too old fer you, if you ask me.’
‘I’m not asking you, Mrs Hall!’ Letty turned on her before she could stop herself, and saw the woman’s face drop.
‘Beg yer pardon fer me audacity, I’m sure. I’ll say goodbye then, if yer don’t mind. I’m sure I didn’t mean ter intrude. Good day then, Mr Bancroft.’ She bustled past him and the bell swung wildly, the wind catching it as the door was flung open to close with as near a crash as the incoming draught allowed.
‘There was no cause ter be rude to ’er like that.’ Arthur Bancroft straightened up with an angry gesture, and saw his chance to get all that had bothered him off his chest.
‘She’s been a good neighbour ter me, ’elped me in me time of need, when me own family was only thinkin’ of nothink but themselves.’
He saw shock on her face. ‘That’s not true, Dad! I’ve stuck by you. I’ve done all I can for you, and you can’t sayI haven’t!’ But he gave her no chance to say more, the pent up feelings he himself could not completely understand pouring out in a torrent.
‘Is that what yer fine young man’s taught yer, ter go around being rude ter people who do their best er ’elp others in need?’
He advanced towards her, his face ravaged by as much anger as his normally placid nature allowed. ‘Fine manners. Fine ways. But when it comes down ter the milk of human kindness, then all ’e wants is what ’e can get – takin’ a daughter away from ’er father and ter hell with ’ow I feel, left all on me own, her mother ’ardly cold in ’er grave! That’s what yer want, ain’t it? Ter go off an’ marry ’im? Forget all about me an’ yer mother an’ the ’ome yer was brought up in. People round ’ere ain’t good enough for yer any more. Turnin’ up yer snooty nose at decent lads like young Billy Beans oo’s nearer yer age and could give yer as good an ’ome as he’d give yer, and ain’t tarnished by bein’ married before – making you second ’and. No ’e ain’t good enough. None of us is good enough. You want ter go off, tryin’ ter be what you ain’t. And yer never will be, don’t matter ’ow hard yer try.’
As he stood over her, she seemed to shrink. ‘Well, you ain’t goin’ ter go off with yer fancy young man. This is yer ’ome, where yer belong, where yer was born. You ain’t even proud ter be what you are, trying ter talk all la-di-da, fancyin’ yer luck! Well, he ain’t goin’ ter take you away from me. You ain’t twenty-one yet and you won’t get no permission from me.’
His daughter’s green eyes were blazing back at himfrom a mere few inches away. ‘Then I shall wait until I’m twenty-one!’ Even with her shoulders hunched forward, her chin thrust forward defiantly; even as she yelled at him like a fishwife, she sounded posh, the way she spoke in front of him , so practised that it had become second nature – as if she’d brushed her old life, like dirt, out of sight under the carpet. ‘It’s only two years away. I can wait that long. I won’t need your consent then.’
‘Yer won’t get me blessings neither!’
The words, thrown at her in anger, hit back at him with their true import, sounded as though he was disowning her. He didn’t want to disown her. He loved her, loved her dearly. Letitia’s face, twisted and ugly with fury, swam before his eyes in a mist. He was crying, tears flowing down his cheeks, unchecked. ‘Gawd ’elp me fer sayin’ that!’
Letty felt his arms go around her. Her reaction was instinctive as she clutched him. But her eyes were dry, the comfort of tears forced back by what he had said, words that would always stay with her. Yet she couldn’t blame him. They had come from a frightened man, a man made old by grief, though he was not old in years.
In the street she could hear the discordant confused jangle of the barrel organ that was nearly always drawn up outside the Knave of Clubs, jingling out a discordant tune: ‘I live in
‘I’m not asking you, Mrs Hall!’ Letty turned on her before she could stop herself, and saw the woman’s face drop.
‘Beg yer pardon fer me audacity, I’m sure. I’ll say goodbye then, if yer don’t mind. I’m sure I didn’t mean ter intrude. Good day then, Mr Bancroft.’ She bustled past him and the bell swung wildly, the wind catching it as the door was flung open to close with as near a crash as the incoming draught allowed.
‘There was no cause ter be rude to ’er like that.’ Arthur Bancroft straightened up with an angry gesture, and saw his chance to get all that had bothered him off his chest.
‘She’s been a good neighbour ter me, ’elped me in me time of need, when me own family was only thinkin’ of nothink but themselves.’
He saw shock on her face. ‘That’s not true, Dad! I’ve stuck by you. I’ve done all I can for you, and you can’t sayI haven’t!’ But he gave her no chance to say more, the pent up feelings he himself could not completely understand pouring out in a torrent.
‘Is that what yer fine young man’s taught yer, ter go around being rude ter people who do their best er ’elp others in need?’
He advanced towards her, his face ravaged by as much anger as his normally placid nature allowed. ‘Fine manners. Fine ways. But when it comes down ter the milk of human kindness, then all ’e wants is what ’e can get – takin’ a daughter away from ’er father and ter hell with ’ow I feel, left all on me own, her mother ’ardly cold in ’er grave! That’s what yer want, ain’t it? Ter go off an’ marry ’im? Forget all about me an’ yer mother an’ the ’ome yer was brought up in. People round ’ere ain’t good enough for yer any more. Turnin’ up yer snooty nose at decent lads like young Billy Beans oo’s nearer yer age and could give yer as good an ’ome as he’d give yer, and ain’t tarnished by bein’ married before – making you second ’and. No ’e ain’t good enough. None of us is good enough. You want ter go off, tryin’ ter be what you ain’t. And yer never will be, don’t matter ’ow hard yer try.’
As he stood over her, she seemed to shrink. ‘Well, you ain’t goin’ ter go off with yer fancy young man. This is yer ’ome, where yer belong, where yer was born. You ain’t even proud ter be what you are, trying ter talk all la-di-da, fancyin’ yer luck! Well, he ain’t goin’ ter take you away from me. You ain’t twenty-one yet and you won’t get no permission from me.’
His daughter’s green eyes were blazing back at himfrom a mere few inches away. ‘Then I shall wait until I’m twenty-one!’ Even with her shoulders hunched forward, her chin thrust forward defiantly; even as she yelled at him like a fishwife, she sounded posh, the way she spoke in front of him , so practised that it had become second nature – as if she’d brushed her old life, like dirt, out of sight under the carpet. ‘It’s only two years away. I can wait that long. I won’t need your consent then.’
‘Yer won’t get me blessings neither!’
The words, thrown at her in anger, hit back at him with their true import, sounded as though he was disowning her. He didn’t want to disown her. He loved her, loved her dearly. Letitia’s face, twisted and ugly with fury, swam before his eyes in a mist. He was crying, tears flowing down his cheeks, unchecked. ‘Gawd ’elp me fer sayin’ that!’
Letty felt his arms go around her. Her reaction was instinctive as she clutched him. But her eyes were dry, the comfort of tears forced back by what he had said, words that would always stay with her. Yet she couldn’t blame him. They had come from a frightened man, a man made old by grief, though he was not old in years.
In the street she could hear the discordant confused jangle of the barrel organ that was nearly always drawn up outside the Knave of Clubs, jingling out a discordant tune: ‘I live in
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