I heard one girl whisper,
“Cor, look at that rarzo, looks like a torch!”
Then one of the girls giggled and I felt myself blushing furiously. The girl next to me gave me a reassuring smile and I felt much better.
“What’s your name,” I whispered.
She paused, “Marie” she said, and I realised that she stammered a little and was very aware of it.
“My name’s Betty,” I said.
She smiled once again and nodded her head, as if to say ‘we’ll talk later’.
When the playtime bell rang, we all had our small bottle of milk and then went into the playground. I followed Marie out and asked her all sorts of questions about the school.
“It’s not too bad, you’ll get used to it,” she said.
I told her where I had just lived and where I was now living.
“You live quite near me, have you any brothers or sisters?” She asked.
“No, I have no one” I said solemnly.
“I have six brothers and I’m the only girl. Isn’t that terrible? I’m the youngest too, so I have to do the washing-up being the girl of the family,” she said.
“Aren’t you lucky Marie, look at all the boys your brothers know that you can play with,” I cried.
Marie looked at me and said, “Would you like to come home with me after school Betty?”
“I’ll ask my Booba” I said. “She might not let me though, you come with me and ask her if I may.”
“OK”, said Marie, “I’ll come with you.” And so I found a friend, one who is near and dear to me to this day...
I took Marie back to Booba’s house and pushed her into the living-room. My grandfather was still making cigarettes and I saw Marie’s eyes open wide.
“He makes them for all the weddings and banquets and rich people,” I said proudly showing off. Phoebe then walked in and I said to Marie,
“This is my Aunty Phoebe,” and I touched my head.
“Booba, can I go to Marie’s hose, it’s not far, she lives upstairs the laundry, and she’s Jewish and she’s got six brothers,” I rambled on and on.
“Go, Go,” she said, then muttered a couple of curses under her breath. I looked at Marie.
“Do you understand Yiddish, Marie,” I asked, holding my breath. “No, she replied, “my family don’t speak it.” Thank God for that, I thought.
“Come on then, let’s go. Won’t be long Booba, bye bye.”
The first thing I noticed when we reached Marie’s street door was a piece of string hanging down inside the letter-box. Marie pulled this string and the door opened like magic. Apparently the string was attached to the latch and when tugged, lifted the latch out of the lock.
“Don’t ever tell anyone about this Betty, otherwise we’ll get robbed,” she said.
“Course not, Marie” I said, “I won’t say a word about it.”
We entered into a long narrow passage which had cardboard boxes stacked high along the walls. We had to squeeze our way through to the stairs.
“What’s all this for, Marie?” I said.
“Oh, my dad sells linens in the market and we keep all the stuff down here” she said.
We went upstairs and in to a large room, and I saw Mrs Mundy for the first time. She was a tiny woman, plump and her eyes shone, sparkling like Marie’s. Marie told her mother all about me and Mrs Mundy looked at me and said,
“You can come here any time, Betty, it must be lonely for you at home with no one to play with. I’m glad my Marie has a nice friend like you dear.”
And from that moment on, I loved her. I sat down on the sofa and looked around. The chairs were piled high with all sorts of coloured towels, hankies, aprons, oh so many things. It was wonderful to see. I’d never seen so much stuff before, and my first thought was how lovely to just pick up a pretty apron when one likes and use any towel whenever you fancy. Little did I know than that every piece of linen had to be sold to make ends meet to support a family of nine. Mr Mundy too was tiny with a pot belly and very hard of hearing. He used to carry an ear horn about with him, and when I really got to know him I would tease him. For instance, I would say,
“Did you shut the street-door Mr Mundy?” And the answer was,
“Oh yes, the meat is a bit raw.” Marie and I would giggle away.
The boys of the Mundy family were a handful for any mother. They were the most humorous lot of kids I ever met, always jolly and forever kissing their mother and lifting her up into the air like a little baby. The eldest was Mac. He went to work and was the serious one of the bunch. Marie and I were always in awe of him because he was the eldest and was always studying figures and accounts, so we had to be quiet.
Then there was Toby. He too was at work and had a wonderful dry humour that would reduce me to tears. I always had a red-tipped nose which had a perpetual drip, and consequently I was forever sniffing.
Toby would greet me with, “Hello snotty rarzo, you’ll stop the traffic one day, you’ll see.” But despite that they all loved me as I loved them, and Toby was the one who we always confided in. He used to take us for walks and teach us quite a lot about general knowledge.
Then there was Mick, Harry, Lionel (he was my dreamboat ooh!) with long lashes over deep brown eyes, and then there was little Norman.
