by Anne Bennett
Charlie was aware of the slight silence. He smiled encouragingly at Meg and all the children and said, ‘Where are your manners, children? Aren’t you going to welcome Mrs Caudwell, our guest?’
Rather than even try to put the fear of God into her siblings for their behaviour towards Mrs Caudwell, Meg had appealed to their better nature, stressing again how alone in the world she was. ‘And she might be a bit awkward with us because she isn’t used to children,’ she’d added, so now the children looked to Meg for direction. She gave an almost imperceptible sigh. God, sometimes it was hard to be the eldest, she thought as she nailed a smile to her face and offered her arm outstretched. ‘We’re pleased to see you, Mrs Caudwell,’ she said. ‘Would you like to take off your hat and I’ll put it upstairs until you leave?’
Doris smiled and despite herself Meg thought it was like the leering sneer a crocodile might give before he takes your head off, for it didn’t touch her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said in clipped tones. ‘But I prefer to keep my hat on.’
Meg gave a brief nod and chivvied her brothers and sisters, and one by one they moved forward and shook hands. Doris turned her leering smile on them too and Meg knew that they didn’t care for her much either. But to be fair she realised they would like nobody who might come into their home and, as they saw it, take the place of their mother.
To cover the awkward silence that fell after Billy had shaken Doris’s hand, Meg scooped the drowsy Ruth from the pram and planted her in Charlie’s arms, saying to Doris as she did so, ‘This is the youngest member of the family.’
Her father looked awkward holding Ruth, and as Meg made tea she thought it strange that Doris seemed ill at ease with her too. But she didn’t have children of her own, so probably that was the reason. ‘Her name is Ruth,’ Meg said, and Doris patted the baby awkwardly on the arm.
To Meg’s dismay, Ruth burst into tears and struggled in her father’s arms. ‘Hey, hey, there’s no need for that,’ Charlie chided, setting Ruth on the floor where she continued to cry. ‘What’s the matter with her anyway?’
Meg swallowed her irritation and put the teapot on the table before picking Ruth up, stopping the tears in an instant. ‘Still tired, I imagine,’ she said and, to prevent her father saying anything else, she added, ‘Would everyone like to come up to the table?’
‘We’ll do that all right,’ Charlie said briskly, pleased to have a diversion. ‘Meg, you’ve done us proud. This all looks delicious. Come on, my dear,’ he said to Doris, and he pulled out a chair for her. Terry and Meg exchanged glances for they had never seen him do anything like that for their mother.
Charlie had told the children the tea table would be their chance to get to know Doris. Meg found that wasn’t going to be so easy, though, because any questions they asked her, she answered politely but briefly, so that it began to sound more like an interrogation than a conversation.
Doris had some questions of her own. ‘So you don’t go out to work?’ she asked Meg as she finished her last cup of tea, and Meg turned to her father for support.
‘It would have been difficult for Meg to go out to any sort of job with all the others to see to,’ Charlie said.
‘Yes, I see,’ Doris said to Meg. ‘Weren’t there relatives able to help, take a child or two off your hands?’ Her tone was courteous, but Meg’s hackles rose a little once more.
‘I had promised my mother to keep us all together,’ she explained.
‘That seems quite a burdensome, selfish sort of promise to extract from a young girl,’ Doris observed matter-of-factly.
Meg bridled again, perceiving criticism of her mother, and she faced Doris and said, ‘No, Mrs Caudwell, that’s not so. My mother never had a selfish bone in the whole of her body. It was a promise I willingly made.’
Charlie smiled gently and said conciliatorily, ‘I’m sure Doris understands that. Don’t you, my dear?’
Doris smiled pleasantly. ‘Of course I do, Charlie.’
‘Yeah,’ Sally put in. ‘Daddy didn’t want us to go anywhere, anyway.’
‘Like those horrible people from Ireland who wanted to take us to live with them,’ Billy said.
‘Billy,’ Charlie said sternly. ‘Those people are your grandparents.’
Billy shrugged. ‘Don’t care. Don’t mean they can’t be horrible. You didn’t let us go to them, did you?’
