Saturday 31st December

Ten o’clock a.m.

House thrown into uproar by loud thumping on front door and repeated ringing of the bell. Pa already gone out; Mama thoroughly discombobulated.

This turned out to be Mr Figgis, the confectioner from Bayham Terrace, who informed Mama – most emphatically – that we are 10s. 6d. in debt to his establishment and he ‘will not wait for the New Year, not on any account.’ The wretched fellow would not stop banging away at our door until half the street came out to gawp at the proceedings. Mama finally went back out and tried to placate him with the remains of the walnut cake; but this only seemed to rub sugar in the wound. 

The impudent rogue has now set up permanent camp on the door-step and says he will not leave without his money. Mama says she does not know when Pa will be back and that I cannot leave her unprotected.

12 noon

The confectioner still at his post; currently amusing himself by singing a bawdy song about tarts. I do not understand all the words but he is clearly no gentleman.

Now terribly peckish.

2 o’clock p.m.

Went out and spoke to Mr Figgis myself. He is a round-faced villain, with less than the customary ration of teeth. He said he would take five shillings and nothing less. I relayed this back to Mama, and she said that all was LOST and we should soon be back in THAT PLACE. I mustered all my wits and went back to parlay a truce. I asked Mr Figgis if he truly wanted to see a respectable family, a gentleman of good breeding, a mother and her six children, already buffeted by wave after wave of ill-luck and misfortune, wrenched from the warm bosom of society, and thrust quite unmercifully into GAOL. (I did not say ‘back’ into gaol, as that would not have sounded quite so respectable.)

He said that he ‘rather liked the sound of it’ and recommended that I ‘should write it up as a melodrama in two parts.’ 

The bare-faced toothless cheek of the man!

[note to self: could I be a playwright? I do rather like plays.]

Quarter past 2 o’clock

Proposed throwing slops over Mr Figgis. Mama said we would not descend to his level. I said, no, we would do it from the bedroom window; but she did not even smile.

Five o’clock p.m.

Pa returned – three shillings paid – Figgis retires – danger averted! But nothing in the larder for supper except mouldy cheese and biscuits.

Went round to see Sykes and cadged a saveloy. Mrs Sykes said ‘it was good to see our Will rubbing shoulders with a young man of such genteel family.’ 

If only she knew the half of it!