Poppy’s conscience smarted. Mrs Thomas’s words had hit home. She was telling her that she was being selfish by concentrating on her own wishes, when she ought to be staying at home as a good daughter should, running the grocery shop with her father. It was totally unheard of among the people they knew for a young woman to go off to live her own life away from her family.
My father is so generous and caring, she mused. He only wants us to be happy and fulfilled. Although she had a suspicion that when he told Tommy he could go to sea, he was presuming that he would come home after having had a taste of it. But he’s wrong there, she sighed. Tommy seems to have settled into seafaring life so well that he doesn’t even have time to write.
The following day she walked down to the Queen’s Dock, which was situated behind Savile Street, and looked at the ships just as Tommy used to do. From their bedrooms above the shop they were used to hearing the clang of iron and steel, the hoot of steamers and the shouts of porters and seamen as they went about their daily business. This ten-acre dock was once the biggest in the country and had served the whaling trade, which gave Hull its first major industry.
She turned and cut back towards Monument Bridge, then waited as the bridge was raised to allow a tall-masted barge to come through the Whitefriargate lock. The lifting and lowering of locks and bridges to let the shipping traffic through frequently delayed pedestrians and road traffic.
Poppy was going again to see Nan and Mattie, to offer them the tickets that Mr Hart had given her for Pepita. Tomorrow was Friday and she had asked her father if he would like to see the comic opera, but he was still feeling low, he said, and didn’t want to.
‘You go,’ he’d suggested. ‘Ask Mattie if she’ll go with you, and find out if Nan has found work,’ he added anxiously. ‘I’d like to help her, but she’s so proud I know she wouldn’t accept any money.’
Poppy knew this to be true, so had decided to give the tickets to them both as a treat, and she would buy one for herself. As she waited for the bridge to be lowered, she saw someone waving to her from the other side. It was Mattie, barely recognizable, muffled up as she was in several shawls. It was an extremely cold morning and Poppy was wearing a warm coat with her fur hat and muff.
‘Poppy! Where are you off to?’ Mattie asked.
‘I was coming to see you.’ Poppy smiled. ‘To ask if you and Nan would like to come with me to see Pepita at the Grand.’ She saw the doubt appear on Mattie’s face and swiftly added, ‘I’ve been given complimentary tickets. Pa isn’t well enough to come and I don’t want to go on my own.’
‘Oh! When?’ Mattie asked eagerly. ‘We can’t come at night as we’re working at ’King’s Head and if we give up even one night they might sack us!’
‘A matinee then? Tomorrow or Saturday?’ I should have realized that Mattie and Nan couldn’t afford to give up an evening for something as frivolous as entertainment, she thought. ‘I start rehearsals next week.’
‘Saturday then! Lovely.’ Mattie’s face lit up with enthusiasm. ‘Ma is out this morning anyway. She’s found temporary work at ’wash-house and won’t be back till later.’ Then she frowned. ‘Is your pa no better, then?’
‘I think he’s over his sickness,’ Poppy said. ‘But he’s very low-spirited. Come and have coffee with me, Mattie,’ she said impulsively. ‘Here.’ She looked back along the street towards where St John’s Church and a group of shops and a coffee shop stood. ‘This place is all right, isn’t it?’
‘Not as good as Mazzini’s,’ Mattie grinned, linking arms. ‘But it’ll do.’
They went into the coffee shop and Poppy ordered coffee, cakes and scones, for she wondered if Mattie had had any breakfast. And she might not have had, judging from the way her eyes glistened when the waitress brought the food.
‘The thing is, Mattie,’ Poppy said thoughtfully, ‘I wanted to talk to you or Nan. I wasn’t just coming to ask about the theatre tickets.’
Mattie licked her buttery fingers. ‘Mm? Aren’t you going to have a cake?’ Her eyes were enormous, Poppy thought, and she saw what she hadn’t noticed last time, that beneath her shawls Mattie had lost weight.
‘I don’t think I want anything,’ Poppy said, even though she knew she could have eaten something. ‘You finish them. I’m worried, Mattie, and I don’t know what to do.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I shouldn’t bother you,’ she said guiltily. ‘You’ve got more worries than I have.’
‘What are friends for?’ Mattie asked. She rubbed her fingers together to dispose of crumbs and then pressed Poppy’s hand. ‘We’ve known each other a long time.’ She drew her eyebrows together anxiously and narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?’
‘What do you mean?’ Poppy asked innocently. ‘Trouble? No.’ She shook her head. ‘Oh! No!’ She flushed. ‘Nothing like I think you mean.’ She recalled Mattie’s giving her advice on women’s matters when she didn’t know who else to ask.
‘That’s all right then.’ Mattie gazed at her. ‘But young girls can get in trouble, especially when they’re on their own away from home.’
Poppy swallowed. ‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘And especially in the sort of business I’m in,’ she admitted, thinking of the Terry Sisters who had stayed out all night. Then she laughed. ‘But no-one has propositioned me yet.’
