Missing Person (19 page)

‘There y’ar,’ said Mrs Harper, ‘’e likes yer.’

‘Can I tickle ’im?’ asked Penny-Farving.

‘Best not,’ said Mrs Harper, ‘you might poke ’is eye out and ’e’ll bite yer finger off.’

‘Who’s a pretty girl, then?’ said Percy, and Dan’s two angels giggled.

‘Well, you can say goodbye to ’im now,’ said Mrs Harper, ‘I’m a bit busy.’

‘Goodbye, Percy,’ said the angels.

‘I’ll hit yer,’ said Percy, or something like that.

‘What a funny parrot,’ said Cassie. ‘Cecil’s sort of more serious. Well, thanks ever so much, Mrs ’Arper. Come on, you two.’

Mrs Harper saw them out with a fairly amiable goodbye. Well, it was best to be neighbourly.

Tilly had enjoyed an unbothered day. She’d done some uninterrupted sewing and some shopping. She’d had a sandwich and a pot of tea at midday, and now, at fifteen minutes to four, she was cutting material with her dressmaking scissors. On the model in a corner of
the
room was a finished blouse. She had a skirt to make now, and when that was done she would begin the dresses for Bubbles and Penny-Farving. The mental note she made of that took hold of her mind. Bother it, she said to herself for the first time that day. She’d heard the little girls downstairs when they were having their midday meal with Cassie. How two girls as young as they were could make so much noise had to be heard to be believed. High spirits. It was in their favour, she thought, that they could be high-spirited when they were so neglected by their mother. They were little girls running wild. If that dad of theirs didn’t do something about taming Gladys Hobday, he’d be faced with the problem of always needing someone to look after them. ‘Someone’ could be a succession of different faces and different attitudes.

They had left the house with Cassie at one o’clock, however, and now they were on Tilly’s mind. She frowned. Glancing, she saw that the blind was up in the window opposite. She shook herself, and began to use her scissors again. She heard the front door open and the chattering voices of Bubbles and Penny-Farving. The door closed and she heard them go into the parlour. They’d get up to something in there if no-one was with them.

Blow it, thought Tilly, why should I worry? They’re not my kids, they’re Gladys Hobday’s, a freak of a woman who’s barmy about spending her life balancing on a tightrope. What a loony that man is, falling for a tarted-up hussy just because she looks good in tights. Oh, Lord, there they go, Bubbles and Penny-Farving, jumping and yelling. Next thing they’ll be trying to walk a tightrope themselves, in the parlour.

Crash. Something had gone.

Down went Tilly, sighing.

In the parlour, Bubbles and Penny-Farving were looking at a vase on the lino. It was in pieces.

‘That ain’t very clever, is it?’ said Tilly.

‘It fell off the window ledge,’ said Penny-Farving.

‘She did it,’ said Bubbles.

‘No, I didn’t, you did,’ said Penny-Farving.

‘It just fell off,’ said Bubbles.

‘Well, whoever did it can pick the pieces up,’ said Tilly. ‘No, you’d better not or you’ll manage to cut your fingers off. Aren’t you supposed to ’ave someone lookin’ after you?’

‘Yes, we been across to Mrs Tompkins,’ said Penny-Farving, ‘but she sent us ’ome.’

‘She said we was tryin’ to tie ’er kettle to ’er cat’s tail,’ said Bubbles.

‘And were you?’ asked Tilly.

‘We emptied it of water first,’ said Penny-Farving.

‘Tilly, could yer make us a cup of tea?’ asked Bubbles, long frock dusty, face needing a wash.

‘Only if you promise to sit quiet,’ said Tilly.

‘Can we do it upstairs in your room?’ asked Penny-Farving.

‘Do what upstairs?’

‘Sit quiet,’ said Penny-Farving.

‘You can try it first at your kitchen table,’ said Tilly. She took them into the kitchen, made them sit down and then put the kettle on. She noted how tidy the kitchen and scullery looked. That was Cassie’s doing. Now there was a very nice girl, a typical daughter of Walworth in having been brought up to make herself useful at the tender age of fourteen. God alone knew what Bubbles and Penny-Farving would be like at fourteen. Well, at least they were fairly quiet now. They each had a box of water-colour
paints
out and a painting book, and were actually absorbing themselves.

Tilly made the tea, gave them a cup each and poured one for herself. And finding what was left of a baker’s cake in the larder, she gave them each a slice. By which time, when her back had been turned only while she looked into the larder, they had managed to paint each other’s faces a bright green.

‘You imps,’ she said.

‘Don’t Penny-Farvin’ look funny?’ said Bubbles.

‘So do you,’ said Penny-Farving, and they giggled.

‘Right,’ said Tilly, ‘you can sit there with green faces and drink your tea and eat your cake. Then when your dad comes in, p’raps ’e can see how funny you both look.’

