Winnie of the Waterfront (6 page)

‘If you’re too bleeding idle to stick some grub in your tin and take it with you then that’s your lookout!’

‘I’d do that if there was anything here to take,’ Winnie pointed out. ‘There’s been no bread in the crock all week.’

‘That’s because I’ve been buying sliced bread and leaving it in the paper it comes in,’ her mother told her. ‘If you’d used your eyes and looked in the cupboard you’d have found it. Want waiting on hand and foot, don’t yer! Well, I’m not your dad so you won’t get any pandering from me, so don’t expect it!’

It was the start of real enmity between them. It was almost as if Grace blamed Winnie for the fact that Trevor had been called up. She did less and less around the house. The place became dirtier and messier than ever. Sometimes the smell was so bad that Winnie wished she could be outside in the fresh air. She tried once or twice to get as far as the front door so that she could sit on the doorstep. The effort left her breathless and was so
painful
that she was afraid that if she did sit on the doorstep she’d never be able to stand up or move back indoors again.

Getting upstairs was one of her greatest problems. In the past, her dad had simply picked her up and carried her, but Grace made it quite plain from the very first night that she had no intention of doing that.

‘Why should I break my bloody back carrying a lump like you up all those stairs,’ she told Winnie. ‘About time you learned to do things for yourself. It’s not as though you’re ever going to get any better, and you can’t go through life expecting people to wait on you and help you all the time.’

Winnie didn’t expect people to put themselves out for her, but even a helping hand or an encouraging word would have been something, she thought resentfully.

In the end, she mastered it in her own way. Coming down the stairs was easy. Her arms were strong through constantly lifting herself from one position to another so she simply grabbed the handrails that Trevor had fitted on both sides and swung her legs out into the air and then let them land on the stair below. Going upstairs was the problem. Finally, she mastered that by going up backwards, using the strength in her arms to lift herself from one step to the next and dragging her legs after her.

Other people, Winnie found, were kinder than her mother. Several of the neighbours offered to push her out in her invalid carriage at the weekend. Mary Murphy from two doors down wheeled her
to
Mass on Sundays, and Sally Green once took her all the way to St John’s Market.

That had been a wonderful day. She’d been there once or twice with her dad and she loved the colourful sight of all the fruit and vegetables. The crowds of people milling about and the hustle and bustle and the raucous shouts of all the traders brought memories of those previous visits rushing back.

She’d been full of excitement about it when she’d got home that night, and to her surprise her mam had listened, a crafty look on her lined face.

The next weekend there was an even greater surprise. Grace told Winnie she was going to push her to St John’s Market herself.

‘Do you know what you’re saying, Mam?’ she probed. She knew her mam had been drinking down at the Eagle the night before and she wondered if she was still so tanked up that she didn’t know what she was doing.

‘Get yourself into the sodding chair and stop arguing with me,’ Grace snapped, wrapping a black shawl around her shoulders and pushing her feet into a pair of lace-up boots that had once belonged to Trevor.

‘You’re never going out looking like that, are you, Mam?’ Winnie asked uneasily.

‘Can’t afford to get all dolled up, not when your old man’s in the army, luv,’ she said with a smirk.

Winnie frowned. ‘You said dad’s money had come through. You even said that the allotment was more than you’d thought it would be.’

‘What I didn’t say was that everything costs
more
than it used to do. Prices have gone up because there’s a war on.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘No, well you wouldn’t, would you. As long as there’s bread and marge in the cupboard and fish and chips to fill your belly when you get home from school at night, you’ve got no worries. You never stop to think where the rent is coming from or the money to pay the tallyman …’

‘Or to buy your booze when you go to the pub,’ Winnie said scornfully.

‘That’s enough of your lip, my girl. One more word and you’ll feel the back of me hand across your gob!’

‘So, where are we going?’

‘I told you, St John’s Market. Now, keep your trap shut, you make my head ache with your constant questions.’

Winnie noticed that Grace seemed to have no problems at all with pushing her in the carriage to the market. When they got there, she picked what seemed to be the busiest spot and parked the carriage there while she fumbled in her canvas shopping bag for something.

