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Authors: Annie Murray
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Tony and Billy. Flo told the boys to stay out and play in ‘Nanny’s yard’ and snapped at Tony when he tried to come into the house. A Mrs Price, one of Nanny Firkin’s neighbours, on hearing what had happened, asked if the boys would like to come into her house. She said she was sorry she hadn’t been in to see old Mrs Firkin, hadn’t had any idea how ill she was.
At that, Flo poured out her own guilt.
‘I never realized myself,’ she said to the woman. ‘She weren’t so bad yesterday – just a bit of a cough like. I’d’ve come earlier, only with it being washday and that I’ve ’ardly ’ad a moment to spare.’ Maryann watched her mom as she spoke. She was full of grim, pounding emotion. Was it true what her mom was saying? How could Nanny Firkin have not seemed ill if she was poorly enough to die?
She followed Flo back into the dark house. Flo lit a candle, her fingers trembling so much that she had difficulties handling the match, then, carrying the flickering light in front of them, they went up to Nanny Firkin’s bedroom.
‘Oh—’ Flo’s hand went up close to her mouth as she looked down at her mother. ‘Oh my word – fancy ’er going like that. ’Er heart must’ve given out. I’d never’ve thought . . .’ She looked across into Maryann’s reproachful eyes. ‘I ain’t stopped all day! I can’t be everywhere at once, yer know. I never knew she were this bad – anything like. She just ’ad a bit of a chest on ’er. I was only ’ere yesterday afternoon. You can’t say I neglected her – my own mother!’
‘I ain’t said a word,’ Maryann said stonily. ‘Did yer feed the cats yesterday, when yer come over?’
She saw her mother’s brows pucker in the candlelight. ‘No – I never thought. I mean, she were in bed, but I thought she’d been up and about . . .’
Clearly Nanny Firkin had been putting a brave face on things when Flo was there.
‘Anyroad – I’ve got more to worry about than sodding cats. Maryann – go and get the range lit and ask Mrs Price who’s nearest to lay ’er out . . . And Norman’ll ’ave to come . . .’
Maryann found another candle downstairs. There was a small amount of coal and slack in the coal bucket and she stoked the range, as she had seen her mom and dad do on so many occasions, standing over it to check it was burning. Then she went across to Mrs Price’s house. She felt numb and strange, suddenly, as if she were moving through a dream.
‘Oh, it’s Eve Leadbetter you need,’ Mrs Price told her. She gave Maryann the address, directing her to another house further along Ledsam Street.
Mrs Leadbetter was a strong, jolly-looking woman.
‘A death in the family, is it? Well, ’er won’t be going nowhere – give me an ’alf-hour and I’ll be over. Ask yer mom to ’ave some water ready.’ She looked down into Maryann’s solemn little face. ‘Yer nan is it, bab? I’m sorry for yer, that I am. Tell yer mom I’ll be over.’
As Maryann walked back across the old, familiar yard, she saw the shape of the house she’d known as her nan’s all her life. Maryann stopped, the biting cold and smokiness of the air hurting inside her nose. The moon was rising, half full, casting a white sheen on the slates. There was still a candle burning in the upstairs window, and another where she had left it on the table downstairs. It looked as if Nanny Firkin was in, going about her normal evening’s jobs. But she wasn’t in. Nanny wasn’t there, despite the frail old body lying stiffly in the bed upstairs. She would never be there any more to go to for comfort, to tell her about school, about Tiger and his antics as he was growing up . . . With a terrible jolt she remembered the earlier events of the day. Tiger was lying there in Nanny’s house, at the bottom of the stairs! And soon Mrs Leadbetter would come, and Norman would come – she would be sent to fetch him. No – she couldn’t stand any more.
The front door was ajar as
At that, Flo poured out her own guilt.
‘I never realized myself,’ she said to the woman. ‘She weren’t so bad yesterday – just a bit of a cough like. I’d’ve come earlier, only with it being washday and that I’ve ’ardly ’ad a moment to spare.’ Maryann watched her mom as she spoke. She was full of grim, pounding emotion. Was it true what her mom was saying? How could Nanny Firkin have not seemed ill if she was poorly enough to die?
She followed Flo back into the dark house. Flo lit a candle, her fingers trembling so much that she had difficulties handling the match, then, carrying the flickering light in front of them, they went up to Nanny Firkin’s bedroom.
‘Oh—’ Flo’s hand went up close to her mouth as she looked down at her mother. ‘Oh my word – fancy ’er going like that. ’Er heart must’ve given out. I’d never’ve thought . . .’ She looked across into Maryann’s reproachful eyes. ‘I ain’t stopped all day! I can’t be everywhere at once, yer know. I never knew she were this bad – anything like. She just ’ad a bit of a chest on ’er. I was only ’ere yesterday afternoon. You can’t say I neglected her – my own mother!’
‘I ain’t said a word,’ Maryann said stonily. ‘Did yer feed the cats yesterday, when yer come over?’
She saw her mother’s brows pucker in the candlelight. ‘No – I never thought. I mean, she were in bed, but I thought she’d been up and about . . .’
Clearly Nanny Firkin had been putting a brave face on things when Flo was there.
‘Anyroad – I’ve got more to worry about than sodding cats. Maryann – go and get the range lit and ask Mrs Price who’s nearest to lay ’er out . . . And Norman’ll ’ave to come . . .’
Maryann found another candle downstairs. There was a small amount of coal and slack in the coal bucket and she stoked the range, as she had seen her mom and dad do on so many occasions, standing over it to check it was burning. Then she went across to Mrs Price’s house. She felt numb and strange, suddenly, as if she were moving through a dream.
‘Oh, it’s Eve Leadbetter you need,’ Mrs Price told her. She gave Maryann the address, directing her to another house further along Ledsam Street.
Mrs Leadbetter was a strong, jolly-looking woman.
‘A death in the family, is it? Well, ’er won’t be going nowhere – give me an ’alf-hour and I’ll be over. Ask yer mom to ’ave some water ready.’ She looked down into Maryann’s solemn little face. ‘Yer nan is it, bab? I’m sorry for yer, that I am. Tell yer mom I’ll be over.’
As Maryann walked back across the old, familiar yard, she saw the shape of the house she’d known as her nan’s all her life. Maryann stopped, the biting cold and smokiness of the air hurting inside her nose. The moon was rising, half full, casting a white sheen on the slates. There was still a candle burning in the upstairs window, and another where she had left it on the table downstairs. It looked as if Nanny Firkin was in, going about her normal evening’s jobs. But she wasn’t in. Nanny wasn’t there, despite the frail old body lying stiffly in the bed upstairs. She would never be there any more to go to for comfort, to tell her about school, about Tiger and his antics as he was growing up . . . With a terrible jolt she remembered the earlier events of the day. Tiger was lying there in Nanny’s house, at the bottom of the stairs! And soon Mrs Leadbetter would come, and Norman would come – she would be sent to fetch him. No – she couldn’t stand any more.
The front door was ajar as
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