‘Hmph!’ Peggy sat back in her chair. ‘I don’t expect Martha Selby’s making life any easier, is she?’
Rosie told her everything then; how Doug’s mother was interfering, trying to take charge of the boy; how Doug still hadn’t found them a place of their own, and how she suspected he wasn’t even looking; and, worse, how he was intent on claiming his rights this very weekend. ‘Honest to God, Peggy, I can’t stand the thought of it.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ she admitted. Ain’t you got no feeling for him at all?’
‘Well, of course I have. But I don’t love him… not like a wife should.’
‘Well then, to my mind, if you’ve got even the slightest feeling for him, it shouldn’t be too bad.’ Leaning forward, she confided, ‘It has to be better than having no fella at all.’
‘You’re right. It’s not the end of the world. I expect I’m just nervous after the baby and everything.’ Rosie cast her mind back over the past year. Anyway, far worse things have happened.’
‘As for Martha Selby, I’m surprised you ain’t given her a right mouthful. Knowing you, I’m surprised you ain’t put the old bag in her place by now.’
‘It’s not that easy. She’s a cunning sort, and I have to be careful not to give her more opportunity to cause trouble between me and Doug. No, Peggy. If I’m to get a place of my own, it’s best if I play her at her own game. I’ve been thinking long and hard, and I reckon I’ll find a way. It’s just a matter of time, that’s all.’
The conversation took another turn when Peggy explained how she had been put on the stationery counter at Woolworths. ‘We miss you, gal,’ she said, ‘the others are always asking after you.’ Without waiting for a reply she gabbled on, curious about the christening and wondering if she was going to be a godparent. Rosie assured her she would be, and that the christening would likely be when the lad was three months old. She also explained how she’d wanted to call the boy after her own dad, but Doug was having none of it. ‘Every time I come up with a name, he finds something wrong with it. As for his mam, she’s intent on picking the lad’s name herself.’
‘You won’t let her, will you?’
‘Over my dead body!’
‘So, what will you call him?’
‘Doug and I have argued the point for a whole week now.’ Rosie chuckled. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ She looked at the child in his pram. ‘He’s a grand little thing,’ she said lovingly. ‘It’s not his fault if Martha’s hellbent on using him as an excuse to cause trouble.’
‘Martha won’t get her own way, and Doug will want his son to have a good manly name, so I don’t reckon you need worry.’ Rosie tended to agree, so they talked of more general matters, like Peggy’s new fashionable thick-heeled shoes, and Rosie’s astonishingly slim figure after the baby and all.
They were just two old friends catching up on gossip and enjoying the experience. After a while the baby started whimpering. ‘I’d best be off,’ Rosie apologised. ‘The lad needs feeding, and anyway I don’t want Doug getting home before me, especially if he’s had a drink or two and his mam’s fighting fit. That would really put the cat amongst the pigeons.’
Peggy’s mam emerged then. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing,’ she confessed with a cheeky little grin. ‘All men are the same. If you want a peaceful life, you have to let them be boss. As for his mam, you do right to think of playing her at her own game.’ She said something then that really caught Rosie’s attention. ‘In spite of what your fella says, he can’t have looked far for a house ’cause there’s one here… at the bottom of our street.’
Not realising the full impact her words had on Rosie, she then went on: ‘Martha Selby always did like having her own way… got a nasty streak in her nature, she has. And she was never popular, even at school. She used to argue and fight with everybody. But I will say one thing in her favour… she was never brazen like some of the lasses. What! She used to redden like a ripe tomato if a boy so much as looked at her.’ She laughed out loud. ‘Not that many of them ever did, because then, like now, Martha Selby was not what you’d call a pretty thing’
Having said her piece, Peggy’s mam returned to the scullery from where she instructed her daughter to: ‘Set the table, lass. Tea’s ready.’ Hearing their mam, the four children came rushing in from the yard. ‘Hey! Get in here and wash your hands, you lot.’ She lined them up against the sink. ‘Look at the state of you!’ she remarked. Their noses were running from the cold and their little hands was chapped by the cold. ‘What am I going to do with you, eh?’ she chuckled. Then, amid wails of protest, she made them wash their hands and face. And: ‘Don’t forget behind your ears, you little buggers!’
