by Annie Murray
‘Maybe it’ll help,’ Dot said. ‘They say having a babby brings things back.’
‘But it wasn’t as if she was my first!’
‘No, well, there you are. But you seem stronger, Cynth.’
‘I can keep cheerful with the kids, that’s the main thing. But I do get frightened sometimes. It all just wells up.’
Em listened, wanting and half not wanting to hear what was being said. Clouds drifted across the sun, sending diaphanous shadows chasing along the street. The pavement was busy with children, and with housewives coming in and out with shopping bags, chatting by their front steps before going back to the daily grind.
Someone came skipping along the road on the other side, past the pawn shop. Em sat up straight, narrowing her eyes. It couldn’t be, could it?
Then she was sure, and scrambled excitedly to her feet.
‘Molly!’
Molly waved, a grin spreading across her face as she saw Em, and she came running along exuberantly. Em jumped up and down with excitement as well.
‘What’re you doing here? Have you run away again?’
‘No, I just wanted to come and see yer! I got me grandad to give me the bus fare. Mom’d kill me if she knew I was ’ere!’ Molly chattered excitedly. She looked thinner, and there was a shadow round her left eye, the ghost of a bruise. ‘Any road, our mom says she wants to come and live back over this way. She don’t like it up Aston but they’ve got to find somewhere away from this landlord so he don’t find out they’re here.’
‘So you’re coming back?’
‘Might be. I ain’t going to that school over there neither. I went once and I dain’t like it so after that I pretended to go and then I just hung about up the park. They never caught me. I want to come back and go to school with you.’
Em beamed. Seeing Molly felt like another thing returning to normal. Even the familiar aroma that hung around her didn’t matter at all. Molly had shown herself to be a friend, not like some of the others, and that was all that counted.
She thrust her hands towards Molly, the string wrapped round them ready. ‘Here, give us a game!’
In a moment they were lost in playing, their troubles forgotten.
Within a fortnight, the Fox family had moved back to Nechells, this time to a house in a yard off Lupin Street.
‘At least they’re not too close,’ Bob said when Em told him the news. ‘We don’t need that bloody lot round the corner from us.’
‘Molly’s all right,’ Em said. ‘There’s no need to be nasty about her.’
‘Don’t talk back at me like that!’
‘Why not?’ Em wasn’t going to be silenced. ‘She’s my friend.’
‘You’re a cheeky so-and-so these days,’ Bob said. He was riddling the grate as he talked. ‘Well, she may be your friend, but as for the rest of ’em – that old man Rathbone, Iris’s father, he’s a filthy old bugger.’ Bob stopped, as if he’d said too much. ‘It’s Joe I feel sorry for. He used to be a decent bloke before the war did for ’im.’ He wiped his arm over his face. ‘Course, he’s got a few years on me, but I can remember Joe Fox when he was a young’un with the arse hanging out of his trousers.’ He shook his head sorrowfully.
‘Was that before you went to the Home, Dad?’ Em asked. It was so seldom that he ever said anything about his past that she jumped at the opportunity.
‘Yes.’ He turned away, picking up the coal scuttle. ‘Many moons ago.’
The other person who was delighted to see Molly was Jenny Button.
‘You come and see us whenever you like,’ she told her. ‘Stanley and me’ve missed your company. And any trouble, bab – you know where to come.’
‘All right – ta,’ Molly said, beaming at this warm welcome.
Em and Molly often popped in to the Buttons’ now, to collect bread and see the flowers in the back yard which Jenny tended devotedly, and to say hello to Stanley and Bullseye and the budgies. It was a bit further to get to Molly’s, across the other side of Great Lister Street, but Molly ran up to Kenilworth Street to meet Em on the way to school.
Things got back into a routine, much like they used to be. Cynthia was still fragile but she put on a brave face in front of the children, and Em and the others would hardly ever have known if she was having a difficult day, or was in one of her panics. Now they were all back at school, Em had not heard her crying for a long time. She was always there when they came in from school, just like before. Day by day, inch by inch, the family was coming together again, getting back to something like normal, and trying to heal the scars of the past terrible months.
