Palace of Tears

by Anna King

  ‘Oh, don’t, Mrs Button, don’t,’ Emily cried, placing an arm round the broad shoulders.

  ‘Dot, what is it, what’s wrong?’ Nellie was watching them through the narrow slits of her bruised eyes.

  Hearing the agitation in her friend’s voice, Dot pulled away from Emily. Like all cockneys, she wasn’t one for demonstrative behaviour. Briskly now, she turned towards the bed.

  ‘Nothing’s the matter, Nellie Ford. Now yer just take it easy, an’ do what them doctors tells yer to. An’ don’t let them nurses boss yer about. Right little tin gods they are. One of them tried ter throw me out,’ she nodded at Emily. ‘She did, the little madam. Well, I soon told her where ter go, didn’t I, Nellie?’

  ‘You did that, Dot,’ Nellie smiled affectionately at the indignant woman. Even Emily, as worried as she was about her mother, couldn’t help smiling at the image of the nurse trying to force her authority on Dot.

  ‘Yes, well, I’ll be off now, Nellie, but I’ll be back later.’

  “Thanks again for all your help, Dot, and don’t tell Lenny anything just yet. Emily can see to him later, there’s no point in worrying the poor boy.’

  At the mention of her brother, Emily raised enquiring eyes to Dot, and when the woman gave an imperceptible shake of her head, Emily remained silent.

  She waited until the bulky figure reached the end of the ward, then, with an exclamation of annoyance, she said, ‘Oh, dear, I meant to ask Mrs Button to get some milk for me, only the milkman will have finished his rounds by the time I get home.’

  Dot was waiting for Emily outside in the corridor.

  ‘Right, love, I won’t waste time,’ she started abruptly.

  ‘The truth of it is that nobody’s seen ‘ide nor hair of young Lenny since yesterday, but I couldn’t tell yer mother that, could I? She’s enough on ’er plate as it is. Anyway, I told ’er he’d rolled up outside me ‘ouse this morning, an’ I told ’im she’d got a day’s cleaning work. Gawd knows where he really is.’ Hitching up her ample breasts a notch further, she added grimly. ‘I’ll tell yer something else, while I’m at it. I’m off down the Hackney nick to press charges, I think that’s what it’s called, against yer old man. The way I see it, yer mum’ll never do it, so I’m gonna make it me business to see he gets banged up. And if I can’t get ’im on an assault charge, then I’ll shop ’im fer being a conchie, so don’t try an’ stop me, Em, ’cos me mind’s made up.’^-^

  ‘I’ve no intention of trying to stop you, Mrs Button,’ Emily said, her voice ominously quiet. ‘I’d planned to do the same thing myself. If they don’t take any notice of you at the station, then I’ll come with you later.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you fear, love, they’ll take notice of me, I promise yer that. But if I do get any malarkey from the coppers, then I’ll get the whole bloody street up there, ’cos the lot of them are just waiting fer a chance ter put yer dad away… And I’m sorry if that offends yer, love, but yer know me well enough ter know I don’t mince me words – but the truth of it is, yer dad ain’t liked round our part of the world. So, anyway, like I said, I’m off ter the cop shop, but I’ll keep a look-out fer young Lenny, an’ if I find him, I’ll take him home with me till you can fetch him.’

  ‘Thank you again, Mrs Button. My mum’s very fortunate to have a friend like you… And I’m truly sorry you were hurt in trying to defend her.’

  Dot gave a short laugh and pointed to the rapidly closing mauve eye.

  ‘What this – pshaw! That’s nothing compared ter the wallop I gave him. It’s just a pity I didn’t hit the bastard a damn sight harder. I might ’ave saved yer mum from…’

  Emily waited while Dot pulled a none too clean handkerchief from her coat pocket and gave her nose a resounding blow, to cover up what she saw as a sign of weakness. Emily had the strongest inclination to throw herself into the redoubtable woman’s arms, but she resisted the temptation. Like her neighbour, she too wasn’t one for demonstrative behaviour.

  Besides, she couldn’t afford to waste time in self-indulgence, nor could she weaken in regard to her father. If she had her way, Alfie Ford was going to go away for a very long time.

