But the thought of her having a wedding at all made her smile. A big white wedding like she’d seen once or twice at St Mary’s in Weatherfield. For it was something she and Elsie talked about a lot, her big sister being adamant she wouldn’t set foot inside a church even for that. So maybe she should follow in Elsie’s footsteps. It wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, would it? Although, if she was honest, she would like to have a better job than her sister. It was true Elsie seemed happy enough in the textile factory, loading yarns on to the huge reels to be woven into different patterns of cotton fabric. But Fay had different ambitions. She was almost two years younger, she’d probably never be as big as Elsie, and she’d certainly never have Elsie’s striking looks, but then she would be happy working somewhere quietly on her own. She wanted to do a college course and become a secretary.
When she was about eight years old Fay had seen a Charlie Chaplin film at the local picture house about a bank secretary, and she had fallen in love with the idea of working in an office. As usual, she and Elsie had sneaked into the cinema through the door people usually came out of, after one of their mates had left the emergency bar on the latch for them. Near the end of the first showing of the main feature they had slid in and gone to sit in the cheapest seats so they wouldn’t be noticed while they waited until the film was shown again. She had eventually come out of the cinema, eyes blinking in the strong daylight, her mind full of the glamour of the important role the secretary had played within the bank and she had decided then that was what she wanted to do.
Fay liked the idea of working somewhere quiet and comfortably furnished, somewhere that was well organized and ordered. In the film and in offices she knew everything was neat and clean. The secretaries’ desks always looked so tidy and there was even room for a potted plant or two. She admired the stylish way all the girls she knew who worked in an office dressed, and the way they came out of work looking relaxed and unflustered. Most had a smart coat and a pert little hat. So different from the way Elsie and her workmates came pouring out of the hot, noisy and horribly smelly factories where they worked. They were swathed in overalls and shawls and had untidy headscarves covering their curlers. No, the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t wait to leave school, though she had no idea how she would manage to pay the fees to enrol into a secretarial college.
‘You don’t want to be fretting about that,’ Elsie had chided. ‘I’ll help you find a job so you can earn some money before you start.’
‘Could you?’ Fay was excited at the idea.
Elsie shrugged. Then she had suddenly looked serious. ‘Of course the old man mustn’t find out about it or you’ll end up with nowt. And our mam must think you’re still going to school, or she’ll make you turn your wages over to our dad like I have to do.’
‘Do you really think I could get away with it?’
‘You, young lady can do anything you set your mind to do. You’re pretty. You’re not too skinny and you’ve got all the best features our mam must have had when she was a lass.’
‘Do you really think so? Like what?’ Fay was surprised to hear her sister talk like that.
‘Well, for starters you’ve got our mam’s lovely brown eyes, but yours always seem to be smiling. And look at the way they match the colour of your hair.’ Elsie put a hand out to touch it. ‘And the way your hair curls without ever having to put it up in rags. I’m dead jealous. You don’t always have to drag it all back off your face, you know.’ She gave her sister’s ponytail a gentle tug.
‘I know but it keeps it out of the way.’
‘But there are lots of other things you could do to make yourself pretty. A bit of flesh on your bones, a spot of pink in your cheeks, rub some beetroot juice on to your lips and you’ll have all the lads chasing you before long.’
‘Nay, but I’m too small for anyone to want to bother.’
‘Don’t be so daft. You’ll grow. And soon. Though you wouldn’t really want to be as tall as me, now would you?’
‘One thing, I’ll never be as old as you,’ Fay retorted and both girls fell about laughing.
‘Seriously, Sis,’ Elsie said, you’re going to make something of yourself. I just know it.’ She smiled as she looked away into the distance. ‘The important thing is to hang on to the dream.’
Fay thought a lot about that dream and how she might be able to keep such a secret from her parents. She might even apply for the waitress job she had seen advertised in the café window in the centre of Weatherfield. As far as she knew, it wasn’t a place either of her parents frequented so she wasn’t likely to be found out. And though she had no idea what a waitress’s weekly wage might be, she began to picture piles of threepenny bits, sixpences, even shillings and the odd half-crown being added to the few pennies she already had in the biscuit tin that was hidden under the bed. She might even have some money left over to buy presents for her siblings: a pair of silk stockings for Elsie, a new toy car for Jack. Soon she’d be able to leave home and find a room to rent, like she’d read about in a book once at school. It all sounded so romantic and so grown-up; she couldn’t wait.
She was caught up in her dream while she was on her way to visit her best friend Valerie so she almost didn’t notice Elsie staring intently into the newsagent’s window on the other side of the road. But then she paused, wondering what her sister was doing. Fay was about to call out to Elsie to wait for her so they could walk home together, but before she could open her mouth she saw Bobby Mirren sidle up to her sister and cover Elsie’s backside with his large hand. Elsie looked startled and Fay’s instinct was to shout across to him to stop mithering and to leave her sister alone. But then she could see Elsie half turn and from the look on her face she seemed not to mind. Fay could only guess as to the exchange as she watched Elsie move Bobby’s hand away, but to her surprise the next thing she saw was the two of them sauntering off arm in arm.
