by Kitty Neale
When there was a ring on her doorbell, Rose went to see who it was, hiding her impatience when she saw it was the woman who lived upstairs. Lydia was nice enough, but always looking to borrow something, and it soon became obvious she was at it again.
‘Rose, I’m sorry to ask, but my youngest won’t eat his porridge without sugar. Can you spare a couple of spoonfuls?’
Rose had left not only sugar, but a few other bits and pieces in her larder and said impulsively, ‘Yes, of course I can. Come in, Lydia.’
‘I can’t stop. I’ve got to get the kids off to school,’ she said while following Rose to the kitchen.
‘Here,’ Rose said, as she began to place the bag of sugar, along with a tin of corned beef, spam, and other bits and pieces into Lydia’s arms.
‘What are you doing? I only wanted a bit of sugar.’
‘I know, but I’m leaving so you might as well have what’s left in my cupboard.’
‘Leaving? Where are you going?’
‘This flat is riddled with damp and when another place came up I talked the landlord into letting me have it,’ Rose lied.
Lydia’s neck stretched with indignation. ‘I don’t think that’s fair. My flat is just as damp and as I’ve got kids he should have offered it to me.’
‘Tell that to the landlord.’
‘I’ve only had dealings with the agent so how come you got to speak to Mr Jacobs? I don’t even know how to get in touch with him.’
‘Where there’s a will there’s a way,’ Rose told her.
‘Give me his address or phone number then,’ Lydia demanded.
‘I don’t think he likes it bandied about, but you could try asking the agent.’
‘I will. You can be sure of that,’ Lydia said stiffly, but she kept hold of the food that Rose had given her as she marched out.
Rose was too happy to care. No more bar work at the Park Tavern, she thought, no more putting up with the owner’s groping hands. She hadn’t told him she was leaving. He’d find out soon enough when she didn’t
turn up for work, and until they found a replacement his fat, lazy wife would have to do a bit of work for a change.
With a final look around, Rose picked up her suitcase. It was time to go – time to start her new life.
Amy was in the stock room with Carol. She tried to draw her friend out, but Carol didn’t want to talk. Amy felt as though she had lost her friend; the chatty, funny, vivacious girl she’d known was so different now that it was like trying to talk to a stranger. She still tried, saying now, ‘Did you go out over the weekend?’
‘No,’ was the short reply.
‘Tommy took me to the funfair in Battersea Park.’
‘Lucky you.’
There was a hint of sarcasm in Carol’s tone and struck by a thought, Amy said, ‘Are you annoyed with me because I’m still dating Tommy and we don’t see much of each other outside of work now?’
‘No. Why should I be?’
‘I know you don’t approve of him.’
‘Amy, I take back everything I said about Tommy. From what you’ve told me, he’s a decent bloke and believe me, as they’re few and far between you should hold on to him.’
‘Carol, you sound so bitter. Has someone hurt you? Let you down?’
‘Questions, questions! I’m sick of your questions,’ she said, her voice rising.
‘I’m sorry,’ Amy said quickly. ‘It’s just that I hate to see you like this and if I can, I want to help.’
The hard mask slipped, and looking as though she was about to cry, Carol said, ‘You can’t help me, Amy. Nobody can.’
‘What is going on out here?’ Mrs Jones, their new manageress, asked in a sharp voice. ‘I heard raised voices.’
‘Nothing, Mrs Jones,’ Amy said, drawing the woman’s eyes to her while Carol quickly looked down at the stock list. ‘I slipped a bit on the ladder, that’s all, and sort of yelped a bit.’
‘Well, be more careful in future and Carol, we have customers so I need you in the shop,’ the manageress said.
As the two of them left the stock room, Amy could have screamed. She had managed to get Carol talking at last, but now the moment had passed.
The rest of the day passed with little opportunity for her to speak privately to Carol again, but as they left work at five thirty, Amy knew she’d have a chance as they walked home.
‘Amy, I’ve got to go somewhere. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,’ Carol said, turning to quickly head off in the other direction.