  ‘I’ll stay with Mum for as long as I can, Mrs Button, and I’ll come and see you as soon as I get home, to find out how you got on at the station.’

  Dot was about to say something further, then stopped. The steeliness in Emily’s blue eyes for a moment sent a chill up the older woman’s spine. Nodding at the silent young woman, Dot turned and hurriedly left the hospital.

  Behind her Emily took a deep breath and retraced her steps down the ward, and the nearer she came to her mother’s bed, the faster her heart began to thud against her ribcage. For in the harsh, October sunlight her mother’s injuries looked much worse than they had done last night.

  Keeping a tight smile glued to her lips, she bent over and kissed her mother’s forehead, saying softly, ‘Sorry about that. How are you, Mum?’

  ‘Oh, I’m fine, love, I’m fine,’ Nellie answered, her gaze kept firmly on her daughter. She was very fond of Doris, but she wished that Emily had come by herself.

  She hadn’t minded Dot coming to see her – she was a comfort, was Dot – but she felt embarrassed and ashamed to be seen by anyone else, even though she knew what had happened to her wasn’t her own fault. Oh, she knew well enough that some would argue that point, saying that if she’d stood up to her husband, instead of letting herself be used like a doormat all these years, then she wouldn’t be lying here now. But it was easy to be judgmental when you were standing comfortably on the outside looking in.

  Turning her head carefully, she looked at Emily, who was putting a small bunch of flowers into a vase on the bedside locker, taking her time over the simple task in order to get her emotions in check.

  Dear Lord! How could he have done such a thing to a small, defenceless woman? All Emily’s worst fears had been realised last night when she’d found her mother in a bloodied heap on the parlour floor. Oh, why had she gone out with Doris and the Carter twins? The whole evening had ended in disaster. She deliberately shied away from the memory of Tommy Carter. That episode in her life was over and done with. What she had to do now was look after her mother and make sure that her father never again had the opportunity to harm her mother. Pulling the visitor’s chair out from under the bed, Emily sat down and took her mother’s cold hands in hers. Under the shapeless hospital nightdress Emily could see a mass of bruising on her mother’s arms and above her chest. Some bruises were faded, but most of them were the result of last night. She was afraid to look too long at Nellie’s face, not because the bruised eyes and split lips upset her – she’d got over that shock last night, and had wept enough tears then, and again later on in the early hours of the morning; she doubted she had any tears left to shed. No, the reason she didn’t want to dwell on her mother’s injuries was because she was afraid. Afraid of the murderous feeling that kept sweeping over her; that hatred, so overpowering that it frightened her. She had never realised until this moment that she was capable of such intense, white-hot rage, especially against her own father. May he rot in hell, wherever he was.

  On the other side of the bed, Doris stared at mother and daughter, her face filled with angry indignation.

  ‘Fine! How can yer say yer fine, Mrs Ford? Bleeding hell, yer look a right state.’

  ‘Doris!’ Emily protested, but Doris was determined to have her say. ‘Don’t Doris me, Emily. Look at the pair of yer, tap-dancing round each other, pretending everything’s all right. I mean, Gawd help us, I’ve seen boxers down the Mile End gym after twelve rounds look in better nick than yer mum does.’

  Bristling with outrage, Doris was about to say more when a nurse appeared by the bed.

  ‘I’m sorry, but morning visiting hours are over, you’ll have to go, I’m afraid.’ The nurse, the same one who had tried to get Dot to leave, stood her ground now, determined not to have her authority flaunted again, especially by two girls who were clearly much
younger than she.

  ‘Says who?’ Doris looked up aggressively at the starchily dressed figure.

  ‘Doris, please, don’t cause a fuss, dear,’ Nellie spoke wearily. She felt so tired, she just wanted to sleep, and sleep. Summoning up a semblance of a smile, she reached out and patted Doris’s hand fondly. ‘I’m very tired, Doris. Please don’t think me ungrateful, but I’d like to get some rest.’

  As Doris rose to leave, the nurse visibly relaxed, glad to have been spared another confrontation. Not that she would have backed down, not again. Even so, she stepped smartly out of the way of the girl with the bright orange fringe, which was visible beneath her gaudy scarf, and the yellow-tinged skin, which signified her trade as a munitions worker. Everyone knew they were a rough bunch.