Fay held back a little way but kept pace with them on the other side of the road, curious about where they might be heading. She was surprised when they stepped off the pavement and disappeared into some bushes behind the bus stop. Fay took the opportunity to cross the road. She kept herself out of sight and found a spot half hidden by the shrubbery where she could see them without being seen. They seemed to be kissing, which Fay found strange for she knew for a fact that Elsie didn’t particularly like Bobby. Hadn’t she told her so only the other day? Not only that, but she had been adamant that she preferred Eric Ross and would welcome the chance to let him know that she fancied him. But now, as Fay watched, it was Bobby who had his arms around Elsie and they seemed to be almost devouring each other with ever widening mouths. Even more surprising, Fay thought she saw Bobby’s hands slide inside Elsie’s coat as the two became more entangled and Fay wondered what Elsie could be thinking. Of course Fay understood about kissing, she’d even tried it once with Brian Morgan. But it had made her feel dirty and messy and it wasn’t something she was eager to try again. When she had told Elsie this, her big sister had laughed and told her not to worry about it for now. ‘Mebbe you’re a bit young yet. But you’ll be at it again one day before long, I promise you – and you’ll enjoy it too,’ Elsie had assured her. ‘But not before the time’s right, and the lad’s right too.’
Fay frowned. So did that mean Bobby Mirren was the right one for Elsie? Was she going to marry him? Suddenly Fay heard a shout, which she realized had come from her sister. She looked up to see Bobby pulling his hand out from under Elsie’s skirt. Elsie’s face was flushed as she patted down her clothing and rebuttoned her coat, but within a few moments they began kissing again, this time with even more energy. Feeling confused and not wanting to see any more, Fay crept away from her hiding place and started walking purposefully towards Valerie’s house. Maybe her best friend would be able to shed some light on it all. But in any case, she would talk to Elsie tonight. She’d have to tell her what she saw and she’d ask Elsie what it all meant.
Chapter 3
Elsie lay in bed on her back, her face throbbing, her eye and nose already puffy and swollen. It was too painful to lie on her side as she usually preferred to do. Fay was asleep when Elsie had finally come back home and crept upstairs, and now she was gently snoring, snuffling each time she turned over and trying to snuggle up close. Elsie was also aware of Polly, Ethel and Connie, who slept top to toe with them in the same bed, and she tried to push aside their feet which seemed as if they hadn’t seen soap or water for several weeks.
After being sick in the courtyard, Elsie hadn’t made it to the midden, she had fled the house and gone to seek refuge, as she usually did, with her best friend Aggie. She had stayed there most of the evening. As she had hoped, by the time she returned home both her parents seemed to be fast asleep downstairs, their bed pulled out from behind the front door, closer to the hearth, to make the most of the remains of any heat from the coal dust in the fireplace. Her father was on his back snoring loudly, as a result no doubt from having retrieved the money that had scattered from her pocket, and having spent it, as usual, down at the Three Hammers. Her mother had turned her face to the wall as she always did, so it was impossible to be sure that she was asleep, but from the irregularity of her breathing and the stiffness of her pose, Elsie guessed she was not.
She had crept up the stairs, anxious not to disturb anyone. It was a bitterly cold night and she slipped gratefully into her only nightgown, a winceyette passion-killer her mother had found in a jumble sale. Then she wrapped herself in an old woollen cardigan and climbed into bed. There was a fireplace in the room but as far as she knew it had never seen a fire, so she tried to snuggle more closely to Fay. She was congratulating herself on having avoided her father during the time he was at his most dangerous when she was aware of a noise on the stairs.
Elsie knew she was most at risk of further punishment within the first twenty-four hours after a supposed offence, and her father was more than capable of humiliating her with more than just his fists. Sometimes, when he’d had a skinful and if he caught her unawares … She knew what he did was wrong, and hated him all the more for it. He certainly hadn’t liked her behaviour tonight. She cursed under her breath. She had forgotten to wedge the old linen box against the door. She berated herself as she lay listening to the mounting footsteps. A hot wormy feeling crawled in the pit of her stomach as the sounds grew closer and she prayed that she would be able to hold down her meagre tea. She heard the final footfall stop outside the bedroom and then the groaning of the hinge on the rickety door. She closed her eyes, pretending that if she couldn’t see anyone then no one was there. But she could still sense a body had entered the room. And she could hear the harsh whisper, ‘Else.’ Her eyes flew open. ‘Else, are you all right?’ She couldn’t see her face but she could make out the silhouette in the moonless night against the sheet that acted as a makeshift curtain: it was Phyllis with her fists clenched.
Phyllis was shivering as she stepped inside the room and brought her face close to Elsie’s. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked again. ‘Only I heard you’d got batttered by the old man.’
‘Is that you, Phyllis?’ Elsie asked, relieved. ‘You frightened the life out of me. What the ’ell are you doing up at this hour?’
