Rachel Cohen stared at the girl. She knew who she was. Hadn’t she seen her many a time outside the pub waiting to get money from her drunken father? And she’d witnessed the brutal way he’d hit her before sending her on her way – empty-handed.
With a grim expression she asked Lily, ‘Well? And what have you to say for yourself?’
‘He was right, missus. I
was
about to walk off.’
‘At least you’re honest about it,’ said Mrs Cohen with some surprise. ‘Why do you want a pair of shoes?’
Lily flushed with embarrassment. ‘Because I don’t have any. I did have a pair, but I lost them.’
‘How on earth can you lose a pair of shoes?’
‘My dad threw me out of the house and I dropped one. It was too uncomfortable with just one, so I dumped it.’
The woman looked thoughtful. ‘And where are you staying now?’
‘With my aunt in Union Street,’ she lied.
‘Got a job, have you?’
Lily shook her head.
Mrs Cohen pursed her lips. ‘Want one, do you?’
Eyes wide in surprise, Lily said quickly, ‘Yes, I do.’
‘I need help here. The shop could do with cleaning and there’s a lot of clothes to be sorted. My son is away buying and I have to keep an eye on the shop, else someone will pinch my stuff.’
A guilty flush rose in Lily’s cheeks. ‘I’ll work hard for you, honest.’
‘Then we’d better find you a pair of shoes that fit.’
‘Oh thank you, Mrs Cohen. You are so kind.’ Her gratitude bubbled forth.
‘I’m not giving you them, girl. You’ll pay me so much a week out of your wages.’
Suitably rebuked Lily said, ‘Yes, yes, of course.’
‘One thing you will learn in life, my dear, is that no one does anything for nothing. You just remember that. There’s always a price to pay.’
Inside the shop, Lily looked around in astonishment. Clothes hung everywhere. One rack was full of ladies’ evening dresses. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. The fragile materials were covered in sequins and coloured bugle beads. Such elegance, she thought admiringly. Day dresses, costumes and men’s suits hung nearby. Wonderful creations tumbled out of hat boxes. But it was towards the large tubs full of unsorted clothes that she was led.
‘I want you to go through this lot with a fine-tooth comb. Sort the good stuff, and any that is worn and torn you throw over there, into the empty box. All right?’
‘Yes, I understand, missus. Don’t you worry, I’ll be very thorough.’
‘If you aren’t, then you won’t work for me. I don’t pay good hard cash for nothing.’
Sorting through the clothes in the dark enclave of the shop, Lily was content. She was off the street and felt safe and secure, for the time being anyway. She was meticulous in her search. After all, if she was earning, she could eat. I wonder when she’ll pay me, she pondered.
At lunch-time, Mrs Cohen made a cup of tea and called to Lily: ‘Come here, girl.’ She handed Lily a mug of the hot steaming liquid and a bagel filled with salt beef. Lily had never enjoyed anything so much.
They sat together on a couple of old straight-backed chairs. Rachel Cohen arched her back, placing her hand against it. ‘Getting stiff in my old age,’ she muttered. ‘If my son Manny worked a bit harder, it would help.’
‘How old’s your son?’ Lily asked.
Rachel pulled a face. ‘Thirty and not married. I try to find him nice Jewish girls, but either he doesn’t like them or they don’t want him. What’s a poor widow woman to do? I want grandchildren.’ She bit angrily into her bagel. ‘And you, Lily, what do you want out of life?’
Sitting back against the chair, Lily stretched out her feet to admire her shoes. ‘I don’t want ever to be poor again.’ She looked dreamily into space. ‘I want a nice man to marry me, I want to live in a nice house – I want to be respectable.’
Looking over her horn-rimmed spectacles, the Jewess smiled. ‘Well, we all have dreams, girl. I hope you get yours one day.’
‘I will, Mrs Cohen. I don’t know how, but I will.’
The determination on the girl’s face moved Rachel. What chance has she got? she wondered. Not much. She was a pretty girl, with her lovely eyes. But living round here didn’t offer a great deal, and she doubted that Lily would ever fulfil her aspirations.
When the shop closed Lily asked, ‘When do I get paid?’
‘At the end of the week.’
Her heart sank. She was working, but she still didn’t have money, only the twopence left after buying her breakfast. She had some mouldy fruit left over, but that was all.
The smell from the fish and chip shop was too much. ‘Two penn’orth of chips and some scraps please,’ she asked. The scraps – the pieces of batter that came off the fish as it cooked – were crispy and succulent. It would help to quell her hunger.