Then, that Sunday evening in April, a month after Cynthia came home, they were all sitting round the table having tea. Bob was standing, carving slices off a little joint of beef, and the room was full of the delicious smells of roast meat and potatoes.
‘There yer go, son, you can get that down yer, give yer muscles of iron!’ Bob put a plate down in front of Sid, who received it eagerly, licking his lips. Cynthia spooned potatoes onto his plate.
‘Roast!’ Sid said in raptures. ‘All Em ever does is nasty boiled ones.’
‘Now, now, Em was doing the best she could, weren’t you, love?’ Cynthia said, seeing Em stick her tongue out at Sid. ‘And I don’t s’pose you gave her much help, young man.’
‘I’m a man,’ Sid said loftily. ‘Men don’t do cooking.’
They were all laughing at this when there came a knocking on the front door. Bob tutted, laying down the carving knife.
‘What a flaming ridiculous time to call. I’ll get rid of ’em. Don’t want anything to spoil our tea, do we?’
A moment later there was a commotion in the front room.
‘I’m coming in, Bob, and you’re not stopping me.’ It was Flossie’s voice, shrill in defiance. The children looked at each other, knowing this was trouble.
‘Who’s that?’ Cynthia frowned. ‘Whatever’s going on?’
Flossie erupted into the room with Bob behind, trying to pull her back.
‘It’s no good, Bob,’ Flossie announced. ‘It’s all got to come out.’ She spoke in a pert, triumphant way. Cynthia, still sitting at the table, stared at her in total bewilderment. ‘You must be Bob’s wife. I’m very sorry to say I’ve got some bad news for you.’ She cast a look at Bob.
‘While you’ve been, er, away,’ she began spitefully, ‘I’m afraid you may not have realized that your husband has not been all he seems. You see, Bob and I are in love and he’s been living discreetly with me whenever he could, and he wants to marry me. The fact is, Mrs Brown – ’ and here she paused for effect – ‘I’m expecting a child, and it’s Bob’s.’
‘No!’ Bob cried, looking as if he wanted to stuff the words back into Flossie’s mouth. ‘That’s not right, it can’t be! You know that, Floss – I mean, I never . . .’
‘Oh you did, Bob.’ She dropped her voice into the seductive tone she had used with him so often. ‘That last week. Surely you haven’t forgotten?’
There was a look of dawning horror on Bob’s face. God, it was true, of course he hadn’t forgotten, but it was just that couple of times when he hadn’t been able to hold back and pull out when he was at the height of his excitement. She hadn’t done anything to put him off – she’d wanted it too. And she’d said it would be all right! He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, then opened them again to look at Flossie, his face etched with shame and utter defeat.
Everyone was silent. Em watched her mother, barely understanding, but so afraid of the feeling that something bad was about to happen.
Then Cynthia stood up. She seemed ominously calm.
‘Cynth,’ Bob said in warning.
Pushing the chair in under the table, but still holding on to it as if she might at any moment pick it up and throw it, Cynthia faced Flossie Dawson.
‘Now you’ve come and spread your poison,’ she said quietly, ‘you can get out of my house. Our house. Go on!’ Her voice began to rise. ‘Just clear off out of
here!’
‘You’d best go,’ Bob urged Flossie, who had dropped her ladylike air and looked as if she was spoiling for a fight.
‘I’m not going anywhere!’ she began, but Bob took her by the shoulders and steered her forcibly out of the room, still screeching. ‘You’ve got to see me right. You haven’t heard the end of this! I’m having your baby, I tell you!’
‘Look,’ they heard Bob pleading, ‘this is my family. You didn’t have to come in like this. Why did yer have to do it like this?’
‘Oh, that’s right, have your fun and clear off, leaving me all alone with a child to bring up! And think you can keep it all secret! I thought you were a man, Bob Brown.’
‘Keep yer voice down, Floss, for Christ’s sake!’ Bob’s voice was low and urgent. ‘Look, what d’you want off me? I don’t know what to do.’
‘You’ll have to pay for its upbringing, that’s what, if you’re not going to keep your promises and marry me. You needn’t think you can get away with it. You men are all the same – sow your oats and think you can turn your back on the issue. Well, I’m not standing for being treated like some street whore!’
