Perhaps Tomorrow Page 13

  ‘Just like Mr Stebbins does,’ Ruth said, looking up at Cecily with a baffled expression.

  ‘Yes, just like Mr Stebbins,’ Cecily replied. ‘And, Ruth, you know how upset he becomes when you forget to call him Papa.’

  ‘But he isn’t my papa.’

  ‘Ruth!’

  Ruth’s chin jutted out. ‘Well, he isn’t, is he?’

  ‘No. Not in the natural way but there can’t be many men who would take such an interest in their stepdaughter as Mr Stebbins does with you. Why – isn’t he always buying you pretty things and sitting you on his knee?’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ Ruth pressed her lips together and looked at her mother.

  ‘But what?’

  ‘When he comes in at night to tuck me I . . . I don’t like it.’

  ‘Now, now, Ruth. That’s not very charitable of you is it? And as I’ve told you on a number of occasions, we have a lot to thank Mr Stebbins for.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘You don’t remember living over your grandfather’s shop, do you?’

  ‘No,’ replied Ruth, looking down at the crumpled sampler in her hand.

  ‘Well, it was cramped and smelly, and if it wasn’t for Mr Stebbins we’d still be living there, and you wouldn’t have a pretty room and a garden to play in like you have now.’ Cecily gave her daughter a stern look. ‘Mr Stebbins works very hard to give us all the nice things we have now. I tell you, young lady, there are hundreds of orphans in the workhouse who would love to have a papa like Mr Stebbins to kiss them goodnight. He has tried very hard to be the very best of fathers, so is it too much to ask that you call him papa?’

  Ruth’s lower lip trembled and she started fiddling with her hair again. ‘But Mama, I asked Maisy Latimer if her father had to check her nightdress when she was in bed and she said he never did and—’

  ‘Ruth!’ Cecily snapped, looking furiously at her daughter.

  Cecily noticed that, despite smearing her daughter’s finger tips in mustard, Ruth had managed to bite her nails down to the quick again. Cecily’s heart quickened with anxiety. Her own mother had been a martyr to female hysteria and the vapours and she just prayed that her daughter wouldn’t take after her. She slid over and put her arm around Ruth’s slender shoulders.

  ‘Mr Stebbins is only doing what all fathers of pretty daughters do, so let’s not have any more silly nonsense about nightdresses.’

  Cecily released her daughter and held out the rectangular piece of linen she was embroidering. ‘What do you think?’ she asked Ruth, who had tucked herself into the corner of the sofa.

  Ruth forced a smile. ‘It’s nice.’

  Cecily picked up her needle and cut off a length of wool. ‘Well, I hope it lasts longer than the last one. I tell you, Ruth, I believe the holy saints in heaven couldn’t spend more time on their knees praying to God than your dear papa.’

  Mattie untied her apron and glanced in the mottled mirror to the side of the sink. She smoothed her hair back and tucked a few stray wisps into place, then peered out of the window. There was no trace of Freddie even though it must be almost two. This was the third week in a row that he’d been late picking her up to go to Josie’s. She cast her eyes around the yard and watched Jack heaving coal onto number one cart in readiness for the afternoon delivery.

  She often found herself in the yard just as Jack was ready to set out on his afternoon calls, and often again when he came back in the evening. Kate had teased her, saying she did it on purpose just to see him, which was ridiculous. She was in and out all day with people ringing the yard bell for a bucket of coal. Anyhow, she had a perfectly good reason for going into the yard this afternoon while he was there. She checked herself in the mirror again and headed out.

  In the small back garden Queenie was pegging up the last few pieces of washing and Brian was playing with his ball.

  As Maguire’s had the main delivery to the yard on Mondays, Queenie always did the washing on a Tuesday. Otherwise, the dust thrown up from four new cartloads of coal would be disastrous for any washing drying on the line. And it wasn’t just the washing that had to be protected: it was Queenie’s habit to stuff newspaper into the windows of the house before she went out on a Sunday, yet the fine black dust always managed to creep in and settle on the surfaces.

  Mattie tilted her face to the warm late afternoon sun and drew in a deep breath; she just caught the sickly sweet whiff of the local sugar refinery over the tarry smell from the coal.