Startled, and with no time to say anything, Amy was left to wonder where Carol was going, but came up with no answers. She walked home alone, going over and over in her mind what Carol had said that morning in the stock room. She had said that nobody could help her, but what did that mean?
When at last Amy turned into Lark Rise, an awful thought had begun to form. No, it couldn’t be that. As far as she knew Carol hadn’t been out with a boy for ages – but all thoughts of Carol were driven from her mind when she drew level with Tommy’s house and he came running out of the door to speak to her.
‘Amy, I’m sorry, but I can’t see you tonight.’
His face looked drawn and worriedly she said, ‘It’s all right, I don’t mind, but what’s wrong?’
‘I’m not supposed to say anything, but I know I can trust you to keep this to yourself. It’s my dad. He’s left my mum and she’s in a dreadful state. She’s been up and down all day, one minute angry; the next in tears.’
Tommy looked so upset, and laying a hand on his arm, she said, ‘Don’t worry, he’s sure to come back soon.’
‘I doubt that. He’s gone off with another woman.’
‘Oh, Tommy, no wonder your mum’s in a state.’
‘I’ll have to get back to her, but if I can, I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Amy stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and giving her a swift hug, Tommy went back inside. She thought she saw the lace curtains twitch, as though his mother had been watching them, yet for once she felt sorry for her. Amy sadly walked the rest of the way home.
‘Why the long face?’ Phyllis asked her daughter when she arrived home from work.
Amy hesitated for a fraction of a minute, but then said, ‘I can’t tell you unless you both promise to keep it to yourself?’
‘Keep what to ourselves?’ Phyllis asked.
‘Promise me first,’ Amy urged.
‘All right, all right, I promise,’ Phyllis agreed.
‘Dad?’ Amy asked, looking at him.
‘I’m not interested in women’s gossip, but yeah, all right.’
Amy hesitated for a moment again, but then said, ‘Tommy’s dad has gone off with another woman. He said his mum’s in a terrible state.’
Phyllis’s stomach turned as she asked, ‘What woman?’
‘I don’t know,’ Amy said.
To Phyllis’s surprise, it was Stan who voiced her thoughts.
‘I can guess,’ he said. ‘I reckon he’s gone off with Rose.’
‘Auntie Rose?’ Amy exclaimed, her eyes widening with surprise.
‘I know I told you to call her auntie when you were a child, but you can drop it now. She’s your second cousin,’ Phyllis said. ‘But, Stan, what makes you think she’s gone off with Tommy’s dad?’
‘I’ve seen her flirting with George when he’s in the Park Tavern,’ Stan told her.
‘That doesn’t mean anything. My cousin flirts with anything in trousers,’ Phyllis said, though inwardly felt she was clutching at straws.
‘Yeah, that’s true,’ Stan conceded. ‘But if she isn’t behind the bar this evening, I reckon I’ll be proved right.’
Phyllis looked at her daughter and saw that the ramifications hadn’t sunk in yet. She dreaded to think how Celia Frost would react when she found out that her husband had run off with a member of their family. Amy had looked so happy lately, but now, thanks to Rose, all that was likely to change.
Chapter Twelve
Frank Cole arrived h
ome from work that same evening, hungry and ready for his dinner, but walked into a silent house. Daphne wasn’t in the kitchen, and he was puzzled to find that she wasn’t upstairs either. He was annoyed that she hadn’t left a note to say where she was going, but at least Carol would be home soon and she might know where her mother was.
When over half an hour passed with no sign of Daphne or his daughter, Frank began to worry. He hurried to the Millers’ house, saying when Amy opened the door, ‘Did Carol walk home with you?’
‘Err … no. She said something about having to go somewhere.’
‘Did she say anything about meeting up with her mother?’
‘No,’ Amy said, shaking her head.
‘All right, thanks,’ Frank said, suddenly struck by an idea. Perhaps Daphne’s mother was ill and they were both round there.
He hurried off and it didn’t take him long to reach his mother-in-law’s house, where he rang the doorbell. Daphne had been an only child, a late one, and his mother-in-law, Edna Newman, was in her seventies now. She looked a bit surprised to see him, but without preamble he asked, ‘Is Daphne here?’