‘Look, I’ll come and see yer.’ He was speaking very low, hoping they couldn’t hear him, but of course they could. ‘Just leave now, Floss, for God’s sake.’
‘I’m going,’ she declared loudly. ‘But you needn’t think you’re going to worm your way out of this. I want every penny I deserve for the way you’ve treated me – and don’t you forget it.’
The door slammed. Having stood still as a statue while all this was going on, Cynthia suddenly released the back of the chair and strode across the room. The children heard her disappear upstairs. After a few moments, Bob followed her.
Joyce gazed in confusion at Em and Sid. ‘What was Mrs Dawson saying?’ she asked. ‘Is she going to do summat bad to our dad?’
Em, shaking all over, tried to gather her shattered wits to comfort her little sister. ‘No, I don’t suppose so. She’s just in a temper about summat. Don’t worry, Joycie. Let’s let Mom and Dad sort it out. We’ll do the washing-up, shall we?’
‘Is it true?’
Cynthia was sitting on the bed, her back to Bob when he came into their room. He stood by the door, afraid to go in any further. He was astonished, and frightened by her icy calm.
‘What, that she’s having a babby?’
‘That it could be yours. That you want to marry her.’
The answer did not come for some time. The sound of the children clattering the plates came through the floorboards. At last he said, ‘It could be. She says it is.’
There was silence. Bob was in a torment.
‘And her, d’you want her?’ Her voice cut him like a blade.
‘No . . .’ But he didn’t quite mean it, even after what he had just seen: her cold, calculating spite. Still she had the old hold on him which would not release him. Still he longed to protect her.
‘I just . . .’ He shrugged helplessly, an impossible tension within him.
‘Because if you do, you’d better go . . .’
‘What? Cynth, no, I dain’t mean . . . All that happened was . . .’
Cynthia twisted round to look at him. ‘Don’t tell me about it!’ she cried fiercely. ‘I don’t want to know. There was me feeling that bad for letting you all down, when all the time . . .’ She turned away again, her voice quiet and sad. ‘But I did let you down, so maybe it’s no more than I deserve. If you’re not going to stand by us, don’t want us – if you love her – then go. I don’t want you here.’
‘No! It ain’t that! None of that was your fault, Cynth!’ He hurried round the bed towards her but she held out her hand to keep him away. She was not emotional. She seemed detached and iron hard.
‘Do you love her?’
He put a hand to his head. ‘No, but . . .’
‘You do,’ she stated.
‘No!’ He was breathing hard, almost sobbing. ‘But she’s got a grip on me, like. I was lonely – scared. I dain’t know if you was ever coming back. And now I’ve gone and got myself into this. I can’t just leave her.’
Cynthia watched him with her frigid, terrible calm, then turned away. ‘Then go. I don’t want you in my bed.’
‘But Cynth!’
‘I said go.’ She waved a hand, her devastating hurt bursting out in a snarl. ‘Take your things and bugger off. You’ve got another family now. We’ll manage without you.’
Forty-Eight
‘Did you know, Dot?’
Cynthia was in such a state, she didn’t even wait for Dot to clear the twins and Nancy out of the room. The four of them were sitting round the table finishing their tea when she erupted into the house, trembling with emotion. The children all stared. Dot stood up, holding a white rag that had been in her lap.
‘Know what, Cynth?’ she asked carefully. But her eyes held a mixture of fear and sorrow.
‘You knew about her, didn’t you?’
Without turning her head, Dot ordered, ‘Boys, Nance – out.’
‘But Mom, I haven’t—’ Terry began.
‘I said out!’
In seconds they were alone. Dot looked down, wringing the rag between her hands. ‘It’s hard not to know things round here.’ She had not seen Flossie’s coming and going next door this evening, but Cynthia had obviously found out somehow.
‘You were helping him, looking after the kids all the time – so he could be with her!’
