Lizzie of Langley Street (10 page)

‘Don’t have a clue, Lil.’ Lizzie couldn’t think beyond the moment. Somehow they would manage, but Lil was always practical, wanting answers before the questions.

‘Well, you’ll have to find out. Babs acting the Lady Bountiful ain’t gonna put food on the table. And what about Bert?’

‘Gone for a walk,’ Lizzie told her, knowing that Bert and Vinnie still hadn’t spoken and she was beginning to wonder if they ever would. ‘Said he needed a bit of fresh
air.’

A silence fell then as they sat with their thoughts, until, sometime later, there was a knock at the door. ‘I’ll shoot out the back way,’ Lil said quickly. ‘It’s
probably someone to see yer mother. I’ll call in later.’

But when Lizzie opened the front door it was Danny who stood there. ‘’Ello, love,’ he said softly. ‘I only heard this morning or I would have come sooner.’ He
handed her a bunch of white lilies. ‘Thought I’d bring these and pay me respects.’

She was close to tears. It was only the night before last that he had stood on the doorstep and kissed her. Kate had been alive then.

‘Come in, Danny.’ She showed him into the front room and they stood in silence, gazing at the coffin. Danny reached for her hand and squeezed it.

‘Are you all right?’ Danny asked in the kitchen afterwards.

‘Not so bad.’

They sat down at the table. ‘What a rotten shock. Who’d have thought she had a bad heart?’

Lizzie held back the tears and nodded.

‘Tell you what, I’ll bring you some fruit and veg over on the cart.’

She knew Danny was trying to cheer her up. ‘That’d be nice.’

‘When’s the funeral?’

‘Friday,’ Lizzie told him. ‘The undertaker said it was the earliest he could fit us in, because of Armistice Day.’

‘Would you like me to take the family on the cart?’ Danny asked, squeezing her hand again. ‘We can lift the wheelchair in the back. Benji ain’t like one of them posh
black horses with the feathers but it would save a few quid.’

‘That’ll be lovely.’ There was another knock on the front door and Lizzie knew their time was over. ‘It’s someone to see Ma, I expect.’

He kissed her cheek. ‘Send Bert to the shop to let me know the arrangements.’

When they got to the front door, Vi was there. ‘Not disturbin’ anything, am I?’ she asked curiously, giving Danny the once over as he walked out.

‘Danny was just leaving,’ Lizzie said as she caught his glance. She wanted him to know how much he meant to her, and hoped that he could read the message in her eyes.

‘Couldn’t believe it when I heard,’ Vi was saying as Lizzie closed the door. ‘She never said nothing to no one about her heart. What a bloody awful shock it must have
been for you.’

Lizzie showed her into the front room and even Vi stopped speaking for a moment in order to shed a tear.

K
ate Allen was buried two days later. It was the day after Armistice Day, a bitterly cold November Friday. Lizzie was frozen to the bone under her
old green coat. Babs wore a navy coat that the ladies of Hailing House had given her and Flo was in her gabardine school coat. They were all shivering.

Tom Allen sat in his Bath chair. He was covered by a thick rug. Vinnie, who had returned home that morning, was dressed in a brand new suit. Bert stood beside him, shoulders hunched under his
shabby tweed jacket. It was a pauper’s funeral and it showed.

Earlier that morning, Lil had delivered three large homemade cakes. The wake afterwards was to be divided between the two houses: the food at Lizzie’s, the drink at Lil’s.

‘I ’ope we’ve made enough.’ Lil had frowned at the spread on the kitchen table. ‘Most of the street’s coming. And there’ll be a few more
besides.’

‘I’d never have done it on me own, Lil.’

‘That fiver came in bloody handy, I can tell you,’ Lil sighed. ‘Have you paid the undertaker yet?’

Lizzie nodded. ‘We only needed the hearse. I’ve got three bob left over.’

‘It costs you to come into this world,’ Lil muttered grimly, ‘and costs to go out.’ She took her mirror from her handbag. Running her tongue over her teeth, she examined
her reflection. ‘Ah well, could be worse.’ She tilted her small black hat over to one side. ‘That’s better, ain’t it?’

‘You always look nice, Lil.’ Lizzie covered the cakes with a cloth.

‘Thanks. I do me best. This little suit goes back before the war. I turned up the hem and let the skirt out. It’s done me a good turn one way and another.’ She glanced sideways
at Lizzie. ‘How is everyone?’

‘Vinnie ain’t said a word about where he’s been,’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘And I can’t do nothing right in Babs’ book.’

‘You’ll have to make allowances. She don’t like you stepping into you mother’s shoes. What about Bert?’

