Keep the Home Fires Burning. Anne Bennett
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the woman’s eyes were kind and she was very understanding when Marion explained the difficulties she was having. When she had filled in the claim form she was awarded an interim payment of fifteen shillings to tide her over to the next week.
‘And then what?’ Marion asked.
‘If your Separation Allowance is not worked out by that time, you must come back,’ the woman said. ‘We will continue to help you till the Government steps in.’
‘I am most grateful.’
‘These are hard times for everyone,’ the woman said. ‘But the one thing many of our servicemen are worried about are the families they have left behind. We try to help to relieve some of that stress for you and your children, and also for your husband.’
‘She’s right as well, ain’t she?’ Polly said as they made their way home and Marion told her what the woman had said. ‘I think that our soldiers and sailors and that have enough to worry about facing the enemy without worrying about how their families are faring.’
Marion nodded. ‘And she was such a kind and sympathetic woman.’
‘Yeah,’ Polly said. ‘The bit I saw of her she seemed genuine enough, for all she was a bit posh, like. I think they’re all volunteers ? that’s what the woman down the yard said, anyroad. Too rich to need paying for a job like normal folk.’
‘I don’t care who they are,’ Marion said. ‘They have saved my bacon for this week at least, and some of this is going to pay off my rent arrears.’
‘Yeah, that’s sensible,’ Polly said. ‘But keep some back.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Marion said. ‘I need to buy coal – we’re nearly all out. I will give the rent man the least amount I can get away with.’
Despite the help Marion received from the SSAFA, the rent man pressed her for more money than she wanted to pay, and with the coal bought there was very little left.
‘Go back,’ Polly advised, when she popped around to see Marion. ‘Tell them what you had to pay out.’
Marion shook her head.’I couldn’t. I would be that ashamed, but I am down to my last shilling.’
‘Well,’ said Polly, ‘the only way to get quick cash is to pawn summat.’
Marion felt as if a lead weight had landed in the pit of her stomach and she remembered her boast that she had never crossed the doorstep of a pawnbroker’s. She felt tears of shame and humiliation prickle the back of her eyes but she brushed them away impatiently. There was no allowing herself the luxury of tears.
‘And what should I pawn?’ she asked.
‘Well, you can start with the old man’s clothes,’ Polly said. ‘Most women in your position would have pawned his suit before he’d passed the end of the street.’
Marion was aghast. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘Course you can,’ Polly said dismissively. ‘He’ll not be wanting his stuff at the Front, will he? Anyroad, it’s his fault that you’re in this mess.’
Marion remembered the day that Bill had bought that suit. In the Bull Ring a two-piece suit cost two guineas; a three-piece, two pounds and ten shillings.
‘He wanted the waistcoat so that he could wear his watch,’ Marion told Polly, laying it out on the bed.
Polly extracted the watch from the waistcoat pocket. ‘Good watch, that.’
‘It’s gold,’ Marion said. ‘It was Bill’s father’s and Bill is almighty fond of it.’
Polly shrugged. ‘Might have to go despite that,’ she said. ‘But it would be better to take that in on its own, not mixed in with a pile of clothes. That way you’ll probably get more for it. Now, what about his second-best suit that this one replaced?’
‘No,’ Marion said. ‘I was going to cut it down for Richard – he’s fast growing out of the one he has now – and any extra material I was going to save to patch Tony’s trousers. He goes through the seat of those more often than I have hot dinners, and I’ll not send him to school like some poor souls with their bottoms nearly exposed.’
‘All right, we’ll leave the second-best suit and the watch for now,’ Polly said, pulling out more of Bill’s clothes to lay on the bed.’This is a sizeable bundle anyway.’
‘I’m really nervous,’ Marion said.’I’ve never been in a pawnbroker’s before.’
‘You’re luckier than most round these doors then.’
‘Not these doors,’ Marion corrected.’You never see anyone here taking a bundle to be pawned on Monday morning.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe none of their husbands thought it their duty to fight for King and Country to try and protect the rest of us,’ Polly said.’And while they’re doing that the bloody Government think a few measly shillings a week is all a woman needs to feed and clothe her family and keep them warm.
‘Now,’ Polly said as the two women left the house, ‘I usually go to Sarah Moore, but she can be a mean bugger, so we’ll try Jones on the corners of Wheeler Street and Clifford Street. He’s a bit stern-looking ? is a retired JP, I heard – but he is fair.’
Marion had always had an assumption that pawn shops were dark and rather seedy places but she was pleasantly surprised because Jones looked quite respectable from the outside. She had a surreptitious look round to see if anyone she knew was watching her before she went in the door, feeling sick to her soul that she had to part with Bill’s clothes in such a way in order for them all to survive.
Despite this, though, she thought the inside of the shop had an air of respectability about it and this was compounded by the very smart and erect white-haired gentleman who came to attend to them. As Polly had said, he was rather severe-looking, but his voice and manner were pleasant enough.
On the way down to the shop Polly had warned Marion what to expect, and Jones did just as she said and examined each article with a disparaging look on his face. Then he rubbed the material of the suit between his finger and thumb, and though he said nothing, by the look on his face Marion knew he didn’t think much of it.
‘I’ll give you ten shillings for the lot,’ he said eventually.
Polly gave a toss of her head. ‘Don’t make me laugh,’ she said. ‘That bundle is well worth a pound and you know it.’
‘They will be left on my hands,’ Jones complained.
‘That’s your business,’ Polly said. ‘I don’t care whether they are left on your hands or not. You are not getting a bundle like that for ten shillings.’
‘Well, I will not pay as much as a pound,’ Jones said. ‘Shall we split the difference and I will give you fifteen shillings? You can’t say fairer than that.’
‘Yes, I can,’ Polly said. ‘Seventeen shillings and sixpence and the bundle’s yours. That’s all I will settle for.’
Jones sighed heavily.’You will have me robbed between you all,’ he said, but he went to the till as he spoke and wrote out the pawn ticket.
‘It’s all a bit of a game to them,’ Polly said to Marion, as they walked away from the shop. ‘Their aim is to give you as little as they possibly can for what you are trying to pawn. Course, if you pawn your old man’s suit every Monday, like lots of women do round here, then you know what you will be offered for it, but with something like your bundle today, when he said ten shillings, I know that it was worth more than twice that amount.’
‘He still gave you only seventeen and six, though.’
‘I know,’ Polly said. ‘And I knew as well that that was as high as he was prepared to go and we’d have likely got less at Sarah Moore’s.’
Marion