‘Yes, won’t ’e laugh?’ said Bubbles.

‘Dad’s always laughin’,’ said Penny-Farving.

Tilly counted silently to ten, and that saved her from telling the girls some home truths about that cheerful Charlie. She stayed there in the kitchen and made them apply themselves sensibly to their painting. She ended up sitting between them, mothering them, and when she realized what she was doing she told herself she’d been victimized into the role by the absent figure of their father.

She was there when he came in from his work, pleasantly attired in his suit with no signs of motor oil about him, and carrying a shopping bag.

‘Hello,’ he said, ‘that’s nice of you to be sittin’ with the girls, Tilly.’

‘’Ello, Dad,’ said Bubbles, and she and Penny-Farving lifted their green-painted faces.

Dan looked, blinked and shouted with laughter.

Tilly, who had spent a couple of hours of her precious working time with the girls, rarely let the fact
that
she was a lady hold her back from doing what she felt a woman had got to do. She jumped up. Dan, reading the danger signals, said a hasty something about needing to go upstairs. He disappeared, leaving the shopping bag on a chair.

‘Stay there, you two,’ said Tilly, and went after him. He was up the stairs and into the landing lav before she could catch him, and he locked himself in. Tilly banged on the door.

‘Come out, you coward!’

‘D’you mind if I don’t, Tilly?’

‘Yes, I do mind. Come out. I’ve got things to say to you.’

‘What things?’

‘I’m not shoutin’ them at you through the key’ole. Come out.’

‘You can say them quietly,’ said Dan, ‘I’ve got good hearin’ and I’m a good listener.’

‘Don’t make me laugh, you never listen at all. Them gels of yours are runnin’ wild. They tied a kettle to the tail of a neighbour’s cat this afternoon. Mrs Tompkins’, they said.’

‘Yes, she offered to ’ave them for the afternoon.’

‘Well, she sent them back ’ome, and that’s cost you a smashed vase in the parlour and me two hours of me dressmakin’ time. And now they’ve got green paint all over their faces.’

‘Yes, I saw that,’ said Dan, keeping himself safely locked in.

‘Oh, yes, and funny, wasn’t it? Loads of laughs. But the gen’ral picture’s not funny.’

‘Well, Tilly, if you could just wash their faces—’

‘What? If I could do what?’

‘There’s a face flannel and soap in the scullery.’

‘Oh, yer saucy comic! Dan Rogers, if you don’t
come
out of there and take a wallopin’ like a man, I’ll break the door down.’

‘Elvira tried that once,’ said Dan.

‘Never mind – oh, blow yer,’ said Tilly, suddenly hating to think her aggressiveness put her on a par with that circus act. ‘Them gels are all yours, and so are yer problems.’ And she went into her room, closing the door with a bit of a bang. She heard him come out quite soon after and she heard him go down the stairs. And half a minute later she heard shrieks of laughter in the kitchen.

He just didn’t seem to care that his girls were illegitimate and were without any kind of mother.

Blow the man.

‘Freddy, I’ve been thinkin’,’ said Cassie that evening. They were out walking.

‘Thinking’s supposed to be good for yer,’ said Freddy.

‘Yes, me dad told me that once,’ said Cassie.

‘Funny it don’t seemed to ’ave ’elped you much, Cassie.’

‘Course it has,’ said Cassie, ‘I’m the most thinkin’ girl that was ever born. Anyway, when I was thinkin’ at supper this evenin’, it made me mention to me dad that ’e’s got a niece that’s nineteen and lost ’er job a while ago. The fact’ry she worked in in Camberwell got burnt down, and it won’t be rebuilt for ages. I said p’raps Dad’s niece could come and look after Bubbles and Penny-Farvin’ every day if Mr Rogers could afford to pay ’er a wage. Dad said well, ask Mr Rogers first. So when we get back, we’ll do that, Freddy, we’ll knock and ask ’im.’

‘Stone the crows,’ grinned Freddy.

‘What d’you mean?’ asked Cassie.

‘Well, that’s good thinkin’, Cassie, which don’t ’appen all the time with you. Well, not a lot. Still, once in a while is promisin’, I’d say.’

‘Fancy you bein’ compliment’ry like that,’ said Cassie. ‘D’you think it bodes well?’

‘Do I think what?’

‘Freddy, don’t yer know what bodes well means?’

‘No, I work with me dad in one of me brother-in-law Sammy’s scrap metal yards.’

‘That don’t mean you shouldn’t know what bodes well means,’ said Cassie.

‘All right,’ said Freddy, ‘what does it mean?’

‘Well, it could mean that later on you and me might live ’appy ever after,’ said Cassie.

