The Candle Factory Girl

by Tania Crosse

  ‘You little fool!’ he guffawed, lips curled with malice. ‘The police can’t interfere between a man and his wife.’

  Hillie pulled herself up short. Damn. She’d heard that before somewhere. But she wasn’t going to be thwarted. ‘Maybe not,’ she answered as an icy calm overtook her, her hatred so palpable she could taste it on her lips. ‘But there are others who would. Good men at the factory who know what you’re like and wouldn’t think twice about giving you a taste of your own medicine.’

  ‘Huh, that’s what you think!’ Harold sneered. ‘They’d be too worried about losing their jobs, or getting into trouble with the police themselves. So I suggest you think again before making any more idle threats. Just shows what a stupid little bitch you are!’

  He threw up his head with a tormenting laugh, calmly replacing the belt around his waist. Then he swiped the book with its broken lock from the floor and bowed mockingly out of the room. Hillie heard him in the hallway, and a few moments later, the front door opened and then clicked shut behind him.

  Hillie remained motionless, listening to her pulse cracking inside her skull. She’d never felt such savage anger before. It had astounded her, but the satisfaction of telling her father exactly what she thought of him was all-encompassing. Her mind had been on fire, and she’d felt a strange sort of freedom. She’d experienced some euphoric strength, and now that she had, she wasn’t going to let it elude her ever again.

  ‘What’ve you done, Hillie?’

  The barely audible voice that scraped from Nell’s throat brought her back to reality with a resounding thump.

  ‘Oh, Mum, you can’t let him go on treating you like this,’ Hillie said desperately, her heart snapping as she noticed her mother wince as she helped her to her feet. ‘I know this isn’t the first time he’s hit you. Or me for that matter. But using a belt… And what next?’

  Nell straightened up, her face strained. She seemed about to speak, but just then the door slowly opened and the younger children sidled into the room that was normally forbidden to them. Hillie wondered how long her father had been beating her mum before she’d arrived home. She realised now that was why the house had been so deathly quiet. Her brother and sisters had been terrified into silence by what they could hear going on in the next room. Now the girls clustered about their mother, trying to comfort her and at the same time to take comfort for their own terror. Only Luke stood back, his young brow creased agonisingly.

  ‘I should’ve stopped him,’ he croaked miserably, his low voice meant for Hillie’s ears alone. ‘But I thought I should keep the little ones out of his way.’

  Hillie felt her heart rip at her brother’s anguish. ‘You did the right thing. But you shouldn’t have had to. You’re only thirteen, for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘Come along.’ Behind them, Nell’s brave tone as she gathered herself together nonetheless held an underlying quiver that only the two elder siblings recognised. ‘Let’s finish tea, shall we?’

  She flashed a watery smile at Hillie and Luke as she herded the four younger girls back into the kitchen. Elder sister and brother exchanged glances, and Hillie went over to retrieve the duster and tin of polish she spied on the small table where the sacrosanct account book usually sat. The crisis was over for now. Or was it?

  ‘What can we do, Hill?’ Luke’s whispered question stabbed into her thoughts. ‘He’s getting worse.’

  ‘I know,’ she murmured back. ‘I’ll try and think of something. But I might just have made things worse.’

  ‘I thought you were great. Heard every word you said. Wish I’d had the courage to stand up to him like that.’ Luke shot her an awe-inspired look. ‘Did you really try to get another job?’

  Hillie nodded, sucking in her lips. ‘Much good it did me. I didn’t want Dad to know I knew what he’d done. I thought I might’ve been able to use it against him at some time, but I was so angry, it just came out.’

  ‘Well, I think you played a trump card there. It let him know he can’t always get away with things.’

  ‘D’you think so?’

  ‘Let’s hope so, anyway, eh?’

  Hillie lifted her eyebrows as she followed her brother back out into the hall. It was only when she saw her coat and scarf on the floor that she was reminded of the damp clothes on her shoulders and the saturated skirt that still clung to her trembling knees. She wearily retrieved her outer garments and hung them over the newel post, then with a shudder of strung-out emotions, shot up the stairs to peel off her wet clothes and exchange them for her spare set. She snuggled her feet into her worn slippers, which were at least warm and dry, and then shook her wet hair from its bun so that it would dry more quickly.

