The small, overcrowded room was stifling, the smell from last night’s dinner of herrings and cabbage lingering heavily in the dim, airless basement. In the middle of the room stood the table and four chairs, only inches separating them from the horse-hair sofa and armchair. Resting in the recess by the door was the wooden dresser, its shelves crammed with crockery, pots and pans and ornaments in an effort to conserve space. Behind the sofa lay the mattress piled high with pillows, blankets and clothing, and as Maggie looked despairingly around her new home, the familiar feeling of depression threatened to overwhelm her. They had been here for nearly six months, and during that time the relationship between her and Lizzie had deteriorated to such an extent that they now rarely spoke unless they had to. Poor Charlie, caught in the middle, had retreated even further into his shell, causing Maggie further worry. Despite her assurances that she would find another job, it had been over a month before the vacancy in the chocolate factory had come up, and then it had been only temporary. Within three weeks she had found herself once more dependent on Liz’s money. Since then she had managed to find a few part-time jobs, but nothing permanent. The lack of employment wasn’t due to want of trying, for each day after Charlie left for school she would tramp the streets enquiring at factories and shops only to return tired and dispirited, the feeling of desperation growing inside her until she thought she would explode with worry.
It wasn’t only the lack of work that was getting her down, but rather the responsibility she had taken on of running the household. The fact that she only had to manage one room didn’t make the problem any easier; if anything it made her task more difficult. There was no scullery now in which they could wash in private, but what seemed worse to her was the fact that there was no stove to cook on. Instead she had to light the fire every time they needed hot water, so that even the simplest task of making a cup of tea had turned into a chore, for the burning coal gave off thick black dust which settled all around the room. She was constantly washing down the walls and sweeping the bare floorboards in a futile effort to keep the place clean. Then there were the bedbugs to contend with, tiny almost invisible parasites that had invaded the mattress they slept on. She had tried valiantly to rid their makeshift bed of the verminous creatures by banging and shaking the mattress every morning but all to no avail until finally she had accepted defeat. She couldn’t even get any air into the room, for opening the door meant admitting the hordes of houseflies and bluebottles that hovered outside in the street. She’d tried hanging fly-traps from the ceiling; but the foul-smelling, sticky paper had soon become dark with the swarm of writhing bodies, which had turned all their stomachs and she had been forced to take them down.
Added to all these hardships there remained the problem of lighting. With no window the room was in permanent darkness, and the use of the gas lamp was necessary even in the daytime. This was yet another reason she got out of the basement as much as possible – she just couldn’t afford to use too much gas. All of Lizzie’s wages went on rent and food, so there was no money left over for any luxuries. In a way it was fortunate that the strained atmosphere caused them to go to bed early to avoid more confrontations. If the relationship between her and Liz wasn’t so fraught they would probably stay up late talking and using up the precious gas supply.
Running her fingers wearily through her hair she tidied the clothes and bedding into a neat pile on the floor then heaved the mattress up against the wall, wondering as she did so why she bothered. Charlie always wanted to go to bed straight after his dinner, and this she could understand, for she too would go to bed as early as possible rather than endure the deathly silence that now existed between them all. Every evening she would mumble a curt ‘goodnight’ to Liz, then climb in beside Charlie in an effort to blot out yet another cheerless, depressing day, always hoping that tomorrow would bring something good, something, anything, that would lift her out of the drab, boring and frightening existence that was now her life.
The room tidied, she was about to leave, when a knock came on the door.
‘Why, hello, Mrs Casey,’ she exclaimed in surprise when she saw who her visitor was. Joyce Casey had lived in the third floor flat for as long as Maggie could remember; a quiet, reticent woman in her mid-50s who had always kept herself apart from her neighbours, preferring her own company. But when the disease had swept the house, she had been at the forefront, running errands and helping to nurse the sick despite the risk to her own health. She had sat with Maggie’s mother during her last days, sponging the sick woman down and encouraging her to drink the hot broth that Maggie had made. Since the funerals, though, she had retreated to her flat, never intruding upon the other occupants’ lives until now.