Lizzie smiled softly. ‘Least you know where you are with Bert. He’s worn the Blakies off his boots with all them long walks of his.’

‘Getting it out of his system.’ Lil nodded slowly. ‘And Flo ain’t stopped crying, poor kid.’

Lizzie went over the conversation in her mind as she gazed down into the deep hole. Reverend Green, dressed in a black cape, intoned from the prayer book. ‘Go forth, O Christian soul, out
of this world, to Him who has created you, and in the name of Jesus and all his angels, archangels, thrones and denominations, in the name of the patriarchs and prophets . . .’

Kate wouldn’t have appreciated a long-winded rigmarole, Lizzie reflected sadly. She hadn’t been one for patriarchs and prophets. She had her own kind of faith. It revolved around her
family. But she was grateful for the presence of Reverend Michael Green. Not only had the ladies of Hailing House found a clergyman, but they had acquired a plot for Kate at the cemetery too. A
rare privilege for a working class family.

Lil Sharpe nudged Lizzie’s arm. ‘’Ere’s yer roses, love. You’d better throw them in.’

‘Ma would’ve had kittens wasting such lovely flowers.’

The stems were brittle but the blooms were perfectly formed. Six small buds of red velvet that curled around like a ballerina’s skirt.

‘Come on, love, you’ve done famously so far, don’t let her down now.’

‘Why did she have to die, Lil? She never done anyone any wrong.’ Lizzie choked back a sob.

‘No one knows the answer to that. Don’t torment youself with questions. Just try to accept it. Let’s get today over and done with.’ The cold made Lil’s long nose
shiny as she sniffed, delving in her pocket for a handkerchief. Lizzie knew that, like everyone else, she was frozen to the bone.

The Reverend coughed politely. He was eager to be out of the cold, away from people with whom he had no connection.

Lizzie threw in the roses. Finally, it was over. The gravedigger picked up his spade and began his work. Lizzie led the way down the wet, mossy path to the gravel track. At the end, through the
railings, she could see Benji. They would now make the journey through Poplar to Cubitt Town, her and Lil sitting beside Danny up on the seat of the cart, the family in the back.

It still all seemed like a bad dream. At least now she wouldn’t have to think of an excuse for not going to the Beggar’s Opera. But the thought was of no comfort at all.

‘There’s a good bit of ham in those, love, all sliced nice and thin,’ commented Lil Sharpe. She pointed to six large white plates overflowing with sandwiches.
‘We’ll take them in first, shall we?’ Lizzie lifted one of the plates as Lil said in an anxious voice, ‘How you feeling? You warmer now?’

‘Yes thanks, Lil. I dunno what came over me at the cemetery. Sorry about that.’ Curls of ebony fell over her white face. She felt as if the blood had drained right out of her.

‘No need to apologize. You ’andled youself well.’ Lil looked Lizzie up and down, her eyebrows raised. ‘That frock of Ethel’s looks really nice on you. Goes with yer
green eyes. Did you have to alter it much?’

‘I just took up the hem and a bit at the sides.’

‘Did you do it on the treadle?’

‘No, by hand. The treadle’s in the front room.’

Lil realized her mistake. ‘Blimey, course it is. Trust me to put me foot in it. Well, you’ve done lovely repairs. Turn around and let’s have a look.’ Lil pushed Lizzie
round in a circle, holding her by the shoulders as she inspected the dress. ‘You’re so tiny, love – well, I suppose the word is dainty.’ She laughed. ‘Ethel’s a
dirty great lump compared to you – you’d never have believed she once took your size. I bought her the dress for her thirteenth birthday. She only wore it a couple of times before
she’d grown out of it.’

Lizzie glanced down at the blue dress. It wasn’t very fashionable but it did fit her nicely. Her dream was to buy herself something new one day. A good quality dress or coat that was the
height of fashion. She knew she had taste, and she loved clothes. Kate had seen this in her and encouraged her to use the treadle machine. Mending and altering was second nature to her. But one
day, when she’d saved up and there were no bills to pay, she’d treat herself.

‘It could have been made for you,’ Lil was saying as Lizzie tuned back in. ‘That long knitted top and pleated skirt with the dark blue collar, and them wide cuffs with the
fancy stitching . . .’

Lizzie smiled gratefully. Lil’s idea of fashion was to keep everything in mothballs year after year. But Lil was right about this dress. Even though her eyes were a deep green, the blue
complemented them.

‘Everything ready in the front room?’

Lizzie nodded. The dismantled iron bedstead was hidden under a cover. The wooden chairs were placed in a circle round the room ready for the guests.