  ‘I’ll catch up with you outside, Doris. I just want a quick word with my mum.’

  When they were alone, Emily again took hold of Nellie’s hands and asked softly, ‘Why, Mum? What set him off this time? Or have things got so bad that he no longer needs an excuse?’

  ‘Oh, don’t, love, not now,’ Nellie pleaded weakly, her hands beginning to tremble in Emily’s tight grip.

  ‘All right, don’t get yourself into a state,’ Emily said hurriedly, cursing herself for being so insensitive. But, as she made to leave, Nellie, a sudden worrying thought coming to her, pulled herself painfully up on the pillows and grabbed at Emily’s arm.

  ‘He was after your wages… He knew you were getting a month’s wages. Lenny let it slip. I would never have told him.’ Her voice was becoming weaker as she valiantly tried to say what was troubling her. ‘If… if he comes back, give the money to him, Emily. Please, don’t try and keep it, he’ll only get…’

  ‘Hush, Mum, don’t upset yourself. And don’t worry about me, I’m not that brave. If he comes back, I’ll let him have it, I promise.’

  Satisfied that her daughter was in no danger, Nellie slipped back into a fitful sleep.

  ‘Really, Miss, you’ll have to leave.’ The nurse had returned, grimly prepared to assert her authority, but Emily appeared not to have heard.

  Her eyes hard, she swept past the surprised nurse and walked purposefully down the long ward, the heels of her patent boots tapping out a staccato beat on the polished floor.

  Oh, she’d let her father have it, all right. Just let him show his face – she was ready for him, more than ready.

  Chapter Nine

  Victoria Station on a cold, October morning was teeming with heavily laden figures in khaki. Most of them, mere boys, crowded at the gates, their faces resigned. Some, with the initial excitement now swept away, were facing the harsh reality of the moment. Behind the smiles and boisterous bravado – an act put on for the benefit of loved ones, and of course to boost their own self-image – lurked uncertainty and fear as they were momentarily separated from friends and family at the barriers, while stern officials examined passes, before being allowed through onto the platform.

  Over the general hubbub of noise the stentorian voice of a military policeman called out, ‘Dover this way! Folkstone that way!’

  Here and there small groups of uniformed figures, who had made the long, arduous journey from the North of England, lay pathetically on the hard ground, their bodies resting on their kit bags, sleep giving them some respite from their frightened, despondent thoughts. For these men there were no familiar loved faces to see them off, no reassuring hand to cling to before boarding the train.

  Occasionally, a khaki-clad figure moved against the surging tide of bodies, his face beaming with relief at being granted an extra day’s leave for some reason. And if any of them had been offered a five-pound note for each precious minute of that day, it would have been swiftly repudiated.

  Hurrying through the entrance, Emily, Doris, Ida Carter and her two sons joined the jostling, surging crowd, the women hanging grimly onto their hats and bags, afraid of losing them in the mêlée, while the two young men by their sides kept up a never-ending stream of careless chatter, trying to hide their fear, and to still the awful gnawing in their stomachs.

  The women were parted from the men at the barrier, before being reunited on the platform by the train that seemed to hiss menacingly, as if waiting to tear husbands from wives, sons from weeping mothers, and fathers from children, their eyes wide in bewilderment, asking where their daddy was going.

  ‘Well, this is it then,’ Tommy said, still striving to keep the occasion on a light note. ‘Now then, ladies, I don’t want any pushing or shoving. Just form a queue and I’ll give yer all a goodbye kiss.’ His eyes lingered for a moment on Emily, but it was his mother on whom his gaze settled, his eyes pleading desperately for some last-minute show of affection, but Ida Carter’s attention was firmly fixed on Andrew. The snub wasn’t deliberate, and that was the hardest part to bear. For as far as Ida Carter was concerned, Tommy might as well not have been there. Yet the dark-haired young man had thought – no, prayed – that this time, when it might be her last chance to take him in her arms, she would recognise him as her son and give him a token of the love that she’d denied him all his life. Caught up in his own private thoughts, Tommy was unaware of the pitying glances of the girls and his brother, all of whom had seen the desolation in his eyes.

