sake, bring back some proper food.’
‘But - I don’t know how to pawn things.’
‘I’ll tell you. It’s not hard.’
She looked across at Harry.
‘I’m quite capable of keeping an eye on the brat while you’re out.’
So she went and pawned the ring, then went on to the market to haggle over a piece of fish. She no longer enjoyed going to market, or felt a triumph when she picked up a bargain. It was merely something you had to do if you were to afford food. Furtively she picked up from the ground some pieces of spoiled fruit, bruised apples which still had good bits in them. These could be stewed for Harry. She saw a woman watching her scornfully and tears came to her eyes, but she didn't stop picking up the fruit. Harry had to be fed.
By the end of the week, Robert had recovered enough to insist on dressing himself in some of his best clothes and going out in the evening to meet up with a few kindred spirits and maybe take a hand of cards. ‘Only I shall need some money for a stake.’
How she dreaded hearing those words! She kept silent as he looked at her.
‘I know you've still got some a few coins hidden away, or you wouldn't have managed all these weeks. I've always known about your little hoards. Roxanne's idea? I thought so. You wouldn't have thought of it yourself. Well, I don't mind. Comes in useful sometimes to have a reserve.’
Her voice was cold and she felt as though she were speaking to a stranger. ‘I can't spare anything for your gambling, Robert. We need it all for food. You've got some money left from the ring. Use that.’
‘Not enough. And if I don't make some money, we won't have enough to pay the fares to London so that I can find another job.’
Obstinately she shook her head. The thought of him losing everything they owned in the world made her feel sick with horror.
‘If you don't give it to me, I'll tear your things apart until I find it! Where do you keep it?’ His voice was quiet, but there was a sharp tone to it and the look he gave her was equally sharp. As she made no move, he shrugged and took a step forward.
She glanced towards her work-box, glad she’d stitched the coins into the lining.
He laughed aloud and went to pick it up. ‘The money’s in here, isn't it?’
Desperately she tried to take the box off him, but he pushed her away and tipped the contents onto the floor. He fumbled round the lining till he felt the coins and laughed in her face as the silver christening spoon and her last three guineas fell out. She had held on to the spoon through thick and thin, for it was not hers to sell, it was Harry's.
‘Clever girl! Just what I need!’ Robert put the coins in his pocket, picked up the spoon and studied it, then saw the expression on her face. ‘No, I think we'll keep that for a real emergency.’ He tossed it on the floor at her feet. ‘Just in case.’
Picking up his hat, he sauntered towards the door. ‘I can feel the luck. It’s starting to throb through my veins. Don't wait up for me!’
Dry-eyed, Helen picked up the spoon and cradled it to her breast. ‘You're not having this,’ she muttered. ‘Never.’ After a few minutes, she gathered up the threads and pins and bits of ribbon Robert had scattered over the floor and sewed back the torn lining of her box. From time to time, her eyes turned to Harry. The mere sight of him was a comfort.
Only when she had finished and arranged all the sewing materials neatly inside the box again, did she speak her thoughts aloud. ‘I've not been clever enough! Roxanne was right. I can only rely on money from now on. And myself.’
When Harry awoke, she fed him, for he was now weaned and becoming very active, on a piece of bread and butter and the last of the stewed fruit. Then she played with him for an hour, until he fell asleep. She could always put aside her own grief or anger when Harry needed her, and she made sure that the child had a lot of attention and love, from his mother at
‘But - I don’t know how to pawn things.’
‘I’ll tell you. It’s not hard.’
She looked across at Harry.
‘I’m quite capable of keeping an eye on the brat while you’re out.’
So she went and pawned the ring, then went on to the market to haggle over a piece of fish. She no longer enjoyed going to market, or felt a triumph when she picked up a bargain. It was merely something you had to do if you were to afford food. Furtively she picked up from the ground some pieces of spoiled fruit, bruised apples which still had good bits in them. These could be stewed for Harry. She saw a woman watching her scornfully and tears came to her eyes, but she didn't stop picking up the fruit. Harry had to be fed.
By the end of the week, Robert had recovered enough to insist on dressing himself in some of his best clothes and going out in the evening to meet up with a few kindred spirits and maybe take a hand of cards. ‘Only I shall need some money for a stake.’
How she dreaded hearing those words! She kept silent as he looked at her.
‘I know you've still got some a few coins hidden away, or you wouldn't have managed all these weeks. I've always known about your little hoards. Roxanne's idea? I thought so. You wouldn't have thought of it yourself. Well, I don't mind. Comes in useful sometimes to have a reserve.’
Her voice was cold and she felt as though she were speaking to a stranger. ‘I can't spare anything for your gambling, Robert. We need it all for food. You've got some money left from the ring. Use that.’
‘Not enough. And if I don't make some money, we won't have enough to pay the fares to London so that I can find another job.’
Obstinately she shook her head. The thought of him losing everything they owned in the world made her feel sick with horror.
‘If you don't give it to me, I'll tear your things apart until I find it! Where do you keep it?’ His voice was quiet, but there was a sharp tone to it and the look he gave her was equally sharp. As she made no move, he shrugged and took a step forward.
She glanced towards her work-box, glad she’d stitched the coins into the lining.
He laughed aloud and went to pick it up. ‘The money’s in here, isn't it?’
Desperately she tried to take the box off him, but he pushed her away and tipped the contents onto the floor. He fumbled round the lining till he felt the coins and laughed in her face as the silver christening spoon and her last three guineas fell out. She had held on to the spoon through thick and thin, for it was not hers to sell, it was Harry's.
‘Clever girl! Just what I need!’ Robert put the coins in his pocket, picked up the spoon and studied it, then saw the expression on her face. ‘No, I think we'll keep that for a real emergency.’ He tossed it on the floor at her feet. ‘Just in case.’
Picking up his hat, he sauntered towards the door. ‘I can feel the luck. It’s starting to throb through my veins. Don't wait up for me!’
Dry-eyed, Helen picked up the spoon and cradled it to her breast. ‘You're not having this,’ she muttered. ‘Never.’ After a few minutes, she gathered up the threads and pins and bits of ribbon Robert had scattered over the floor and sewed back the torn lining of her box. From time to time, her eyes turned to Harry. The mere sight of him was a comfort.
Only when she had finished and arranged all the sewing materials neatly inside the box again, did she speak her thoughts aloud. ‘I've not been clever enough! Roxanne was right. I can only rely on money from now on. And myself.’
When Harry awoke, she fed him, for he was now weaned and becoming very active, on a piece of bread and butter and the last of the stewed fruit. Then she played with him for an hour, until he fell asleep. She could always put aside her own grief or anger when Harry needed her, and she made sure that the child had a lot of attention and love, from his mother at
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