‘I don’t know how many will come,’ Lizzie said as she glanced at the sandwiches and cakes, ‘but I think we’ve made enough.’

Lil placed her hands on her hips. ‘Well, there’s enough here to feed the five thousand. Langley Street are a greedy lot. They ate and drank themselves silly at the street party after
the war. If we run short I can always pop next door and knock out a few more sandwiches. Flo can give us a hand. It helps to take her mind off things.’

Lizzie nodded. ‘She helped me set out the table and she’s done a bit of dusting. She even cleaned the front room window.’

‘Yeah, she ain’t done badly – in between bawlin’ her head off.’

Lizzie smiled. ‘Even Babs said she’d offer round the plates and do the teas. So all in all, it’s not bad going.’

Lil nodded. ‘No, it ain’t, gel.’

There was a long pause before Lizzie said, ‘Lil, I hope I’m not gonna get upset when everyone comes. I dunno what come over me at the cemetery.’

‘I do,’ replied Lil briskly. ‘It’s called a whopping great shock. I had the same when our two boys died at the beginning of the war, one so quick after the other. Me and
Doug didn’t know what hit us.’ For a moment Lil looked older than her forty-five years. Her face was sad despite her make-up. ‘I couldn’t believe it for weeks. Didn’t
eat, didn’t sleep, wouldn’t speak to Doug. Your mother was the one who helped me then. If it wasn’t for her I dunno what I would have done. I just wanted to curl up and
die.’

Lizzie remembered. She had been nine at the time. Her mother had called in to see Lil each day, trying to encourage her to eat. She’d made soup and hot bread and finally convinced Lil that
life was worth living.

‘You’re gonna do just fine, gel,’ Lil said. ‘Now call Babs and Flo to give us a hand and we’ll do the honours. Doug and your two boys are seeing to the drink next
door in my place. Front door’s open. The men can have a good piss-up.’

‘I dread to think what state your place will be in.’ Lizzie lifted a plate.

‘Don’t you go worrying about that,’ Lil cackled. ‘They can get as sozzled as they like without us having to watch ’em do it, silly buggers. They’ll not stint
on the booze, that’s for sure. So off you go and keep yer pecker up. And when everyone’s gone, it’ll be the living you ’ave to think about, not the dead.’

‘Ta, love. Very nice, too.’ Violet Catcher from number seventy-nine was squeezed into the old chair that had been pulled out from the cupboard under the stairs. Her
fat arms wobbled as she pounced on the sandwiches. ‘Lovely bit of ’am. Shame about yer poor mum. We always got on. Unlike some others in this road I could mention.’ Lizzie moved
swiftly by. Vi was looking for an audience.

Babs and Flo were sitting on the floor beside Ethel Sharpe and her two children, Tim, three and Rosie, two. Lizzie held the plate whilst they all dipped in.

Babs turned up her nose. ‘Ain’t we got no egg and cress?’

‘It’s ham or cheese,’ Lizzie told her.

‘Don’t like either.’

‘Well, that’s the first I’ve heard of it.’ Lizzie reflected that Babs doing charity work at Hailing House had its disadvantages. Airs and graces in Langley Street were
given short shrift and Babs was pushing her luck.

Babs straightened her back. ‘Miss Hailing tells Alice – that’s the maid – to tell cook to make cucumber sandwiches thin and cut off the crusts. Miss Hailing’d never
have big thick slices with the crusts left on. That ain’t proper.’

‘Well, the motto in this house is waste not want not.’

Babs jumped to her feet. ‘Pardon me for opening me mouth.’

The two little children giggled as Babs stalked off.

Ethel laughed. ‘Rosie and Tim like the ham. Here you are kids, eat up.’

‘How’s life in Blackheath?’ Lizzie sat down beside Ethel. She got on well with Lil’s twenty-one-year-old daughter. Apart from having all Ethel’s cast-offs, they
both liked fashion. Ethel worked in a haberdashers two days a week.

‘Not so bad, Lizzie. I was sorry to hear about yer Ma.’

‘Thanks, Ethel. It was a bit of a shock.’

‘How you coping?’ She poked Timmy in the ribs. ‘You eat up that crust young man.’

Lizzie smiled at the little boy. ‘Me biggest worry is the school inspector coming round.’

‘What’s he want?’

‘To keep an eye on Flo.’

‘Silly old busybody.’ Ethel sounded like her mother. ‘Don’t take no notice. He’ll soon get fed up. I’m putting Timmy’s name down for school soon.
There’s one just around the corner. Trouble is, Richard thinks it’s a bit rough.’

‘Is Richard still working for Greenwich Council?’ Lizzie asked, recalling that Lil always said her son-in-law was a stuffed shirt.