Bad Girls Good Women. Rosie Thomas

When they emerged, Oxford Street stretched invitingly on either side of them.

      In the beginning, it had been a huge adventure, and they had felt delighted with themselves. They started by looking for work, and they both found jobs at once. Mattie camouflaged her bruises with Pan-Stik make-up and was taken on as a junior assistant in a shoe shop. Julia had learned to type as part of her commercial course at school, and she presented herself for an interview as a typist in the accounts department of a big store. The supervisor set her a spelling and comprehension test that seemed ridiculously simple.

      ‘That’s very good,’ the woman told her, looking surprised. ‘I’m sure you would be useful here. When would you like to start?’

      ‘Tomorrow,’ Julia said promptly.

      The words accounts department made her think of her father. She had often looked at him and wondered how he could go off every day, year after year, to the same dull, meaningless job. It’s only for a little while, for me, she told herself. Everything is going to happen, soon. After the interview Julia walked out into the street, and she saw the sunshine reflecting off the shop windows like a greeting. I can work, she was thinking. I can keep myself. I don’t have to ask for anything.

      It was a moment of intense pleasure.

      Julia could feel her freedom, like expensive scent or floating chiffon, drifting around her as she walked. It was as though she had already travelled a long, long way from home.

      When she met Mattie later, they were both almost dancing with triumph. ‘How much?’ Mattie demanded.

      ‘Eight pounds a week.’

      ‘And I get seven pounds, ten shillings. Thirty bob more than the last place. We’ll be rich.’

      It was more money than either of them had ever had before, and they told each other incredulously that they would have that much to spend every week. They bought some sandwiches and a bottle of cider to celebrate, and picnicked in Trafalgar Square. When they had drunk the cider they sat and beamed vaguely at the tourists photographing the fountains.

      ‘The next thing is somewhere to live,’ Mattie said.

      ‘A flat,’ Julia agreed, tipping the bottle to make sure it was empty. ‘Simple, but elegant. Mattie Banner and Julia Smith, at home.’

      The difficulties began after that.

      They found jobs, but the days until they could expect to be paid stretched awkwardly ahead of them. The landlords of all the flats they went to see demanded rent in advance, and deposits, and the girls couldn’t muster even a fraction of the money. The ones who didn’t ask for money eyed the two of them suspiciously, and asked how old they were. Mattie always answered defiantly, ‘Twenty,’ but even so the rooms turned out to be let already.

      They stayed in the cheapest hotel they could find, and scoured the To Let columns of the Evening Standard every morning as soon as the paper came on the streets, but by the third day they still hadn’t found anywhere that they could afford. The first euphoria began to evaporate. Friday morning came, and as they were leaving the grubby hotel on their way to work, the manager waylaid them. He announced that it was time for them settle their bill to date, handing the folded slip of paper over to them. It came to much more than had reckoned for, and even by pooling all their resources they were only just able to meet it. They were left with a few shillings between them. Julia smiled brightly at the manager to hide her concern.

      ‘And how much longer are you planning to stay with us?’ the man asked.

      ‘Oh. Two, perhaps three more nights. Just until we’ve found ourselves a nice flat.’

      ‘I see.’ The manager examined his nails, and then he said, ‘I’m afraid that I shall have to ask you for a deposit on your room. The weekend is our busy time, you see. We do have to be quite sure …’ He broke off, the picture of regret.

      ‘How much?’

      ‘Five pounds. That will cover both of you, of course.’

      ‘Oh, of course.’

      There was a pause. At last Mattie said desperately, ‘We’ll let you know this evening.’

      ‘No later than this evening, then.’

      As they scurried away to the tube station Mattie burst out furiously, ‘He knows we haven’t got it. The miserable bugger.’

      ‘You can’t blame him.’ Julia was practical. ‘We’ll have to ask them at work to pay us for these two days.’

      ‘It still won’t be enough.’

      ‘It’ll be better than nothing, won’t it?’

      Mattie grinned at her suddenly. Her bruises were fading, and it no longer hurt her to smile. ‘Don’t worry. Something’ll turn up.’

      They parted at Oxford Circus and went their separate ways.

      Julia waited until her supervisor came back from her dinner-break, and then mumbled her request.

      ‘Oh no, dear, I don’t think we can do that. You have to work a full week first. Your money will come next Friday, with the three extra days, which will be nice, won’t it? Otherwise it makes it too complicated for the payroll people, you know. Is there some trouble, dear?’

      Julia hesitated, but she was too proud to confide in this wispy, middle-aged stranger.

      ‘Oh no, I just wanted to buy something, that’s all.’

      ‘Well. I’m sure your parents will be glad to help it it’s something important. Ask your mother tonight.’

      Julia had told them at the interview that she still lived at home. It had seemed that kind of job.

      She went back to the typewriter, which she was already beginning to hate, and started to thump at the keys.

      ‘What did they say?’ Mattie asked when they met.

      ‘Nothing until next Friday.’

      ‘Oh shit. Mine’ll pay me tomorrow afternoon, though.’

      A whole night and a day to get through until then.

      They collected their luggage from the hotel. ‘We’ve found the perfect flat,’ Julia told the manager who came out of his lair to see them off. ‘Absolutely huge, and terribly cheap.’

      The truth couldn’t have been more different. They had divided their remaining change between them that morning, and they agreed that they would allow themselves one cup of coffee and a sandwich for lunch. When they found themselves outside the hotel with their luggage they were at a loss, and achingly hungry. They took a bus, the first one that came along because the manager was standing in the doorway watching them, and rode as far as a fourpenny fare would take them. When they reached the Embankment, they had just three shillings left.

      They sat on their bench for a long time, just watching the river. The sky faded from blue to pearl grey, with a green glow that deepened to rose pink behind the chimneys of Battersea Power Station. It would have been beautiful if they had had the heart to look at it.

      At last, the sky and water were completely dark.

      ‘We could go home,’ Julia whispered.

      Mattie turned her head to look at her. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘We can’t go back. I can’t.’ She drew her knees up and rested her chin on them, looking out over the river again. Julia wished that she had never said it, even if it was only to test Mattie’s resolve.

      ‘Something will turn up.’ Julia tried to be comforting, but their rallying cry had no effect this time.

      After another long silence Mattie said, ‘We’ll have to find somewhere to sleep outside.’

      ‘What about that park we walked through last night?’

      They had eaten fish and chips sitting on the grass in