  ‘Come on, Brian,’ she said holding out her free hand, ‘Let’s go and wait for Uncle Freddie to take us to Auntie Josie’s.’

  ‘We see Annie and Mickey?’ Brian asked as he jumped up.

  ‘And Rob and Granny N, if we ever get there’ she said, as Queenie straightened his clothes and kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘I’ll be done by the time you get back,’ Queenie said, taking the wooden peg from her mouth and pinning it over one end of Mattie’s best petticoat. ‘And I’ll have all this dried and folded before Brian gets home. A man has the right to find his house in order at the end of the day.’

  Mattie gave her a wan smile and went into the yard. She looked at the open gate, almost willing Freddie to trot in. Brian spotted Jack and tried to break free but Mattie held on to him. Flossy was a steady horse but it was still dangerous for Brian to get too close to her iron-shod hooves. Jack’s new pup, Buster, leapt down from the back of the wagon to dash over and greet Brian in his usual way, nuzzling the boy’s hand and barking enthusiastically.

  Jack turned and smiled at Mattie. A sensation she’d almost forgotten ran through her and took her breath away. Even in his rough working clothes and with dirt on his face he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. Shame on you, she thought, but could not tear her eyes away from him. He looped the reins over the cart break and strolled over.

  ‘I see Freddie’s delayed again.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I know I’m on the Bethnal Green round, but why don’t you let me take you to your brother’s house.’

  ‘Well, I would like to get there before the sun sets so I think I’ll do just that,’ she replied, thankful that he couldn’t hear her joyfully pounding heart.

  ‘Come here, young man,’ he said, lifting Brian on to the front seat.

  Brian immediately took up the reins and urged Flossy on. The horse looked around with mild interest but continued to munch her way through the oats in her nosebag.

  ‘Hold on there,’ Jack said with a rumbling laugh. ‘Let’s get your ma on board.’ He took her basket and set that behind the seat then held out his hand to help her up. Mattie took it and a dart of excitement shot up her arm as his fingers closed around hers. She looked up and found herself staring into his dark eyes, which ran slowly over her face as if taking in all the details. She leant towards him, knowing she shouldn’t. His free hand took hold of her elbow.

  ‘Mind your step Mrs Maguire.’

  Gathering up her skirts, she climbed in beside her son. Jack checked the horse’s traces again and then leapt on the wagon in one fluid bound. Buster followed and took up his place behind the driver’s seat sticking his nose underneath to sniff at Brian’s chubby leg.

  Jack settled himself beside Mattie and took the reins from Brian, then clicked his tongue to urge Flossy forward. While he watched the road ahead, Mattie took the opportunity to run her eyes slowly over his well-balanced shoulders and down to the corded muscles of his bare forearms.

  ‘It was good of you to offer Kate a lift the other day,’ she said.’

  ‘It was on my way,’ he turned and looked down at her, ‘and she was lively company.’

  A twinge of jealousy tugged at Mattie but she pushed it aside. Wasn’t that what she had planned all along? For Kate to fall for Jack and he for her? Of course she had; it was working out just as she hoped. And she was pleased. Truly she was.

  Jack’s deep voice cut through her thoughts.

  ‘Who delivers here?’ he asked, looking over t
he new houses lining both sides of the streets.

  Mattie shrugged. ‘Tyler’s I think, but with so many new houses being built I don’t think any one yard has all the business.’

  ‘I think I might take a stroll up here tomorrow after the morning round and see if I can drum up a bit of business.’

  Mattie glanced up at him only to find his gaze resting on her in the most unsettling way.

  ‘I’ve had a thought about a way we might increase our customers,’ Mattie said. ‘What about if I gave you, Billy, Pete and Freddie an extra shilling for every new customer you signed up?’

  ‘What, a commission?’

  ‘Yes. Not immediately, of course, but say after they’d ordered for six weeks. If they order a hundredweight of ordinary kitchen a week then we’d make five shillings extra, even after I’ve paid the driver his bonus.’

  Jack stared at her for a moment, then laughed. ‘That’s a grand idea. I wish I’d thought of it.’

  ‘Well, you drew the map.’