A lovely bunch of boys, full of fun without a care in the world. They all knew my circumstances and rather than humiliate me by giving me some pennies, they used to chorus,
“Go on kids” to Marie and me, “make us all a nice cup of tea and do the washing up and we’ll give you a penny a cup.” So I came out OK. Marie and I had about 4d. each and often we would go out and buy sweets and play. Ah! They were wonderful days of my childhood and I have a lot to thank the Mundy family for...
During this time, my mother came to see me once a month, and when the letter arrived saying she was coming, Marie and I would go to the nearby railway station and wait. It was lovely to see my mother again and each time she went away I would lay awake all night and cry for her. Marie knew all about my parents and very often my father would be at the school gate waiting for me. I hated seeing him because the first thing he did was to look down my earholes to see if they were clean. Then he’d ask me a hundred questions which I couldn’t and wouldn’t answer.
“Have you seen your mother? Where is she? Who’s she with? What’s she doing? Does she send you money?” By the time he said his goodbye I was a nervous wreck and ready to run away, anywhere. So, where did I run? Round to the Mundy house. It was there that I found joy and laughter and a woman who mothered me as though I was one of her own children...
My mother used to send my Booba money for my keep each week, and if that money wasn’t on time, I really went through hell.
“A mother you’ve got, oy vay, a poor orphan, that’s what you are.”
On and on I got it, all day, every day, until the few shillings arrived. Marie and I went in for our scholarships and needless to say I failed and Marie passed. She was a clever kid, scholarly. I was the opposite. I was sensible, worldly, but not clever. Marie went onto a high school and I missed her terribly. I saw her every evening and I sat watching her swotting over her homework.
“Marie, hurry up, let’s get out and play, hurry Mar.” I nagged her until she threw her pen and off we would go...
One day my Booba said to me,
“Betty, from now on you’ve got no mother, she’s dead.”
I started to cry. I was now eleven years old and thought that now I really was an orphan, only praying that some miracle would bring my mother back to me. I went to school and in the classroom I began to sob.
“What’s wrong Betty?” the teacher asked.
“My mother’s dead, madam,” I answered. She looked round at the girls and said,
“Girls, stand up and say a prayer for Betty, her poor mother has just died.”
They all stood up. I lifted my head and had the shock of my life. For looking into the glass door of the classroom was my mother waving at me! I rushed out and embraced her, crying
“Mummy, mummy, where have you been all the time?”
“I’ve been ill darling, and I couldn’t get away, but everything is alright now. Go back and I’ll see you after school.”
I went back to the class and was terrified of telling the teacher and pupils the truth in case I got punished, so, coward that I was, I told them that my aunt had come to see me, and never revealed the truth during the rest of my schooldays. I told Marie about it, and swore her to secrecy, but I never forgave my Booba for telling me such a terrible lie, and I grew up very embittered, hardly ever trusting anyone again...
Around this time during my second year at my grandparents’ house, we received a letter from my mother’s sister who lived in America, saying that she was making a trip to England, and would be staying with us for a couple of months. She was bringing her two children with her, Anita who was nine years old, and her son Joseph, nicknamed Sonny, who was five years old.
My grandparents went wild with joy and were already planning for their arrival. Booba told me that Phoebe and I would have to sleep on the floor whilst Lillie and her children slept in our bed, and that we’d have to like it or lump it. I didn’t care about that at all. I was agog with excitement and was dying to see my American cousins whom I had heard so much about. I told Marie all the news and she too got caught up in the frenzy of it all.
At last the great day arrived and Booba let me stay away from school. She went along to the station to meet them and I sat waiting with Phoebe by my side looking out of the window. After about two hours, a taxi pulled up outside the house and suddenly there was pandemonium.
Phoebe started screaming “They’re here, they’re here,” and I ran down the stairs to open the street-door. I think nearly all our neighbours must have witnessed that scene. My aunt got out of the cab, she was lovely and had on loads of jewellery and wonderful perfume. Then the two children stepped out. We all tripped upstairs and everyone started talking at once.
My aunty kissed me, and gave me a silver dollar. But I was too busy looking at my cousins to thank her for it. My cousin Anita was the most gorgeous looking girl I had ever seen. She was far taller that me, although only nine to my eleven. She looked about fourteen. She had long black hair to the waist, done in thick sausage curls. Black eyes with the longest lashes, a natural small black beauty spot, big white teeth and when she smiled, two dimples appeared. I just stood and stared at her, speechless. She was wearing a lemon organdie dress which was just like I had seen a bridesmaid wear, a lemon bustle on the back of it and in her hair was a huge bow to match. Her shoes were white buckskin and she was carrying a white handbag.