  She came back down, carrying her wet clothes to hang on the wooden clothes horse by the fire and fighting to hold down the bitterness that still churned in her stomach. But she must take a hold of herself for the sake of her four sisters who were sitting back at the table, tucking happily into their baked beans on toast now that everything seemed back to normal. Only Joan was still watching anxiously as her mother poured out mugs of tea made with the same leaves she’d been using all day.

  Hillie’s own scant meal stuck in her throat, and she had to force it down. But as the minutes ticked by and they fell into the nightly routine of getting the younger ones off to bed, Daisy and Frances first, followed by Trixie and then Joan an hour later, Hillie’s heartbeat gradually returned to normal and the horrible feeling of something trundling through her breast gradually subsided.

  ‘Your father’s still not back,’ Nell croaked when it was just the three of them left downstairs.

  Hillie had been immersed in her own resentful reverie, but at her mum’s nervous words, her mind filled up with determination. ‘Good. Give him more time to wrestle with his own conscience. If he has one.’

  ‘Well, in a way, it was my own fault,’ Nell said limply. ‘I’d left the duster and polish on the table and went to get them because I knew he’d be cross about that. Then I heard him come in and it gave me such a fright that I accidentally knocked the book off the table and the little lock on it broke as it hit the floor. I picked it up and it was still in my hand when he came in the room.’

  ‘And he put two and two together and made five, and thought he’d take his belt to you for it.’ Hillie could feel the hatred bubbling up inside her again. ‘What sort of a man does that to his wife?’

  She paused, waiting for her mother to give her an answer, but Nell simply lowered her eyes and Hillie had to swallow down her exasperation. She glanced across at Luke whose young face was tense with a blend of consternation and expectancy. He was looking to her to do something, wasn’t he? She wasn’t sure what, but with a deep breath, she took her courage in both hands.

  ‘Look, Mum,’ she said, trying to disguise the tremor in her voice. ‘We can’t let things go on like this. It’s by no means the first time he’s hit you. Or me. How long before he starts on the others?’

  Her mother’s eyes suddenly flashed at her, and Hillie frowned, meeting Luke’s perplexed gaze. Her brother was such a gentle soul, but he was also very sensitive to others’ needs. Now he got quietly to his feet and backed towards the scullery.

  ‘Just going out to the lav,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll be a while, if you know what I mean.’

  Hillie nodded. She knew he wasn’t referring to bodily functions. He wanted to give Hillie time to talk to their mum alone. Once the back door was shut, she turned back to Nell but had no need to prompt her.

  ‘He won’t. Start on the others,’ her mother told her.

  Hillie’s frown deepened. ‘How can you be so sure?’

  She noticed a faint flush rise into Nell’s cheeks, but her mother looked at her steadily.

  ‘You… you don’t understand. There are reasons. But he won’t, I assure you.’

  Hillie tipped her head in confusion. ‘All I understand is that he’s violent and can lose his temper over the slightest thing. He’s constantly humiliating y
ou, and yet you take it lying down. Just look at you. Your cheek’s all swollen, and look here.’

  She pointed to her mother’s neck where there’d been nothing to protect it from Harold’s belt. A red weal cut angrily into her pale skin, and Nell, head hanging, allowed her eldest daughter to draw her blouse and cardigan from her shoulder to reveal a lattice of raised scarlet lines, some of which were smeared with traces of blood.

  Hillie sucked her shock through her teeth. ‘Why don’t you divorce him, Mum?’ she couldn’t stop herself from saying.

  ‘Divorce?’ Nell blinked in surprise. ‘On what grounds? I’d have to prove he’s been unfaithful, and he hasn’t. And as he rightly pointed out, the law can’t come between a man and his wife for violence. And you need money to get divorced.’

  ‘Well, we need to get away from him somehow,’ Hillie said fiercely. ‘Somewhere he’ll never find us. At the other end of the country if need be.’

