Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [30]
Beth was still in her soot-blackened nightgown, but Mrs Craven had gone round to her daughter’s to see if she had some clothes to lend. It had brought Beth up sharply to discover that most other people had just two sets of clothes, one for everyday and one for best. She’d been fortunate to have five or six dresses and it had never occurred to her that this was unusual.
The fire was completely out now. Mr Craven had been to inspect and said the entire staircase had caved in, the windows had exploded, and the frames and interior doors had all burnt out along with the furniture. The shop below was completely gutted too. Mr Filbert hadn’t arrived yet, but when he did he was going to have a tremendous shock.
Mrs Craven arrived back from her daughter’s soon after Sam left for work. ‘This is really shabby,’ she said, pulling a very worn and faded green dress out of her bag. ‘It’s the only thing my Cathy could spare, but it should fit you. There’s these boots too.’
Beth looked down at the boots and saw the upper on the right one had partially come away from the sole; they were also two sizes too big for her. But at least she had something to put on.
‘I was supposed to go to Falkner Square today,’ she said. ‘Should I still go?’
‘Of course you should, you can’t afford to lose that job now,’ Mrs Craven said a little sharply, as if she’d already begun to regret taking Beth and Sam in. ‘Now, take a bowl of water in the other room and have a good wash. You’ve still got soot smuts on your face.’
By the time Beth got to Falkner Square she had a blister on her foot from the overlarge boots.
‘Beth!’ Mrs Bruce exclaimed as she came limping into the kitchen. ‘What on earth has happened to you?’
As Beth told the story she began to cry. Mrs Bruce made her sit down and gave her a cup of tea and her undivided attention.
‘So that’s why I look the way I do,’ Beth finished up, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. ‘I don’t know where we’re going to live or how we’ll manage. We had such a lovely time yesterday at New Brighton, I really thought we’d turned a corner and everything was going to be better.’
Mrs Bruce gave her a pat on the shoulder. ‘I am so sorry, my dear, it must have been a terrible shock to you. But for now I suggest you take those horrible boots off or the blister will just get worse. You get on with the laundry and I’ll talk to you later.’
That sounded very much as if the housekeeper thought Beth had wallowed in self-pity for long enough, and however wretched Beth felt, she knew keeping this job was all-important. She took her boots off and got on with the laundry, almost glad to see a huge pile for it would take her mind off her problems.
It was after twelve when Mrs Langworthy came out into the backyard as Beth was hanging out the last of the washing. She looked very lovely in a pale green and white dress, her red hair fixed up on top of her head with a couple of tortoiseshell combs.
‘Mrs Bruce has been telling me about the fire, Beth,’ she said in a concerned tone. ‘I am so very sorry.’
‘I daresay I’ll get over it,’ Beth replied. She really didn’t want to play for sympathy and it was enough for her that the mistress had come to speak to her.
‘But where will you live?’ Mrs Langworthy asked. ‘It’s very difficult when you have a baby to consider.’
‘We’re all right for the next couple of nights with our neighbour. We’ll get somewhere at the end of the week when Sam gets paid.’
‘I can imagine the kind of places on offer when you are desperate.’ Mrs Langworthy pursed her lips in disapproval. ‘I really can’t bear the thought of it, so I want you to take the rooms above the stable. They’ve been empty since my father-in-law had his stroke and we dispensed with our coachman.’
Beth could only stare at her mistress in amazement.
‘I didn’t put you down as a girl with nothing to say for herself.’ Mrs Langworthy laughed lightly.
‘I’m sorry, mam,’ Beth said quickly. ‘I was just that surprised. I can