The Three O'Clock Ghost

Chapter 2 - Home

By now they were in their own street and passing the narrow terraced houses, each with a dimly lit window winking weakly out at the blackness. Chimney smoke filled their noses this time, and snatches of muffled conversations filled their ears, as doors opened and closed to shut the returning workers into their homes.

Matty opened the dark brown wooden front door, bowed low and said "After you, Ma" as he swept his arm like a footman escorting a lady into a carriage.

"We're home Pa!" called Charlotte. A cough replied followed by "My Poppet, Matty and Jenny. At last. Come in. Grandma's got supper on."

Pa was sitting on a wooden chair turned towards a small fire in a dusty grate in the stove. He had a patchwork blanket over his legs that Charlotte and her mother had knitted together after he first got sick.

Charlotte went straight over to him before taking off her shawl, and threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh Pa, I'm glad I'm back home with you!"

"Careful Poppet, or you'll knock me over!" he said as he kissed her forehead.

Charlotte's father was tall with dark wavy hair that always flopped over his eyes when he dozed off in his chair. He had the same brilliant blue eyes as Charlotte, which always sparkled, no matter how much the rest of his body felt faded. He was much thinner these days since the mill fever had got him, and although he was no longer able to work, in Charlotte's eyes he was still big and strong and she was sure he could run faster than anyone else's father.

The truth was that any activity at all made him breathless and weak, so he spent most of the day by the fire.

"You three look half starved" said Grandma as she turned from the table, wiping her hands on tatty grey apron that did a poor job of protecting her dress.

She leant over Pa as she reached for the pan on the stove, heating by the fire.

"Come on Joe, shift yourself or none of you will get any supper."

Pa scraped his chair back to allow his mother to squeeze in and pick up the pan with a thick cloth to protect her hands. Grandma looked too small to carry such a heavy object, but looks were deceiving with Grandma.

"Off and wash your hands you two" Ma said as she set the table.

Charlotte and Matty washed in some water from the kitchen sink.

"That's right," said Grandma as she put the pan on a trivet on the table and began to cut thick slices of bread, "wash away the muck from that place."

Pa slowly stood up, swaying slightly after sitting for so long, carefully folded the blanket and left it on the chair, and then sat on one side of the square table. Ma sat on another while Charlotte and Matty squeezed together on another side, leaving the last place for Grandma.

Grandma slopped the stew out into five dishes and for a moment, the steam prevented them from seeing the carrots and potatoes floating in the hot liquid.

"I got a ham bone cheap from the butcher, so eat it up and it'll fill you and warm you 'til morning" Grandma said as she gave each of them a chunk of bread.

The kitchen was always so cosy at suppertime. It was a small room, and the little fire, hot stew and five bodies huddled together soon made them forget about the cold winter world outside.

It was also the only time of day that the whole family could be together, as the children and their mother left the house at five in the morning, and Pa would sleep until later as the coughing usually kept him awake for much of the night.

Grandma looked after Pa during the day and kept the house scrupulously clean. She had always lived with them. Grandpa had died many years ago in an accident. Charlotte didn't know how. It was hardly ever mentioned and even then it was always referred to as "the accident". Somehow, Charlotte felt she couldn't ask, as Grandma always looked so sad when she thought about her husband, and Charlotte hated the thought of upsetting her lovely Grandma. So instead, she would hug her and change the subject.

"Did you go out today Pa?" Charlotte asked.

"Not today Poppet. It was a bit cold. Maybe tomorrow."

Charlotte knew he couldn't go out, but still hoped that one day he would magically get better and be able to join them again back at the mill. But she also thought to herself that he was better off being away from the place anyway. It was the mill that had made him like this and stolen away his youthful body, but nothing could steal away his mind.

She wished she could afford to buy him some paints because she knew he would be a wonderful artist. Pa was always creative. He had made the chairs and carved little birds into the legs. On the rare occasion that he helped Grandma, he would peel the potatoes into animal shapes and Grandma would tell him off for wasting the precious vegetables.

But all the wages went on "filling your bellies and putting clothes on your back," as Grandma put it. That is, what little money was left on payday after the clerk had deducted the rent and any fines that they had been unfortunate enough to incur.

Still, at least they had a proper house, and taps too. Not like Uncle Albert and Aunty Fran. From time to time Ma would tell them about her brother and sister-in-law, to try to make their lives sound less awful.

"Your poor Uncle Albert lives in a filthy room, cramped together with Aunty Fran and your four cousins. They only have that one room, not like us. We have our parlour and two bedrooms. We have water. Where Albert is on the other side of town, four rows of these buildings share one privy. Last time I saw him, on Easter Sunday, they were on about knocking the lot down and building streets like ours. But nothing has happened yet. Poor souls". Ma always looked sad when she thought about her only brother. Charlotte hardly ever saw her cousins. Days off were few and it was a long walk across town.

The parlour, as Ma called it, was a little room that was "just for best". Charlotte didn't know what "best" was, as they never used it.

Ma and Pa had the front bedroom while Grandma had the back bedroom. Charlotte and Matty topped and tailed in one bed in Grandma's room.

"Time for bed Matty and Charlotte," said Ma. "It's late. Get a wash and hurry up those stairs." Ma was yawning herself. "I'll be up soon to tuck you in, and then I'll go to bed myself. I'll not stay awake much longer."

"My poor Jenny," said Pa, stroking her hand as it rested on the table top. His eyes softened as he looked at her and smiled in that special way that he saved only for Ma.

This always made Charlotte smile too.

"Can we have a story Pa? Please!" Charlotte begged.

"Yes Pa, please!" echoed Matty.

"What do you think Jenny?"

"Oh, you two are terrible. You'll be tired in themorning." Ma tried hard to sound commanding but it was impossible. "Go on, butjust a short one. I mean it!"