‘You can’t leave me parked here, Mam, I’m in everyone’s way,’ Winnie told her worriedly.

‘Shut your gob!’ Grace replied abruptly. When she’d finished delving in her shopping bag she brought out a piece of card and began to fix it on the carriage behind Winnie’s head.

‘What are you doing, Mam?’

‘Shurrup!’

Deftly, Grace flicked the piece of grey blanket
that
covered Winnie’s deformed legs to one side, so that they were exposed to view.

As people began to stop and smile down at her and then toss a few coins into her lap, Winnie became more and more confused. She reasoned it must have something to do with her being crippled. She was suspicious, though, that it also had something to do with whatever it was her mam had fixed on to her chair. She tried to look, but couldn’t get her head round far enough to see what it was.

When she finally did manage to wriggle her body sideways and twist her head, she recoiled in dismay.

SPARE A COIN FOR A LAME CHILD WHOSE DAD’S BEEN CALLED UP TO SERVE HIS COUNTRY. HER MAM’S TOO ILL TO WORK AND SUPPORT HER.

‘Mam! How could you do something like this! What would Dad think?’

‘I don’t give a bugger what he’d think! The sod’s not here, is he? He’s gone off into the army and left me saddled with you, my girl, and the pittance he’s sending home each week’s not enough for me to live on, let alone keep you.’

Winnie felt tears of mortification spilling down her cheeks. ‘This is begging, Mam! We’re not that desperate, surely?’

Grace ignored her pleas that they should stop and go home. Every few minutes she would scoop up the pennies and threepenny bits that people
had
dropped onto Winnie’s lap and stow them away safely into her shopping bag. By the time they left St John’s Market the shopping bag was so heavy that it almost made the carriage tilt backwards when Grace stuffed it down behind Winnie’s back.

Grace was delighted with her cache. When they got home she tipped it out onto the table and divided it up into piles of pennies, halfpennies and threepenny bits. There were even a couple of tanners amongst the pile.

‘Three pounds, five shillings and twopence-half-penny,’ she announced proudly.

‘That’s begging,’ Winnie said defiantly.

Grace’s eyes narrowed. ‘So it is, but it’s about all you’re good for so we may as well make the most of it!

‘On Friday we’ll go down to the docks,’ she continued. ‘We’ll just make it if we go the minute you get in from school.’

‘What for?’

‘The dockers all get paid on a Friday. Catch them as they come up the floating roadway on their way to the Goree or the Vaults, or when they’re coming out of the pubs half-cut, and who knows what they might toss at you!’

‘My dad would be angry if he knew what you were doing.’

‘Well he don’t, and God alone knows when he’ll be back so you’ll have plenty to tell him when you see him next.’

‘I don’t want to do it, though, Ma,’ Winnie pleaded. ‘I don’t like sitting there and having
people
stare at my twisted legs and then toss me coins because they feel sorry for me.’

‘Then get out of that bloody chair and go and find yourself some work and earn your keep! But you can’t, can you,’ Grace cackled.

Winnie knew her mother was right, but it didn’t make matters any easier. She wondered if she told Father Patrick or Miss Phillips at school if they could do anything to stop it. She lay awake at night worrying about it so that there were dark circles under her eyes.

‘You feeling all right?’ Sandy asked. ‘You look as though you’ve had a night on the tiles or something. Not still worrying about your old man being away, are you? Not much you can do about that, you know. Most of us have our dad or brothers in the army now. Anyone who can work and is still breathing is being called up,’ he added gloomily. ‘You don’t have to be fit, they’ll find some job for you to do. They’re losing that many men in battle that they’re sending them out to the front without even training them.’

He stopped and looked uncomfortable. ‘That doesn’t mean your dad has gone to the front, kiddo,’ he said awkwardly. ‘A bloke like him who is clever with figures has probably got an office job or a nice cushy number in the stores. Have you heard from him lately?’

Winnie shook her head. ‘Not for weeks now. His allotment still comes through, though.’

She drew her breath in sharply. Mentioning her dad’s allotment reminded her only too vividly of her problem.

‘Sandy, can I tell you something?’ she asked hesitantly.

