The Urchin's Song by Rita Bradshaw Page A

narrow bigoted way of looking at things, and Betty laughing her way through life like an idiot. How they irritated her! They all irritated her - her brothers, and her half-brothers and half-sisters. All except Barney, of course. He was different from the others, you could hold an intelligent conversation with him, and he was the only one of her brothers with the gumption not to blindly follow their da down the pit.
    Prudence became aware of Pearl looking at her, her friend’s finely arched brows raised in amused understanding. Pearl was well acquainted with Prudence’s views on her family; moreover she shared them with regard to Betty and Frank although she’d always been very careful not to express her disdain in front of Barney.
    Prudence straightened her scowling face quickly; there’d been a warning in Pearl’s eyes too. Don’t rock the boat, it had said. Keep everything sweet and hunky-dory tonight. They might be senseless clods but we know what we’re doing, you and I. And what they were doing was removing Barney from her da’s and Betty’s influence. Pearl would make something of Barney; she’d always wanted him and had played him like a violin for years. This thought carried mixed emotions. Reluctant admiration that her friend could keep up the pretence of being all sweetness and light when Prudence was well aware there was another side to Pearl, and faint guilt regarding her brother. But Pearl would make sure Barney got on, Prudence comforted herself quickly. He’d soon be living in the smart little house in St James Street which overlooked the park, and which Pearl’s mam and da had insisted on doing up and furnishing throughout as their wedding present. And that was just the first step as far as Pearl was concerned. She wouldn’t rest until Barney left the concrete works and joined her uncle who managed Ginnett’s Amphitheatre in Northumberland Road. Big business, the halls.
    ‘So, Frank . . .’ Prudence was brought back to the conversation in front of her by Pearl’s father’s heavy patronising tones. ‘We will have a little do back here then after the church, and provide a bite and such. Can’t have folk saying me only daughter had a dry wedding, now can we?’ He gave a hearty smile. ‘But me and Marjorie’ll stand it - you and Betty have got enough to do with your brood.’ He made it sound as though they were animals in a farmyard.
    ‘Me an’ Frank’d like to do our bit, Stan.’ This was from Betty and her voice was politely aggressive. ‘I’ve already iced the weddin’ cake like I’ve told Marj an’ I’ve a mind for plenty more bakin’.’
    ‘You don’t have to, Betty. Really.’ Marjorie Harper was a small, neatly dressed woman who always spoke in what she fondly imagined was a refined voice but in reality was merely annoyingly quiet and stilted. ‘We can lay on whatever is necessary. Pearl is our only one, after all.’
    ‘Mouldy bun? What’s a mouldy bun got to do with anythin’?’ Frank was somewhat deaf due to a fire-damp explosion at the pit in his youth which had taken his best friend and three brothers, and consequently found what he termed ‘that blasted woman’s whisperin” intensely aggravating. ‘We’re discussin’ a weddin’ here, aren’t we?’
    Prudence closed her eyes for a moment as her face flamed with embarrassment. Her da! She wished - oh, how she wished - it was her leaving the menagerie in Spring Garden Lane in a few days’ time. How would she stand it after Barney was married? Still, Pearl had consoled her by telling her she’d be welcome to call at any time, and she’d do just that. Anything to escape home. And one day she would escape for good. That was what all the careful saving of the last years was looking towards.
    Seven years she had been working at the laundry, ever since she’d left school, and she’d had three rises since then but she still paid Betty the same as when she’d first started. Even when her da had been laid off