A Woman’s Fortune

She tried to think of people who might be able to help. The Sullivans were good friends. Perhaps she should go to Mary and Geraldine’s father, Brendan. Dad might listen to Brendan. But it wasn’t the Sullivans’ problem and it would be unfair to burden them. Besides, money was probably tight there, too, as there were so many of them.

What about Billy? He was such a good man, so reliable, and she knew he’d do anything for her. But he hadn’t got any money, she was sure. He was a postman but he hadn’t been all that long in the job. He’d got his mother to support, too, as his dad had been killed in the war. And anyway, why should Billy give over whatever savings he might have to help her dad? But he was so wise, maybe he’d know of a way out of this mess …

Who did she know who could lend Dad the money he owed to this Mr Hopkins? Evie racked her brains but could think of no one. The most well-to-do person she knew was Mrs Russell, whose blouses she had been ironing that evening. But then she remembered the mended cuff Gran had worked on, the missing button and how worn the once-fine fabric now was with repeated washing. Mrs Russell was a step up from Shenty Street, but she was widowed and lived on what she had, which was not much. And anyway, Grandma would die of shame if the Carters took their problems to Mrs Russell. So would Evie herself, for that matter.

The burden of her secret and the anger she felt towards her father kept Evie awake until the early hours, when she eventually fell into a restless sleep. It was with heavy eyes and a heavier heart that she faced the next morning.

‘You’re looking peaky, love,’ Jeanie remarked to Evie as they finished their breakfast of bread and scrape. ‘I’ve got the copper heating and if you help me fill the dolly tub first, you can go with your gran to Mrs Russell’s, if you like? Your dad’s already gone and Pete can see to Bob so there’ll be no one under my feet.’

Evie filled the dolly tub with hot water, then put in some washing soda, followed by some small items from the latest bundle. Then the sheets went in the copper with more washing soda and Evie pushed them underwater with some long wooden tongs.

‘Help me load up, then.’ Michael had made the trolley for them out of some orange boxes set on a frame with two axles, some pram wheels and a steering column handle. The box part was lined with an offcut of old sheeting to prevent splinters snagging the clothes. Evie laid the ironed and neatly folded bed linen inside, then placed the blouses carefully on top and covered them with a piece of fabric to keep off the dust. This had been Sue’s idea, to keep the clothes clean and dry, and she’d fashioned the mac to fit snugly over the boxes like a pram cover.

Evie nearly blurted out her worries about her dad to Sue before they were two streets from home, but then she remembered her resolve of the previous night: not to say anything until she simply had to. There might yet be a way to deal with the mess Dad was in without spreading the worry around.

Mrs Russell lived not far from Queen’s Park, and Sue and Evie cut through the back alleys, chatting about their washing schedule. But it didn’t stop Evie worrying that the end of next week was the deadline for her father to pay back Mr Hopkins. She fell silent while Sue chatted on, unaware of her granddaughter’s preoccupation.

‘… We’ll go to the boys’ play, I reckon,’ Sue was saying. ‘I think we need to get tickets. I hope there’s no charge for them. I’ll ask Peter. It’s no use asking Bob, bless him.’

Before long, they arrived at Mrs Russell’s, a tall old-fashioned red-brick house that had been divided into two. Sue opened the gate and Evie wheeled the pram up along the tiled path, then round to the back door. A rose bush was in full bloom in the small front garden and she noticed its delicate scent was like the perfume Mrs Russell wore.

Mrs Russell’s ‘girl’, Annie, opened the door, beaming at Sue and Evie.

‘Come in and I’ll go and tell the missus that you’re here.’

Sue and Evie unloaded the trolley, passing the items between them to lie neatly on a chair in Mrs Russell’s large kitchen.

Annie showed them to the sitting room, then went to make a pot of tea. Mrs Russell’s sitting room was like the lady herself, all pink and white and pretty.

‘Good morning, Mrs Goodwin. And, Evie, my dear, how lovely to see you. Please, sit down. Annie will bring us some tea,’ Mrs Russell greeted them.

Evie liked Mrs Russell, who was always friendly and fair and didn’t treat Grandma Sue as if she wasn’t fit to set foot in her house, as a couple of the women who sent them their washing did.

‘How did you get on with that cuff that needed your expert attention?’ asked Mrs Russell.

‘I’ll show you. Evie, love, will you fetch that blouse so Mrs Russell can see?’

Evie did as she was asked, admiring the soft colours of the wallpaper, so different to their home on Shenty Street with its constant smell of washing soda and damp sheets draped over the maidens. How quiet this house was, too. Kind of restful … Evie glanced into another room opening off the corridor before she reached the kitchen. There was a large comfy-looking sofa, and a small pile of books that looked as if they’d been read a lot. A piano, far bigger than the one at the school, stood at the window end.

Mum would love to sit there and sing a few songs around that piano, Evie thought. So would I …

She knocked on the kitchen door and retrieved the blouse, then Annie followed her back with a tray of tea and some plain biscuits.

Mrs Russell admired the mend, which pleased Sue, although Evie knew that it had been an easy job for her, and then the two women drank their tea and chatted while Evie sipped hers and gazed round the room, daydreaming about living in such a house. On a side table in a smart frame there was a photograph of a man in air force uniform. Evie guessed it was Mr Russell.

‘Well, must be getting on,’ said Sue as soon as she’d finished her tea.