The cool wind had dropped and it was a balmy spring evening as Lily strolled along the Esplanade, eating her chips. Not a bad birthday, she mused. I got myself a job
and
a pair of shoes. Now all she needed was a roof over her head. She couldn’t go back to the hotel. The night porter was sure to keep an eye out for her and she certainly wasn’t going to sleep in the park. Looking across at the Royal Pier, she thought that was as good a place as any. There was no shelter, but it was quiet, away from the pubs.
It was too early to stake her claim to Southampton’s Royal Pier, however, so Lily strolled around the old walls and up the steps towards St Michael’s Square. She wandered past Tudor House and made her way to St Michael’s Church. The evening sun shone on the stained-glass window and the tall spire towered against the skyline. The heavy door was slightly open and she ventured inside.
She was immediately aware of a sense of peace and quiet. A pungent scent of incense hung in the air. Standing at the top of the aisle, she looked in wonderment at the tall ceilings, the graceful arches and, in the distance, the large gold-coloured cross standing on the altar.
Sitting in a pew, she felt a strange calm as she surveyed the surroundings. It was the first time she’d ever entered a church and she found it an awesome experience. This was the house of God. She knew that from the scriptures of her schooldays. God was never spoken of in the confines of her own home.
Would He want her here? she wondered. After all, hadn’t she committed a wicked sin with her father? Perhaps she should go – but she wanted so badly to stay. If only someone could tell her what she should do.
As if in answer to her thoughts, a quiet voice beside her said, ‘Good evening. I’ve not seen you here before.’
A middle-aged man dressed in a long black cassock stood beside her. His hair was greying at the temples and he had kind eyes. At Lily’s look of anxiety he said, ‘I’m John Page, the vicar.’
‘Is it all right for me to sit here?’ Lily asked uncertainly.
‘Of course, my dear. All are welcome in God’s house.’
Frowning, she said, ‘Even those who have sinned?’
‘Especially those who have sinned. If you’re worried about it, why don’t you pray and ask Him?’
‘I don’t know how.’
With a gentle smile he said, ‘Just talk to Him. That’s all a prayer really is. A conversation between you and God.’
Lily wasn’t convinced. ‘But someone might hear what I say.’
‘Then think your conversation in your head. Then it will be for God alone. I’ll leave you to it.’
She watched him walk towards the altar. He bowed, crossed himself and disappeared through a doorway at the side. She was alone.
Kneeling on the worn hassock, she put her hands together. ‘The vicar said it was all right to talk to You. I’m sorry that I have sinned, but You know it wasn’t my doing. I couldn’t help it.’ She paused as the thoughts tumbled through her brain. ‘I’d like to ask You something. If You’re really God, why didn’t you stop my father?’ There was no sound to be heard. I suppose God only talks to saints, she thought and, with a wry grin, muttered, ‘Well, that definitely lets
me
out … I’ve got a job,’ she continued, ‘but I don’t get paid till the end of the week. Please take care of me. I’m a good girl really. Thank You. Amen.’
That night, Lily slept outside the Royal Pier. She wasn’t molested or disturbed, but during the night it rained heavily. When she awoke, she was soaked to the skin.
Wringing out the water from her skirt, she looked up at the sky, shivering with cold and shook her fist. ‘I said take care of me, not bloody drown me!’
Lily kept her head down as she walked along The Ditches. She knew she looked a fright. Her shoes squelched with each step and tears of indignation pricked her eyes. Muttering angrily she said, ‘Bloody funny kind of God you are. What’s Mrs Cohen going to say when she sees me?’
Her concern was justified, for when she arrived at the shop, her new employer was appalled. Looking askance at Lily, Mrs Cohen raged, ‘And what do you mean, coming to work like that? You look like the wreck of the
Hesperus
.’
‘I can’t help it,’ Lily cried. ‘At least I came, and I’m early.’ She began to shiver.
Rachel hustled her inside the shop. Throwing a towel across to her she said, ‘Get out of them wet things and towel yourself down afore you catch pneumonia.’ She started sorting through some clothes. Seeing Lily hesitate, she snapped, ‘For heaven’s sake, girl, go on. I won’t look. After all, you ain’t got no different from me, ’cept yours is in better condition.’ She cackled at her own joke. ‘Here.’ She threw a skirt and jumper at Lily, and a pair of knickers. ‘It’s not for free, you’ll …’
‘Have to pay for them out of my wages,’ quipped Lily. ‘I know. I won’t
have
any bloody wages at this rate!’
