The Pride of Polly Perkins Read online

  Polly’s doubts were growing by the minute. ‘I don’t think I could do that, Auntie Mary. I wouldn’t know where to start.’

  ‘Sure, wouldn’t that be the least of yer worries, me darlin’. Sarah Jane knows the business inside out, she’d put yer wise. And wouldn’t meself be around to show yer the ropes?’

  The important question was whirling around in Polly’s head and she had to put it into words. ‘How much would I get, Auntie Mary?’

  ‘I’ll not be tellin’ yer lies, me darlin’, so I have to say I really don’t know. It would all depend on how much business yer did for Sarah Jane. It could be sixpence a day, it could be a shilling a day. The more yer sell, the more yer earn.’

  Once again Polly’s hopes were raised. ‘Yer mean I could earn a whole shilling a day? That would mean two shillings for the Saturday an’ Sunday?’

  ‘If yer keep a smile on yer pretty face an’ a joke on those ruby lips, Sarah Jane could end up outselling the lot of us! But don’t be too forward or pushy, ’cos yer’ll upset the other traders. Just take yer lead from Sarah Jane an’ meself, an’ yer won’t go far wrong. Yer’ve got yer head screwed on the right way, me darlin’, you’ll soon learn.’

  Polly was hopping from one foot to the other, excitement bubbling inside of her. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother the news. Two shillings a week would be a good help, and she’d make sure she earned that two bob. ‘Can I go an’ see what me mam says? She’ll want to know all the ins and outs, so will it be all right if she comes over an’ yer can explain it all to her?’

  ‘Sure, it’s only natural she’d want to know what her daughter was up to. She’d be a poor mother if she didn’t, so she would.’ Mary’s look was sympathetic. ‘Wouldn’t it be grand now to have your own pocket money?’

  Polly lowered her head. ‘I’d give it all to me mam, I wouldn’t keep a penny for meself.’

  ‘I thought as much.’ Mary held her arms out. ‘It’s a good daughter yer are, me darlin’.’

  Polly flung her arms around the Irishwoman’s neck. ‘Oh Auntie Mary, me mam’s in terrible trouble. She’ll go mad if she knows I’ve told yer, so don’t let on, will yer?’

  ‘Hush now, sweetheart, don’t be gettin’ yerself in a state. I’ll not tell yer mam that yer’ve said anythin’, but the truth of it is, I didn’t need telling. It doesn’t take a brain box to figure out that if there’s not enough money comin’ in to cover what has to be paid, that’s when the wolf comes knocking at yer door.’

  Polly pulled away and brushed a hand across her eyes. ‘I’ll go an’ tell me mam, see if it bucks her up. After all, two bob in the gas meter will give us light for the week.’

  Mary sighed. Dear God, why are good people like the Perkins given such a heavy burden to carry? ‘Tell yer mam to slip over, but give me half an hour to have a bite to eat. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse without takin’ its saddle off.’

  ‘I’ve just made a fresh pot of tea, but I’ll let it brew for a few minutes. If there’s one thing I can’t abide it’s weak tea.’ Mary slipped a knitted tea cosy over the brown earthen pot. ‘Sit yerself down, Ada me darlin’, an’ take the weight off yer feet.’

  Ada chose the armchair at the side of the hearth. ‘I’ve left our Polly pacing up an’ down like a cat on hot bricks. She’s been gabbling on about this job, but she was talkin’ that fast I couldn’t make head nor tail of her. All I could make out was that there’s an old lady called Sarah Jane who can’t sell flowers because she can’t bend down. If Polly could help her on a Saturday an’ Sunday, she’d be paid a shilling a day. And as if I can’t do simple sums in me head, me daughter informs me that a shilling a day for two days equals two shillings.’

  ‘I’ll pour the tea an’ we can sit down nice an’ quiet while I tell yer what it’s all about.’ Mary didn’t say another word until they were seated facing each other with a cup of tea in their hands. Then she went through the whole story again, slowly and in more detail. ‘So there yer have it, me darlin’, that’s all there is to it.’

  Ada sipped on the hot tea as her mind ticked over. It seemed too much of a coincidence to ring true. ‘Mary, our Polly hasn’t been pestering yer for a job, has she?’