I averted my gaze and looked down at myself, feeling jealous. I wore an old drill-slip and a tattered blouse, with thick ugly black shoes and black stockings. My cousin Sonny was a handsome boy with thick tight curly black hair. He wore an American sailor’s uniform with a tiny Yankee sailor hat to match. In my eyes, they looked as thought they had just come out of a film studio. I couldn’t wait until Marie came round so that she could see them. When she finally did come, she too stood with mouth agape, just staring. After a while, when all the necessaries were said and done with, we took Anita and Sonny to the park and everyone stopped and stared at them. They were really outstanding and I felt rather proud that those two wonderful creatures were part of my flesh and blood. But during their stay I found out a lot. Anita was inclined to be catty and spiteful. She had been so spoiled and petted that she made everyone’s life a misery.
“Why can’t you say ‘caant’ instead of ‘carnt’ “, she’d say.
Why do you say ‘tomaartoes’ instead of ‘tomaytoes’ you silly old Limey.” She would taunt me so much until one day I started to cry so much that my aunt asked me what was wrong.
“It’s Anita, aunty,” I said, “I wish she’d stop picking on me.” My aunt was livid and gave Anita a jolly good beating which she thoroughly deserved.
“You wait my lady,” she said viciously, “I’m going to get my own back on you,” Anita said to me through clenched teeth.
“I’ll tell Grandma and she’ll beat you, you’ll see.” I lived in fear the next couple of days and was so afraid of her telling my Booba. But she didn’t, and after that I breathed easier...
Life was very hard for me then, literally and figuratively. I was an outcast in her house.
One day which will forever remain in my memory, we were all having tea and biscuits. Anita and Sonny picked out all the cream and chocolate ones, so I went to pick up one. Booba called me away from the table and said,
“Let them eat the biscuits, you can have a bag of biscuit crumbs.”
I felt sick to my stomach and held the small bag in my hand. Anita was no fool and noticed what was going on. She slipped a couple of biscuits into her pocket and when we were alone she gave them to me.
“I saw what happened Betty, and I’m ashamed of my own grandmother. She makes me sick!” Anita said.
“Don’t say that, Anita, she means well and wants you to have the best,” I said. From that day on we got on well together, Anita and I, and I found life a little easier. I must say that Booba did feed me well, though I had no luxuries or mother-love. If I wanted an apple I was only allowed half of one. It wasn’t because she was mean, only because we were so poor and couldn’t afford to buy things that weren’t essential. If my mother didn’t send any money, then my halfpenny a day pocket-money was stopped. But my grandfather always took pity on me and gave me a halfpenny, and I was grateful to him, and so life went on...
My Aunt and cousins returned home to America and once more the house was quiet and everything went smoothly...
When I was fourteen I left school. Grandmother’s one desire was to see me settled in a workshop and to take to dressmaking - that was her ambition. She had a friend whose daughter had a workroom in a small house nearby, so she took me along and sat me on a low stool near a dirty back window and showed me how to ‘finish’ dresses. That meant that I had to sew on hooks, buttons wherever necessary and tack down all pleats.
The work was quite easy, but the hours were long: eight in the morning to seven at night. For this I received 7/6d per week (38p). During these hours I was also errand girl and tea maker, so I was on the go all the time. There were eight machinists, a cutter and the two bosses and myself, all in the one room.
It was stifling and smelly and I hated it. But Booba wanted me to be a dressmaker - so I had to stick it out. Having no money I went to work in my school drill-slip and blouse and I looked about twelve. When I had worked there for about two weeks, we became very busy and I couldn’t cope with all the work. My boss asked me to stay behind each night on my own to help out. I thought of the extra shillings at once, so I agreed. One night, when I was on my own, my boss’ father came up to see me. He asked me how Booba was and I chattered on and on only too glad to have someone to talk with, when suddenly this old man came and stood behind me.
He put his arms round me and started to fondle my breast. I jumped up, very scared, pushing him away and ran out of the room horrified. When I got home I was shaking and sweating. Booba asked me what was wrong.
“Nothing’s wrong Booba, I don’t like the job and I’m not going back.”
I was afraid to tell the truth. I knew it was wrong for that man to touch me, yet I was too ashamed to tell my grandma about it.
“A grandchild I got. A lazy good-for-nothing grandchild I got, oy vay. Whey did her mother leave her to me, oy vay.”
She went on talking wildly and I sat there not saying a word, just feeling sorry for myself and wondering what was going to happen to me. I went to bed hoping that Booba would feel better in the morning, and praying that I would find another job quickly for the sake of getting a little peace...