difficult things were at home. Hattie’s Dad brought home a regular wage
and with Hattie’s contribution they never seemed to struggle.
‘Have you seen Ben?’
‘No, why?’
‘Reube says he’s going to buy this bloody great motor vehicle. It’s as big as a bus.’
‘The charabanc you mean?’
‘You know about that?’ Hattie asked in surprise.
‘Ben said he was hoping to go into weddings and funerals.’
Hattie giggled. ‘Trouble is, it’s beige, not black. Reube says Ben’ll have to tell people he only does happy funerals.’
The two girls looked at one another and laughed.
Lily wiped the tear from her eye. ‘Well, it’s got to be better than the lorry. The day we went out in it to deliver that aspidistra, I had to shout as the engine was so
noisy.’
Hattie put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’d forgotten about that! What happened?’
After describing the lovely house in Dewar Street, in particular the bathroom, Hattie’s expression was shocked.
‘A real bath you mean?’
‘Yes, a huge white one, in a big room all to itself.’
Hattie sighed enviously. ‘Me mum and dad would love a bathroom. It would make looking after Sylvester a lot easier.’
Lily was thinking the same. She had managed to have a bath last night, but the Naptha from previous uses had become ingrained in the tin. She could even smell it on her today.
‘Where did you decide the plant should go?’ Hattie asked.
Lily told her friend the rest of the story, adding that Ben had rushed her off and she was unable to discover more.
‘What’s he do that for?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Are you going to see this Charles again?’
‘Of course not,’ Lily said a little too quickly. ‘What would he want with someone like me? I was just curious that’s all.’
‘You say he’s a widower, do you know anything about his wife?’
‘I didn’t have time to ask, did I?’
‘That’s a pity.’
Lily nodded, encouraged by this spark of interest. ‘I’ve worked it out though. He must have been heartbroken and just let the house go a bit as the windows were dirty and there
wasn’t much furniture downstairs. That sort of thing.’
‘But you say he had a maid?’
‘Well, a hired help anyway. She hadn’t cleaned or looked after the house though. There was a lot of dust around. He just seemed to have lost interest in the place.’
Hattie glanced at Lily. ‘I hope you don’t feel sorry for him. You’re always a soft touch. Don’t forget he’s not from round here and you haven’t known him five
minutes.’
Lily didn’t like being thought of as a soft touch. She felt she was quite the opposite, with a sensible, level head and wasn’t taken in easily.
‘Come on,’ said Hattie, pulling her along, ‘let’s go to the park café. I know you’re broke, so it’s my treat.’
As they made their way to Greenwich Park, Lily wondered what Hattie would think of Charles Grey? But then realized she was allowing her imagination to run away with her again. There wasn’t
much hope of that. Charles Grey only lived in her dreams!
It was on the last day of January, a Friday, when a group of Blackshirts arrived at market. They stood on boxes and were noisy and disruptive. No one wanted to hear their
propaganda.
‘Bloody fascists!’ Vera Froud exclaimed, coming over to Reube and Lily. ‘That’s what they are. They’d like to overthrow the monarchy given the chance and have us
all under a dictator. Why don’t they go back to where they come from!’
‘Italy, ain’t it?’ Florrie Mills suggested as she frowned at the noisy group.
‘This is Mosley’s lot,’ Reube put in. ‘Trying to find a way to stir up trouble amongst decent people. Cause unrest, so they can get in with Joe Bloggs under false
pretences.’
‘They got big gobs on ’em that’s for sure.’ Vera crossed her arms and frowned. She had squashed her black hat down on her head and the strands of her faded red hair
sprang out like snakes.
and with Hattie’s contribution they never seemed to struggle.
‘Have you seen Ben?’
‘No, why?’
‘Reube says he’s going to buy this bloody great motor vehicle. It’s as big as a bus.’
‘The charabanc you mean?’
‘You know about that?’ Hattie asked in surprise.
‘Ben said he was hoping to go into weddings and funerals.’
Hattie giggled. ‘Trouble is, it’s beige, not black. Reube says Ben’ll have to tell people he only does happy funerals.’
The two girls looked at one another and laughed.
Lily wiped the tear from her eye. ‘Well, it’s got to be better than the lorry. The day we went out in it to deliver that aspidistra, I had to shout as the engine was so
noisy.’
Hattie put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’d forgotten about that! What happened?’
After describing the lovely house in Dewar Street, in particular the bathroom, Hattie’s expression was shocked.
‘A real bath you mean?’
‘Yes, a huge white one, in a big room all to itself.’
Hattie sighed enviously. ‘Me mum and dad would love a bathroom. It would make looking after Sylvester a lot easier.’
Lily was thinking the same. She had managed to have a bath last night, but the Naptha from previous uses had become ingrained in the tin. She could even smell it on her today.
‘Where did you decide the plant should go?’ Hattie asked.
Lily told her friend the rest of the story, adding that Ben had rushed her off and she was unable to discover more.
‘What’s he do that for?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Are you going to see this Charles again?’
‘Of course not,’ Lily said a little too quickly. ‘What would he want with someone like me? I was just curious that’s all.’
‘You say he’s a widower, do you know anything about his wife?’
‘I didn’t have time to ask, did I?’
‘That’s a pity.’
Lily nodded, encouraged by this spark of interest. ‘I’ve worked it out though. He must have been heartbroken and just let the house go a bit as the windows were dirty and there
wasn’t much furniture downstairs. That sort of thing.’
‘But you say he had a maid?’
‘Well, a hired help anyway. She hadn’t cleaned or looked after the house though. There was a lot of dust around. He just seemed to have lost interest in the place.’
Hattie glanced at Lily. ‘I hope you don’t feel sorry for him. You’re always a soft touch. Don’t forget he’s not from round here and you haven’t known him five
minutes.’
Lily didn’t like being thought of as a soft touch. She felt she was quite the opposite, with a sensible, level head and wasn’t taken in easily.
‘Come on,’ said Hattie, pulling her along, ‘let’s go to the park café. I know you’re broke, so it’s my treat.’
As they made their way to Greenwich Park, Lily wondered what Hattie would think of Charles Grey? But then realized she was allowing her imagination to run away with her again. There wasn’t
much hope of that. Charles Grey only lived in her dreams!
It was on the last day of January, a Friday, when a group of Blackshirts arrived at market. They stood on boxes and were noisy and disruptive. No one wanted to hear their
propaganda.
‘Bloody fascists!’ Vera Froud exclaimed, coming over to Reube and Lily. ‘That’s what they are. They’d like to overthrow the monarchy given the chance and have us
all under a dictator. Why don’t they go back to where they come from!’
‘Italy, ain’t it?’ Florrie Mills suggested as she frowned at the noisy group.
‘This is Mosley’s lot,’ Reube put in. ‘Trying to find a way to stir up trouble amongst decent people. Cause unrest, so they can get in with Joe Bloggs under false
pretences.’
‘They got big gobs on ’em that’s for sure.’ Vera crossed her arms and frowned. She had squashed her black hat down on her head and the strands of her faded red hair
sprang out like snakes.
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