For Better For Worse

‘A bit of soap and water works wonders,’ she told her sister Vera when she’d first moved in, but she couldn’t help noticing her sister’s look of disdain. It was a far cry from the lovely house Sarah had shared with Henry, but without his wage, and because of a steep rise in the rent, it was impossible to carry on living there. Sarah and her girls had moved here three months after he’d gone, and up until today, everything had been going fairly well. To save money, Sarah had always made the children’s clothes and it had been her lucky day when she went to Mrs Angel’s haberdashery shop to get some buttons and bumped into Mr Lovett.

The shop was a jumble of just about everything. There were the usual buttons and embroidery silks, but Mrs Angel also stocked ladies’ underwear in the glass-topped chest of drawers under the counter and a few bolts of material. She would also allow her customers to buy their wool weekly and would put the balls away in a ‘lay-by’ until they were needed.

‘Madam, I have a proposition to make to you,’ Mr Lovett had said as he spotted Jenny’s little pink dress.

‘Mr Lovett has been admiring your handiwork,’ Mrs Angel explained. ‘I told him how popular your little kiddies’ clothes are.’

‘If you could make another little girl’s dress like that and a boy’s romper suit,’ Mr Lovett went on, ‘I think I could find a London buyer.’

‘It takes me a week to make one of those,’ Sarah had laughed. ‘The smocking takes ages.’

‘I can tell,’ he smiled. ‘And before you say anything, there will be no monetary risk to your good self. I shall supply all the materials.’

Sarah hesitated. Could she trust this man?

‘I’m sure Mrs Angel will vouch for me?’ he added as if he’d read her mind.

‘Mr Lovett is a travelling salesman,’ Mrs Angel explained. She was a matronly woman with a shock of white hair. Rumour had it that it had turned that colour overnight after her beloved husband was killed by lightning on Cissbury Ring.

Sarah had been slightly sceptical, but with Mrs Angel only too keen to provide the cottons and any other material she needed, the deal was struck. When she’d finished making the dress and romper suit, Mr Lovett was as good as his word. He’d been right. He’d had no trouble selling her handiwork to a shop in London where rich women were willing to pay the earth for things of such good quality. She knew he’d kept back some money for himself, and yet each time he’d taken an order he’d given her a whole guinea, more money than Sarah had had in a long time. He’d extracted a promise that if the customer liked her work, she’d be willing to do some more. Sarah didn’t need much persuading, even though, without a sewing machine, she’d had to sit up all hours to get them finished on time. She’d been so pleased with the money she’d saved, she’d decided to buy half a hundredweight of coal.

Outside, a lorry drew up and the driver switched off the engine. Lu-Lu wriggled to get down. Sarah let her go and looked out of the window. Oh no, Mr Millward was here already. She couldn’t take the coal without paying for it. How frustrating. Wood never gave out the heat that coal did, and after the horrors of the winter of 1947, she had thought that this coming winter was going to be one when they didn’t have to worry about keeping warm. Think, she told herself crossly. Where did you last have that purse?

There was a knock on the kitchen window and Peter Millward, his wet cap dripping onto to his face streaked with coal dust, smiled in. ‘Shall I put it in the coal shed then, luv?’ He was a kind man with smiley eyes, skinny as a beanpole, and at about thirty-four, was five years older than her. He had been married but his wife had died in an air raid, which was ironic because Peter, who had seen action in some of the worst places, had come through the war unscathed.

Sarah shook her head and rose to her feet. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, throwing wide the front door which opened onto the street. ‘I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey. I’ve changed my mind. I shan’t need any coal today.’

‘Shan’t need …’ he began with a puzzled expression. ‘But you only came to the yard and ordered this stuff an hour ago.’ He waited for an explanation and when one wasn’t forthcoming he said crossly, ‘I can’t be doing with being mucked about.’

‘I know,’ she said, ‘and I’m sorry.’

He stood for a second staring at her. Lu-Lu headed for the open door and Sarah bent to pick her up. The child was wet.

‘Was it Haskins?’ he blurted out. ‘Has he given you a better deal? Normal price is five bob a bag but I can knock another tanner off for the summer price.’

‘No, no,’ Sarah cried. ‘It’s not that. I won’t be needing it, that’s all.’

‘If you leave it until winter I may not be able to help you out,’ Mr Millward persisted. ‘And you won’t get it at the summer prices either.’

