Carrie broke away from Rachel but spun around and continued at the top of her voice, “It’s been three weeks since you took her away. You’d no right to take her. No right at all, Mammy! I’m the one who pushed her pram and took her to school. She always waited for me, every day, so we could walk back together. I’ve got to be here when she comes back.”
“Look, Carrie, it’ll be all right because Alice’ll go into a Home along with you,” her mother reasoned, trying to pull Carrie towards her again.
Far from pacifying Carrie, this only served to make her scream louder and kick out. “No! No! No! We’re not going into a Home. Alice isn’t going. Paul’s not going. Sam’s not going. And I’m not going.”
“And what about me?” Hannah asked. “Am I the only one that has to go?”
“You can do what you bloody well like, Hannah,” sobbed Carrie. “You’re so smart you should be able to take care of yourself.”
“That’s enough of that, my lady,” warned Rachel as she managed to grab Carrie again. “Haven’t I spent the last few months getting you all to speak properly, and here’s you talking like a guttersnipe. Now, just calm down. All of you.”
Rachel let go of Carrie and walked over to the mantelpiece. She looked at the Dresden shepherd and shepherdess standing there and felt a hot flush of remorse suffuse her. “Don’t worry. Don’t panic. I’ll think of something in the end. I always do,” she said to herself reassuringly.
Carrie’s eyes too were now on the ornaments that she loved so much. For all their poverty and deprivation she reckoned she was as good as anybody else as long as those ornaments adorned the mantelpiece. She truly believed that they possessed some kind of magical power that would eventually make things better for them all. “You’re not thinking of selling my ornaments, Mam?” she nervously questioned.
Rachel’s eyes remained fixed on them. “No, Carrie, selling them would be the last card in my hand.”
“But if it means keepin’ this roof ower oor heids, then why no?” demanded Sam.
“Cos they’re the only link I have with your Granny. I told you, didn’t I, that my mother was Jewish. Married out of her class and her religion, so her family would have nothing more to do with her.”
“No wonder, when you look at Granddad,” growled Hannah.
“Upper middle-class your Granny’s people were,” said Rachel, pulling herself up.
“Aye, and that’s a richt big help.”
“What d’you mean, Sam?” demanded Carrie.
“Just that we’ve got bugger-aw to eat the nicht, but that’s okay, cos we’re better class than the folks next door who’re nae doubt stuffin’ their gobs wi’ egg and chips and no gettin’ chucked oot on their erses next week.”
Rachel ignored Sam’s outburst and went on. “When my Mam was having me, she caught TB and they took her off to the Poorhouse Infirmary in Seafield Road. I was born there and was just a few months old when my Mammy died. Just afore she died my Dad married her.”
What Rachel didn’t tell the children was that Gabby, her father, had been too drunk to stand or repeat his marriage vows and her mother, Norma, too weak. Nor did she explain that her mother’s last wish had been granted and that, by marrying Gabby, she had removed the stigma of illegitimacy from her precious daughter.
“Anyway,” she continued, “one day, a woman – some far-off relative of my mother’s – came to the door and handed me these ornaments. Said she wanted me to have them because - just like you, Carrie – my mother loved looking at them. No! Selling them would be like selling my own mother. They’re my heritage. All my hopes and dreams are in them.”
CHAPTER 4
SOLUTIONS AND PROMISES
The following evening, Rachel was getting ready for work and combing her hair in front of the scullery mirror. “Oh no!” she gasped, leaning closer to get a better look, “These just can’t be. But they are! Blooming
“Look, Carrie, it’ll be all right because Alice’ll go into a Home along with you,” her mother reasoned, trying to pull Carrie towards her again.
Far from pacifying Carrie, this only served to make her scream louder and kick out. “No! No! No! We’re not going into a Home. Alice isn’t going. Paul’s not going. Sam’s not going. And I’m not going.”
“And what about me?” Hannah asked. “Am I the only one that has to go?”
“You can do what you bloody well like, Hannah,” sobbed Carrie. “You’re so smart you should be able to take care of yourself.”
“That’s enough of that, my lady,” warned Rachel as she managed to grab Carrie again. “Haven’t I spent the last few months getting you all to speak properly, and here’s you talking like a guttersnipe. Now, just calm down. All of you.”
Rachel let go of Carrie and walked over to the mantelpiece. She looked at the Dresden shepherd and shepherdess standing there and felt a hot flush of remorse suffuse her. “Don’t worry. Don’t panic. I’ll think of something in the end. I always do,” she said to herself reassuringly.
Carrie’s eyes too were now on the ornaments that she loved so much. For all their poverty and deprivation she reckoned she was as good as anybody else as long as those ornaments adorned the mantelpiece. She truly believed that they possessed some kind of magical power that would eventually make things better for them all. “You’re not thinking of selling my ornaments, Mam?” she nervously questioned.
Rachel’s eyes remained fixed on them. “No, Carrie, selling them would be the last card in my hand.”
“But if it means keepin’ this roof ower oor heids, then why no?” demanded Sam.
“Cos they’re the only link I have with your Granny. I told you, didn’t I, that my mother was Jewish. Married out of her class and her religion, so her family would have nothing more to do with her.”
“No wonder, when you look at Granddad,” growled Hannah.
“Upper middle-class your Granny’s people were,” said Rachel, pulling herself up.
“Aye, and that’s a richt big help.”
“What d’you mean, Sam?” demanded Carrie.
“Just that we’ve got bugger-aw to eat the nicht, but that’s okay, cos we’re better class than the folks next door who’re nae doubt stuffin’ their gobs wi’ egg and chips and no gettin’ chucked oot on their erses next week.”
Rachel ignored Sam’s outburst and went on. “When my Mam was having me, she caught TB and they took her off to the Poorhouse Infirmary in Seafield Road. I was born there and was just a few months old when my Mammy died. Just afore she died my Dad married her.”
What Rachel didn’t tell the children was that Gabby, her father, had been too drunk to stand or repeat his marriage vows and her mother, Norma, too weak. Nor did she explain that her mother’s last wish had been granted and that, by marrying Gabby, she had removed the stigma of illegitimacy from her precious daughter.
“Anyway,” she continued, “one day, a woman – some far-off relative of my mother’s – came to the door and handed me these ornaments. Said she wanted me to have them because - just like you, Carrie – my mother loved looking at them. No! Selling them would be like selling my own mother. They’re my heritage. All my hopes and dreams are in them.”
CHAPTER 4
SOLUTIONS AND PROMISES
The following evening, Rachel was getting ready for work and combing her hair in front of the scullery mirror. “Oh no!” she gasped, leaning closer to get a better look, “These just can’t be. But they are! Blooming
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