‘No?’ Mattie raised her expressive eyebrows. ‘What about that pianist feller you told us about? Didn’t he want to take you out for supper or anything? That’s how it would start.’
‘He’s a perfect gentleman. No, really!’ she insisted, when Mattie hooted derisively. ‘We did go out to supper and he also took me to see the Royal Pavilion at Brighton, but I didn’t know until later that my agent had asked him to keep an eye on me.’ She sighed pensively. ‘I don’t know when I’ll see him again. He’s touring the south coast now.’
‘And – erm, Charlie?’ Mattie threw in the question casually. ‘Have you seen him again? Apart from when he met you in London, I mean?’
‘Just once,’ Poppy murmured. ‘I thought he might have come to see me again, but he didn’t,’ she said miserably. ‘Though I can excuse him, I suppose. He’s about to start in his own business and is bound to be busy.’
‘You’re fond of him, aren’t you?’ Mattie asked, and when Poppy nodded, she said, ‘Well, be careful you don’t get hurt. He’s – well, he’s older and more experienced than you,’ she finished lamely.
‘Everybody’s older than me, Mattie.’
‘So what is it that you’re worried about?’ Mattie scraped up the crumbs from the plate with her fingers and popped them into her mouth. ‘If it’s not some feller.’ She winked.
Poppy sighed. Mattie was so cheerful and positive in spite of her hard life. She was just like her mother. ‘I’m worried because—’ she began. Then she corrected herself. ‘That’s not right. I’m not worried. Worry is when you’ve no job and no money coming in, and you don’t know where the next meal is coming from, isn’t it?’ Mattie nodded in agreement and Poppy went on. ‘I’m confused and I’m anxious and I don’t know what to do for the best.’
She told her about Lena and the row she had had with Mrs Thomas over the bread, and then about meeting Mrs Thomas and being advised that she should stay at home and help her father.
‘Perhaps I should stay at home,’ she said. ‘I hate to think of Pa being in that woman’s clutches; and if customers are staying away, then it won’t be long before the business is finished!’
‘Your pa won’t let that happen,’ Mattie assured her. ‘He’s been in business too long to let some harridan like that spoil it for him.’
‘You don’t understand!’ Poppy said fretfully and felt tears fill her eyes. ‘Pa’s got so low. He’s not really over the loss of my mother, and then Tommy and I have let him down by going away and leaving him!’
‘I’m really sorry,’ Mattie said huskily. ‘I like your father – he’s just ’sort of da I’d have liked. But if you stay at home he’ll feel guilty for stopping you from doing what you want to do. And would it help?’ she asked. ‘Wouldn’t you still want somebody who can bake and serve in ’shop?’
‘Yes,’ Poppy agreed. ‘But I could choose who came, and she wouldn’t have to live in.’
‘Is that what you’re bothered about?’ Mattie came swiftly to the point. ‘You don’t like Lena living in ’same house as your da?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Poppy said petulantly. ‘I don’t like it at all. It’s as if she’s trying to take over.’
‘Well . . .’ Mattie hesitated. ‘If it was me – if I was in your shoes—’
‘Yes?’ Poppy knew what Mattie would do in her situation. She would give up her singing and help her mother or her father if she had one. Mattie was totally unselfish. Unlike me, she thought mournfully. I want to sing and if I can’t, then I’ll be miserable for ever.
‘I think you should talk to your father. Tell him how bothered you are about him and tell him that you’ll give up ’stage if needs be. He’s got a couple of weeks to think about it until you’ve finished at ’Grand, hasn’t he? It might be just ’boost he needs to consider a way of getting rid of Lena and Albert and taking somebody else on instead.’
‘Yes,’ Poppy said. ‘You’re right. It’s no use my mulling it over on my own. I’ve got to bring it out in the open. Take the bull by the horns, as they say.’
Mattie grunted. ‘Cows don’t have horns,’ she said. ‘But you could get hold of Lena by the nose!’
Poppy laughed unhappily. It wouldn’t be easy getting Lena out. Her father was such a kind man. He wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings. But there surely must be a way?
Poppy paid and they prepared to leave. ‘Which Mrs Thomas was it, by the way?’ Mattie asked. ‘The one who had ’row with Lena?’
‘She and Mr Thomas used to come in for coffee on a Saturday night after they’d been to the Mechanics,’ Poppy said. ‘You know, he used to be a barber in Posterngate until he got rheumatism in his hands.’
Mattie nodded. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know who you mean.’ She flashed a smile at Poppy as they stood outside. A sharp wind was blowing in off the estuary, gusting up the dock and churning up the water, rattling rigging and dragging on anchors, and swirling rubbish round their feet. She huddled into her shawls. ‘Don’t you worry, Poppy. Talk to your pa. We’ll think on some way of getting rid of Lena.’