‘Hello, Maggie, how are you?’ she enquired kindly.
‘Oh, not too bad, Mrs Casey,’ Maggie answered lightly, not wishing to burden the woman with her troubles.
Joyce Casey looked at the young girl valiantly trying to maintain a brave front, knowing full well the plight she was in. Well, maybe she could help. Shifting her canvas shopping bag further up her arm, she adjusted her black woollen shawl more firmly across her chest before saying, ‘I hope you don’t think I’m interfering, Maggie, but I might know of a job going if you’re interested.’
‘Oh, Mrs Casey,’ Maggie cried out in delight, ‘nobody could ever accuse you of interfering, and yes, I would be interested, very interested. Please, won’t you come in for a minute?’
After refusing the offer of a drink, the tall, sparsely-built woman concentrated her attention on the excited girl, trying not to let her dismay show at the sight of the crowded, poky room the three young Paiges now occupied. It was a lot cleaner than she had imagined, and for that she silently applauded Maggie. She couldn’t help but notice that the dirty old patterned wallpaper had vanished to be replaced by white-wash, through which the damp was already beginning to show. But none of these improvements could hide the sickening sweet-odoured presence of bed bugs that pervaded the room.
Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a cockroach running across the floor and shuddered.
Drawing herself up to her full height, she said briskly, ‘Now, don’t get too excited, love, it may already be gone.’ She saw the look of startled dismay cross Maggie’s face and added quickly, ‘I’m not saying it will be, just preparing you for the worst. It’s like this; you know I’ve got a cleaning job at the hospital?’ Maggie nodded silently, her eyes never leaving the thin face.
‘Well, one of the women I work with, her friend does some outdoor work making knickerbockers – that is, she did. She died yesterday, just popped off in her sleep. Anyway, my friend says there’s a chance the factory owners haven’t had time to replace her yet. She’d go herself, ‘cos it can pay up to six bob a week if you work hard, and an extra four or five bob if you can find someone to do the finishing on them. But as she says, she’s happy at the hospital and piece-work’s always a bit dodgy; anyway, you’d better get moving, because like I said, somebody else might get there before you.’
‘I’m ready now, Mrs Casey,’ Maggie answered eagerly. ‘I was on my way out when you knocked.’
‘You’ve left the lamp burning, and you’d better put on your bonnet, it’s going to be hot today.’
Laughing gaily, Maggie hurriedly did as she was bidden, while her neighbour watched the excited figure twirling round the room. Once outside the building Mrs Casey handed Maggie a slip of paper.
‘Here’s the address, love. It’s somewhere in Shoreditch, so you’ve a bit of a walk ahead of you.’
‘I don’t mind, and thank you again, Mrs Casey. It was good of you to think of me.’
‘Don’t thank me until you’ve got the job. Now get going before someone beats you to it.’
The woman stood on the pavement waving until the slim figure disappeared from view, her face solemn, hoping that her young neighbour’s journey wouldn’t be in vain. Then with a heavy sigh she set off for work.
Maggie walked unsteadily over the cobbled pavement, her arms piled high with bundles of material as she tried to peer over the top of the bulky packets to see where she was going. Sweat poured down her face and her arms felt as if they were being pulled out of their sockets, but she didn’t care. She had work, lots of it, enough for the week and a promise of more to come.
Carefully picking her way down the basement steps she lowered the parcels to the floor while she opened the door. The blast of hot air hit her as soon as she walked into the room, making her catch her breath sharply. Leaving the door open to get some light into the room she carried the packages into the flat before lighting the lamp. Pouring some tepid water from the jug into the basin, she sluiced her face and hands before turning her attention to the pile of material on the table. Taking a note of the time from the mantel clock she began to unwrap the parcels, smiling all the while.
‘Coo, Maggie, it’s hotter in here than it is outside,’ Charlie breathed tiredly as he flopped into the armchair.
