A Broken Family

by Kitty Neale

  Frank eagerly took the proffered notes. ‘Thanks, boys. I’ll pay this back as soon as I can.’

  ‘There’s no hurry,’ Paul said and Dave nodded in agreement.

  Now that he had money, Frank was inwardly willing them to leave. He couldn’t go to the Park Tavern though, as after scrounging from the regulars they’d expect him to return the favour when they saw he had funds. There was a way round that though. He’d go to a different pub, and with a good few quid he’d be able to afford a few whisky chasers.

  ‘Have you heard anything from Mum?’ Carol asked her brothers.

  ‘No,’ Dave said shortly then adding that they had to leave.

  ‘You’ve hardly been here for five minutes,’ Carol protested.

  ‘Yeah, I know, but we’ve got to get ourselves togged up for tonight.’

  They had no sooner left than Carol said, ‘Dad, can I have some of that money? I need to get some food in.’

  ‘The shops are shut now so it can wait until Monday. Now I’m off out,’ he told her, and before Carol could say another word he left, heading for a pub on Lavender Hill.

  At the top of the Rise, Frank recalled Carol saying that they could pawn some stuff. He hadn’t liked the idea at first, but now realised that it could raise a good few bob. He was hardly in to watch it so he could sell the television too, ensuring that when this money ran out, he’d have plenty more.

  Amy was in her bedroom, almost ready and wearing a pretty, blue flowered summer dress that flared at the waist and ended just below her knees. She was just putting on her make-up when she heard a knock on the front door, and after hurrying to apply a shade of pink lipstick, she ran downstairs to find that her mother had let Tommy in.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, smiling when he saw her. ‘Happy Birthday, you look nice.’

  ‘Thanks, but as I don’t know where you’re taking me, I wasn’t sure what to wear.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Tommy said.

  ‘Phyllis, do you remember what you were wearing when I …’

  ‘Shut up, Stan.’

  ‘Oh yeah, right, sorry.’

  Amy looked at her parents, puzzled by this exchange and her father’s shamefaced expression, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it as Tommy said urgently, ‘If you’re ready, let’s go.’

  ‘I’m ready,’ she smiled, saying goodbye to her parents.

  Tommy opened the van door, and as she climbed in he said, ‘I wish I could take you out in a nice car, but one day I hope to own one.’

  ‘This is fine and far nicer than walking,’ she replied and when Tommy got in behind the wheel she asked, ‘Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?’

  ‘No, not yet, but you’ll soon see.’

  Amy was puzzled as Tommy drove off, but it wasn’t long before she saw Battersea Park ahead of them. ‘Are we going to the funfair?’

  ‘Yes, and I hope that’s all right with you.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Amy replied. She hadn’t known what to expect, and though she loved the funfair, it was the last place she’d thought about when Tommy said he was taking her somewhere special. He turned his head to smile at her, and she smiled back, thinking that she really didn’t mind. She was with Tommy and that was all that mattered.

  Once parked, they walked along a path, the bright lights of the funfair clear in the night sky. Soon they were going through the funfair’s turnstiles and inside, where Tommy urged her towards the big wheel.

  ‘Let’s go on this before it’s replaced by the new one,’ he urged, saying something then to the man operating that Amy failed to hear. Moments later the wheel stopped and they climbed on, sitting side by side, with a bar put across the rocking seat which Amy thought nervously was to prevent them from falling out.

  As the wheel began to turn, soon reaching the top, Tommy held her hand and Amy was enchanted by the views of the funfair stretched out below them. On the descent, Amy’s stomach did a little flip, but around they went and up to the pinnacle again. The wheel came to a stop then, Amy finding it a little frightening to be suspended so high up, and when the seat they were in swung, she was unable to stifle a little yelp.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’re safe,’ Tommy said, placing an arm around her.

  ‘I’m all right,’ she said, laying her head on his shoulder. ‘It’s wonderful up here, Tommy. It feels like the two of us are alone on the top of the world.’

  ‘See those stars, Amy,’ he said, pointing up to the sky. ‘I can’t bring one down to slip on your finger, but I can give you this instead. Will … will you marry me?’