  ‘But, Hillie—’

  ‘I’ll borrow some money. And… I know someone who’ll help us.’ Her thoughts had sprung immediately to Jimmy. He’d been saving hard for their future, but that would have to wait. She was sure he’d lend her the money and he people. People who he’d had dodgy dealings with in the past, it had to be admitted, but who could maybe be persuaded to help them now. Spirit them away. And once they were settled somewhere far, far away, she would get a job. Anything, it wouldn’t matter, as long as it paid. Luke could pretend he was a year older than he really was and get a job, too. Eventually Jimmy would join them and they could live as one happy, safe family.

  It would be hard, but she was sure they could do it. The only thing was they’d have to break all contact with Gert and the Parkers. It wouldn’t be fair on them if Harold thought they might know where his family had started a new life. She wouldn’t be able to tell Gert. Or even say goodbye. It would break her heart, but…

  ‘No.’ Her mother’s sudden fearless confidence shook her rigid. ‘I won’t leave him.’

  The blood seemed to drain from Hillie’s head and her insides screwed into a bewildered, tangled knot. ‘What on earth d’you mean?’

  A serene smile lifted Nell’s face. ‘You’re a good girl, Hillie. The best. But forget your wild plans. Believe you me, he’d find us, and that’d make things even worse. And whatever you might think, he’s been good and loyal to me. There are reasons why he’s like he is. The war, you know. Some men came home as nervous wrecks. Some had nightmares and tried to strangle their wives in their sleep. They reacted in all sorts of strange ways. Your father… well, he came home with this obsession about obedience. And with this anger inside him. Sometimes it just takes over. He’s not the same man I married, but neither am I the same woman. And I owe it to him to stick by him.’

  Hillie stared at her, drowning in disbelief. ‘B-but…’ she stammered as words failed her.

  Her bewilderment deepened as Nell smiled calmly at her and reached out to take her hands in hers. ‘But I’d understand if you wanted to go. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think you should. And is that what happened? With your application for that job? Did he really deliberately ruin it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Hillie pursed her lips in bitterness. ‘I always suspected it, but you saw his reaction just now. He confirmed it himself.’

  ‘Oh, Hillie,’ her mum sighed. ‘I do love you, more than you can imagine. But maybe he’s done you a favour, stopping you getting that job. You should move right away. Get a job in another part of the country. I’d miss you terribly, my darling. We all would. But at least I’d know you were safe. It’s not fair the way he takes it out on you. And maybe if you weren’t here—’

  But Hillie never got to hear the rest of her mother’s words as just then Luke came back indoors, throwing her a questioning, worried look, and Nell covered herself up again. Luke’s return brought the conversation to a close, and Hillie was left reeling. Much as she yearned to escape from her father, how could she possibly leave her mum to face his vicious temper alone? She understood how the horrors of war had damaged so many men, scarring them mentally as well as physically. She’d grown up seeing men with missing arms and legs, and there was a chap she often saw in Battersea High Street whose face was horribly disfigured but who wore several medals on his jacket. And there was something called shell shock that still affected some men and made them unable to work. But even if something like that was the cause of her father’s violence, it was no reason for her mum to put up with it. There must be something else, something that meant her father had some other sort of hold over her mum. Why else did she seem to accept the situation, to make excuses for him?

  Hillie’s lips firmed into a determined line. How could she find out what it was? She simply had to find a way…

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Haven’t you finished that yet?’ Harold snarled.

  Hillie sat back on her heels and glowered up at her father. It was the Sunday exactly a week before Christmas. Lunch had consisted of two meagre slices of roast belly of pork eked out between them all, but there’d been plenty of roast potatoes and boiled cabbage to go with it. Even before the meal was over, Harold had insisted the scullery needed a good clean. As soon as the washing-up was done, Nell had begun scrubbing the oven with soda crystals dissolved in hot water, using a Brillo pad on the more stubborn grease stains. By the time she’d finished, the whole thing gleamed inside and out, but her fingers were raw and aching. Meanwhile, Hillie washed the quarry-tiled floor and then finished it off with a coat of Red Cardinal polish. She was buffing the tiles to a smooth sheen when her dad appeared at the back door after the weekly ritual of his ablutions in the outside toilet.