Nan was thrilled to have been asked to the theatre, and on the Saturday afternoon she brushed down her shabby coat and unearthed the hat that she had worn when Joshua had made up a party at his expense to hear Poppy sing at the Mechanics. ‘How that girl has come on since then,’ she said to Mattie. ‘She’s done so well! I’m really pleased for her.’
‘So am I.’ Mattie brushed her unruly hair and looked at herself in the tin plate on the wall that served as a mirror. My freckles have gone, she thought. Wish I was better-looking. She sucked in her cheeks. If only I had good bone structure like Poppy, instead of a round face. She’s a real looker. She sighed. Not that it would make a deal of difference to my life. ‘I’m ready, Ma,’ she said. ‘Can’t do any better with what I’ve got.’
‘You’re lovely.’ Her mother smiled. ‘Anybody would be glad to be like you.’
‘Come on!’ Mattie picked up her coat. It was one that had been her mother’s and before that had belonged to Mrs Mazzini, who had given it to Nan years ago. ‘Compliments would buy you a glass of ale if I had any brass.’
Nan locked the door behind them and put the key in her pocket. ‘We’ve not got much,’ she murmured. ‘But mebbe more than some, and I’d like to think it’s still here when we get back.’
‘Nobody would break into our place, Ma,’ Mattie said. ‘They’d have to be desperate.’ She took hold of Nan’s arm and they walked off through driving rain to meet Poppy outside the Grand Theatre and Opera House. They cut across Bridge Street, skirted round the eastern end of Queen’s Dock, dodging the bustle of seamen which told them of the arrival of another ship, and walked down Charlotte Street towards George Street where the Grand was situated.
‘Ma!’ Mattie said as they hurried along, heads bent against the rain. ‘Do you know Mrs Thomas? The woman whose husband used to be a barber?’
‘Yes,’ Nan said. ‘Course I do. Known her for years. Why?’
‘Do you know where she lives?’
‘They still live above ’shop. He sub-let the barber’s when he couldn’t handle a blade any more. Why do you want to know?’
‘There’s Poppy waiting for us,’ Mattie interrupted. ‘Yoo-hoo, Poppy!’
‘Hush!’ Nan said, conscious of the better-dressed people waiting to go in. ‘This isn’t music hall, Mattie. This is opera!’
Mattie turned to her mother. ‘You mean I can’t sing along?’ she said in mock amazement.
‘Certainly not,’ Nan reprimanded her. ‘So please. A little decorum!’
‘Decorum isn’t me, you know that, Ma!’ Then she grinned. ‘Only fooling! I’ll be as good as gold.’
But she could have sung along, she decided, as she sat glued to her seat, if only she had known the words. Lecoque’s Pepita was bright and amusing, the costumes and sets were charming, and the singing was delightful, or so it seemed to her. Mattie turned to Poppy in the interval and saw that her eyes were sparkling.
‘Do you know what, Poppy?’
‘No. What?’ Poppy seemed to have lost her anxiety and found her high spirits again.
‘I think you could do this. Sing in light opera. You can certainly sing as well as . . .’ She consulted the programme. ‘Pepita – Miss Anne Rees. Couldn’t she, Ma? Can’t you see it? Miss Poppy Mazzini taking the lead!’
‘Well, we’ll see.’ Poppy looked suddenly downcast. She took a deep breath. ‘After Aladdin is over. Then I’ll make a decision.’
As they walked home after the performance, Mattie said to Nan. ‘We’ve got to do something, Ma, to keep Poppy on ’stage. It’s such a waste of talent otherwise.’
Nan nodded, but said, ‘It’s out of our hands, Mattie. We’re not involved any more. What can we do?’
They both shrunk down into their coats. The sky was as black as if it was night. Rain was still pelting down, sharp as sleet, and they didn’t have umbrellas. ‘Got to do something,’ Mattie gasped. ‘I’m going to find out about that Lena woman. Discover where she’s come from.’
‘It won’t help,’ Nan replied. ‘Joshua will be in a worse state than before if she leaves. Poppy will have to stay at home then.’
‘No, she won’t,’ Mattie argued. ‘We’ll go and work for him. For nowt, if necessary.’ They turned into their dark court. It was awash with water. ‘Damn and blast this place,’ Mattie said, splashing towards their door, and her mother hushed her, telling her to be thankful they had a place to go to and a roof over their heads.
‘Give us ’key, Ma,’ Mattie said. ‘I’m frozen! Though there’s no point in making a fire when we’ve to go out again in a couple of hours. Mother of God!’ She sprang back, away from the huddled shape on the doorstep. ‘Who on earth—’
‘We’ve got nothing!’ Nan’s voice broke as she saw the figure rise up above them. ‘We’re as poor as you are.’
‘Nan! Mattie!’ A man’s voice, young and trembling. ‘Don’t be scared. It’s me. Tommy!’