‘I know,’ said Sarah.

As she began to close the door, he said, ‘If it’s about the money, I can’t give you the whole five bags but I could let you have one if you and I could come to some sort of arrangement.’ He raised an eyebrow.

Sarah felt her face flush and taking a deep breath, she said haughtily, ‘I shall not be requiring your coal and I’d thank you to keep your special arrangements to yourself, thank you very much Mr Millward,’ before slamming the door in his face.

He was raising his hand as the door banged and he called out something through the wood, but Sarah turned the key in the lock and took Lu-Lu upstairs to her bedroom to change her nappy. As she washed her daughter’s bottom with a flannel, Sarah smiled at her child but inside she was raging. How dare he? What was it with men? Ever since Henry had gone, half the male population of Worthing seemed to think that she was either ‘up for a bit of fun’ or ‘gagging for it’ or available for ‘an arrangement’. Little did they know that after the way Henry had treated her, she didn’t care if she never saw another man again.

Putting the baby down, Sarah had another thought. Maybe Lu-Lu had taken her purse out of the basket while she and Mrs Rivers were having a cup of tea. She hadn’t stayed long because Mrs Rivers’ son, Nathan, had come home a bit earlier than usual, but there had been plenty of time for Lu-Lu to carry it off somewhere. As soon as Mr Millward’s lorry had gone, Sarah popped Lu-Lu into her playpen at the bottom of the stairs and knocked next door again.

‘Please don’t take this the wrong way,’ she began as she stood in Mrs Rivers’ doorway, ‘but did you find a purse after I’d gone?’

‘No, dear,’ said her neighbour. ‘Why, have you lost one?’

‘Yes,’ said Sarah. ‘I had it in the shops … obviously, but when I got back home and looked in my basket, it wasn’t there.’

The door was suddenly yanked open and Nat Rivers pushed past his mother. Sarah jumped. She didn’t like him. He was a big man with a generous beer belly, a mouth full of brown teeth and greying stubble on his chin. She’d never once seen him looking smart. Today he was wearing his usual grubby vest, no shirt and his trousers were held up with a large buckled belt. Nat Rivers had been in and out of prison all his life.

Mrs Rivers looked up at him anxiously and slunk back indoors.

‘Are you accusing my mother of pinching something?’ he snapped.

‘No, no of course not,’ said Sarah. ‘It’s just that …’

‘Then bugger off,’ he said as he slammed the door.

Sarah turned away despondently. She’d never be able to prove a thing of course, but she couldn’t help noticing that Mrs Rivers was looking rather flushed as she spoke – and her son’s attitude wasn’t exactly neighbourly. Almost as soon as the door closed, she could hear the sound of raised voices and what sounded like a slap. She hovered for a second, wondering if she should knock on the door again, but then she thought of the children. What good would it do if Nat came out into the street and hit her in front of them? It was a relief when everything went quiet.

Back home once more, Sarah had a heavy heart. It was so hard not to become bitter. She had thought that she and Henry were doing all right. He’d been looking forward to the birth of their second child. In fact, the whole time she’d been pregnant, he’d been like a big kid himself. He’d fussed over her and bought her flowers. He’d helped with looking after Jenny when her ankles swelled. Towards the end of the pregnancy, he’d taken Jenny out every Saturday so that Sarah could have a rest. When she and Henry were alone, he’d spent hours with his hand on her belly talking to his unborn child. He was so sure it would be a boy and she knew he was more than a little disappointed when Lu-Lu came, but she was such a beautiful baby right from the start.

‘You’re as good-looking as your daddy,’ she’d told Lu-Lu, knowing that Henry took pride in himself. He fancied that he looked like Ronald Colman with his light-coloured hair slicked down and his pencil-thin moustache. Sarah couldn’t see it herself but didn’t contradict him. Henry wouldn’t like that.

As Sarah told him time and again, it didn’t matter that they hadn’t got a son yet. The baby was healthy, that was the main thing, and eventually he seemed to accept that she was right. But then one day she came home from picking Jenny up from school to find that he wasn’t there. She’d reported him missing but the police seemed to think that because he’d taken a suitcase, there was nothing amiss, so she was left to soldier on by herself. She had hoped he would return, but it had been almost ten months now and she had to accept the fact that he wasn’t coming back.

