Kitty Neale - Sins of the Father

Nowadays, when Emma dusted the beautiful ornaments, or tackled the laundry or ironing, she did it pretending that she was a lady, the bubble only bursting when Mr Bell came home. Emma had now seen how the other half lived and realised the stark contrasts when she returned to the attic rooms. After Mr Bell’s spacious house, the cramped conditions were emphasised, along with the smell of poverty. It bred in her a feeling of discontent, a yearning for something better, not just for herself, but for her brothers and sisters too.

There was a babble of voices and, seeing that everyone had finished their dinner, Emma spooned the last of the pears from the jar, saying as she handed them out, ‘Make the most of them. There aren’t any more.’

‘But I thought you said Mr Bell had loads of stuff in the pantry?’ Dick said.

‘He did, but with feeding seven of us, it’s soon gone down. All the fruit has been used, and though there are still some tins of Spam and corned beef, they won’t last long. It’s been lovely having this extra food, but we’ll be back to vegetable stew soon.’

‘Charlie is giving me a rise next week, and if Dad puts his hand in his pocket, maybe we could have meat regularly.’

‘Yeah, and pigs might fly,’ Emma said bitterly, ‘but it’s good of Charlie to give you a rise.’

‘Yeah, he’s a great bloke.’

‘Dad isn’t home yet so can I have his pears?’ Susan asked eagerly.

‘I want some too,’ Ann said.

Now that James and Archie were living downstairs, Ann was the youngest. Like Emma and Bella, she was pretty, but in a less obvious way. Her hair was brown, as were her eyes, but unlike Susan, she was a loving child and the least trouble. Emma smiled at her, saying firmly, ‘Neither of you is having Dad’s share. He’ll be hungry when he comes in.’

‘Huh, I doubt that. I expect his belly will be full of ale as usual,’ Dick snapped.

‘It ain’t fair,’ Susan grumbled. ‘Bella will get round him as usual, and he’ll give her some of his pears. He always does.’

Emma closed her eyes against her sister’s words, but knew they were true. Bella’s was a doll-like prettiness. She had already learned to manipulate her father, becoming his favourite. Dick and Luke could be wheedled round too, the males of the family unable to resist her delicate looks. Emma rose to her feet, took the last two halves of pear from the jar and cut them into pieces before sharing them out.

‘There, are you satisfied?’ she said impatiently.

Dick ate his, then said quietly, ‘Emma, can you ask Mr Bell how much is left owing on the arrears?’

‘He only discusses the rent with Dad so it’s unlikely he’ll tell me. Anyway, why do you want to know?’

‘I’ve heard about a job in the café. The pay isn’t bad, and you’d like the old girl who runs it. Mrs Bright is a good sort and has a heart of gold. If the arrears are nearly paid, you could go for it.’

‘It sounds all right, but to be honest, I don’t mind working for Mr Bell. I never dreamed I’d enjoy cleaning, but the house is lovely and with most of the rooms closed up it isn’t hard work.’

‘From what you’ve told me about the place, the man must be worth a mint. Rumour has it that he owns lots of property, raking in rent from all of them.’ Dick’s eyes flicked around the room. ‘If this place is anything to go by he’s tight on repairs too.’

‘I don’t think he’s poor, that’s for sure, but I don’t understand why he got rid of the staff when his wife died. He doesn’t own a car either.’

‘Well, going by the state of this place, I reckon he’s a skinflint and doesn’t like spending his money.’

‘I doubt that, especially as he’s been so generous with the food from his pantry.’ Emma rose tiredly to her feet. ‘I’d best get this lot cleared up.’

‘We’ll do it,’ Luke said.

Susan pulled a face, her voice a whine. ‘Bella can help him. I’ve got a tummy ache.’

‘That excuse is wearing a bit thin,’ Dick told her. ‘If you all muck in it’ll be done in no time.’

Dick’s voice was firm, and sulkily Susan began to help the others. Emma knew they did their best when they came home from school, but there were still jobs they were unable to tackle. The washing and ironing for starters, and if truth be known, with only the evenings to do these chores, Emma felt worn out trying to keep up with it all. Not only that, the school summer holidays would be starting soon and she dreaded leaving the children alone all day.

‘Why the long face, Emma?’ Dick asked.

‘I’m worried about the kids when they break up from school.’

‘They aren’t babies, they’ll be all right. Mind you, it wouldn’t hurt to have a word with them,’ Dick said. He called Luke and Susan to his side. ‘Whilst Emma and I are at work during the holidays, Luke will be in charge.’

‘But—’

‘No buts, Susan. Luke is the eldest, and he’ll be leaving school next year, which makes him almost a man.’

‘He ain’t a man. He’s a cissy.’

‘I ain’t a cissy!’

‘That’s enough!’ Dick’s voice was loud. ‘Luke will be in charge and, as before, Emma will have a word with Alice. You can go to her if you have any problems, but I don’t want you running to her to sort out your silly spats. Now is that clear?’

They both nodded. Dick turned his attention to Bella and Ann. He went over the same things with them, only adding, ‘I’m not far away at the market if you need me, but woe betide any of you if you get into trouble.’

Emma hadn’t interrupted while Dick laid down the law. She knew that her brother was right, and Luke was old enough to be left in charge, but she couldn’t entirely dismiss her worries.

The evening passed with the occasional squabble, but they were all in bed when Emma heard her father staggering up the ladder.

His head cleared the top, his voice loud. ‘Emma, where’s my bloody dinner?’

‘I kept it hot for as long as possible. You’ll find a few slices of Spam on a plate, but the potatoes will be cold.’

He muttered something, his head disappearing again, and Emma sighed with relief. She felt Susan stir beside her, but thankfully she didn’t wake up, and as Emma closed her eyes against the sound of her father crashing about downstairs, her thoughts focused instead on Mr Bell’s lovely house.

When Emma was leaving for work the next morning, Liz Dunston was waiting for her on the ground floor. With the largest flat and a small back garden, she thought herself a cut above the rest of them. Her husband was a milkman, up at the crack of dawn, and she had one son, who, at fifteen years old was a butcher’s apprentice.

The tall, statuesque woman folded her arms across her chest, her voice high with indignation. ‘Emma, the racket your father made when he came home last night woke my husband again. I’ve tried talking to him, but he ignores me, and when I came out to complain he swore at me.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Dunston.’

Her face softened a little. ‘I’m not blaming you, girl, but this can’t go on. If it doesn’t stop I’ll be forced to complain to the landlord.’

‘Oh, please, don’t do that.’

‘He’s on his last chance, Emma. Have a word with him, will you?’

Emma murmured yes, but knew her father wouldn’t take any notice of her. God, she’d be mortified if Mrs Dunston complained to Mr Bell. She wouldn’t be able to look him in the face-and what if he gave her the sack?

Emma was still worrying when she reached Clapham Common. Letting herself into the house, she was surprised to see her employer in the hall.

‘Hello, Emma,’ he said, smiling pleasantly. ‘Why the long face?’

‘It’s nothing, sir.’