LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      It was a pittance. A shilling a week to feed and clothe four growing children. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach Bill asked, ‘And my wife, – what allowance has she?’

      ‘She has what is called a Separation Allowance, which amounts to one shilling and one penny a day, and there will also be another sixpence taken from your wages for her.’

      Bill did the calculations. Marion would have the princely sum of nine shillings and a penny for all of them to live on.

      ‘Is that all?’ Bill cried. ‘She won’t be able to live on that. Almighty Christ, the rent alone is twelve shillings a week.’

      ‘Everyone has the same, Mr Whittaker,’ the official said coldly. ‘We cannot make a special case for your wife.’

      ‘No, but–’

      ‘Mr Whittaker, those are the rates and that is that,’ the official told him firmly. ‘I have a lot of people to see besides yourself and however long you argue, your family’s entitlement will remain the same.’

      Bill had no alternative but to leave. Outside in the corridor he found Pat waiting for him.

      ‘God,’ Pat said ironically, ‘at least they give the wife and kids plenty to live on. Keep them in the lap of luxury, that.’

      Bill shook his head. ‘I don’t know how I am going to face Marion and tell her this. She’ll never manage on it. Richard can’t give her any more than he does because his wage as a junior apprentice is only nine and eleven pence. Sarah is fourteen next month and will be leaving school then, but even if she is able to get a job it won’t pay very well. Christ, Pat, I’ve been bringing home three pounds ten shillings every week, more with overtime, which I did most weeks.’

      His heart sank as he remembered how Marion would often say with pride that she had never visited a pawn shop, never had reason to, not like her sister, Polly, who never seemed to be out of the place. As he and Pat turned for home again he gave a heavy sigh.

      ‘That’s the sigh of a weary man,’ Pat smiled.

      ‘A guilty one, perhaps,’ Bill said. ‘How do they expect a woman to buy food, coal and pay the rent on the pittance they allow them? And that’s taking no account of clothes and boots growing children need.’

      ‘I know,’ Pat said. ‘It’s a bugger, all right. Polly won’t be so bad, see, because the boys get good enough money at Ansell’s. And even in a war, people will still want beer, won’t they? More rather than less, I would have said, and Mary Ellen has been working in Woolworths for over a year now and she tips up her share too.’

      Bill saw that, for the first time, the Reillys would be better off than the Whittakers. Their rent, too, was less than half what the Whittakers paid. ‘And don’t forget the Christmas Tree Fund will help you with clothes and boots for the kids,’ Pat went on.

      Bill shook his head dumbly. Marion had often said she would die of shame if she couldn’t provide for their own children and had to rely on handouts from the Evening Mail Christmas Tree Fund.

      Pat saw the look on Bill’s face. ‘And don’t look like that,’ he snapped. ‘Better take them and be grateful than let the kids suffer. Pride and fine principals are all very well when you have plenty of money coming in.’

      Bill felt ashamed, for he knew that Pat was only trying to be helpful. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘it’s just that neither Marion nor me envisaged going cap in hand to anyone.’

      ‘Well, we ain’t never been at war before, have we, and so we have to do the best we can.’

      ‘I know,’ said Bill, ‘but I don’t think there are words written that will ease any of this for Marion.’

      Pat watched his brother-in-law trudge away from him, his head lowered and his shoulders hunched, and he didn’t envy him a bit. He and Polly had had a lot of knocks in their journey through life and he knew that she would view this as yet another challenge to overcome. After all, he reasoned, they wouldn’t be the only wives and mothers in the same situation.

      Marion was in the scullery where she was rinsing out the boiler that she had used for the Monday wash. She looked up when she heard Bill and was slightly alarmed by the wretched look on his face. For a split second she thought that the army had refused him. That news would delight her, but she knew that it would devastate him and so she said, ‘Did everything go all right?’

      Bill nodded. ‘I am to report on Wednesday for my medical and, provided I pass that, I will be in.’

      Marion knew he would pass. Bill had always been a fit man.

      ‘Where are the children?’ he asked. ‘I need to talk to you.’

      ‘Sarah and Siobhan have taken the lot of them down the park,’ Marion said. ‘Talk away if you must, but I will have to get on …’

      ‘Marion, please.’ Bill placed his hands over Marion’s, which were reddened and still damp. ‘I need us both to sit down and talk.’

      She looked into his troubled eyes and realised that she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. But that wouldn’t help, she knew, and so she followed him into the living room, where they sat on the two easy chairs in front of the range.

      Knowing that there was no way of softening the blow, Bill said immediately, ‘When I decided to enlist, I knew that a soldier’s wages wouldn’t be near as much as I was earning, but I didn’t believe it would be so little.’

      ‘How little?’ Marion said in a steely voice, and as Bill told her he saw her large eyes widen in horrified surprise.

      She wondered why she wasn’t shouting and screaming and throwing things about the room because it was what she really wanted to do. She also wanted to lash out at the husband she thought she knew and say it wasn’t to be borne that he could leave them almost destitute. But she did none of these things, because overriding her white-hot anger was the panicky thought that once he left there was a real risk of the family starving, or, at the very least, being put out of their house if she couldn’t raise the rent money.

      ‘So, I will have the princely sum of nine shillings and a penny to live on while you are away hunting down Germans?’ she spat.

      ‘I didn’t know,’ Bill said. ‘I had no idea that the wages or Separation Allowance would be so low. I would have thought that they would value our contribution to the army higher than that.’

      ‘Well, they don’t,’ Marion hissed. ‘And it might have been better for us all if you had made sure of the facts before you signed the forms.’

      ‘I know that,’ Bill said miserably. ‘I will send you what I can.’

      ‘Out of fourteen shillings a week?’ Marion said disparagingly. ‘With one shilling and eleven pence already taken out of your wages, and the money for the children and me as well? We might get short shrift if we relied on money from you to put food on the table.’

      ‘I know,’ Bill said. ‘And I’m sorry.’

      ‘Oh, that’s all right then, if you’re sorry,’ Marion said bitterly. ‘That will make a lot of bloody difference.’

      The very fact that she had used an expletive at all, showed Bill the level of her distress. He tried to put his arms around her but she fought him off, for she heard the children coming in.

      The following day Bill walked to the foundry with Richard to tell his gaffer what had transpired and to collect his wages, for they operated a week-inhand system, and also draw out any holiday money due to him. But he also wanted to snatch a private word with his son.

      ‘You’ll be the man of the house when I’m gone.’

      ‘I know, Dad,’ Richard said. ‘Don’t worry.’

      ‘It’s up to you to look after your mother,’ Bill went on. ‘Sarah will help you. She’s

Скачать книгу