‘Course you can,’ he said cheerfully.

‘You won’t tell anyone else, not your mates, or even your mam?’

‘Not a word! Swear! Cross me heart and hope to die.’

Winnie was silent for several minutes, struggling with her conscience and trying to find the right words. When she did finally tell him about the begging expeditions to St John’s Market and to the docks, Sandy let out a low whistle.

‘What happens if the police nab you?’

‘I wish they would!’

‘You don’t like doing it?’

‘Of course I don’t,’ she said indignantly. ‘Would you?’

He didn’t answer, but she had a pretty good idea what he must be thinking.

‘Sandy,’ she said tentatively, ‘do you think if I told Miss Phillips or Father Patrick they would say something to my mam and get her to stop doing it?’

Sandy was silent for quite some time. ‘I don’t think you should do that,’ he said cautiously. ‘If you tell them they might inform the police.’

‘Would that mean my mam getting arrested?’

‘Possibly.’

‘And sent to jail?’

‘Yes, or else she’d be fined heavily.’

‘Well, that would stop her doing it.’

‘Yes, but it might be even worse than that,’ he said slowly. ‘They might say she isn’t fit to look
after
you, and take you away and put you in a home or an institution.’

Winnie’s eyes widened. She’d never thought about that. It would mean she might never see Sandy ever again so perhaps it was best not to say anything about the begging to Miss Phillips, or Father Patrick, or anybody else after all.

Chapter Six

WINNIE’S PREDICAMENT WAS
solved without her having to do anything about it. One of the dockers, Sam Preedy, who had known Trevor quite well, recognised Grace and Winnie. Aware that Trevor was in the army, and knowing how devoted he’d been to his crippled daughter, Sam was astounded that Grace had resorted to such a scam. When he joined his mates in the Vaults for a beer before going home, they agreed with him, and so did his wife, Jane, when he told her about it.

‘What do you think we ought to do about it?’ he asked her worriedly. ‘Trevor thought the world of that kid of his and he’d be heartbroken to see her being used like that.’

They pondered over it all evening and in the end they decided that the problem was too big for them. They didn’t want to go to the police, although they were pretty sure that begging was illegal, because they didn’t want to land Grace in trouble.

‘That wouldn’t help Trevor,’ Sam pointed out. ‘In fact, it would only distress him since he’s in no position to come home and sort things out himself.’

‘Perhaps the best thing we can do is tell Father
Patrick
and get him to have a word with Grace Malloy,’ Jane Preedy mused.

Father Patrick was outraged. He crossed himself twice and invoked the guidance of the Holy Mother.

‘You did the right thing in coming here and telling me about this,’ he assured them. ‘The poor woman is in dire need of help to show her the wrong she is doing.’

‘We don’t want to get her into any trouble, Father,’ Jane Preedy said anxiously.

‘I understand that, my child! And if one word of this reaches the educational authorities they’ll be down on her like a ton of bricks. This terrible war! One sin leads to another. If Trevor Malloy hadn’t been called up into the army then none of this would ever have happened.’

‘That’s what we thought, Father.’

‘Trevor Malloy loves that dear child so much. He did absolutely everything for her.’

Sam Preedy nodded. ‘It must have broken the poor man’s heart having to leave her and go off into the army.’

‘They should make exceptions for people like that,’ Jane piped up.

‘They should, they should.’ Father Patrick sighed heavily. ‘Think no more about it. You did the right thing coming and letting me know what was going on. Now put it out of your mind. With God’s help I’ll be able to sort this out.’

Father Patrick found that it was far from easy to sort things out. To start with, he couldn’t convince
Grace
that what she was doing was wrong. She was indignant when he confronted her and warned her about begging. Someone had snitched on her and she wanted to know who it was.

She tried to get him to tell her how he had heard about what she was doing, but his many years of guarding confessional secrets meant he was impervious to her sly questioning. So she tried another tack.

‘I need the money, Father.’

‘That’s not the way to get it, my child,’ he told her sternly. ‘You have your health so you can work. You also get an allotment from your husband, so since there’s only you and Winnie to feed and clothe then surely you can manage on that?’