‘Here, get that down you,’ Maggie said, handing him a mug of lemonade. She waited until he had drained the tin mug, then gesturing towards the table she asked airily, ‘Haven’t you noticed anything, Charlie?’
Wiping the back of his mouth with his hand, Charlie turned his head, his face lighting up as he surveyed the mountain of material piled high on the table.
‘You got some work, Maggie?’
‘What does it look like?’ she answered happily. ‘And the man said there’s plenty more where that came from.’
‘Wait till Liz sees that lot – that’ll cheer her up, won’t it, Maggie?’
The question was couched in the form of a plea, bringing home to Maggie just how much her brother was suffering because of the strained relationship between her and Liz. Placing her hand on his head she ruffled his hair fondly.
‘Well, we can’t expect miracles, but it should make life easier for us. And don’t be too hard on Liz, you can’t blame her for being so miserable. If it wasn’t for her we’d be out on the street by now, so try and be a bit kinder to her, eh, Charlie.’
‘I do try, honest, but she ignores me most of the time. I don’t think she likes me very much.’
‘Now, don’t say that,’ she came back at him. ‘If she didn’t care she wouldn’t still be here. She could have walked out months ago, but she’s stayed, so it must mean she loves us.’
‘I suppose so.’ The small voice carried no conviction, and Maggie, anxious not to put a blight on the day, said briskly, ‘There’s no “suppose” about it, now get yourself out of that chair and start getting the dinner ready. There’s some potatoes and cabbage to boil up, and there should be enough bread left to go with it. Come on, get moving, lad, it’s all hands to the pump. I can’t be expected to make dinner, I’m a wage earner now you know.’ The jocular words had the desired effect as Charlie reluctantly left the comfort of the armchair to do as he was bid.
The potatoes peeled and deposited with the cabbage in a large copper pot, he carried it over to where Maggie was busily sewing and smiling wanly he asked, ‘I’m so hot, Maggie, do we have to light the fire?’
Biting off a piece of thread Maggie looked at him over the pile of garments.
‘Don’t be daft, how can we cook without lighting the fire? We haven’t got an oven any more, now stop being so silly and get it going, or would you rather go hungry?’
‘But it’s too hot for a fire and…’
‘Now stop it, Charlie,’ she snapped impatiently. ‘I’m hot too, you know, there’s nothing I can do about it so stop your moaning and get it lit.’
His shoulders hunched, Charlie turned away and walked slowly over to the grate. Putting the pot on the floor he began placing the cinders a few inches apart at the bottom of the grate and covered them with a sheet of newspaper and a few crossbars of wood. When this was done he took a handful of rubbly coal and slack from the scuttle, scattering them on top and set light to the paper with a lucifer match. Almost immediately a billow of smoke covered him causing him to cough violently.
‘Oh, sodding hell!’ Maggie exclaimed in alarm as the smoke began to waft her way, the black soot settling lightly on the uncovered knickerbockers. Shaking the garments one by one, she pulled the brown paper wrapping over her precious work.
‘I forgot about the smoke.’ Her eyes raked over the white material searching for any trace of soot. Satisfied that she had saved them from permanent damage, she turned her attention to the forlorn figure crouched by the grate.
‘I’m sorry, Maggie, it wasn’t my fault.’
‘I didn’t say it was, did I, you soppy ha’pence? It’s my own fault, I should have realised, never mind, I’ll have to be more careful in future, though.’ Moving away from the table she dusted Charlie down and gave him a drink of water from the pewter jug.
‘Leave the dinner, love, I’ll see to it, you go and sit down.’
‘I’ll do it, Maggie, you have to get on with your work,’ Charlie said, his face anxious, wondering if he’d upset his sister.
‘I’ve done enough for now, I can do some more later on after we’ve had our dinner. And Charlie,’ she added, smiling, ‘how would you like it if I bought a chicken for tomorrow.’
‘Ooh, Maggie, will you?’ he breathed excitedly. ‘We haven’t had chicken for a long time, I’ve forgotten what it tastes like. Did they pay you already? I thought you had to finish them first.’