  ‘Oh, son, son, what am I going to do without you?’ Ida Carter sobbed as she hugged Andy fiercely to her breast. ‘I can’t bear it, I can’t… Oh, Andrew… Andrew…’

  Andy looked over his mother’s head at his brother, and when those thin shoulders shrugged nonchalantly, a lump came to his throat. Bending down, he whispered in his mother’s ear, ‘Mum, don’t go on, yer shouldn’t have come. I told yer it’d be upsetting.’

  Ida’s small body jerked in surprise. Pulling away from the stocky figure, she looked up into his face.

  ‘Shouldn’t have come? What sort of a mother do you take me for, Andrew? As if I’d let my son go off to war without saying a proper goodbye.’

  Her voice carried clearly, and when Emily saw Doris’s face and body stiffen in anger, she quickly caught hold of her friend’s arm, nodding her head wamingly at her. His face grim, Andy once again bent his head and hissed fiercely, ‘You’ve got another son too, Mum. Good God! I’d have thought that, today of all days, you could’ve at least given Tommy a hug, even if yer didn’t mean it.’ When his mother remained silent, he ground out between clenched teeth, ‘Bloody hell. How can yer treat him like this? What harm has he ever done yer? Well, I’ll tell yer this much, Mum. Either yer go and show some kind of affection ter Tommy, or yer’ll find yerself with no sons. I mean it, Mum. Tommy’s me brother, and I can’t stand ter see him treated like this.’

  Ida Carter stood still for what seemed an interminable time, and then, turning slowly, she looked at the slender, dark-haired young man and immediately felt the familiar revulsion take over her body. But this time her feelings were tinged with guilt. As Andrew had pointed out, Tommy had never done anything to deserve the way she’d treated him – and was still treating him.

  She had loved him once, when he was a toddler and Sam, her husband, had still been with them. They had been so happy, the four of them, a happy, contented family, until the day Sam didn’t come home from work. He hadn’t even had the guts to tell her to her face that he had found somebody else. And when, some weeks later, he had returned for his things, she had followed him round the house, crying and pleading with him to stay, while he had studiously avoided eye contact before making a hurried, shame-faced exit; she had never seen him again. But he had left a reminder of himself behind. As the years had passed, and Ida had finally given up hoping that her husband would one day return, her love had turned to resentment, which in turn had grown into hate. And the poor, bewildered young boy found himself being cast to one side, while his fair-haired brother continued to enjoy their mother’s loving ministrations.

  Oh, Ida had fed and clothed Tommy, nursed him through childhood ailments, bathed cuts and bruises, but all with a detached anonymity that was far cruell
er than any physical abuse. In time Tommy had stopped trying to please the cold, distant woman; had stopped running to her, his small heart racing with pleasurable excitement, to show her the gold stars, earnt with painstaking work, pasted into his rough school book, his large eyes hopeful for a bit of praise. Those same eyes had filled with unshed tears as the prized school work was barely glimpsed at and was cast aside in favour of Andrew’s efforts. Soon, he had stopped trying altogether, maintaining a show of indifference; but, though he put on a brave fare, the inner hurt had never gone away.

  Now mother and son looked at each other, and for a minute Tommy’s heart leapt with joy, then he saw Andy give the short figure a gentle push and immediately his hopes went crashing to the ground.

  Forcing herself forward, Ida steeled herself to place her arms round the lean figure, but as she came nearer and Emily and Doris moved to one side to afford them some privacy, Tommy, his face set, said stiffly, ‘Don’t force yerself, Mum. You’ve never shown me any affection before. It’s a bit late in the day ter start now, even if it is fer Andy’s benefit.’

  The rebuff startled Ida, and for a moment she had a wild urge to throw her arms round the grim-faced man, then she looked at him again, saw the hurt in his eyes and was momentarily ashamed. But it was no use. Every time she looked at this young man she saw only her husband, and with the remembrance came the pain of rejection, and bitterness.

  She couldn’t help the way she felt, nor could she pretend to a love that wasn’t there. She wasn’t made that way.