Mrs Russell counted the payment for the washing into her hands and Sue put the coins in her jacket pocket and thanked her for the tea.

‘Annie will bring round the next wash on Wednesday morning as usual, Mrs Goodwin,’ Mrs Russell assured her.

‘Thank you, Mrs Russell. I’ll see you next week,’ answered Sue with a smile.

Then Annie showed Sue and Evie to the back door where they’d left the trolley.

‘She’s so nice,’ said Evie as she wheeled the empty trolley back along the footpath.

‘And a good woman. Doesn’t think that just ’cos she’s seen a bit of money she’s any better than the rest of us. But poor woman lost her husband in the war, like Granddad Albert. She’s got no children either and I think she might be a bit lonely. It’s family that’s important, not how smart your house is. Always remember that.’

‘Yes, Gran,’ said Evie, though she thought it would be nice to have some pretty things at home as well as her family.

The thought of family started her worrying about Michael and Mr Hopkins’ man again. The coins Mrs Russell had paid Sue for the washing and mending would go nowhere towards a debt of pounds.

By the time Evie and Sue had wheeled the trolley as far as the top end of Shenty Street, they were both hot and tired.

‘Look, there’s Billy,’ said Sue, seeing the postman pushing some mail through the last letterbox in the road.

‘Hello, Mrs Goodwin. Hello, Evie. That’s lucky, seeing you now. I’ve just finished my round for the day. Been up since cockcrow.’

‘So have we,’ Evie smiled. ‘Best bit of the day, first thing.’

‘I’ll take the trolley home and you can join us in a minute, Evie,’ suggested Sue, fully aware that her granddaughter and Billy had a special fondness for each other.

Evie had never been so glad to have a few moments alone with Billy. All the way home the worry about her father’s debt had festered and she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. Billy was so wise and, not being family, he might be able to see straight what needed to be done.

Evie perched on the low wall at the side of the end house and Billy sat next to her, putting his empty bag down at his feet.

‘What’s up, Evie? You look like something’s fretting you.’

‘Oh, Billy,’ her brown eyes filled with tears, ‘it’s a family thing really but I don’t want to worry Mum and Grandma unless I have to. Trouble is, it’s too big. I don’t think I can deal with it on my own.’

‘Is it your dad?’ Billy knew Michael Carter had a reputation for being feckless but then a lot of men round here put their beer and their bets before their families. ‘What’s he done that’s so bad you can’t even tell your mum and grandma?’ He’d heard Michael had been placing some heavier bets lately, more than just the odd shilling. He hoped it hadn’t got out of hand.

Evie told Billy about the creepy man sent by Mr Hopkins and what she’d heard in the night.

‘Oh, Evie, Hopkins is bad news,’ said Billy, lowering his voice. ‘He runs a card game. I’ve heard all sorts about it: that it’s held upstairs at the King’s Head. It sounds as if your dad’s been playing cards there and has run up this debt.’

‘Cards? Are you sure? Not horses or dogs? What do you think’s going to happen, Billy?’

Billy thought better of telling Evie everything he’d heard about Mr Hopkins. ‘Let me think … Hopkins will want to get the money off your dad if he can. Maybe your dad can agree to pay it back a bit at a time.’

‘But it’s pounds already. That might mean it’s never paid off!’ Evie was indignant.

‘I don’t see that he’s any choice if he can’t pay it all. He has to take responsibility, love.’

‘But I’m afraid if I tell Dad all this he’ll take no notice of me. He never likes to face up to problems and I’m sure he’d rather carry on as usual at the pub and betting on the races than pay what he owes Mr Hopkins. And I don’t want Mum and Grandma to be scrimping and doing without because of what Dad owes, Billy. They’ve been working so hard and Mum’s getting all worn out, and Grandma’s feet are so swollen in the heat and she’s bone-tired. She should be sitting down in a comfy chair and drinking tea like that nice Mrs Russell, not working to keep Dad in beer and card games.’ Evie felt hot, angry tears springing to her eyes.

Billy put his arm around her shoulders and drew her to him, wrapping her in his comforting embrace.

‘Do you want me to talk to your dad?’ he asked after a minute in which Evie’s tears subsided as he hugged her against his jacket.

Dad might take some notice of Billy, who was older than she, and a man, of course, but she felt the responsibility for her family should be hers.

‘Shall we both talk to him?’ she suggested. ‘I think he’ll listen to you but it was me that found all this out, and he is my dad, after all.’

Billy stood up and took her hand. ‘I’ll come round this evening after he’s had his tea and we’ll say our piece then, all right?’

‘Thank you,’ said Evie, giving Billy a hug. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Billy kissed the top of her head, then let her go. As he took up his bag to go back to the depot, he watched Evie walking back to her house halfway along Shenty Street. Before she disappeared down the passage she turned to wave with a little smile and Billy felt his heart lift.

He retrieved his bicycle from where he’d chained it to a lamp post, worried about Evie’s future.

Mr Hopkins had a reputation as a bully and there were some nasty stories about him. Billy didn’t want anything violent to happen to Michael Carter. He was Evie’s dad, and Evie’s happiness was very close to Billy’s heart. She was a hard worker and everything she did was to help her family, even giving up school, for all she loved it, to help her grandmother with the washing business.

As he cycled back to the mail depot, Billy resolved to help Evie in whatever way he could. She was an angel and he would never let her down.

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