The Pearly Queen (2 page)

‘Never mind that,' said Mum. ‘The Lord didn't help you get better so that you could gallivant about and fall over people and injure yourself.' Having no sense of humour, she couldn't think why Jimmy grinned and the girls giggled. Jimmy said he'd heard gallivanting about was supposed to be good for soldiers on leave, it was what they came home on leave for, to do a bit of gallivanting about. Well, that was what he'd heard, he said.

‘Well, I don't know who you've been listening to,' said Mum, and gave her son a tap with her brolly to let him know she expected him to be more careful about who he listened to in future. During these outings, she made her children walk behind whenever they were part of such excursions. She said it would be the work of Satan himself if Dad got injured by falling over his own flesh and blood.

She was very ‘churchified' by then, she'd got religion on the brain. In one way, it had its funny side, but there was too much of it, it went on all the time. To avoid upsetting the kids, Dad spoke to Mum more than once in private, telling her to put a sock in it. It made no difference. She responded with some of her fire and brimstone stuff. By this time Dad, whose loyalties were pretty constant, was beginning to lose what affection he still had left for Mum. But he put up with her because she was the mother of his kids, and he thought the world of them. And he was not a man who'd make them unhappy by having stand-up slanging matches with their mother.

Towards the end of the war, when Dad was back in Mesopotamia, she became chronically religious. She took to carrying her umbrella as if it were the sword of Joshua. Woe betide any drunk who got in her way. She'd land the point of her brolly right in his overloaded paunch, and order him to go home and repent. When Dad was home for good and with his old job back, she managed to calm down a bit during the first year of peace, which allowed the reunited family to settle down to post-war life without having to listen to too many biblical quotations.

Then the call of the Lord hit her again in extreme fashion. By 1922, she was set on getting everyone to repent. Patsy asked what for? ‘Be sure your sins will find you out,' said Mum. That always foxed Patsy, and Betsy too: they couldn't think that sins had anything to do with them. True, they had occasionally nicked apples down the market, but only specked ones, and only from under a stall. Jimmy had pinched lots when he was younger. All Walworth kids did.

Patsy asked if Jimmy was a sinner. Mum said her son must ask his conscience. Jimmy spent half a minute asking it, then said he didn't think he was a sinner yet, but he might soon be because he was tempted to run off to Gretna Green with Susie Brown down in Brandon Street, whom he saw nearly every Sunday in church. ‘But she's seventeen and goes to work,' said Patsy, ‘and you're only fifteen and only an apprentice.'

‘I know that,' said Jimmy, ‘but I still feel sinful about her.'

Mum nearly collapsed with the shame of his confession, delivered with a straight face, and by the time she'd recovered, Jimmy was well out of the range of her punitive umbrella. Still, she was able to berate Patsy and Betsy for giggling.

She was thinner than she used to be. Her wedding photograph showed her with a prettily plump figure. Her roundness had gone, although some of her attractiveness remained. But she was prim. She let Dad know that marriage was for having children, and that as they had children, desire was now a sin. Dad's natural good humour, which had been taking a beating for too long, deserted him at this point. ‘Don't make me laugh,' he said. ‘In fact,' he said, ‘it's me duty to inform you, Maudie, that you're about as exciting as a wet weekend under Southend Pier.' Well, she never had been much good in bed, except at the beginning. It was no hardship for him to give up what she called sinning.

She took umbrage at his remarks, but made no attempt to get her figure back. She didn't believe in vanity or in women being plump. She said plumpness was a sign of gluttony in most cases, and that the Lord frowned on it.

‘What about plump men?' asked Jimmy in the spring of 1923.

‘Disgustin',' she said. ‘I 'specially don't like gluttony in men and no repentin' of it. You're not gettin' plump, are you?'

‘Not yet,' said Jimmy, who was lean like his dad.

‘I don't want to have to put you on bread and water,' said Mum.

‘Couldn't it be toast and marmalade?' asked Jimmy.

‘Don't give me no cheek now, and don't let me see you growin' up fat,' said Mum. ‘I won't 'ave no gluttony in this fam'ly.'