  ‘Glory be to God!’ Mary put her drink down quickly on the arm of the chair, causing the tea to spill over the rim of the china cup and trickle into the saucer. ‘I can’t see into yer head, Ada Perkins, so I don’t know what wild thoughts yer have runnin’ around in there. But I’ll not be beating around the bush, indeed I’ll not! Your daughter has never pestered me for a job or anythin’ else for that matter. Sure, wasn’t she wide-eyed with surprise when I told her about it? And when I said she’d be able to earn some pocket money for herself, didn’t the dear child say she didn’t want any money for herself, she’d give anythin’ she earned to her mam? It’s a lucky woman yer are to have such a sensible, thoughtful daughter, an’ it’s grateful yer should be.’ Mary leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. ‘Ada, me darlin’, pride is a good thing when yer can afford it, but it’ll never put food on yer table, nor will the rent man take it as an excuse for not payin’ yer rent. So pocket yer pride and take any help that’s offered to yer. Especially when it comes from a friend who cares about yer.’

  For a few seconds Ada watched a tea leaf floating on top of her tea. Around and around it went, mesmerizing and calming. ‘Mary, we’re on our uppers.’ She looked across at her neighbour. ‘I don’t know what to do or where to turn.’

  ‘What yer don’t do, me darlin’, is lose heart. Yer’ve been dealt a bitter blow, I’ll not be sayin’ otherwise. And it would be stupid of me to tell yer not to worry because yer have to worry about where next week’s rent is coming from. But think of the good things in yer life an’ it’ll make the worry easier to bear. Yer have two of the grandest children in the world, so yer have, an’ they’re depending on you now that their dad is away for a while. It’s father and mother yer have to be to them until Tommy comes home.’

  Ada took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. ‘Mary, apart from Dolly, I haven’t told a soul, but it might be two years before Tommy comes home. I just don’t see how I can keep the home together for all that time.’

  Mary willed herself not to become emotional. The last thing Ada wanted or needed was sympathy. ‘And have yer thought what will happen if yer don’t keep yer home together? If yer get thrown out of this house, yer’ll end up in a hovel with no runnin’ water and the whole street sharing a lavvy. Is that what yer want Tommy to come out to?’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘I’m being cruel to be kind, Ada me darlin’, so don’t think badly of me. It’s a heavy cross yer have to bear, an’ that’s the truth of it – but why don’t yer let yer friends help yer carry it? I know it’s money yer short of, an’ they’ll not be able to give yer that! Every family in the street is livin’ from hand to mouth, wondering where the next day’s meal is coming from. But help appears in different guises, Ada, an’ yer shouldn’t turn yer nose up at it, whether it’s a kind word, a sympathetic ear or half a loaf of bread.’

  There was a spark of admiration in Ada’s eyes as she said, ‘That job for Polly didn’t just happen to come up, did it? You went out of yer way to get it for her.’

  Mary smiled. ‘Well, meself will have to be admittin’ that old Sarah Jane hadn’t thought about getting a young girl to help until I mentioned it. But once she’d had time to think about it, sure, wasn’t she as pleased as Punch?’

  ‘She really does need someone, does she? I mean, yer didn’t do it just to get a few bob for us?’

  Mary shook her head. ‘Sarah Jane’s body might be showing its age, but sure, there’s nowt wrong with her brains. Isn’t it a fact now that the good Lord Himself couldn’t talk her into doing somethin’ she didn’t want to do. It’s a clever head she has on her shoulders, all right, an’ no mistake.’

  Ada leaned forward to put her cup on the table. ‘I’m glad we’ve had this talk, Mary. I feel better already, more heartened, like. And I’m ve
ry grateful to yer. As they say, “A pal in need is a pal indeed”. You’ve certainly made our Polly a very happy girl. She’s over the moon because she’ll be able to help me with what she earns.’ She gave a low laugh. ‘Seein’ as it’s confession time, yer may as well know exactly what this job means to her. I know it’s wrong to burden a young girl with worries, but I had no one else to talk to. So, in desperation, last night I sat her down an’ explained the situation to her. I said I needed a pound a week comin’ in on top of my wages to keep the house going. Well, when she came back from talking to you, she had it all worked out. With the two shillings she’ll earn, we’ve only got to find another eighteen shillings an’ we’ll be on Easy Street. She was so proud when she was tellin’ me, it took me all me time to stop meself from crying.’