Rosie went off down the street, still chuckling. ‘God forbid that I ever have a little army like that,’ she muttered with some apprehension. It wasn’t that she didn’t like children. It was the idea of Doug fathering them she didn’t fancy. The cold air sharpened with the onset of evening, prompting her to dig out the headscarf from the pram and wrap it securely about her windblown hair. ‘By! That’s got chilly now, sweetheart,’ she told the sleeping infant.
The nearer she got to Artillery Street, the more she thought about what Peggy’s mam had said: ‘Your fella can’t have looked far for a house ’cause there’s one empty at the bottom of our street.’ That was more than enough to get Rosie’s hackles up. But what she had later revealed was even more interesting to Rosie, and it had given her the germ of an idea. ‘Well, well, Martha!’ she said, smiling to herself. ‘I just might have found a way to turn the tables on you once and for all.
* * *
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Doug was waiting for her as she turned the corner into Artillery Street. ‘It’s going on six o’clock!’ He was stiff with anger as he came towards her. ‘Our mam’s been bloody frantic.’
Astonished to see him home, Rosie did her best not to appear alarmed. ‘I can’t think why,’ she answered, her firm voice belying the angry knot in her stomach. ‘I’m quite capable of looking after our son.’ Turning round at the foot of the steps, she proceeded to pull the pram up backwards until Doug pushed her out of the way to lift the whole thing from the ground. Carting coal gave him the muscles of an ox.
‘I asked where you’d been?’ he insisted, taking the pram at a fierce pace into the parlour.
‘I went up the park, then I went to see Peggy. It’s been ages since I saw her. Anyway, I didn’t think you’d be home yet.’
‘Up the park?’ He glared at her. ‘Who in their right mind goes up the park when they can stay in a warm cosy parlour?
The row raged all the while she fed the child. It continued while Martha Selby went about setting the table, and it went on even while Mr and Mrs Selby sat down to eat their meal. Doug was in too much of a fury to eat, and though she had been looking forward to her meal, Rosie had quickly lost her appetite.
When Doug’s parents had finished their dinner, Martha slyly remained within earshot while Mr Selby did his usual vanishing trick and retired to the front parlour. Quiet and plain-faced, he was a big man with a broad back and a shrewd business brain. The complete opposite to his despicable wife, he was painfully timid, and whenever occasion allowed, escaped from the traumas of wedded life to read his beloved racing paper in the privacy of the front parlour.
‘When I get home of an evening, I want you here, do you understand?’ Doug ranted on. Still dressed in his work clothes, he was standing, legs astride, with his back to the fire, his fists clenched by his sides and the leather collar that protected his shoulders from the rough coal-sacks hanging loosely about his neck. The round staring eyes and fine film of coaldust over his face and nose gave him a comical appearance.
‘You tell her, son!’ encouraged his mam who was seated at the table now, pretending to sip a cold cup of tea. ‘Then get your wash and have your dinner while it’s hot.’
‘SHUT UP, MAM!’ He could handle one woman, but his mam was one too many.
&
nbsp; ‘Don’t speak to me like that.’ In a minute she was across the room and confronting him. ‘I’m only saying she deserves to be told, that’s all.’
‘Yes, and it’s me that’ll do the telling. I’ve had more than enough of your bloody interference!’
‘Well, sod you… and sod her… and the pair of you can get out if that’s how you feel!’
‘Aye, and we will. Don’t you worry. Soon as ever we find a place, we’ll be off.’
Rosie was amazed, wondering whether she was hearing things. The idea of Doug and his mam going at each other like that was unthinkable. Wisely, she remained very still, sinking deeper into the chair and hoping they would forget she was there. But it was too much to hope for.
After the heated exchange, there was a moment of shocked silence when mother and son realised how the row had escalated. ‘You mustn’t talk about leaving this house, son,’ Martha cooed, brushing away imaginary tears. As long as me and your dad’s alive, this will always be your home.’