‘No!’ Dot’s eyes flashed now and she flung the cloth on the table. ‘That’s not how it was, Cynth! I ended up minding your kids all the time cos he was never bloody well here! He spent every moment he could with the sodding woman and—’ She stopped, realizing she’d said too much. More gently, she went on, ‘Thing was, Cynth – Em was left doing everything and she couldn’t manage, not at her age. The poor kid was in a right state, wearing herself to a wafer. Joycie spent most of her time round here with Nance. What else could I do? In the end I was getting them to school – and to bed most nights. They needed a mom and I was the nearest thing. It wasn’t to help him play about. I just tried to do my best for ’em when it was you they wanted. I felt for the little mites.’
Cynthia sank shakily onto a chair. ‘God, Dot, I don’t half owe yer,’ she said, tears welling in her eyes. ‘I didn’t really come round ’ere to have a go. I just don’t know which way to turn. I s’pose you didn’t really have a choice, keeping quiet about it, not wanting to upset me. I’d’ve done the same.’ She gave a deep sigh, wiping her hands over her face. ‘While I was in that place I was too wrapped up in myself. I mean, I worried about the kids, course I did, but it was like another world over there: nothing else was real. And I couldn’t do anything about it all so I sort of shut it out of my mind, the day-to-day stuff and how they were managing. I just hoped they were. But I owe it all to you, Dot.’
‘How did you find out about her?’
‘She came. Just now while we were having tea.’
‘What, just turned up?’
Cynthia nodded bleakly.
‘I s’pose she came to spread her spite and make trouble,’ Dot said bitterly. ‘I always knew she was a nasty piece of work. I tried to get through to Bob, please believe me, Cynth.’ Dot came and sat beside her, talking earnestly. ‘We had some right old ding-dongs. But he wouldn’t listen. It was as if that woman had bewitched him!’
‘Did the kids know about it?’ Cynthia looked directly at her. She was still trembling, but her eyes were clear of tears.
Dot hesitated, then nodded. She was surprised by her friend’s new strength.
‘Is that where he was, Christmas Day?’
‘I only knew when Em said after. I wasn’t here on the day cos I went to Jean and David’s. I thought he was coming to see you. But he didn’t, did he?’
Cynthia shook her head wanly. She was shaking even harder, her teeth chattering as if all the shock was coming out. ‘But I was glad in a way. I felt so bad.’
‘O
h, love, look at the state of yer. Where is ’e now? Down the boozer, I s’pose, drowning his sorrows?’
‘He’s gone. To her. I threw him out.’
‘What?’ Dot cried. ‘You never!’
Cynthia’s shoulders began to heave with sobs. ‘That’s what he wants. I could see. And with a babby on the way, what’s the use in me being a millstone round his neck? He’s always going to be wishing he was somewhere else, or sneaking off to her. I couldn’t stand that.’
‘A babby? You mean she’s . . . ? God, Cynth . . .’ It began to sink in. ‘And he just went? But you can’t let him get away just like that! How’re you going to manage? I mean, four kids . . .’
‘Well, you’ve managed,’ Cynthia wept. ‘I dunno, I haven’t had time. I’ll have to get out to work.’ She clutched her head in confusion. ‘I can’t even think straight.’
‘Oh, love.’ Dot leaned forward and put her arms round her distraught friend. ‘That’s it, you have a bit of a blart, make yer feel better. Oh dear, after all you’ve been through an’ all . . . I’d give you a drop of hard stuff to buck you up if I had any – but I don’t!’
‘It doesn’t suit me anyhow!’ Cynthia sniffed. ‘Makes me sick . . .’ She wiped her eyes, looking stunned.
‘I can’t believe Bob’d just take off and desert you all,’ Dot said, in shock herself. ‘He’s no good with her anyway.’
‘What d’you mean? She looks pretty and . . . Well, better than me.’
‘No,’ Dot said emphatically. ‘Oh no. She’s a looker all right, but that one’s a smooth operator if ever I saw one! She hung about getting her claws into Bob. Course he’s handsome and strong, but he ain’t no Rockefeller. Why not go for someone better off?’ She frowned. ‘There’s summat fishy about her in my opinion. Summat doesn’t add up.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Cynthia seemed dazed.
Dot shook her head. ‘I can’t put my finger on it but she’s just queer – the way she talks and puts on airs, and she’s not as poor as you’d expect, not for a widow bringing up a girl on her own. I mean, she ain’t rich but she seems to be comfortable. Summat just doesn’t fit right about her.’