  ‘But you spent hours filling it in and had every customer’s order in your head. If I’d had to reconfigure the delivery rounds from the paperwork I’d still be there now,’ he said, an expression of frank admiration on his face. ‘And it was you who thought of selling a half hundredweight from the yard for two shillings less if the buyer collects it.’

  Mattie basked in his approval.

  His eyes flickered uncertainly over her face. ‘I hope you don’t think me rude when I ask why you never thought to re-order the rounds before.’

  Mattie shrugged. ‘I just took up and ran the business as Brian and his father did, and I had Eli. He knew the ropes, so I left him to it until I’d recovered from having Brian.’

  ‘I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you.’

  ‘I walked about in a daze for months, what with getting up to feed Brian in the night and running the yard by day,’ Mattie said, remembering the dark months after her husband died. ‘And then there’s Queenie. My husband was her only child and she’s never been the same since they carried his corpse into the parlour. It’s as if her grief is knotted up inside her and can’t get out.’

  ‘The loss of a child can do that to a person.’ There was something in his voice that caught her attention. Although he laughed and joked with the other drivers, Jack said very little about himself that really mattered. Maybe he’d been married and lost a child. Although the question was on the tip of her tongue, Mattie held it back.

  ‘When I look on those days now, I wonder how I survived,’ she continued.

  ‘You either find the steel in your bones and survive or you perish. And from what I’ve seen, Mrs Maguire, you have a will that won’t ever surrender.’

  They stared at each other and Jack’s eyes changed subtly in a way that sent delight tingling up her spine. The sound of his voice saying her name echoed in her head as the bustle around them faded. For a moment or two they were the only two people in the world until he suddenly broke from her gaze and ruffled Brian’s hair.

  ‘And you have this handsome lad to keep you busy.’

  Something tugged on her skirt. Mattie looked down to see Buster, crawling under the seat to get to Brian. He leapt between them and wedged himself next to the boy.

  ‘They seem to understand each other,’ Mattie said, thankful for something to call her mind back to the present.

  Jack nodded. ‘He’s a scamp.’

  ‘Who, Brian or Buster?’

  ‘Both.’

  They reached Oxford Street and Jack turned Flossy towards Stepney High Street and the old church of St Dunstan’s.

  ‘Come here, lad,’ he said, lifting Brian to sit on his knee. ‘Here now. You’ll have to drive number one cart one day for your ma, so you’d better start learning.’ He looped the reins loosely over Brian’s hands and held them firmly in his own. ‘Take hold.’ Brian’s small hand grasped the strips of leather.

  ‘Walk on, Flossy,’ Brian shouted at the horse.

  They laughed as Brian shook the reins and urged the horse on. Several of the stall holders along the road smiled up at them and a couple of the passersby took their hats off to the boy as the wagon rolled past them. Every now and then Jack’s hand would shoot out and stop Brian from toppling forward in his enthusiasm. Mattie sat back and enjoyed her son’s innocent enjoyment and the strong presence of Jack beside her. As they reached the bustle of the High Street, Jack moved to take back the reins but Brian’s lower lip stuck out and held on to them.

  ‘Come on, lad, let me have them back,’ Jack said gently, ‘or your ma will give me my marching orders.’ Brian looked up at Mattie for a second before giving the reins to Jack.

  ‘You drive number one cart, Jack,’ he said with the solemnity only a three year old could muster.

  Jack steered Flossy carefully through the afternoon shoppers and turned into Belgravia Road. He pulled the cart to a halt outside number nine, where the door instantly opened and Josie stepped out. She smiled at Mattie, then her gaze moved to Jack and her eyes widened.

  ‘Auntie Josie, Auntie Josie,’ Brian shouted as he scrambled across Mattie’s lap towards his aunt. ‘I drove the cart.’

  ‘Did you now?’ Josie replied still looking pointedly at Mattie.

  Annie came out and reached up. Brian shuffled to the edge of the seat and she hoisted him down. ‘Come and see Rob,’ she said, guiding him into the house.

  Jack jumped down from the front and held out his hand for Mattie.

  ‘You must be Jack Archer,’ Josie said.

  Jack touched his forehead. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Nolan.’