He was sullen for a while, but then he answered, ‘I’m sorry, Mam. You’ve been good to us, and I don’t mean to be ungrateful. It’s just that I’ve had a hard day.’ He didn’t mention that he’d lost a deal of his wages on a foolish bet.
Suddenly his mother pointed at Rosie. ‘It’s all her bloody fault!’ she cried, glaring at her daughter-in-law who went across the room to gather the child into her arms. ‘See how cunning she is… setting us at each other’s throats like that?’
‘Leave it, Mam.’ His cold eyes studied Rosie’s slim attractive figure as she bent over the pram. He hadn’t forgotten. Tonight, he would hold her in his arms and make love to her. The thought made him shiver inside.
His mother opened her mouth to complain, but he silenced her with the promise, ‘It won’t happen again, Mam.’ Smiling, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘Now then, can a man have a minute alone with his wife?’
Sensing his intention to paw her again, Rosie gently laid the child in his pram and began clearing away the used dishes from the table, until she felt a vicious poke in the arm from Martha. ‘Get away from my table! I don’t need your bloody help.’
Rosie was incensed. ‘And if you did, you wouldn’t ask, would you? Why don’t you tell him the truth, Martha? You don’t want me in this house, do you?’
‘No, I don’t. To tell you the truth, I think our Doug could have done a lot better for himself.’
Rosie laughed at that. ‘It wouldn’t have mattered who he brought home, you wouldn’t have liked them, because you want to keep your precious son all to yourself. Well, you’re welcome to him.’ Suddenly the child began screaming. ‘But you’ll not get your hands on this little chap,’ she warned, grabbing the child to her and rocking him back and forth. ‘Much as you’d like to!’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that, my girl. Anybody can see you’re not a fit mother… keeping a lad of that age out ’til all hours. Poor little sod, he should have been in his cot an hour since.’
‘Leave it, I said, Mam.’ Doug stepped between them. ‘Can’t you find something to do upstairs?’ His meaning was clear.
One glance at her son’s grim face cautioned Martha not to show too much of her loathing for his wife. There were other, more deceitful ways to oust her. All right, son,’ she agreed sweetly. With that, she went out of the door and into the passage. Here, she went noisily up the stairs, stopping halfway and stamping her feet a few times on the step before creeping down to sit with her ear pressed to the crack in the parlour wall. From here, she could hear everything.
‘Don’t take too much notice of our mam,’ Doug pleaded. ‘She don’t mean half of what she says.’ He was worried that the ugly scene would mar his first night of love in a long time.
Rosie wasn’t easily placated. ‘She means every word, and you know it. I’m just a lodger here, and she can’t wait to be rid of me.’ The child was quiet now, but still fretful. Rosie lowered her voice. ‘That doesn’t worry me, because I can’t wait to get out either.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.’
Regarding him with hard brown eyes, she accused, ‘You say you’ve looked everywhere for a good house to rent?’
At once he was on his guard. ‘That’s right.’
‘You’re a liar!’
‘Who the hell are you to call me a liar?’
‘Peggy’s mam told me there’s a house on the corner of Castle Street. Did you enquire about that?’
He looked away. ‘I don’t need other folks to tell me where there’s property!’
‘And I don’t need you lying to me!’
Spinning round, he grabbed her by the arm. ‘I’ve said I’ll find us a house, and I will. But not on Castle Street.’ Outside on the step, his mother grinned widely.
‘And why not? It’s a good house, and the rents are reasonable.’ She wouldn’t be put off. Not this time. ‘Or is it because I’d be too close to Peggy, eh? Has it come to me not being allowed a friend, HAS IT?’
‘Don’t talk bloody daft.’ Stroking her arm, he lowered his voice. ‘I’ve arranged to meet somebody down at the pub. We’ll talk about it later, eh?’
‘We’d better.’
He stiffened. ‘Hey! Watch your tongue. I’ve said we’ll talk about it, and we will.’ Tonight, he’d do anything to pacify her. But talking was one thing. Moving to Castle Street or anywhere else was another! All this bloody arguing’s got me down. Tell my mam I’ll have supper when I get back.’ Another minute and he was gone from the room.