Mrs Cohen hid a smile. ‘You don’t have to pay me all at once. So much a week will do.’
Lily let out a sigh. ‘What about my shoes?’ She held them out for inspection, almost ready to weep. She’d been so proud of them.
‘Give us them here and I’ll pack them with newspaper. They should be dry by tonight. You won’t need them working inside.’
Warm and cosy at last, Lily drank the cup of tea thrust at her by her employer. As she went to thank her, Mrs Cohen said sharply, ‘Can’t have you going sick. If you can’t work, you can’t pay what you owe me.’
Shaking her head, Lily said, ‘My, but you’re a hard woman.’ But in her heart, she knew it wasn’t true.
That evening, when she put on her shoes, they still felt damp, but at least they no longer squelched.
‘Where you sleeping tonight, then?’ Rachel asked suddenly.
‘With my aunt,’ Lily lied.
‘Like you did last night, I suppose?’
Lily met Rachel’s gaze unflinchingly. ‘That’s right.’
‘Your aunt’s place … got a roof, has it?’
Puzzled, Lily said, ‘Yes, of course it has. What are you getting at?’
‘It rained last night, girl. If you were at your aunt’s, why did you come here this morning soaked to the skin?’
‘It poured with rain when I left home.’
Mrs Cohen shook her head. ‘No, it didn’t. It stopped around six this morning. I know ’cos I was up. You’ve been sleeping rough, haven’t you?’
Lowering her gaze, Lily felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. ‘Yes,’ she admitted in a whisper.
Her employer tutted loudly. ‘Stupid girl. Don’t you know how dangerous it is out there? The place is full of foreigners, criminals, drunks and pimps.’
Lily’s eyes blazed. ‘Don’t you think I know that? Christ! Do you think I would have done it if I’d had a choice?’
‘It’s your drunken bastard of a father’s fault, all this. What was he thinking of, kicking you out?’ She saw the tightening of the girl’s jaw. ‘Well, that’s your business, but I’ll not see you on the street. You can sleep in the back of the shop.’
Overcome by such kindness, Lily could only stare at her benefactor.
‘Of course, I’ll have to charge you a bit for rent.’
Lily was indignant. ‘What do you mean, rent? There’s no bedroom, so what are you charging me for?’
‘The roof over your head, girl. The one what’s going to keep you dry, not like last night. I told you, you don’t get nothing for nothing in this world.’
Remembering her discomfort of the night before, Lily was silent.
‘Here,’ said Rachel. ‘There’s twopence out of your wages. Go and get a pie for your supper. I don’t want you starving to death on me.’
‘I’m surprised I’ve got any wages left.’
‘Go on, get off with you afore I changes me mind.’
Lily skipped off down the road singing. ‘Thank You, God,’ she cried. ‘You aren’t so bad after all.’
Lily was happy. In the three weeks since she’d worked for Rachel Cohen, she’d made many friends with the local traders. The man in the fruit shop was so captivated with her, he was always giving her ‘free samples’ as he called it, and one day the fishmonger asked her to go out with him. She refused him gently, so he wouldn’t be offended.
Each day, once she’d finished cleaning the interior of the shop, she’d go outside and assist her employer. The clothes on display were of a decent quality and business was brisk. Lily had a natural rapport with people and she made an excellent saleswoman. Mrs Cohen was pleased.
In quieter moments, Lily would gaze in the window of the pawnbroker’s opposite, looking at the jewellery on display, unclaimed by the owners. It would be nice to be able to afford such luxuries. She’d watch people file into ‘Uncle’s’ as it was known, pawning their precious belongings – for instance, their only suit – which they would then retrieve a few days later. It was a hard life for many, but she was lucky.
One day, as she was gazing at the jewellery, Abraham the pawnbroker came to the door. ‘Vat you looking at, Lily?’
‘All these wonderful rings and brooches. Are they real diamonds?’
‘Some are. You vant to try some on?’ He ushered her into the shop.
She was fascinated by the stock inside. There were musical instruments, old furniture, paintings, military uniforms, medals and old coins. ‘It’s like Aladdin’s cave, Mr Abraham.’
‘Vell, you know how it is. Some people need the money more than the stuff.’ Abraham looked over his glasses at her. ‘I’m here to do the needy a service, my dear.’ But she knew that he made a good living out of other people’s misery. ‘Here, try on this diamond ring.’