  Mattie was puzzled. ‘I thought you met when Kate visited last week.’

  ‘I dropped Miss Nolan at the end of the road,’ he explained. He took a step nearer and handed her basket to her. ‘If it’s all right with you, Mrs Maguire, I’ll write up the daily takings in the morning. I have a bit of business to attend to this evening.’

  ‘Of course,’ Mattie said, suddenly aware that Josie was staring at her.

  Jack picked up the split sack to place on his head. He nodded at Josie, then leapt onto the wagon in one self-assured movement. He turned and looked down at Mattie. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Maguire, Mrs Nolan.’

  He urged Flossy forward and the wagon rolled on. Mattie stared after him for a moment then tore her eyes away.

  Josie raised one eyebrow. ‘So that’s Jack Archer.’

  Freddie slid off the side of the wagon as Mumble pulled it into Maguire’s yard and brought it to a halt by the water trough. She lowered her head and took great gulps as Freddie slackened her girth. He looked around expecting to see Mattie come out of the back gate ready to go to her brother’s house for her Tuesday afternoon visit.

  A little niggle of rarely felt guilt jabbed at him. Actually, he was surprised Mattie wasn’t waiting in the yard spitting feathers; he should have returned a full hour ago after the early afternoon delivery. It was hard graft humping sacks all day so he’d just popped in to wet his whistle and lost track of the time.

  Of course, he couldn’t tell her he had been propping up the Sword and Sun’s bar. He’d have to say he was delayed or something. In any case he knew he could sweet talk her around, or at least he thought he could. If truth were told, Mattie had been a little more resistant to his efforts to win her than he’d expected. And it wasn’t that he was losing his touch, far from it, it was just that she wasn’t like most women he came across. Just as well, too. He didn’t want a wife of his behaving like some others he could mention. However, he was none too pleased at having to wait to slip the ring on her finger.

  If that bastard Jack Archer didn’t always jump in and do whatever it was that he hadn’t quite got around to, he would have proved to her by now how much she needed him, especially with old Eli still Tom and Dick. It was right and proper that as the new man Archer should do the hard graft; before too long Freddie would be his guv’nor. Unfortunately, it allowed Archer too many reasons to seek Mattie out.

>   Mumble raised her head and snorted, spraying fine droplets of water onto the dry yard floor. Freddie glanced at the closed garden gate again and then circled Mumble alongside the lumpy sacks stacked up and ready for the final afternoon delivery. Perhaps if he were loaded and ready to go when Mattie did appear it would take some of the sting out of her mood. He grabbed the first sack and heaved it on to the wagon. The rig rolled forward and Mumble pricked up her ears. Freddie had just grabbed the next load when Flossy trotted through the gates with Jack Archer standing on the front board. He jumped down as the horse made for the water trough.

  ‘You’re a bit late,’ he shouted over as he took Flossy’s blinkers and bridle off.

  ‘I was held up,’ Freddie replied, annoyed that he’d so readily given an explanation. ‘You finished?’

  ‘Yup. I’ll be off in a while.’

  ‘Don’t forget you’ve got the daily taking to tally before you go,’ Freddie said, pleased at the command in his voice. He glanced at the garden gate. ‘Mrs Maguire won’t be happy if you—’

  ‘I’ve squared it with her.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘About an hour ago,’ Archer replied, guiding Flossy back as he manoeuvred number one wagon into its place by the fence, ‘when I dropped her off at Mrs Nolan’s.’

  ‘But it’s my job to take her.’

  ‘It’s a pity you didn’t do it then.’

  He strolled past Freddie, and Flossy plodding across the yard after him on her way to the stable. Freddie’s eyes followed him while he imagined Mattie talking and laughing with Archer as she sat alongside him.

  He marched after him. ‘I told you I was held up.’

  Archer shook the last of the oats into Flossy trough. ‘As you were when the Morris delivery arrived yesterday and the fodder the day before. Was it Molly, Betty or the barmaid of the Sword today?’

  ‘It ain’t none of your fecking business.’

  ‘No, it isn’t and I couldn’t give a damn where you are or who you’re with, but I don’t like to see Mrs Maguire let down at every turn. She deserves better than that.’