  Amy could barely see the box that Tommy had flipped open with one hand, but even if it had contained a plastic ring her answer would have been the same. ‘Oh, yes, Tommy. Yes please,’ she said, flinging herself into his arms.

  The seat rocked, but this time Amy didn’t scream and Tommy’s lips met hers.

  ‘I love you, Amy,’ he husked.

  ‘And I love you,’ she said as they began to move on a downward descent again.

  They drew apart and Tommy smiled ruefully. ‘I asked the chap who operates the wheel to stop it for a minute or two when we were at the top, but I didn’t expect it to scare you.’

  ‘I was only nervous for a moment. It was a wonderful place to propose, so romantic, magical, and something I’ll never forget,’ Amy said and meant it. She was eighteen, engaged to be married, and for Amy at that moment, everything was just perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By the last week in August Carol was near the end of her tether. Almost everything of value had been pawned, but her dad spent most of the money on booze. With no sign of him ever getting a job she had gone back to work, and had just arrived home from the paint factory on Friday to find her dad eagerly waiting. It was payday and she knew what he wanted – but he’d have a long wait if he thought she was going to just pass over her wages again.

  ‘Come on, Carol,’ he urged, ‘give me your pay-packet.’

  ‘No, Dad,’ she argued.

  ‘Do as you’re told,’ he snarled in her face.

  She reeled back from the stench of his breath and unwashed body, finding the father she had known almost unrecognisable. He was a hopeless drunk now, and though she felt partly to blame, Carol knew that with rent to pay and food to buy, she had to hang on to her wages. ‘Dad,’ she said, hoping appeasement would work as she opened her handbag to pull out a ten bob note, ‘here, take this.’

  With hands shaking in his need for alcohol, he snatched it from her, and as though unable to wait a moment longer to get to the pub, hurried out.

  Carol’s shoulders slumped with relief, yet she knew that as soon as the money was spent her father would be back for more. Her stomach rumbled, and going through to the scullery she looked for something to eat, finding just a couple of slices of bread and a small piece of cheese, enough to make a sandwich. It would have to suffice, but Carol was determined to go shopping in the morning, to get more food in while her dad would still be in bed sleeping the booze off.

  With no television to watch now, by seven thirty Carol was bored. There was housework to do, but after being at work all day she wasn’t in the mood, and anyway, Carol decided, she had the weekend to tackle it.

  When there was a knock on the door she was actually pleased to see Amy and let her in with a smile. ‘Hello, aren’t you seeing Tommy?’

  ‘No, he’s swamped with work and as we’re both taking the day off tomorrow to go to Rose’s wedding, he’ll be working late tonight.’

  Carol had once thought that Amy’s life was boring, but now, compared to her own it seemed interesting. ‘What will you be wearing?’

  ‘A yellow dress and jacket,’ Amy said.

  ‘Is the dress plain or patterned?’

  ‘It’s got a pattern of small, white flowers, but the jacket is plain. With so few people going to the wedding there won’t be a bit of a do afterwards, but we’re going for a meal in a restaurant.’

  Carol felt a stab of envy. Am
y had got engaged to be married last month, her life moving forward, while Carol knew that hers had stagnated. It was as though since the loss of her baby, she’d given up on life too, but now for the first time Carol felt a longing to live again. Even the quiet wedding sounded better to Carol than being stuck at home every weekend, but at least the evening passed quickly as they continued to chat. They spoke more about Rose and her marriage, Carol musing, ‘I suppose Rose is living in clover now.’

  ‘We haven’t seen Mr Jacobs’ house yet,’ Amy said, ‘but when Rose comes to see us she always turns up in a taxi. She wears lovely clothes now too, sort of classy.’

  ‘I bet that makes the curtains twitch, though the gossips are probably green with envy.’

  ‘I don’t envy Rose,’ Amy said. ‘He may be rich, but I couldn’t marry an old man like Mr Jacobs.’

  ‘I’m not sure I could either, but good luck to Rose. When he kicks the bucket she’ll inherit the lot.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Amy said, then changing the subject, ‘I know you didn’t like working in the paint factory at first. Is it any better now?’

