Read Online Sins of the Father by Kitty Neale - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kitty Neale
Ads: Link
None at all.
6
Over three weeks had passed, and Emma was thinly slicing a large tin of Spam. She served it with fried potatoes mashed with cabbage, and as they all ate with relish she knew that afterwards they would be having the last of the preserved fruit. It had been wonderful to bring the food home, but the stock in Mr Bell’s pantry was growing low.
She would have to break it to them, but dreaded it. If her father let her keep more of her wages, she could buy extra food, but he insisted that she stumped up all but a few pence. Mr Bell had been true to his word, taking only five shillings each week towards the rent arrears, but gone too was her dream of fitting them all out with new clothes.
Emma had planned to leave once the arrears were paid off, but she had grown to love her job. With her employer out most of the day, she would fantasise that the house was hers–that insteadof occupying a cramped and spartan attic, she lived in luxury. The upstairs bathroom had been a revelation, with hot water flowing from the taps. Many times she’d been tempted to take a bath, but the thought of Mr Bell arriving home unexpectedly held her back. Lately she was getting to grips with the laundry cupboard, finding that when she went to get clean sheets for her employer’s bed, most of the linen had yellowed with lack of use. It had been a bit of a job to master the washing boiler and the mangle, but she had done it. Now each day fresh white sheets billowed like sails at sea on the washing line in the back garden.
As the weeks had passed she gained in confidence, and now when taking a break, she would sneak a book from the shelf, unable to believe that there were so many to choose from. They were all classics, but reading Charles Dickens had become a passion. At the moment she was engrossed in
Bleak House
and sometimes had to force herself to return to the chores. There had been times when she’d been tempted to sneak a book home, but knew that in the attic there’d be little privacy to read it, and anyway, she was fearful that her siblings would get hold of it, ruining the beautiful leather covers.
Nowadays, when Emma dusted the beautiful ornaments, or tackled the laundry or ironing, shedid it pretending that she was a lady, the bubble only bursting when Mr Bell came home. Emma had now seen how the other half lived and realised the stark contrasts when she returned to the attic rooms. After Mr Bell’s spacious house, the cramped conditions were emphasised, along with the smell of poverty. It bred in her a feeling of discontent, a yearning for something better, not just for herself, but for her brothers and sisters too.
There was a babble of voices and, seeing that everyone had finished their dinner, Emma spooned the last of the pears from the jar, saying as she handed them out, ‘Make the most of them. There aren’t any more.’
‘But I thought you said Mr Bell had loads of stuff in the pantry?’ Dick said.
‘He did, but with feeding seven of us, it’s soon gone down. All the fruit has been used, and though there are still some tins of Spam and corned beef, they won’t last long. It’s been lovely having this extra food, but we’ll be back to vegetable stew soon.’
‘Charlie is giving me a rise next week, and if Dad puts his hand in his pocket, maybe we could have meat regularly.’
‘Yeah, and pigs might fly,’ Emma said bitterly, ‘but it’s good of Charlie to give you a rise.’
‘Yeah, he’s a great bloke.’
‘Dad isn’t home yet so can I have his pears?’ Susan asked eagerly.
‘I want some too,’ Ann said.
Now that James and Archie were living downstairs, Ann was the youngest. Like Emma and Bella, she was pretty, but in a less obvious way. Her hair was brown, as were her eyes, but unlike Susan, she was a loving child and the least trouble. Emma smiled at her, saying firmly, ‘Neither of you is having Dad’s share. He’ll be hungry when he comes in.’
‘Huh, I doubt that. I
6
Over three weeks had passed, and Emma was thinly slicing a large tin of Spam. She served it with fried potatoes mashed with cabbage, and as they all ate with relish she knew that afterwards they would be having the last of the preserved fruit. It had been wonderful to bring the food home, but the stock in Mr Bell’s pantry was growing low.
She would have to break it to them, but dreaded it. If her father let her keep more of her wages, she could buy extra food, but he insisted that she stumped up all but a few pence. Mr Bell had been true to his word, taking only five shillings each week towards the rent arrears, but gone too was her dream of fitting them all out with new clothes.
Emma had planned to leave once the arrears were paid off, but she had grown to love her job. With her employer out most of the day, she would fantasise that the house was hers–that insteadof occupying a cramped and spartan attic, she lived in luxury. The upstairs bathroom had been a revelation, with hot water flowing from the taps. Many times she’d been tempted to take a bath, but the thought of Mr Bell arriving home unexpectedly held her back. Lately she was getting to grips with the laundry cupboard, finding that when she went to get clean sheets for her employer’s bed, most of the linen had yellowed with lack of use. It had been a bit of a job to master the washing boiler and the mangle, but she had done it. Now each day fresh white sheets billowed like sails at sea on the washing line in the back garden.
As the weeks had passed she gained in confidence, and now when taking a break, she would sneak a book from the shelf, unable to believe that there were so many to choose from. They were all classics, but reading Charles Dickens had become a passion. At the moment she was engrossed in
Bleak House
and sometimes had to force herself to return to the chores. There had been times when she’d been tempted to sneak a book home, but knew that in the attic there’d be little privacy to read it, and anyway, she was fearful that her siblings would get hold of it, ruining the beautiful leather covers.
Nowadays, when Emma dusted the beautiful ornaments, or tackled the laundry or ironing, shedid it pretending that she was a lady, the bubble only bursting when Mr Bell came home. Emma had now seen how the other half lived and realised the stark contrasts when she returned to the attic rooms. After Mr Bell’s spacious house, the cramped conditions were emphasised, along with the smell of poverty. It bred in her a feeling of discontent, a yearning for something better, not just for herself, but for her brothers and sisters too.
There was a babble of voices and, seeing that everyone had finished their dinner, Emma spooned the last of the pears from the jar, saying as she handed them out, ‘Make the most of them. There aren’t any more.’
‘But I thought you said Mr Bell had loads of stuff in the pantry?’ Dick said.
‘He did, but with feeding seven of us, it’s soon gone down. All the fruit has been used, and though there are still some tins of Spam and corned beef, they won’t last long. It’s been lovely having this extra food, but we’ll be back to vegetable stew soon.’
‘Charlie is giving me a rise next week, and if Dad puts his hand in his pocket, maybe we could have meat regularly.’
‘Yeah, and pigs might fly,’ Emma said bitterly, ‘but it’s good of Charlie to give you a rise.’
‘Yeah, he’s a great bloke.’
‘Dad isn’t home yet so can I have his pears?’ Susan asked eagerly.
‘I want some too,’ Ann said.
Now that James and Archie were living downstairs, Ann was the youngest. Like Emma and Bella, she was pretty, but in a less obvious way. Her hair was brown, as were her eyes, but unlike Susan, she was a loving child and the least trouble. Emma smiled at her, saying firmly, ‘Neither of you is having Dad’s share. He’ll be hungry when he comes in.’
‘Huh, I doubt that. I
Similar Books