‘Sorry, but I couldn’t sleep. I was worried that he might come for you again.’ Phyllis paused, her pale and pinched features barely visible in the darkness of the shabby room. ‘I know what he’s like.’ Phyllis’s hand touched her swollen face and Elsie pulled back; the bruise was still tender.
‘Sorry I wasn’t here to help you,’ she said. ‘’Cos I would ’ave, you know.’
Elsie tried to smile, though it felt forced. Phyllis was one of the toughest kids in the family, maybe even as tough as Elsie herself, though she was barely into her teens.
‘Don’t worry, lass, I can look after meself. I’m all right and you’d best be getting back to bed before you catch your death.’
Phyllis lingered, and Elsie felt her sister’s cool hand clutch her own. ‘It’s not right, Elsie, what he does to us.’
‘No, it’s not, pet, but we look out for each other, don’t we?’
‘Aye,’ said Phyllis. ‘But I can’t take much more of it. I tell you, the first chance I get, I’m off.’
Elsie was shocked, ‘You’re talking daft. Where would you go at your age?’
Phyllis sounded defiant. ‘There’s plenty of places, places where Dad would never find us ’n’ all.’
‘Don’t do anything silly, Phyllis, promise me.’ Elsie squeezed Phyllis’s hand.
‘It won’t be silly – anything’s better than this miserable life. Anyway, so long as you’re OK, Else. G’night then. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Night, Phyllis. Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite.’ As Phyllis crept across the bedroom and quietly clicked the door shut behind her, Elsie lay wide awake, mulling over what her sister had said.
Chapter 4
It took longer than usual for the swelling to go down, by which time Elsie had made up her mind. She needed money. A second job. One that offered more than a quick grope and a few pleasures behind the shrubberies. But it also had to be one where the old man couldn’t get his hands on a penny of what she earned. What was the use in finding extra work if the money was only going to be poured down his disgusting throat? She couldn’t go on like this, starving for lack of a regular daily meal, watching the kids being whittled down to scarecrows. But she had no idea what she could do, for she had no particular skills. It was a pity she couldn’t get an office job like Fay had set her heart on, but she needed to work different hours. She couldn’t work during the day while she hung on to her job at the factory. She needed extra hours. Some kind of evening shift work like in a hospital or a factory that never closed down. She would have to think of something.
The next day was bright but cold and by the time she came out of work and the sun had gone down, a frost had already begun to form. Elsie was still smarting from the run-in with her father and didn’t feel like going straight home. So she did what she often did when she felt one of her moods coming on and wanted to be left to herself; she went to the Field. It was a strip of waste ground that had not a blade of grass on it, a few minutes’ walk away from the factory; she always went there whenever she wanted to think. She would sit, head in hands, on the remains of an upturned barrel that lay among the debris in the far corner of the stony ground, and mull over whatever problems were uppermost in her mind. Sometimes her thoughts would be interrupted by someone walking by. If it was someone she knew, she’d often play a game. First, she would catch their eye, for the gas lamp on the corner where the Field met the main street usually gave her a clear view of their face. Then she would shout something saucy or rude in the hope of making them respond, and finally she would award herself a score according to the level of their response. She’d give herself five if she raised a little smile, seven for a laugh, ten if she could get them to halt their journey and engage in a few moments’ banter. She was good at that. People hardly ever failed to respond in some way, even if it was only to shout rude words and obscenities at her. She would set herself a target for a total evening’s score and she rarely missed her mark.
But tonight she’d seen no one and she was wondering how much longer she could remain before she became frozen to the spot. She was about to give up and move off when a young man walked past. She smiled at him and he tipped his cap to her – that was seven points for a start. But she was prepared to give him a few extra points because he had such a pleasant face. He wasn’t very tall but he seemed surprisingly muscular and his gait was forceful and determined. She thought he might be a few years older than she was, maybe seventeen or even eighteen, though a cowlick of hair darker than the rest flopped forward, giving him a sort of boyish charm.
‘Hello again,’ she called, realizing that although she didn’t know him, she had actually engaged in her game with him before. The thing she had liked most about him then was his bro
ad, cheeky smile. As he drew level with her, she saw a flash of it again.
‘Sorry, can’t stop today – I’m already late,’ he called, and as he increased his pace she could see his face break into a broad grin. ‘And if I don’t get to the pub on time tonight the bloody landlord will have me guts for garters, ’cos they’ll be all out of clean glasses.’
‘Which pub is that then?’ Elsie shouted, though she was unsure if he was still within hearing distance. Not that it mattered. She’d already awarded herself a full ten points.
‘The Butcher’s Arms.’ She heard his reply only faintly and it set her a fair puzzle, for she had no idea where that was. She stared at his back as he slipped out of range of the lamplight and disappeared from view. There was one way to find out. She would follow him. Sliding from her perch she set off after the young man, running the first few steps till she got him back into view then slowing to walking pace, for she didn’t want to get too close else he might realize he was being followed.
Christmas on Coronation Street Page 2