Placing her finger to her lips she whispered in a conspiratorial manner.
‘There’s two bob in the tin for the gas. I’ll borrow that for now and put it back when I get paid, but don’t tell Liz, mind – I don’t want to give her any excuse to start a row.’
At the mention of his elder sister Charlie’s face fell. Seeing the change in his expression, Maggie cried, ‘Don’t look like that, love, I was only teasing you. Look, come here.’
Turning him round to face her she took his hands and said earnestly, ‘Things are going to be different from now on, I promise. Now I’m earning too, Liz won’t feel so pressured, and like I said, we’ve a lot to be grateful to her for. She’s not the ogre she makes out to be – she’s just tired and unhappy, so be patient with her, eh, Charlie, for my sake.’
‘If you say so.’ Already he was walking away from her towards the sofa and within minutes of lying down he was asleep.
Maggie stood over Charlie, her face thoughtful. All he seemed to do lately was eat and sleep, but then what else was there for him to do? He was too timid to play out in the street with the other children and for this she partly blamed herself. He had always been this way, but since their parents’ deaths he had clung to her more than he had ever done with his mother. She knew she should have encouraged him to go out, but the truth was she preferred to keep him by her side. The youngsters in this area were a rough lot, more like miniature men and women than the children they were, which wasn’t surprising considering their upbringing. Most of them worked after school and had done from an early age, and the girls usually had the added burden of looking after their baby siblings while the mothers worked. With each passing day the realisation of the easy, comfortable life they’d enjoyed was pushed home more forcibly, especially for Charlie. She could only hope that he would grow stronger with the years, but however his character developed, she would always be there for him.
Giving herself a mental shake, she set the pot full of vegetables over the fire and returned to the table. Pulling the lamp nearer to her she resumed work, her nimble fingers expertly threading the cotton through the soft material. The next hour flew by, and when the front door banged she gave a nervous start.
‘You made me jump, I didn’t realise it was that late.’
Maggie smiled at the figure standing by the doorway, only to receive a stony glance in return. Laying down the needle and cotton she waited for her sister to notice the jumble of cloth that littered the table: she didn’t have to wait long.
‘Where did you get that lot from?’ Liz asked, her hands pulling at the strings of her straw bonnet. Without waiting for an answer she walked past Maggie and poured herself a drink of water. She grimaced as she tasted the tepid, soot-covered fluid, but she was too thirsty to be fastidious. The heat from the fire seared through her blue-checked cotton dress, and she quickly moved away. The once plump figure, now as slim as her sister, walked over to the sofa only to give an impatient ‘tut’ when she saw the supine figure sprawled there.
‘Doesn’t he ever do anything else but sleep?’ she demanded crossly, her hand pushing back a strand of limp, blond hair from her perspiring face.
Ignoring the angry tone Maggie said plaintively, ‘Liz, I’ve got work. Look, Mrs Casey came down this morning and told me there was some out-work going in a factory in Shoreditch, and I went straight away. What’s the matter with you? I thought you’d be over the moon instead of acting like nothing’s changed.’
Flopping into the armchair Liz stared hard at the earnest face and felt her heart begin to race. Of course she was pleased that her sister had at long last managed to find some work, but for how long? When she’d come in the door and seen Maggie bent over the disordered array of clothing she had experienced a surge of excitement, a feeling that had abated as quickly as it had come. Maggie’s last two jobs hadn’t lasted longer than a couple of weeks, so she wasn’t going to get her hopes up thinking their luck had changed. Closing her eyes she sighed deeply. God, she was tired, tired and depressed. She knew her surly attitude was adding to the misery of their already dismal life, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t possess Maggie’s cheerful, optimistic view of life, always thinking that something good was just around the corner. Instead she preferred to look on the black side, at least that way she could never be disappointed. A sudden loud snort from Charlie brought her eyes open and cautiously she looked over to where Maggie sat, her face mirroring her disappointment at the way her good news had been received. Swallowing hard Liz fought with her troubled emotions. Maybe this time the work would last, maybe the worry of providing for them all was finally going to be shared – maybe. Clearing her throat she asked nonchalantly, ‘So how long is this lot going to last for? I suppose it’s too much to hope that it’s permanent.’