  ‘Some of the women are a laugh so that helps, and at least I don’t have to work Saturdays.’

  ‘Talking of Saturdays, I’d best be off. We’ll all have to be up early in the morning to get ready for the wedding.’

  ‘Have a nice time,’ Carol said, sighing when Amy left. There’d be no nice time for her tomorrow, she’d be spending the day doing housework. For now though, not wanting to be up to see her father rolling home drunk, Carol decided to go to bed.

  An hour later, Carol was in the throes of a terrible nightmare and her eyes snapped open in the dark. Someone was on top of her, hands groping – but then she screamed in terror. This wasn’t a nightmare; she was awake, and desperately she fought to throw the man off whilst crying out, ‘Dad! Dad, help me!’

  ‘Shut up!’

  Her mind reeling, Carol froze for a moment, unable to believe it, yet the voice was his, along with the stench. ‘No! No, Dad! It’s me, Carol!’ she cried frantically. ‘Stop it!’

  Still it continued, her father deaf to her cries, and almost out of her mind, Carol hit out in the darkness, punching, yanking his hair, and when he yelled she found a surge of strength, enough to throw him off her body.

  Frantic to get away from her father, Carol scrambled from the bed and fled downstairs where, grabbing an old raincoat from the hook, she ran from the house.

  Carol flung the coat on as she headed for the one place where she knew she’d be safe, protected. Her chest heaving, she only paused occasionally to draw breath, aware of nothing around her but her need to get there, until at last she arrived and thumped frantically on the door. Nobody came, nobody opened it, and sobbing she sank down onto the doorstep.

  With no idea of the time, Carol didn’t know how long she sat there, her mind in turmoil at what her father had tried to do, until at last her brothers turned up. Carol rose unsteadily and almost fell into Paul’s arms.

  ‘Carol, what’s wrong? What are you doing here? Are you hurt?’ he asked urgently.

  ‘No … no,’ she croaked, feeling her legs crumbling beneath her.

  Paul lifted her up, carried her inside and laid her gently onto the sofa, while Davy said, ‘Carol, you’ve got nothing on your feet and they’re bleeding. What the hell happened?’

  ‘I … he … he …’ she stammered.

  ‘A man did this to you?’ Paul growled. ‘Who was it? When we get our hands on him we’ll kill him!’

  Carol couldn’t take any more – couldn’t bear to relive what had happened again and her mind closed down. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and sank into darkness.

  Paul looked down at his sister the following morning. She was still asleep, and seeing the dried blood on her feet again, his lips tightened in anger. Until Carol woke up it was hard to make sense of what had happened, but sick at the thought that she’d been raped, he said to Dave, ‘Look at her. She’s still in her nightdress, so whoever did this must have broken into the house.’

  ‘But where was Dad?’ Dave asked.

  ‘We don’t know what time it happened, so maybe he was out.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s probably it, but surely he’d have seen that she wasn’t there when he came home?’ Dave pointed out.

  ‘He might have assumed she was in bed.’

  ‘True,’ Dave agreed, ‘but he’s going to notice that she isn’t there this morning.’

  ‘If Carol’s up to it we’ll have to take her home, but if she’s been raped Dad’s going to do his nut.’

  ‘No! No, I don’t want to go home!’ Carol cried, suddenly sitting up.

  Surprised Paul said, ‘I thought you were still asleep.’

  ‘Please,’ Carol begged. ‘Don’t make me go home.’

  It she’d been attacked in her own bed, no wonder she was too scared to go back, Paul thought. ‘All right, stay here for now. Dave can shoot down to tell Dad where you are.’

  ‘No! No, he mustn’t tell him I’m here!’

  Confused, Paul asked, ‘Why not?’

  ‘Be … because he … he tried … in my bed … I … I fought him off, got away,’ Carol sobbed, her words disjointed.

  ‘Flaming hell,’ Dave said. ‘Surely you’re not saying that Dad tried it on?’

  Carol nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks, but Paul couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it and said, ‘Dad wouldn’t do that. He was probably drunk and stumbled into your room instead of his own.’