‘No, but—’
‘You said you loved us too much,’ Jenny reminded him. ‘And you do.’
‘Yeah,’ Billy said in agreement, but added, ‘’Cept for Ruth. You ain’t that keen on her.’
There was a collective gasp and Charlie’s cheeks were so red the scarlet stain had even spread to his neck. Billy, on the other hand, just looked puzzled. He looked around the people at the table and said, ‘What?’
Meg knew she had to say something so she said, ‘Billy, you shouldn’t say things like that.’
‘Why not?’ Billy asked. ‘You said I had to tell the truth and it is the truth.’
Doris smiled beatifically at their father and said, ‘Lots of men have no time for babies. Isn’t that right, Charlie?’
Meg watched her father nod and smile fondly back at Doris, and yet Meg knew as well as he did the true reasons for his finding contact with Ruth so difficult.
‘You see,’ Doris asserted with a smug smile.
Meg fumed inside at Doris’s proprietorial attitude towards her father, but she supposed there was no point in feeling angry. ‘Let’s change the subject, shall we?’ she said brightly. ‘Would you like any more to eat?’ she asked Doris.
‘I couldn’t eat another thing,’ Doris said to Meg. ‘It was delicious food.’
Charlie was relieved that Doris and Meg seemed to be getting on well because he knew that the younger ones took the lead from Meg.
‘Another cup of tea perhaps?’ Meg said.
‘Not even that,’ Doris said. ‘We will have to be making tracks, Charlie, if we are going to see that film.’
‘Oh, you’re right, my dear,’ Charlie said, glancing at the clock. ‘I will just go and get my good coat.’ And he made for the stairs.
With the tea party broken up, Sally and Billy were playing with Ruth in front of the fire and Terry was carrying the plates out to Jenny, who was washing them in the scullery, and so there was no one near Meg when Doris leaned towards her and hissed, ‘I would have thought it was your father’s place, not yours, to bring the matter to a close. I think you take far too much upon yourself.’
Meg was taken aback, for though the words were spoken quietly there had been real venom in the way they were said. But no one else had heard so what could she say in reply, especially as her father came bouncing into the room at that minute, smiling fondly at Doris as he said, ‘Are you ready, my dear?’
Meg swallowed her anger so that she could bid Doris a civil goodbye, but her sigh of relief was audible as she watched Charlie take Doris’s arm and set off down the road towards Bristol Street.
‘Thank you for introducing me to your family,’ Doris said as they walked along. ‘The tea, as I said, was delicious, but …’
Charlie turned to her quizzically. ‘What, my dear?’
‘Well, I know your children haven’t had a mother around,’ she began carefully, ‘but you really should keep an eye on them, especially the younger ones. They seem to think they can say what they want without any fear or favour.’
Charlie blushed and shrugged helplessly. ‘What can I do?’
‘Insist on better manners before the children are ruined altogether,’ Doris said. ‘In my day, children were seen but not heard.’
Charlie wondered if it was true that he had been too lax, had abdicated his role as a father. He knew he’d been neglectful for a while after Maeve’s death and probably he should have kept a firmer hand on the tiller. It was obvious the children needed more guidance. It was true they could be undisciplined and, small wonder: Meg hadn’t the authority of a parent. Not that he was much good in that depa
rtment anyway. He had always left that type of thing to Maeve.
Back at the house, Meg looked at Terry. ‘Thank God that’s over,’ she whispered.
‘I know,’ Terry mouthed back.
‘I don’t like that lady,’ Billy said loudly.
‘Now that’s enough, Billy,’ Meg said. ‘It’s not up to you who Dad sees.’
She felt she had to defend her father in front of the younger children, but she knew that underneath the fixed smile was someone who could not be trusted and could be really nasty. Look at the way she had spoken to her, and over nothing.
Meg asked her Aunt Rosie about Doris Caudwell when she saw her next.
‘I just felt she was trying to avoid answering any personal questions,’ Meg told her aunt.