‘No she isn’t and I haven’t seen her all day. Some daughter she’s turned out to be.’
Frank thought Edna must have gone senile. ‘Leave it out. Daphne’s always around here.’
‘That’s only because she prefers my company to yours.’
Frank’s jaws clenched, but he ground out, ‘What about Carol? Is she here?’
‘You must be joking. I haven’t seen her for ages. Now I’ve got things to do, so bugger off.’
With that the door slammed shut, leaving Frank both angry at the old witch’s attitude, yet bewildered too. Where the hell were his wife and daughter? He couldn’t think of anywhere else to try, so he returned home.
It was after nine thirty in the evening before one of them turned up; by that time Frank was so out of his mind with worry that he was about to go to the police station.
‘Where have you been?’ he yelled at his daughter when she walked in.
‘Out with a mate,’ was Carol’s terse reply.
‘Where’s your mother?’
‘I don’t know. Isn’t she here?’
‘No, she flaming well isn’t. Have you got any idea where she might have gone?’
‘She’s probably round Gran’s house.’
‘I’ve checked there and your gran said she hasn’t seen your mother today.’
‘That doesn’t make sense. Mum’s always round there.’
‘Your gran might be going batty, but it doesn’t change the fact that your mother wasn’t there,’ Frank said, running both hands through his hair in agitation.
‘Mum can’t have gone far; she’s sure to turn up soon.’
‘She’d better,’ he growled, then turning his anger on his daughter, ‘and as for you, my girl, what are you playing at? You went straight out from work and I had no idea where you were either. I’m not having it – in future I don’t want you disappearing without telling me where you’re going!’
‘Yes, all right,’ Carol said meekly. ‘Dad, I’m sorry, but I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.’
Frank frowned, noticing for the first time that his daughter looked a bit washed out and pale. ‘Yeah, yeah, all right, but aren’t you worried about your mother?’
‘No. Not really. As I said, she’s sure to be home soon, but in that mood you’re bound to have a row. I don’t want to stay up to listen to it.’
With that, Carol went upstairs while Frank sat down again. Yes, his daughter was right. When Daphne showed her face, he’d have a few things to say to her – and he wouldn’t be doing it quietly.
Carol was curled up in bed, hating what she’d done. Yet what choice had there been? She was sure that if she’d waited any longer her parents would have seen the tell-
tale bump that was starting to show. They’d have gone mad, but at least this way they would never know anything about it.
It had been awful to go to that woman’s house – terrifying to endure what had been done to her, but at least it was over now. The woman had said that there’d be pain later, but so far Carol felt fine, though she was mentally and emotionally exhausted. She closed her eyes, and at last drifted into a troubled sleep.
Carol had no idea how long she had slept, but she awoke with agonising pain ripping through her stomach. She drew up her knees and clenched her teeth, fighting the need to cry out. At last it abated, but soon after it started again and perspiration soaked her body.
She bore wave after wave of pain that grew in intensity until at last, in fear and agony, sure that something was wrong and she was dying, Carol couldn’t stand it any more. ‘Mum! Mum!’ she yelled. ‘Help me!’
Her bedroom door flew open, but it was her father who turned on the light as he dashed into the room. ‘What is it! What’s wrong?’
‘Mum! I want Mum!’
‘She isn’t here.’
Agony again came tearing through her and Carol screamed, barely aware of her father rushing to her side as she felt something slithering from her body. She flung back the rumpled sheet, looked down, but saw only blood, soaking the sheets, unable to do anything but stare, transfixed, as the stain spread.
Her vision dimmed and she felt strange, her head swimming, but then Carol knew no more as darkness enclosed her.
Frank was barely able to comprehend what his eyes saw, but acting on impulse he bunched up the top sheet, frantically trying to stem the blood that was flowing from his daughter’s body.
Carol was unconscious, her face ashen and, sure that he could see her lips turning blue, Frank knew he had to get help. He fled the room and headed for the nearest telephone box, his hands shaking so much he could only just manage to dial the emergency service.
