Free Polly by Jeff Smith Page A

of dinner.
    As I said earlier, Mum was a good cook and so, as usual, it was a gorgeous dinner (as long as you didn’t think of the state of the oven it was cooked in). After dinner Mum and Dad went to sleep, the other kids were sent off visiting, and I was detailed to do the washing up. When I went into the scullery the mess was awful. The fat had soaked into the sacking, people had been paddling in and out of it and then it had set solid. I was only a little kid and I had no idea what to do, so I woke up Mum. She wasn’t very happy about it but just fumed into the kitchen, picked up the sacks as they were and stuffed them into the dustbin. And that was that, except that nobody ever dared to mention goose in the house from that day forward.
    Well, that is not quite true. The postscript came some years later when I was going out with Fred. He won a goose in a raffle at work or something. One evening he came to see me, all happy and bright, told us of his fortune, and presented his winnings to Mum. Everybody in the house went silent. We all froze in terror, and waited … Mum just smiled, said how generous he was and thanked him most extravagantly.

13
Working Life
(1925–54)

    I remember starting work. I lay awake all through the night before praying. I was so scared. Of course, it was no problem and all of us had to do it, but I still remember the feeling. We left school at fourteen then so really I was only a kid at the time. We wouldn’t dream of sending kids out at that age now. Still, I suppose times change.
    My birthday came in August, which made me pretty young in my class. Because of the way the rules worked I had to go back to school after the summer holidays and I then left at the end of September. There were several of us due to leave and one morning, in assembly, it was announced that ‘All those leaving on the thirtieth of September must go to see the governess.’ We all trooped down to her room and lined up, then we were called in all together and lined up in front of her.
    â€˜I have been told,’ she said ‘that Clarnico wish to take on a number of school leavers. You should all go along there and you may have time out from school for this purpose.’ Clarnico was a rather high-class sweet factory over at Hackney, about 2 miles away. It was quite a walk but I suppose we didn’t think anything about it – in those days you walked everywhere.
    Anyway, off we all went. I think I must have gone home and Mum let me put on my Sunday dress, stockings and shoes. I was walking with Jenny because we were big friends. Suddenly she stopped walking and burst into tears. WhenI finally got her to speak she said that she couldn’t possibly get a job if she didn’t have coloured stockings. She only had the same ‘horrible old black ones’ that all of us had! She was in such a state over it, though, that I dug out all the money I had – it was thre’pence – and she added all hers to it – another three ha’pence – and we went into the drapers and bought her a pair of coloured stockings. She put them on under the arch of Carpenters Road railway bridge – I will always remember that. Coloured stockings had only just come in and they caused a terrible stir. I can remember Dad standing at the top of our stairs screaming to my mother at the top of his voice to ‘get her in, she hasn’t got anything on.’ From the top of our stairs you could see down through the open door into the street. And there was my older sister standing in the street feeling ever so fashionable in her pink stockings.
    â€˜If you want her in, you get her in,’ replied Mum, ‘and she has got stockings on.’ Dad was really scandalised though and kicked up a terrible fuss. It took ages for the atmosphere to cool down again.
    Anyway, we got down to Clarnico and went to the office. We sat there for a bit and then were shown down to the canteen. After a bit