  ‘I couldn’t do that last bit until Mum had finished the oven, could I?’ Hillie retorted caustically. ‘And I hope your shoes are clean, or you’ll make marks.’

  Harold made a deliberate show of checking the soles of his shoes before looking down again at her with a mocking sneer. ‘As a whistle,’ he proclaimed before storming through so that Nell was obliged to leap out of his way. ‘You two make sure you’ve finished properly before you go out,’ he barked. ‘Though why you want to go to a bloody carol concert, I don’t know. All Christmas does is cost me money.’

  ‘Well, at least the concert’s free!’ Hillie called after him.

  She clenched her jaw, going over where his feet had nonetheless made distinctive prints where the polish wasn’t quite dry. She almost wished that her father held the strict belief, as some did, that you shouldn’t do any work on a Sunday beyond preparing food and drink. That way, her poor mum would at least be spared from her domestic drudgery on one day of the week. But her dad didn’t have a religious bone in his body.

  However, at least he hadn’t struck either Nell or Hillie since the appalling incident some weeks ago now. Or if he had hit his wife, she’d concealed the fact with complete success. But Hillie remained convinced there was something her mother wasn’t telling her. And what had she meant when she’d said she wasn’t the woman her father had married? Hillie had thought of asking Eva, but that would be like sneaking behind her mum’s back, and it could put Eva in a difficult position, so she’d decided not to.

  Hillie kept turning that dreadful evening over in her mind. How could her mum refuse to leave her dad when there was that constant tension between them, as if Harold was taking every opportunity to belittle and humiliate her? Hillie just couldn’t understand how her mother could kowtow to Harold all the time. Yes, the war might’ve made him into more of a bully than ever, but he must surely have some other secret hold over her, but what? Every so often, Dolly Maguire’s half-cut words slipped unbidden into Hillie’s mind. Vicious though she was, had there been some truth in the drunken woman’s insinuations?

  ‘There, that’s the oven done so you can finish off now, Hillie, love,’ Nell told her. ‘I’ll just get the others ready to go out. Concert’s at three, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. We’ll just make it,’ Hillie answered over her shoulder
as she took up the scrubbing brush again, thrusting her thoughts aside. ‘Won’t matter if we’re a few minutes late for the start, though.’

  She nevertheless worked as swiftly as she could to finish off the floor. The old tiles did, though, look refreshed and friendly, even if the dank odour rising up through the solid concrete floor could never be eliminated. The tap over the chipped butler sink in the scullery leaked slightly, too, giving off the sharp, metallic tang of wet lead. Harold had given up trying to cure it. After all, if their landlord didn’t seem to care about it, why should he? His attitude made Hillie grit her teeth. He was so finickity about her and her mum doing their chores properly, yet he was happy enough to let this go!

  It was the last thing on Hillie’s mind, however, as she went to collect her hat and coat. The children were lined up in the hall, scarves wound about their necks in readiness, their young faces shining with anticipation. They wouldn’t be having a Christmas tree. Their dad had proclaimed the greengrocer had put the prices up far too much this year and he wasn’t prepared to spend that sort of money even if he had it. Hillie would’ve loved to treat her family to a tree, but since Harold had reduced her allowance, she truly couldn’t afford it. Not if she was going to give everyone a little gift. Instead she and Luke had put up the previous year’s coloured paper chains and the few pieces of dusty tinsel that were still in the box, but that was about it for decorations.

  It was no wonder the children were looking forward so much to the concert. The Salvation Army were to play in the bandstand in the park, and there was to be a tall, decorated tree. Hillie smiled ruefully to herself as the family trooped out into the cold, wintry afternoon, chattering with excitement. The sky was a solid grey, but it looked as if the rain would hold off. A chilly wind teased the hems of their coats and blew up inside the girls’ skirts, but nothing could dampen their high spirits.

  ‘Hello, you lot!’

  The door to Gert’s house opened just as they reached it and out spilled the entire Parker family, pandemonium breaking out in the quiet backstreet. There seemed to be children everywhere, voices shrill with excitement, girls holding hands and skipping along the pavement, while young Jake copied Luke as he balanced precariously on the kerb.