Rosie burst out, ‘She’s just the same at work. In the beginning, when Robert told me about your dad having a fancy for this Doris Caudwell, and me working at the same place as her, I sought her out and tried to be a bit friendly, like. Well, I might as well not have bothered because she made it clear she wasn’t really interested in any sort of friendship with me. It’s not just me, either; she barely talks to the women she works with. They know as little about her now as they did the day she started.’
‘What about the woman she went to the Swan with first?’ Meg said. ‘Surely they must be friends?’
Rosie shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, Daisy’s a nice girl. See, her chap’s in the army and he was passing through Birmingham and the driver of the truck agreed to stop off in a pub near where his girlfriend lived so that they could spend an hour or two together. He didn’t know what time he would get there and so he told her to go and wait at the Swan pub. She was desperate to see him, but had never gone into a pub on her own before and wanted someone to go with her. Doris agreed to go. Don’t know why because she isn’t known for her kind gestures. But Daisy told me herself that as soon as Doris saw your father she might as well not have existed. She did talk more to Robert first, but she said anyone with half a brain could see that she had earmarked your dad, and more especially when Robert let slip that Charlie was a widower. And since that day she barely looks at the side Daisy’s on.’
‘Isn’t that rather strange, Aunt Rosie?’
‘I’ll say.’
‘What does Dad see in her?’
‘Well, now, Meg, this might be hard for you to take just now,’ Aunt Rosie said. ‘But, you see, your father is a normal, healthy man – and you know what I mean by that, don’t you?’
Meg nodded mutely, blushing slightly, and her aunt Rosie went on, ‘Doris can obviously give him what he can get nowhere else, and if you read what these magazines say about such things, it seems in men the sexual urge is much greater than in women. Men find it hard to do without it for very long.’
Meg didn’t say anything to her aunt but she was remembering back to Billy’s birth and the doctor saying her mother wasn’t to have any more children, and so there must have been minimal relations between her parents in the final few years. It made her uncomfortable thinking of her father and Doris in bed together, but that was what her aunt Rosie meant.
Then Rosie said gently, ‘If Doris is providing something your father needs and enjoys, he will not want to upset her, so if he is taking her part instead of yours, that’s probably why.’
That sounded very depressing to Meg. ‘That isn’t very fair, Aunt Rosie. Will it always be like that?’
Rosie shrugged. ‘In my opinion, men do anything for a quiet life,’ she said. ‘And this is a new experience for your father. Personally, I can’t take to the woman, but at the moment in your father’s eyes she can do no wrong. When they are married and settled down together, speak to your father quietly and on his own if there is something upsetting you. He does value your good opinion. I know that.’
‘No magic solution, then?’
‘’Fraid not. Did you expect there to be one?’
‘No, not really,’ Meg said. ‘I long ago stopped believing in fairy tales. But I can’t understand her not wanting to make friends with people. Maybe she would be a kinder, more understanding person if she let others into her life.’
‘Ah, but maybe she has secrets she doesn’t want others to know about,’ Rosie said.
‘Has she?’
‘How would we know?’ Rosie said. ‘But there is certainly something amiss, if you ask me.’
Rosie had been more astute than she knew. Doris couldn’t risk making friends because they would ask questions and expect answers. Charlie never did that for, just as he had never quizzed Maeve about her traumatic childhood, he had not been overly curious about Doris’s life in Yorkshire. He believed her when she explained her husband, Gerry, had died of a tumour and that she had nursed him till the end. He didn’t ask for details, nor did he keep on about it, in case it upset her. He quite understood that after his death she’d decided to move away and make a new start elsewhere.
‘But you can look on the bright side,’ Meg’s aunt concluded.
‘What bright side?’ Meg asked.
‘Well, this releases you, doesn’t it, if your father and Doris marry?’
Meg nodded. ‘Dad seems to think so,’ she said slowly. ‘But at what cost to the children, I wonder.’
TEN
The following Friday morning, there was a knock at the door. Meg assumed it was the rent man, though he usually came much earlier. She had the money put aside on the mantelpiece so she picked it up and the rent book, but was astonished when she opened to door to find Richard Flatterly outside.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Why shouldn’t I be here?’ Richard asked. ‘I happen to own the houses.’