  ‘God bless the child’s innocence,’ Mary said. ‘On that money yer’d barely manage, there’d definitely be no cakes with yer Sunday night tea. But it’s you that should be proud, Ada, me darlin’ – proud to have a daughter who’s as beautiful on the inside as she is to look at. They don’t come like Polly very often.’

  ‘I am proud of her. I’m proud of my Tommy and Joey as well. And right now I feel as though I could take the world on! I’m filled with determination to go out an’ find a job that pays that extra eighteen shillings a week. I don’t care how I do it, but by God, do it I will!’

  Chapter Six

  When she got to the bottom of Renshaw Street, Polly stopped to catch her breath. She’d run all the way from home, not wanting to be late on her first day. Leaning against one of the windows in Lewis’s she looked around as she waited for her racing heartbeats to slow down. Her eyes lingered on the large Adelphi Hotel on the opposite side of the street, and she wondered what it was like inside. It was only for posh people with plenty of money so she’d probably never find out. Still, surprises could happen in life; it could be that one day she’d be all dolled up and walking up those wide steps and into a new world. When she left school and got a job, her dad would be back home and working, so with two wages coming in it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that she’d be able to save up enough to just once walk into the imposing hotel and see how the other half live.

  As Polly turned the corner of the large store and began to walk down Ranelegh Street she cast an eye over her coat. Her mam had pressed it last night and done her best to make it look presentable, but nothing could hide the frayed cuffs or the torn pockets. Still, it was the only one she had so it was Hobson’s choice. There weren’t many people around at that time on a Saturday morning, and long before she reached them she could hear the flower-sellers shouting to each other. ‘How’s your old man, Nellie?’ Back came the reply: ‘Moanin’ as usual, Maggie! Says his corns are givin’ ’im gyp. Bleedin’ baby, that’s what he is.’

  Blind panic set in, and for a fleeting second Polly had the desire to turn on her heels and run back home to her mam. But it was the thought of her mother and the money she so badly needed that kept Polly’s legs moving.

  As she approached, Mary came to meet her. ‘I’ve been keepin’ me eye out for yer, me darlin’.’ She took the girl’s elbow and propelled her forward. ‘There’s someone waitin’ to meet yer.’ They skirted the buckets and the women who were busy filling them with colourful flowers and ferns. ‘Sarah Jane, this is Polly, the girl I told yer about.’

  Polly was dumbstruck. The old lady sitting on what appeared to be a stool, was older than anyone she’d ever seen. There wasn’t an inch of space between the wrinkles and lines on her weatherbeaten face, and long hairs were growing from a wart on her chin. With a black shawl over her shoulders and her white hair brushed back from her face and plaited into a bun at the nape of her neck, she reminded the frightened girl of an old Indian squaw she’d once seen in a cowboy film. With her faded blue eyes narrowed and a severe expression on her face, she looked Polly up and down.

  ‘Polly, say hello.’ Mary pushed her forward. ‘Don’t be afraid of her. She looks tough, I’ll grant yer that, but sure she’s as soft as a pussy cat.’

  ‘What do I call her?’ Polly asked, wishing herself miles away. This wasn’t going to work out ’cos she could see the old lady didn’t like the looks of her.

  ‘Yer can call me Sarah Jane, like everybody else does.’ The voice was as rough as sandpaper. ‘Unless yer want to be posh an’ call me Miss Sarah Jane. If yer do that I’ll think I’ve gone up in the world.’ The old lady’s face broke into a wide smile, showing a set of toothless gums. ‘I ’ad yer there, girl, didn’t I? Thought I was a wicked old witch, eh?’

  Polly was amazed. With her toothless smile, the old lady looked so comical and yet so cuddly. ‘I’ll call yer Miss Sarah Jane.’

  ‘Jesus Mary an’ Joseph, don’t do that, girl! Yer’ll chase all the ruddy customers away!’

  Polly’s laugh rang out. ‘I’m a good runner, I’ll catch them an’ bring them back.’

  ‘If yer don’t get the flowers out and arranged, yer won’t have any customers,’ Mary butted in. ‘Yer can’t waste time nattering.’

  Sarah Jane grinned. ‘If yer don’t mind, missus, I’m interviewin’ my young lady assistant.’

  While this exchange had been going on, the other flower-sellers had kept themselves busy, but all the time they’d been maintaining a watchful eye on the oldest flower-seller in Liverpool. Sarah Jane was well-respected and loved, an adopted mother to all of them. They’d weighed Polly up and down and given each other the eye to say the kid didn’t look bad and they were prepared to give her a chance.