However much Jimmy tried not to take her seriously, the fact was plain to him and Dad and Patsy: Mum was a sore trial to her family. Her talk about gluttony was barmy. Jimmy knew there wasn't much of it among the London cockneys. Gluttony was the last thing they could afford. Not that he and his family suffered an empty larder. In the spring of 1923, he and his dad were both working, although his wage was only that of a builder's apprentice. Still, the family could afford decent food and for Mum to do regular baking, except that lately she'd done very little. She had decided things like treacle tarts, fruit cakes and fruit pies encouraged sinful eating. On top of that, she was making Patsy do some cooking. Patsy actually didn't mind, and when Dad bribed her by giving her a shining new sixpence she promised to learn how to bake cakes and tarts.

In July, Mum gave very serious thought to doing far more work for the Lord and a lot less for her family. Dad, in private, told her she was doing a lot less, anyway.

‘Don't you talk to me like that, Jack Andrews,' she said.

‘Listen, my girl,' said Dad, ‘you go off too often on account of the Lord, and you might come home one day and find the family's shut the door on you.' In response to that, Mum told him to remember Joshua, and how he took up the sword and slew the enemies of Israel.

‘Maud, you're bleeding barmy,' said Dad. It was water off a duck's back.

Mum thought about joining the Salvation Army or an organization called Sanctuary for the Fallen. It didn't take her long to decide the Salvation Army was actually a bit heathen: all that shaking and rattling of tambourines by women in queer bonnets with red ribbons didn't seem very reverent to her. And all their smiling, too, as if they didn't take the Lord seriously. As for the Sanctuary for the Fallen, she discovered it was near to disgraceful. What it did was to take in drunks and sinful women, and not do anything about making them repent. When they came out of the Sanctuary, the drunks made straight for the nearest pub and the sinful women went and did more sinning. Mum declared to her husband and son that she didn't think the Lord would approve of any sanctuary that didn't make people see the error of their ways.

Dad said, ‘Well, Maudie, you've taken on ways I don't approve of myself.' Jimmy asked if the Lord had ever actually had a word with her about it.

‘You're both impertinent,' said Mum, ‘go an' repent.'

As this order was given after dinner one Sunday, Dad took his son and daughters to Ruskin Park, and they all repented together by walking the paths in silent and solemn fashion, although Betsy had to struggle to keep her giggles at bay. She gave up eventually, and her giggles burst forth.

‘That sounds like someone's sinning,' said Jimmy.

‘Yes, who is it?' asked Dad.

‘Me,' confessed Betsy.

‘Well, we'd better do some more repentin', then,' said Dad, ‘we needn't get back till teatime.' It was his way of cheering his kids up, particularly Betsy who was unhappy about her mum. He made a game of the outing, and it hid the fact that he was swearing to himself most of the time.

It was the following week that Jimmy lost his job. His sisters were upset for him, and Dad knew it was a real blow to his son. Mum said it might not have happened if Jimmy had been more religious. But it didn't greatly concern her, not at this moment, for a new organization called the League of Repenters had come to her attention. She homed in on it like an eager bee catching a whiff of the first rich blooms of summer. She was immediately impressed by its leader, a man of majestic appearance and dignity, one Montgomery Wilberforce, known to his followers as Father Peter. In his wide-shouldered tallness, he looked to Mum as if he had been cast in the same mould as Joshua himself. To Mum, Joshua was a most awesome servant of the Lord.

She noted that Father Peter's followers, mostly women, were serious and devout, dressing with quiet soberness. They were dedicated to the task of bringing redemption and salvation to sinners before the Day of Judgement arrived. Some were like herself, some were from the suburbs and some sounded quite posh. She felt she could do very good work with the League. It might mean her family having to do a lot more for themselves, but no-one could say she hadn't already given them the best years of her life, and the Lord ought to have His turn at commanding her services. So she applied to join the Repenters and went daily to their headquarters in Bloomsbury for instruction from Father Peter on the principles of dedication. She believed, as he did, that the hope of the world was repentance, and she promised to commit herself to the task of helping to redeem sinners. Father Peter received her into the League and was most kind to her.

She told her son and daughters of her new life on the morning of the Friday before the August Bank Holiday, after their dad had departed for his work. Jimmy had no job at the moment, and his sisters were on school holiday, so they were left to tell Dad when he came home.

‘Where's your mum now?' he asked.

‘Whitechapel,' said Jimmy.

‘Eh?' said Dad.

