‘Where’s me Dad gone? I heard him go out.’
‘Not me lovey, my … he’ll have gone walking — now don’t you worry about him. Do you want a biscuit? Well, shush, you know what that brother of yours is like, he can hear the biscuit tin opening a mile away.’
Alex sat beside her and nibbled one of her home-made biscuits. She stared into the fire, gently stroking his thick, blond curls. She was almost surprised when he spoke, she was so immersed in her own thoughts. His voice was soft, ‘Will you read to me, Ma? Not my school work, one of your books.’
‘My books, are they? Now, you know everything here is ours, just that you’re not quite old enough yet and they’re well … they’re special. That is real leather they’re bound in, did you know that?’
She watched him as he solemnly chose one from the row of books and brought it back to her. She laughed softly, ‘Well, well, it’s my favourite writer you’ve picked out. Her name was Christina Georgina Rossetti, now there’s a name for you.’
Alex opened the book, traced the inscription with his finger. ‘ “To Evie, from Doris …” Who’s that, Mum? Is she related to us?’
‘No, lovey, she’s no relation, but she was a very special friend to me. A long, long time ago now.’ She told Alex about Doris, about the valley, and he listened without saying a word. His mother looked so beautiful, caught in the firelight, he was almost afraid to move.
‘Oh, Alex, she opened up a world to me, a world that was out of my reach. And, for a while, just a short while, I almost…’
Alex hung on her every word. She looked down at his upturned face and cupped his chin in her big, worn hands. ‘You know, sweetheart, there’s a world open to you if you want it. It’s all there, but you have to work hard, because you’ll only be able to find it if you get qualifications.’
‘Eddie’s clever, Ma. He’s always top.’
‘So you’re clever too, it takes all sorts. You’re not Edward, you’re Alex, and you’re top in some subjects, too.’
He smiled and nodded, then laughed softly. ‘Tell you one thing he’s not, Ma — tidy! Never puts a thing back in its place.’
‘Well, he’s like his father. The pair of them think I’m just here to pick up after them. Now, my lad, you should be in bed.’
Alex hugged her, whispering in her ear, ‘Can I come and sit with you another night, just you and me?’
Kissing him, she whispered back, as if they were playing a game, ‘I’d like that, and maybe, no promises, I’ll read my books to you. Would you like that?’
Beaming, Alex went off to bed like a lamb. Evelyne yawned and stretched her arms. The book fell to the floor, and she picked it up, looked again at the flyleaf.
Lovingly, she replaced it and drew her hand along the row of books, taking down a thick volume of Ibsen. It opened naturally in the middle, and there between the pages were sheets of her own handwriting. Leaves from a child’s drawing book. The colouring book she had bought for Edward in America. Slowly, she read her own work, placing each page on the fire as she finished it, letting the flames eat her memories. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she sighed. What would Doris think if she saw her now?
Freedom sighed, pulled his coat collar up, and wondered how he had come to this. He felt tied, bound to that spotless house. He had almost forgotten his old life — not the boxing times, but before that — the caravans, the wagons. He decided it was time to show his sons where their roots were, and the more he thought about it the happier he felt. Come Saturday he would take them on a trip, no matter what Evelyne said, they could spare a few shillings. He walked on along the towpath and decided he w6uld take them on a trip to Brighton, to the sea.
The schoolteacher, Miss Thomas, was relieved to see Mrs Stubbs. She had been hoping for a word with her but didn’t like the thought of going down their street. The Stubbs family liyed in one of the toughest districts, and she was not sure how they would react to her paying a house call.
They sat in the headmaster’s office and Miss Thomas poured tea. She couldn’t help but notice how clean and well turned out Mrs Stubbs looked. At one time she must have been a beauty. ‘I’m glad you came in, Mrs Stubbs, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.’ She paused briefly, then went on, ‘Edward is far in advance of the other children in his class, Mrs Stubbs. I would like to put him into the class above. It will mean he’s with boys two years older and he may find it difficult to adapt so I wanted to talk to you first.’
The pleasure in Mrs Stubbs’ face when she smiled softened her whole appearance. Miss Thomas warmed to her, and continued, ‘I think Edward is clever enough to win a scholarship to a good grammar school. I have a couple of schools in mind, but there could be a slight financial problem. The best schools require the uniform to be bought by the student’s family, and it would mean Edward would have to take the bus every day.’
Interrupting her, Evelyne assured her very firmly that there would be no financial problems. Her son’s education was of the highest importance and if he gained a scholarship he would have his uniform.
‘There is another reason, Mrs Stubbs. I think it would be beneficial for Alex. He is dominated by his older brother, and I think he would find his own personality if they were split up into different schools. They are unusually close, Edward is very protective.’
This observation met with a stiff reply. They were brothers and that was just how it should be.
Evelyne dropped in on Freda to tell her the news. Freda hadn’t seen her so happy in a long time.
‘He’ll be the first lad from these parts ever to get a scholarship to that grammar school, and I know he’ll do it, I just know it.’
Freda had been suffering with rheumatism, and had gained a lot of weight. Evelyne noted her frizzy hair, with the assistance of henna powder, was a rather strange orange colour, but even without the grey she was beginning to look her age. She gave Evelyne two jumpers she had knitted for the boys, identical as always, and Evelyne paid her for her work. Freda would have liked to have given them, but times were hard and Ed was making nothing at the gymnasium. They were mostly charitable institutes and his earnings were a mere gesture.
‘Your boys never go to the gyms, Evie, and Ed’d love to see them there. Why don’t you let them go, just to see what a boxing ring’s like?’
Evelyne jumped up, that tight, pursed look on her face, and put her coat on. ‘My sons are not going into any boxing ring, Freda, and that’s final.’
Freedom fetched the tin bath and began to boil water for the boys’ bath. He whistled, and Evelyne looked up from rolling the pastry. ‘It’s not Saturday, love, you’ve got the days muddled.’
He came up behind her, gave her a hug, and said they were having a bath early, because on Saturday they were going on a trip.
‘Oh, we are, are we? And where’s this trip to, then?’
Freedom tapped his nose and concentrated on the stove. He was in a good mood for a change so she continued with the pastry.
‘An’ I want you all decked out tomorrow an’ all, we’re all goin’ and I won’t have a word against it.’
She trimmed the edges of the pastry and when he slipped his arms round her waist she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
‘I’ve got some good news. It seems our Eddie’s doing well at school.’
Freedom seemed not to hear, but continued pottering around the kitchen.
‘He could get into the posh grammar school, his teacher told me. What do you think of that?’