  ‘If you an’ yer young lady assistant don’t put a move on an’ get those flowers out, yer’ll be goin’ home without any money in yer pocket,’ the one called Nellie shouted. ‘An’ no money means no bottles of stout.’

  Another voice piped up, ‘What’s yer name, girl?’

  ‘Polly Perkins.’

  ‘Well, Polly, get crackin’ before town starts gettin’ busy.’

  Polly turned to Mary. ‘Will yer tell me what to do, Auntie Mary?’

  ‘All the flowers an’ ferns bunched together in those buckets belong to Sarah Jane. Watch how me an’ the others sort them out an’ follow suit. Sure, it’s slow yer’ll be at first, it’s only to be expected, but take yer time an’ do it properly. Make them look as attractive as yer can to catch the eye of people goin’ past. If yer get stuck, all yer’ve got to do is ask Sarah Jane.’

  The next hour flew over as Polly watched, copied and learned. Ferns and gypsy grass in one bucket, carnations in another and so on. It was a pleasure to work with the wide variety of colourful flowers, and although she knew she had a long way to go to keep up with women who had been doing it all their lives, she would enjoy learning.

  ‘How does that look, Sarah Jane?’ Polly stood beside the old lady’s stool. ‘D’yer want me to change anythin’, or move the buckets around? Just tell me an’ I’ll do it.’

  ‘Yer’ve done fine, girl, they look a treat.’ Sarah Jane smiled up at the pretty young girl. ‘I think you an’ me will make a good team.’

  ‘I like it,’ Polly said, her face breaking into a smile at the compliment. ‘An’ once I’m used to it I’ll be a lot quicker.’

  Florrie Cummins, sitting next to them on an upturned orange box, smiled across. ‘Yer’ve done wonders, girl. They look a credit to yer.’

  ‘Ay, don’t be praisin’ her too much,’ said Sarah Jane, ‘or she’ll be askin’ for a rise on ’er first day.’

  The city centre started to throb with life about ten o’clock when people arrived to do their weekend shopping. Several stopped to gaze at the colourful displays and Polly was to have her first lesson in the art of selling. ‘Come on, missus, yer can’t miss a bargain like this,’ yelled Florrie. ‘Lovely daffs at three ha’pence a bunch, I’m practically givin’ them away.’

  ‘How much are the marguerites?’ asked the woman.

  ‘Tuppence a bunch to you, missus, an’ cheap at half the price. They’d look a treat on yer sideboard with a nic
e piece of green fern to show them off.’ As she was wrapping the flowers, Florrie winked at Polly and mouthed, ‘Go on, have a go.’

  But Polly was too shy; she left the shouting to Sarah Jane. And what a voice the old lady had! She could be heard above all the other women and their voices were certainly loud enough to wake the dead. Sarah Jane gave Polly a dig as a woman stopped to admire the blooms. ‘Now’s yer chance, girl.’

  Polly moved to the side of the buckets and smiled broadly at the woman. ‘Aren’t they lovely? My mam would be over the moon if I took some of them home to her.’

  ‘How much are they?’

  Polly looked towards Sarah Jane. ‘Those are tuppence each, an’ a real bargain,’ the old lady said. ‘Yer only need two of them in a vase an’ they’d set any room off.’

  The woman hesitated. ‘That’s sixpence for three?’

  Polly took one of the blooms out of the water and held it towards the customer. It was in a burnt orange colour and had a massive head. ‘Isn’t it beautiful? Or perhaps yer’d like a white or a yellow?’ Quickly she pulled two more of the blooms out and bunched them together. ‘I think they’re the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen. If I had a tanner I’d buy the three of them for me mam.’

  The remark was made with such sincerity that it decided the woman. ‘I’ll take the three of them,’ she said impulsively.

  ‘Oh, thank you, madam.’ Polly’s smile made the woman think the child was more beautiful than the flowers. ‘I’ll wrap them nice for yer.’

  Sarah Jane slipped the sixpence into her wide pocket, a smile of satisfaction on her lined face. ‘I knew the minute I clapped eyes on yer that you an’ me would make a good team. That was yer first sale, girl – the next won’t be so hard.’ As Polly made to move away, frightened of missing any likely sales, the old lady pulled on her coat. ‘Keep that smile on yer face, girl, ’cos it would melt a heart of stone.’