Turning at the front door, he caught sight of his mother hunched on the stairs. For a minute she looked alarmed, but when he went away chuckling, Martha believed she’d won the day.
Returning to the parlour, she told Rosie smugly, ‘You’ll never get him to leave his mam. Doug knows where he’s best off.’
‘Oh?’ Taking the child into her arms, Rosie settled herself into the chair by the fire. It was time for the baby’s feed. Undoing her top button, she slid out a plump firm breast. The child latched on to the nipple and began to suck. ‘Don’t underestimate me, Mrs Selby,’ she said boldly. ‘Doug and I will be leaving this house before the month’s out.’
Martha Selby had been clearing the table, but now she paused to look down on Rosie’s lovely face. Her gaze fell to the exposed breast. It was the first time Rosie had fed the child in full view of her. ‘Cover yourself up!’ she snapped, her face reddening with rage. ‘Have you no dignity?’ Seeing Rosie giving birth was one thing but now, suddenly reminded of Rosie’s beauty, she became incensed.
Delighted, Rosie undid another button and eased the breast further out. Normally, she would never have been so shameless, but baring her breast to Martha was all part of her little plan. ‘I have as much dignity as the next woman,’ she declared. ‘It’s just that I don’t seem to have as much titty.’ With great deliberation, she stroked her breast towards the nipple, encouraging the milk to flow. ‘We’re not all blessed with big breasts, are we, Martha?’ she insinuated, momentarily glancing at the bulky outline beneath Martha’s pinafore. ‘My milk must be strong though, because he’s always satisfied.’ Looking away so she wouldn’t be seen to be smiling, she asked innocently, ‘Was Doug always content with your milk?’
‘I don’t remember.’ Martha deliberately clattered about as she put the dishes one on top of the other. ‘Anyway, I don’t think it’s the sort of thing I should discuss with the likes of you,’ she snarled. ‘Save your cheap talk for your friend Peggy.’ All the same, she couldn’t help but glance at Rosie once more. ‘Disgraceful!’ she muttered, shaking her head. ‘Exposing yourself like that.’
Aware that she was being watched, Rosie squeezed the nipple between finger and thumb until the milky fluid flowed over, oozing out of the baby’s mouth and running down its chin. ‘Doug loves my breasts,’ she remarked with feeling. Looking up, she smiled into Martha’s eyes. ‘You need never worry that he’s not all man,’ she said meaningfully. ‘Because I can tell you that he is.’
A short time later, when she went into the scullery to put the kettle on for his wash, Martha fled into the parlour. When Rosie mixed hot and cold water in the biggest saucepan and set it on the rug, Martha set about polishing the sideboard like her life depended on it. After the child was stripped and laid on a towel, Rosie leaned over him, her blouse still loosely open and showing her slight cleavage. Normally, at her grandson’s bathtime, Martha would stand behind Rosie, barking out instructions and generally making a great nuisance of herself. But this time she busied herself, rushing back and forth, before disappearing into the scullery where she noisily washed the crockery in the sink.
Rosie was immensely proud of herself because this was the very first time she had been allowed to bathe her own son without a barrage of criticism from her mother-in-law. And it was deeply satisfying. ‘I’ve got your measure now, Martha, you bugger,’ she muttered as she carried the child upstairs to its cot. Recalling the look of embarrassment on her mother-in-law’s red face when she saw the bare breast and flowing milk, then the horror when Rosie had hinted at how ardent a lover Doug was, she collapsed on the bed in fits of laughter. ‘At last I know how to get the better of you!’ she chuckled. ‘And you’d best watch out, because this is only the beginning!’
* * *
It was almost midnight when Doug got home. Coming into the bedroom, he was pleasantly surprised to find Rosie ready and eager for him. For hours she’d waited for him to enter the front door, and when he did, she quickly flung open the big window, then stripped off her nightgown and got back on the bed.
In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Rosie looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her. Stark naked, she was stretched out on top of the eiderdown, her thick brown hair fanned out on the pillow and her long legs slightly open. ‘I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart,’ she murmured. Her dark brown eyes smiled invitingly.
More Than Riches Page 5