‘Ambulance,’ he cried when the call was answered.
He then gave the address, begged that they hurry, before he ran home again, relieved to find that though Carol was still unconscious, she was breathing.
Though almost overwhelmed with anxiety, Frank was no fool and could see what had happened. He just couldn’t believe it – couldn’t comprehend that Carol had just had a miscarriage.
Every minute felt like an hour as Frank waited in Carol’s bedroom for the ambulance to arrive, his mind reeling. He needed Daphne, his daughter needed her mother, but she wasn’t there and somehow he had to deal with this alone.
Frank went to the window over and over again until at last he saw an ambulance turning onto Lark Rise. In the early hours of the morning the bell was silent as it pulled up outside. He ran downstairs to let them in, urging the men to Carol’s bedroom where he watched their every move until his daughter was being carried to the ambulance. After a momentary hesitation, he climbed in too.
The ambulance sped off, and when they reached the hospital Carol was unloaded, still unconscious and deathly pale, her skin almost translucent. Frank looked up at the night sky and felt like howling his distress to the full moon, but instead he followed behind as they entered the hospital, his shoulders slumped like those of an old, broken man.
When Amy’s father had come home from the pub, he’d said that Rose hadn’t turned up for work. She had seen the look that passed between her parents and at last realised what would happen when Celia Frost found out that her husband had run off with Rose, a member of their family.
Amy had gone to bed, not only fearing Celia’s reaction, but Tommy’s too. She had lain awake for ages, finally drifting off to sleep after midnight, and woke to the sound of her father’s voice.
‘Come on, Amy, it’s time to get up.’
‘Wh … what?’ she murmured.
‘Amy, I’ll have to leave for work soon and you haven’t made my breakfast.’
Amy blinked her eyes, and at last her mind cleared. Not long after that she was downstairs and working as quickly as possible, finally putting her father’s breakfast in front of him. ‘Sorry, Dad, I had a bad night.’
‘Yeah, somethi
ng disturbed me too. I heard what sounded like a car, doors banging, voices, but I managed to go back to sleep.’
‘I didn’t hear any of that,’ Amy said as her father quickly demolished his food.
He then gulped down his tea and rose to his feet. ‘Right, I’m off. See you later,’ he said, grabbing his coat before hurrying out.
Unusually, her mother hadn’t come home from her cleaning job by the time Amy was ready to leave, and she wondered what was holding her up. She hurried out to find her mother outside Mrs Povis’s house, the two of them deep in conversation. Was her mother telling her about Tommy’s dad and Rose? Amy hoped not, because once Mabel got to hear about it the gossip would spread like wildfire.
‘Amy,’ her mother said as she approached, ‘there’s no point in waiting for Carol. She isn’t in, nor is anyone else. We don’t know what’s going on, or who has been taken ill, but Mabel was disturbed in the early hours of this morning and got up just in time to see an ambulance pulling away. She knocked on the door fifteen minutes ago to see if they needed anything, but there was no answer.’
Amy’s heart skipped a beat as she recalled that Carol’s dad had been looking for her, and then he’d asked if Carol was with her mother. It had seemed a bit of an odd question, but with other things on her mind, Amy hadn’t given it much thought. It still didn’t make much sense, nor did it help to work out who had been taken so ill that an ambulance had been called. Amy didn’t know what to do. She’d be late for work if she didn’t get a move on, yet she couldn’t leave without knowing what had happened. ‘Mum, I think I’ll run to the telephone box. If I ring our local hospitals, one of them will be able to tell me if they admitted Carol or her parents, and if they’re all right.’
‘You haven’t got time to do that, and anyway, as you aren’t a relative I doubt they’d tell you anything. Go to work, love, and if there’s any news I promise I’ll ring the shop.’
Amy was about to protest, but then saw Frank Cole walking down the hill. All three of them went to meet him, and seeing that he looked dreadful Amy asked anxiously, ‘Mr Cole, what happened? Who was taken ill?’