‘I know, but Vince O’Malley collects the rent usually.’
‘Well, he’s laid up at the moment,’ Richard told her. ‘So, you’re stuck with me for a while. Don’t mind that, do you?’
Meg did mind very much. The last thing she wanted was to see Richard Flattery’s leering face every week, but you couldn’t say that sort of thing to the man who owned the house you were living in, so Meg contented herself with a shrug. ‘Doesn’t bother me.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,’ Richard said seductively, touching her hand as he had once before as he gave her back the rent book.
Meg took a step backwards, almost tripping over Ruth, who was peeping through her legs to see who was at the door. She picked Ruth up and held her almost protectively against her. Ignoring Richard’s comment, Meg said, ‘You must excuse me, but I am meeting a friend in town,’ and she shut the door quickly lest he put his foot in the way to prevent it closing.
‘It’s not what he says so much, but it’s the way he says it,’ she said later to Joy.
‘I hate men like that,’ Joy said. ‘They give me the creeps. They need a good slap.’
‘I agree,’ Meg said. ‘But I can hardly do that when the man is my landlord.’
‘No,’ Joy agreed. ‘I can see your problem there all right.’
‘Mind you,’ Meg said, ‘he probably won’t want to pound around the houses collecting money for long. I should think he will get another rent man in soon enough. I can’t imagine he has any sort of loyalty to his employees.’
‘Few have,’ Joy said. ‘What about you? Now you’re nearly free, why don’t you think about what you’re going to do with your future?’
‘I may do,’ Meg said. ‘I really would like to work and better myself, but not just yet. I can’t leave Daddy in the lurch till I know what’s happening.’
Joy’s words did make Meg more hopeful for her own future, though, and that night as they sat eating the evening meal, she mentioned to her father that Richard Flatterly had called for his own rent that morning. ‘I expect he’ll engage another rent man before long, though,’ she added. ‘With the numbers of unemployed, I’d say that he’ll be spoiled for choice.’
‘There’s not the lines of unemployment there were once,’ Charlie said. ‘But whethe
r there are or not, they will not be engaging anyone else.’
‘Oh?’
‘Oh, you can bet that it isn’t young Richard’s idea,’ Charlie said. ‘He wouldn’t give a body the skin off his rice pudding, that one. His father now, he’s a decent sort – in fact our rent man, Vince, saved his life in the Great War. He told me about it one night in the pub. Vince played down his part in it at the time, but others filled in the details after. He risked his own life to save the officer’s and was shot to bits for his trouble, riddled with shrapnel, and apparently his life hung in the balance for some time. He recovered, but you must have noticed the limp.’
‘’Course.’
‘Well, that was what he was left with,’ Charlie said. ‘Still gives him gyp, that leg. That’s what’s wrong with him now. Anyway, old Flatterly promised him a job for life in gratitude. He is an honourable man, so Richard will have to collect his own rents till Vince is better.’
Meg wrinkled her nose. She hated the thought of dealing with Flatterly every Friday morning, but there was no point in complaining about it.
Doris Caudwell had never had any interest in the news or what was happening in the world around her, and tended to dismiss as overreaction all the worries and anxieties about Germany. Charlie, in contrast, was fanatical about what was happening, knowing any war could involve him. When listening to the latest news broadcasts, she was surprised to hear many were talking about the war as if it was a foregone conclusion. Doris asked Charlie about it one night as they sat having a drink in the Trees public house. When Charlie said he might be called up, it gave her a start.
‘I thought you’d be too old.’
Charlie laughed. ‘Thanks.’
‘Oh, you know what I mean, Charlie.’
‘Well, I know at the moment it’s only supposed to be blokes aged twenty or thereabouts, but I’m told by quite reliable sources that forty-one will be the cut-off point if things get more serious. And if I am called up I must go.’
‘So what are we going to do?’ Doris asked, frowning.
‘Well, we could get married, although then our time together might be very limited till this war is over. Are you prepared for that?’