Our Lizzie Read Free Page B

Stanley.”
    Lizzie walked outside into the hall where her brother was waiting for her. Only then did it occur to her that she didn’t know what had happened to her father. “What sort of accident was it?”
    â€œIt were that new dray horse. Dad said it were a bugger, but Mr. Beckins insisted on buyin’ it because it looked good. Somethin’ frit the damned thing and it trampled our Dad down in a corner of the stable yard before anyone could get to it.” Percy had seen the bloody mess below his father’s waist and knew with shuddering certainty that no man would want to live on like that. He could only be thankful that the horse had finished off what it had started and that his dad had died quickly of a massive blow to the back of his head.
    Lizzie looked round blindly. She hated to think of a horse trampling on her father. “It must have hurt him.”
    â€œThey said it were over very quick.” Percy suddenly leaned against the wall, feeling sick.
    She saw how close to tears he was, so put her arm round his waist. “I’ll brew us all some tea, shall I? I expect Mam’ll be glad of a cup, too.”
    In the kitchen, Eva was sitting at the table, with Polly cuddled up beside her and Johnny on her other side. For once, even clever Eva didn’t seem to know what to do. They all three looked at Percy, but when he just stood there, they turned a questioning gaze upon their eldest sister instead.
    Lizzie stepped forward and took charge. “You put the kettle on, our Eva. Polly, get out the cups an’ teaspoons. Johnny, you fetch the milk jug. We’ll all have a nice cup of tea. That’ll make us feel a—a bit better.” Her voice choked on the last word.
    After that, it was comings and goings, strangers knocking on their door, neighbours coming to see if they could help, some men carrying a coffin into the front room. Lizzie hated the idea of her dad being shut up inside a big box.
    For once, she was glad to go to bed. She hesitated in the hall, then whispered, “Good night, Dad!” not liking to leave him on his own.
    Years afterwards, Lizzie realised she’d suddenly and very painfully left her carefree childhood behind her that night. Afterwards, things were never the same. And she was never the same, either.
    *   *   *
    Gertrude Reed turned up for Bonamy Harper’s funeral in a brand-new motor car. As an affluent widow, she could afford to indulge herself in such luxuries—and the gardener was only too happy to drive her around.
    Afterwards she came back to the house and took a quick cup of tea with her nieces, questioning them about why her brother’s funeral had been such a shabby affair, with no one invited back for refreshments afterwards.
    Emma explained about the debts and the sale.
    There was a long silence, followed by, “You’ll have to come and live with me, then, I suppose. I can let the parlourmaid go and you two can take over her duties. She’s always been a flighty piece. Mind, I’ll expect the cleaning to be done thoroughly.”
    Emma tried not to let her indignation show. “We’re grateful for your offer, Aunt Gertrude, but we’d rather find somewhere of our own to live, thank you.”
    â€œYou can’t afford it on Blanche’s fifty pounds a year, and I’m not giving you any money. You’re used to living in some style and comfort, not dwelling in the slums.”
    â€œWe’re not used to that much comfort, actually.” Emma held her aunt’s gaze. “Father was very stingy with us towards the end.”
    â€œNonetheless, you’ll come to me.” Gertrude heaved herself to her feet and glared at them. “It wouldn’t be fitting for a Harper to live somewhere like Southlea.” She added sharply, “And I’d have expected a bit of gratitude from you, I would indeed. Beggars can’t afford to be choosers.”
    It was