‘Yes, rotten 'ard luck, Dad,' said Jimmy, ‘but she dressed herself up in black—'

‘The black she wore to Grandpa's funeral last year,' said Patsy.

‘Wiv a new black 'at,' said Betsy, looking unhappy again.

‘And off she went to Whitechapel after givin' us bread and cheese at midday,' said Jimmy.

Dad, for the sake of his kids, hid his more extreme reactions. An old soldier, he had a few choice words at his command. He used none of them. Jimmy popped into the scullery then to turn the mutton chops in the pan in the gas oven. He also took a look at the cabbage and potatoes in their saucepans. He came back into the kitchen and broke the suffering silence.

‘She took a banner with her.'

‘I don't suppose it'll do me much good to ask,' said Dad, ‘but go on, let's 'ave it, what was on the banner?'

‘
REPENT YE SINNERS
,' quoted Jimmy.

‘I might've known,' said Dad. ‘Is she comin' back?'

‘She said she was,' replied Patsy, not bothering to hide exactly how she felt, cross and disgusted. ‘She's been given a new Bible by this League, and she's goin' to read it to us this evenin'.'

‘All of it?' said Dad. ‘All of it at once?'

‘She'd better not,' said Patsy.

‘I don't fink Mum likes us any more,' said Betsy worriedly.

Dad, hating the thought of young Betsy being unhappy, made an effort and said brightly, ‘Cheer up, Betsy me pickle, there's worse things at sea, as me old sergeant-major would say. Your mum can't help bein' fond of the Bible, but that don't mean she's not fond of you any more. And I'm not against the Bible meself, I'm just sayin' we don't want all of it at once, do we? Bless yer, Betsy, your mum's got her funny ways, and we'll just 'ave to go along with them.' He ruffled Betsy's hair. ‘Mind you, with any luck, we won't get any Bible at all this evenin', not if she's been to Whitechapel. Whitechapel people don't go much of a bundle on preachers and the like, they chuck rotten cabbages at them.' Do Maud a power of good, that would, he thought. ‘It wouldn't surprise me if your mum comes 'ome lookin' like she's been in a greengrocery war. She might need some sympathy and a mite of cheerin' up, she might even 'ave a bit of a headache.'

‘So might we,' said Jimmy, ‘she talked about puttin' all of us on bread and water for a while.'

Dad, having taken things manfully so far, greeted this new piece of information in prickly fashion. ‘There's not goin' to be none of that rubbish,' he said.

Jimmy mentioned that Mum had said they all ate too much. Betsy protested she hadn't ever eaten too much, that she just ate till she was full up. Patsy said that Mum had said that Joshua and the Israelites had to put up with a lot of bread and water.

‘Well, we ain't Joshua and the Israelites,' said Dad, dark brown hair thick, with a widow's peak, and grey eyes that often showed a twinkle.

‘Jimmy told 'er that,' said Patsy.

‘And Mum landed 'im one wiv 'er brolly,' said Betsy.

‘Hard luck, Jimmy,' said Dad. ‘Anything else?'

‘Yes,' said Jimmy, ‘it's about callin' her Mum. She said Mum doesn't befit her any more, that she'd been anointed by a bloke called Father Peter and he'd named 'er Mother Mary.'

‘I'm hearin' things,' said Dad. ‘Still, wait till the cabbages start flyin'. All the same, when she gets 'ome, we'd better humour her, we'd better call 'er Mother and let 'er do a bit of Bible readin'. Best to humour her, and while she's like this we've got to rally round the old fam'ly flag, eh?'

‘You could tell 'er she ought to repent for muckin' the fam'ly about, Dad,' said Patsy.

‘Well, good on yer, Patsy,' said Dad, ‘we can think about that, we'll work up to it gradual, same as me and the old battalion worked up to givin' Johnny Turk one in 'is mince pie.'

‘Did he repent, Dad?' asked Patsy.

‘Come again?' said Dad, wondering just how to go to work on his wife.

‘When you give Johnny Turk one in the eye, did he repent?' asked Patsy.

‘He didn't say so, Patsy. He said, “Oh, Ali Baba, me flamin' eye,” and fell over. Well, I'll treat meself to a bit of a wash now after me day's labours, then we'll 'ave supper. You sure it's cookin' all right, or d'you want me to take a look at it?'