Freddy looked at his girl mate. In her printed dress and the boater she’d always worn during her years at school, she was a happy-go-lucky dreamer. And crackers as well. But he liked her.

‘I was actu’lly thinkin’ of goin’ in for football later on,’ he said.

‘Oh, all right,’ said Cassie.

They called on Mr Rogers when they got back, and Cassie told him about her dad’s niece. Dan said he liked the sound of a regular weekly help, and would pay a wage of twelve bob for five-and-a-half days.

‘Tell yer dad that, Cassie,’ he said.

‘Yes, I will,’ said Cassie. She and Freddy were in the parlour with him, and she jumped a little at a crashing sound in the kitchen. ‘Crikey, Mr Rogers, what’s that?’

The answer to that came from Penny-Farving. She called from the kitchen.

‘Dad, a chair’s fell over.’

‘All right, stand it up again,’ called Dan.

Tilly’s voice floated down from the landing.

‘Who’s breakin’ the ’ouse up?’

‘It’s all right, Miss Thomas,’ called Freddy, ‘it’s just a chair fell over in the kitchen.’

‘If you believe that, you’ll believe anything,’ called Tilly, and went back into her room.

‘Anyway, thanks, Cassie, for thinkin’ of the girls,’ said Dan.

‘Oh, pleasured, I’m sure,’ said Cassie, ‘and I just remembered, me dad wondered if you took ’is niece on, if you’d stamp ’er card as an employee, like.’

‘You bet I will,’ said Dan. ‘See you in the mornin’, Cassie.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Cassie. ‘I’m goin’ to take Freddy ’ome with me now so’s we can talk to our parrot.’

‘Pardon me, but I ain’t goin’,’ said Freddy.

‘Course you are,’ said Cassie, ‘then I’ll let you play football later on when you’re older.’

‘So long, Freddy,’ smiled Dan.

‘I ask meself, what’s the use?’ said Freddy.

On their way to King and Queen Street, they met Mrs Harper coming out of the Jug and Bottle, the off-licence attached to the pub in Browning Street.

‘’Ello, dearies.’ Mrs Harper was very amiable. Well, she had a bottle of gin in a straw bag, and was going to have a drop or two to give herself a cheerful evening. The men were no real company. ‘’Ow’s yer young selves, eh?’

‘Well, Cassie’s still goin’ strong, and I’m still alive,’ said Freddy, ‘so we ain’t complainin’.’

‘He’s a joker, that lad,’ said Mrs Harper to Cassie.

‘Yes, but I always do the best I can with ’im,’ said Cassie. ‘Has Percy ’ad a nice day?’

‘Well, ’e’s got ’is birdseed and no worries,’ said Mrs Harper, ‘so ’e ain’t complainin’, neither. Toodle-oo duckies.’ Away she went, happy with her gin.

Going on with Freddy, Cassie told him she’d taken Bubbles and Penny-Farving to see Percy that morning, and he’d said the same thing again.

‘What same thing?’ asked Freddy.

‘He said he’d hit us,’ said Cassie.

‘Strike a light,’ said Freddy, ‘what with all the barmy people about, it’s a bit much that there’s barmy parrots as well.’

‘Cecil ain’t barmy,’ said Cassie.

‘Not much,’ said Freddy.

‘UM, TILLY?’ SAID
Dan, knocking on her bedroom door. It was only fifteen-minutes-to-eight.

‘I’m in bed,’ she called. She wasn’t. She was dressing. She had her underwear on and was fixing the hooks and eyes that ran down the front of her white corset.

‘Oh, right,’ said Dan, and opened the door and put his head in. Tilly uttered a little shriek, and Dan goggled. What a woman. Her legs and thighs were actually superior to those belonging to the temperamental reincarnation of a Hungarian dancer. Morning light ran up and down her shining stockings. ‘Oh, sorry.’ The apology served no purpose. The bed bolster arrived smack in his chops. And again. He retreated fast and just escaped having the slammed door flatten his hooter.

‘I’m on to you, you lecher!’ The hissed words reached his ears through the door. ‘Wait till I’m dressed, then I’ll come down and poke your eyes out, you ’ear me?’

‘Don’t do that, Tilly. Honest mistake. Thought you were under yer blankets. I just came up to tell you there’s no worry about the girls today. The woman who runs our works canteen—’

‘Your what?’

‘Our works canteen, the kind they’ve got at some tram depots. I get my break from one till two, so I’ll
be
poppin’ home to pick up the girls and take ’em back with me. Our canteen lady finishes at two and she only lives round the corner from our works, so she’ll take them home with her and I’ll collect them when I finish me labours. I don’t want them to be landed on you again. Can’t thank you enough for all the help you’ve been – um, sorry I um – well, sorry. Mind you, Tilly, I think you’d look even better in tights and spangles than Elvira—’