Sarah was terrified that the welfare people would come and take the kids away, which was why it was imperative that she ask no one for money. She didn’t want anyone thinking she was an inadequate mother. She was determined to provide for them whatever happened. Over the months since he’d been gone, Sarah had pawned everything of value and only kept body and soul together by earning the odd shilling or two by cleaning the local pub in the morning and a couple of big houses during the day. It wasn’t easy because she had to take the baby with her and sometimes Lu-Lu was fractious because she had to sit in the pram all the time. Her sister had slipped her the odd five bob in the beginning, but she hadn’t offered anything lately and Sarah hadn’t asked. Mrs Angel had seen her skill with the needle and given her the occasional job mending a petticoat or making a baby dress, so when the children were in bed, she’d carried on working. In short, Sarah was willing to do anything which would raise a few extra funds provided it was honest, which was why meeting Mr Lovett had seemed like a godsend. All she could do now was hope and pray that he came back quickly with another order.

Despite how she felt about Henry, Sarah had kept the few personal things he had left behind. There was a brown suit, a little old-fashioned with turn-ups, a couple of jumpers she’d knitted him and a silver cigarette case. It was hallmarked and she’d often wondered why he hadn’t taken it with him. There was an inscription inside, Kaye from Henry. She had no idea who Kaye was and Henry had certainly never mentioned her. Sarah turned the case over in her hands. It was time to let it go. She could get good money for it and it would do far more good helping to feed her children than gathering dust at the back of the wardrobe. If he came back she would explain and hope that he would understand. She searched through the pockets of the suit and found a pair of baby’s booties. They looked brand new but she didn’t recognise them. The girls had never worn them and she could only surmise that Henry had bought them intending to give them to her but forgot. They would do for Jenny’s dolly. With determination in her heart, Sarah bagged everything else up ready to take it to the second-hand shop. She’d take the cigarette case to Warner’s antique shop by Worthing central crossing in the morning.

‘Vera,’ Sarah called out to her sister as they dropped their children off at school in the morning. ‘Could I have a quick word?’

Vera glanced around as if to see who was looking. Sarah quickly explained about the goldfish and the funeral Jenny had planned for it and Vera agreed to bring Carole along. ‘Only for a minute, mind,’ she cautioned. ‘Bill will be expecting his tea.’

Back home, Sarah used a tablespoon to dig a hole in the postage stamp garden. When she’d finished, she’d stared down at it hoping it was deep enough. It definitely wasn’t the regulation six feet, but that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? How deep do you need to go for a fish? When she’d got up that morning, Jenny was already up and decorating Goldie’s coffin. She’d drawn flowers all over the sides and she’d even stuck some bits of ribbon on the lid. There was a note as well. Sarah’s eyes pricked as she read, ‘Gudbi Golldy.’

The rest of Sarah’s day was full. She took Lu-Lu to the pub where she cleaned the bar and toilets. Lu-Lu sat in her pram playing happily with some old beer mats and eventually fell asleep. After work, she took Henry’s suit and other things to the second-hand shop on North Street, where Lil Relland gave her five bob for the lot. The man in Warner’s valued the cigarette case at twelve shilling and offered her ten. Sarah was in no mood to argue. She took the money.

After school, Vera and Carole came around and Jenny organised everybody for the fish’s funeral. As they stood in the small yard, Lu-Lu in Sarah’s arms, Carole read a poem something along the lines of:

No more Goldie swimming round and round the water,

swimmin’ like a little goldfish aughta …

while the two sisters, in a rare moment of shared pleasure, struggled to keep a straight face. Then with a clear voice, Jenny put her hands together, grace style, to say thank you to God for Goldie.

‘Dear God, please look after Goldie in heaven. I know it’s a big place and she might get lost if the angels don’t look after her. And … please remember she gets scared if she’s left on her own. Amen.’

Sarah dared not look at Vera as she put Lu-Lu down and began to fill in the hole.

‘Wait a minute, Mummy!’ Jenny turned to run indoors. Sarah looked at Vera and gave her an exaggerated shrug. They waited, each avoiding the other’s eye, until Jenny came back out with the metal bridge from Goldie’s goldfish bowl. Everybody watched as Jenny knelt reverently beside the hole and placed it on top of the box. ‘She likes to swim around that,’ said Jenny.