Maggie felt her body relax and the smile return to her lips.
‘The foreman said there’s plenty more – they’ve got a standing order with most of the big stores up the West End.’ She knew she was gabbling, but she couldn’t stop herself, desperate to bring a smile to Liz’s face.
They remained staring at each other across the room, their eyes locked, and then to Maggie’s horror Liz began to cry. Softly at first, and then gathering momentum until her thin shoulders began to heave with loud, heart-wrenching sobs. Thoroughly shaken Maggie hurried to her sister’s side.
Falling to her knees she took hold of the trembling fingers crying, ‘What’s the matter, Liz? Has something happened at work? Tell me, please, I’ve never seen you so upset, and I thought you’d be so happy to come home and find I’d found work. Come on, Liz, tell me what’s wrong, you’re frightening me.’
Pulling her hands free from Maggie’s grasp, Liz searched in the pocket of her dress for a handkerchief, and wiping her face she answered shakily, ‘I am pleased, oh, Maggie, you don’t know how pleased I am. It’s the relief I suppose, that and the knowledge that we’ll be able to move out of this dreadful place and get ourselves somewhere decent to live.’
Maggie felt her body stiffen in alarm, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of what to say. The thought of moving hadn’t crossed her mind, for although she hated the basement as much as Liz and Charlie did, she was wise enough to know that despite what the foreman had told her, out-work was unpredictable; knowing this, it would be foolhardy to think of moving. They were only paying five shillings a week here, as opposed to the 12 shillings they would need to find every week for a larger flat. If they took the chance and she lost her new-found job they would be back where they started from. Raising her eyes she looked at Liz and saw the tremulous smile hovering on the thin lips and the look of hope, long since dead come back into the blue eyes. Knowing that what she was about to say would wipe the smile from the face before her, she swallowed painfully and stuttered.
‘I think it would be better if… if we waited a while, Liz, just in case. I mean, I know I was told there’s plenty of work, but… but we can’t take the chance, not yet. Look, what if we carry on living on your wages for the time being and save mine. That way we can build up a little nest egg, and if the worst comes to the worst and I lose this job, at least that way we’d have something to fall back on while I looked for something else.’
Liz sat motionless, her body churning with disappointment. What Maggie said made sense and yet… oh, God, how much longer would they have to live in this ghastly place, how much longer could she bear it without going mad? ‘Liz? What do you think? Don’t you agree it’s better to wait for a while before making a decision. It won’t be forever, and I won’t stop looking for a permanent job, somewhere where I’ll be guaranteed a regular wage, and when that happens we can leave here and find somewhere decent to live.’
Her voice filled with pleading she waited for an answer, and when Liz moved forward in the chair she jumped back, bracing herself for the outburst she was sure was forthcoming.
‘You’re right as usual,’ Liz said gruffly, her voice thick with disappointment, ‘but I hope something turns up soon, ‘cos, I’m telling you, Maggie, I don’t know how much longer I can go on. I hate it here so much my stomach turns every time I walk through that door.’
Getting to her feet she turned towards the bed adding, ‘I think I’ll have a bit of a sleep before dinner, wake me when it’s ready.’
Maggie watched as Liz pulled the mattress from the wall and laid it on the floor. A few minutes later, as she lifted the pot of vegetables over the fire to warm up, she heard the faint sound of weeping coming from the far corner of the room. She would have felt better if Liz had gone for her – that reaction she could have coped with. But this attitude of acceptance and defeatism, so unlike her normally argumentative sister, had left her feeling out of her depth. All her earlier happiness evaporated, and with a heavy heart she turned towards the fire. Her head bowed over the evening meal she began stirring the contents with a large wooden spoon, and when the first tear dropped into the meagre stew she made no attempt to stop herself from crying, but continued stirring.