Rainy Days for the Harpers Girls. Rosie Clarke

the back door and walking into the kitchen of her home, Marion’s heart sank. It had been one of Ma’s bad days. On her better days, she made a little effort to tidy up, do washing or ironing or make their tea, but from the look of things, she’d done nothing.

      ‘Where is Ma?’ Marion asked of her sister. Kathy was still at school but helped as much as she could before and after school hours. Marion could see that she’d given the younger ones a bit of bread and dripping for their tea. ‘I thought we had some sausages?’

      ‘Ma left them on the table while she went out to hang a towel on the line,’ Kathy said. ‘She only left the door open a moment and next door’s dog swiped the lot…’

      ‘That damned dog,’ her younger brother said and wiped his snotty nose on the back of his sleeve. ‘I’m hungry, our Marion, and I don’t like dripping…’

      ‘Nor don’t I…’ chimed in five-year-old Milly.

      ‘Well, you will bloody well have to put up with it,’ Robbie said and glared at no one in particular. ‘I bought them sausages wiv me last shillin’ and I was lookin’ forward to havin’ one fer me tea wiv a bit of mash…’

      ‘I bought a tin of corned beef in my lunch break,’ Marion said, sensing a row brewing. It had been meant for the following day, but she would have to find something else for that if she could scrape up enough from Ma’s change pot. ‘Kathy, help me do the spuds and, Robbie, you and Dickon can cut the corned beef – thin slices and no pinching a bit or there won’t be enough to go round…’

      ‘Cor, I love corned beef,’ her elder brother grinned at her. Robbie was a good lad. His work down the wood yard on the docks brought in nine and sixpence a week, which was an excellent wage for a lad not quite sixteen years old. He spent every penny of it on food for the family, leaving Marion to cover everything else their father’s meagre wage did not supply. Mr Kaye worked away on the ships and came home for a couple of nights every few weeks. He gave his wife a third of whatever he’d earned to keep his family while he was gone and spent the rest on drink and fancy women. At least that was what Ma had told her eldest daughter.

      ‘That devil ruined me health and me life,’ she’d once told the then fifteen-year-old Marion when feeling so ill she thought herself about to die some two years previously. ‘I’m no use to you kids, so you’ll have to be mother, lass – but don’t let that devil near yer or you will end up like me…’

      Even at that tender age, Marion hadn’t needed to be told what her mother meant. In a house with walls so thin that every sound could be heard, she’d listened to her mother’s cries for some peace when her father was at home.

      ‘Sure, you’re an unfeelin’ woman, Kathleen,’ Bill Kaye had accused his wife. ‘I wonder why I married yer – but the red hair had me fooled. I thought there was some fire in yer, but yer a milksop. If yer won’t do yer duty, yer can’t blame me if I go astray…’

      Bill Kaye had at that time worked on the docks as a ship’s carpenter, but he’d signed on to sail with a merchant ship that traded at various ports in Europe and in Britain and his work now kept him away from his home and his wife’s bed. He took out his anger on all of them by giving his wife a clout whenever he felt like it, and his children stayed clear or caught his fist on the side of the ear if they got in his way.

      Marion’s eldest brother Dan had joined the merchant navy as soon as he was sixteen, lying about his age because he looked older. He’d been home only twice since and both times given his family presents and ten pounds, which he’d pushed into Marion’s hand.

      ‘You’re the only one in this family with any sense,’ Dan had told her. ‘Take care of them, Marion, and I’ll help yer as much as I can…’

      ‘You’re a good brother, Dan,’ Marion had replied. She would have hugged him but knew Dan couldn’t stand to be touched. She wasn’t sure why then, except that her father had gone after one of the other dockers once and hammered him with his fists until the man couldn’t stand. After Dan left home, Marion’s mother had hinted that one of the dockers had physically abused him in a way that was shameful. He’d come home crying as a lad of ten years and his father had stormed off in a rage to deliver punishment to the man that had abused him. Bill Kaye had been arrested by the police but let off with a warning after they discovered what his victim had done to the young boy. One of the police officers said he didn’t blame him and he’d have done the same in his shoes. Dan had said it was the only time his father had ever done anything for him, adding that it still didn’t make him a decent father. Marion hadn’t understood as a child, but she did now and she felt sympathy for her brother’s hurt and humiliation.

      ‘I wish you’d come home, Dan,’ Marion had told him when he’d given her money from his wages. ‘It would be easier if you were here with us…’

      ‘Nah, I’d knock Pa’s ’ead orf or bleedin’ try,’ Dan said angrily. ‘I can’t stand the way he treats our ma, Marion. It makes me savage because she just lets him walk all over her as if she’s a doormat…’

      ‘If she stands up to him, he hits her,’ Marion said and saw the nerve flick at Dan’s temple. ‘She doesn’t have a choice, because if he left her, she couldn’t feed us or keep a roof over our heads. We’d have to go in the old poor house what the Sally Army run nowadays – or live on the streets…’ Bill Kaye was the head of his family and his wife had few rights. If she’d left him, he wouldn’t have paid her a penny, even for the children, so she had no choice but to stay and take whatever punishment he handed out. None of the other children were strong enough to stand up to him, even though Marion had tried to reason with him when he was sober. They all knew that they had to stay clear when he’d been drinking because he didn’t care who he clouted then. Marion sometimes wished he’d stay away and never return, because the few pounds he brought home were not worth the pain he inflicted on his family.

      ‘I’ll never marry unless I can give a woman a decent home and enough money to feed and clothe her and the kids properly…’ Dan had vowed furiously, his eyes sweeping round the damp walls that crumbled if you hit them too hard and the dirty cobbled floor that was never clean even after Marion scrubbed it until her hands were raw. The one tap over a shallow sink only had cold water; water for washing and cleaning had to be heated in the copper in the scullery. It made the work twice as hard for their mother, whose health had steadily been deteriorating since the birth of her last child, who, poor mite, had not even drawn breath.

      Marion cooked some cabbage and the potatoes, then mashed them with a scraping of marge, some salt and pepper and served her brothers and sisters first before sitting down to her own portion.

      ‘Has anyone been up to see Ma?’ she asked as she ate her meal.

      ‘I went up as soon as I got home,’ Robbie said. ‘She told me to go away. I asked if she wanted a cup of tea and a bit of toast. She said she wasn’t hungry and to leave her alone.’

      ‘I’ll go up in a minute,’ Marion said. She looked at Dickon. ‘You can help Kathy do the washing-up – Robbie will you bring in some wood and coke for me please? I’ve got some washing to do and I’ll scrub the kitchen floor if I can manage it after you’ve all gone up…’

      ‘I already lit the fire under the copper fer yer,’ Robbie said. ‘I knew yer would wash the clothes since Ma hasn’t…’

      Marion finished her meal and got up, taking her plate to the sink. There was never any wasted food in her house, everything was cleared from the plates and she knew the lads could have done with more. She could offer them bread and jam and Robbie would probably help himself if he was hungry. As long as he left her a slice for her lunch the next day, she didn’t mind. They all knew that food was precious. You didn’t waste it and you ate only your share or someone else went hungry.

      Leaving her siblings to wash the dishes and saucepan, Marion went up to her mother’s bedroom. She could smell the sourness of vomit and her stomach curdled, but she braced herself. It wasn’t Ma’s fault she was so ill. Marion didn’t know if it was her father’s