be wiser if you stayed upstairs tomorrow and let me deal with the lad. Don’t worry, I’ll let the boy down gently. Now then, why don’t we kiss and make up.’ Stretching his arms wide he smiled, ‘Come here, you silly little thing. Come and give me a cuddle, and we’ll forget all about it.’
Her entire body seething, Ellen, not trusting herself with what she might do or say if she stayed here a moment longer, shot Arthur a withering look, and said, ‘You know what you can do with your cuddle, Arthur. Oh, I’m getting out of here. I can’t bear to be in the same room with you.’ Grabbing her coat from behind the back door Ellen shrugged her arms into the heavy sleeves, for once not noticing the stifling heat of the kitchen.
Behind her Arthur hovered anxiously. ‘Hang on, love. Where d’you think you’re going at this time of the morning?’ Frantic now, he began gabbling. ‘Now look, love, there’s no need for this. You’re blowing the whole business out of proportion.’ Unthinking, he grabbed hold of Ellen’s arm. With an angry twist she broke free and without bothering to look back, she strode out of the back door into the dark alley.
Never in her life had Ellen walked the streets in the dark, either in the morning or at night. Yet it would have taken a brave man to accost her in the mood she was in. Gradually, her anger turned into a new emotion, a feeling of elation, but more than that, for the first time she felt a rush of self-respect. No longer would she be dependent on Arthur; she didn’t need him anymore. She knew now she was well capable of looking after herself. But the feeling of euphoria was short-lived and quickly replaced by a wave of shame. Her footsteps slowed as a wave of remorse swept over her. Poor Arthur. It wasn’t his fault. After all he had done for her and this was the thanks he got. Her steps dragged as reality returned. She had to go back. There was nowhere else for her to go. She had no one to turn to. Even if she had, she would never be so cruel as to just walk out without a word. She owed Arthur more than that, much more.
‘We must stop meeting like this.’ A deep voice cut through her thoughts.
Her head coming up sharply, Ellen felt her body relax when she saw who the man was. With a genuine smile, she said merrily, ‘Good day, Mr Parker. And how are you this fine morning?’
Ted Parker tipped his hat back further on his head to see better, thinking at first he had mistaken Ellen for someone else. But the light from the end of the alley reassured him that this bright, seemingly carefree woman was indeed Ellen Mitson. Yet the change in her compared to yesterday’s encounter was so marked that Ted wondered if she was unwell.
‘You all right, Mrs Mitson? You seem different today. Has something happened?’
Ellen was standing so close to the man their breaths mingled in a fog of white mist. The semi-darkness covered them like a cloak and Ellen felt again the pull of attraction. In spite of the fact they were in an open space, that the dawn was just breaking and the sound of people’s voices as they set about the start of a new day floated all around them, never had Ellen experienced such a feeling of intimacy. Gathering her wits, she spoke crisply. ‘I’m fine, Mr Parker, but thank you for asking’. Ellen had to tip her head to see Ted’s concerned gaze.
‘Well, in that case, I’d best get off, else I’ll miss my tram.’ Again tipping his hat, Ted Parker made to walk on, puzzled by the sudden change in Ellen Mitson. Moments later his eyebrows rose in amazement when he felt himself being halted in his tracks by a small but strong hand on his arm.
‘You own your own stall, don’t you, Mr Parker?’
Thoroughly confused now, Ted looked down into Ellen’s enquiring eyes. ‘Yeah, that’s right. But what…’
Linking her arm through his, Ellen smiled broadly. ‘I was just wondering if you could do me a favour, Mr Parker. Oh, and please call me Ellen… Ted.’
Feeling more confident than she had ever felt in her life, Ellen hugged the muscled arm tighter as she walked with Ted towards the tram stop, chatting away as if she had known the handsome man all her life.
Her newly-found confidence would have been shaken if Ellen had known she and Ted Parker were being sharply observed by a pair of malicious eyes.