The Serial: The Green Years, Day 12

“Maisie felt her spirits rise. Change was possible, she realised. It was just that, sometimes, you had to have a bit of luck on your side

Maisie bit into her bacon roll. It really was the best thing for breakfast, she decided. “I was wondering if I could miss my board money for a couple of weeks,” Maisie asked. “I was thinking of doing up my room.” Maisie’s mother didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So that was what all this newfound energy was about. “You can do what you like with your room, Maisie,” she replied, raising her daughter’s hopes, “but your board money’s needed to keep the wolf from the door, so whatever you’ve got in mind, you’d better just forget it.”

Maisie felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over her. So much for her plan to become a new woman; she couldn’t even get her plans for her revamped bedroom off the ground.

“But it would only be for a couple o’ weeks,” she protested, “and I’d do it all myself.” Her mother held up a stopping palm.

“Sorry, Maisie,” she said, feeling remorse for the refusal but knowing how much the weekly board money helped keep them fed. “It just can’t be done.” Vanished Maisie pushed the uneaten egg roll away. Once again reality had kicked her dreams into touch and her appetite seemed to have vanished with them.

Fighting back the disappointment, Maisie forced a smile. She knew only too well how little money they had to live on. “Never mind,” she murmured. “It was just a thought.”

She turned to go. Maybe Chrissie would have some ideas. Changing your life wasn’t nearly as easy as Maisie had first thought but failing at the first hurdle wasn’t an option, she told herself, remembering the story of Robert the Bruce and the spider.

She’d keep trying, she decided shakily, until someday she’d get herself the new life she wanted.

“Are you not wanting that egg roll?” her mother called out after her, keenly aware that it wouldn’t go to waste. “You have it,” Maisie called back. “I’ve just put myself on a diet.”

It was with a heavy heart that Maisie knocked on Chrissie’s door later that morning. Grace Dalton opened the door and immediately knew something was wrong.

“What’s to do, Maisie?” she asked gently. “You look right fed up.” Maisie looked at the concerned face of Chrissie’s mother.

How different she was from her own mother but, then, Mrs Dalton’s life was very different. Her husband had a good job in Timex and there was never a fear of hunger in her house. How unfair everything seemed to her young mind.

“It’s nothing much, Mrs Dalton,” said Maisie, sighing. “It’s just that I wanted to pretty my bedroom up a bit, but mum says we can’t afford it.”

Grace Dalton hustled Maisie through to the kitchen. “I’ll let Chrissie know you’re here in a minute,” she said, “but, firstly, tell me all about it and I’ll see if there isn’t something can be done.”

She made up two glasses of orange squash for them and sat down opposite her daughter’s best friend. Maisie told Grace Dalton of her plans, of how she wanted to have a better life and how she couldn’t even improve her bedroom, never mind anything else. Essentials “What sort of thing were you looking for to improve your room? ”Grace asked. Maisie tried to sound positive as she disclosed her short list of essentials – bedspread, small table and lamp, basket chair and lampshade.

“Well, that doesn’t sound too demanding,” said Mrs Dalton, refilling Maisie’s glass. “Did Chrissie tell you I was in the WI?”

Maisie shook her head. “The WI,” she said, looking puzzled. “What’s that?”

“It’s the Women’s Institute and we’re having a jumble sale at Fintry Church Hall this Saturday. I’m running one of the stalls, so I’ll get to choose what I think will sell on my table and maybe I could look out for one or two things for you.”

Maisie couldn’t believe her ears. “But I don’t have much money,” she began. Grace Dalton laughed. “It’s a jumble sale, Maisie, not Draffens and we get all sorts donated.

“Now I’m not saying there will be anything useful for you, but I’ll certainly keep my eyes open.”

Maisie felt her spirits rise. So change was possible, she realised. It was just that, sometimes, you also had to have a bit of luck on your side, like knowing Chrissie and her mother.

“I’ll let Chrissie know you’re here,” smiled Grace Dalton, glad that she might be able to do something for Maisie. She knew the Greens and Joe Green’s health problems and thanked God for her own security. She was one of the lucky ones; she had a working husband.

Maisie decided she wanted to go home now and begin cleaning her bedroom.

“I’ll see Chrissie tomorrow,” she said, thanking Mrs Dalton, for the orange squash and for her kindness.

Grace Dalton saw her to the door. Jumble sale or not, she decided, Maisie Green was going to have what she needed to change her bedroom. As for her future, Grace pondered, maybe that too could change if, like her, she found a good man to love her.

It took Maisie the rest of Saturday and nearly all of Sunday before the big clean-up was finished. She’d washed the windows, washed and ironed and re-hung the curtains, scrubbed and polished the floor, and ended her task with a complete change of bedding, including the difficult washing of the candlewick bedspread which seemed to shed more and more of its tufts as it was rinsed. Determination Maisie’s mother looked on in amazement at her daughter’s determination. She didn’t know what had got into the girl but she liked the results.

She’d been meaning to give Maisie’s room a “going over” for weeks now but hadn’t had the energy. By the time she was finished, Maisie was whacked.

“Cuppa,” her mother suggested. Maisie nodded, almost too tired to speak. Maisie sipped the tea gratefully, accompanied by a digestive biscuit.

“You’ve done well, lass,” her mother said, filling her own cup and joining Maisie at the biscuit tin. “As a reward for all your hard work,” she continued, proudly, “keep next Friday’s board money for yourself.”

Maisie couldn’t believe her ears. “You mean it?” Mrs Green nodded. “We’ll manage,” she said, “just this once, mind, but I’ve talked it over with your dad. We’ll manage.”

Maisie could have hugged her mother and began to realise that if you worked hard enough and tried hard enough, good things did happen, even to her.

She’d meant to see Chrissie today but the only thing she managed was a bath and bed in her very neat, very clean bedroom. Satisfied with life and herself, Maisie fell asleep.

More on Monday.