  ‘He … he might have been drunk, but I woke up to find him on … on top of me and his hands were … were all over me.’

  Paul felt bile rising in his throat and unable to stand the sound of his sister crying, he strode to the kitchen. He put water in the kettle and then placed it on the gas before taking three cups from the cupboard.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Dave asked as he appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Ain’t it obvious?’ Paul snapped. ‘I’m making us a drink.’

  ‘You must be kidding. Carol just told us that Dad tried it on with her, and all you’re doing is making tea.’

  ‘Oh, I intend to do more than that. First though Carol probably needs a drink and her feet need to be sorted, bathed.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Then you and I are going to take a walk to Lark Rise,’ Paul growled.

  Mabel had been disturbed by the yelling soon after she’d gone to bed last night, but she’d vowed to keep her nose out of anyone’s business now, especially the Coles’.

  Yet here it was, just after nine in the morning, and while they were eating breakfast, the Coles were at it again. It even disturbed Jack this time and he looked up from his morning paper to say, ‘I don’t know what’s going on next door, but they’re making a hell of a racket.’

  Something thumped loudly against the adjoining wall, and Mabel jumped. ‘It sounds like someone’s throwing furniture around.’

  ‘Yes, it does,’ Jack agreed. ‘Maybe I should go and see what’s going on.’

  ‘No, don’t do that. It’s none of our business,’ Mabel said, ‘and anyway, if there’s some sort of fight going on, I don’t want you getting involved in it.’

  ‘All right, I’ll stay put,’ Jack agreed.

  There was more shouting, but then abruptly, blissfully, it all went quiet. ‘Well I don’t know what that was all about,’ Mabel said.

  ‘Me neither,’ Jack replied, but then went back to his newspaper.

  For a moment Mabel wondered if she should go next door to check that everyone was all right, but then decided against it. Frank Cole would only slam the door in her face again.

  Mabel ruminated, wondering again if she was right, that instead of Rose, it had been Daphne Cole who had gone off with George Frost. The dates matched, but once again she had kept her suspicions to herself.

  Mind you, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell Phyllis. After all, no doubt it would come to light one day, these things always did – an
d then, Mabel thought, smiling smugly – she’d be proved right.

  Unaware that anything untoward had happened in the Coles’ house, Amy was sitting beside Tommy in the registry office, fiddling with her engagement ring. She loved the diamond solitaire, and though she knew Tommy would have liked the stone to be a bigger one, Amy was happy with his choice. On her small, thin finger the diamond appeared large, and now, looking up, Amy had to smile at the scene of Rose standing beside the rotund, grey-haired Samuel Jacobs as the two of them listened to the registrar’s words. Rose looked lovely in a pale pink, shot silk suit, her hat pink too and delightfully frivolous with its tiny veil.

  ‘My feet are killing me,’ her mother hissed from Amy’s other side. ‘One of the straps on these sandals is cutting into my big toe.’

  ‘I’ve got a plaster in my handbag,’ Amy hissed back, thinking that though her mother was complaining, she looked lovely too in a beige suit and hat, the brim trimmed with white ribbon which matched her bag and sandals. It had been hard to find suitable outfits that didn’t cost a fortune, but they’d been lucky when they found a ladies’ dress shop that was shutting down. With a bit of bargaining, her mother had got her hat thrown in too, but Amy didn’t think that any she tried on suited her, so had decided not to wear one.

  It had been a lovely surprise to find that Rose had arranged a car to pick them up, so they had arrived in style, but now Amy looked at the other guests, two dour-faced middle-aged couples. They had hardly acknowledged them when they turned up, and Amy wasn’t looking forward to sitting with them in the restaurant. She felt it might be a bit strained, but then to her surprise it was suddenly all over. It had happened so quickly, but Rose and Samuel Jacobs signed the register, and then shortly afterwards they were all outside.

  ‘Congratulations,’ her mother said to Rose and Mr Jacobs.

  ‘Yes, from me too,’ said her dad, shaking the old man’s hand.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, smiling.

  The other two couples said nothing but Amy stepped forward to kiss Rose on the cheek. ‘You look lovely,’ she enthused, and meant it. ‘Congratulations.’