by Carol Rivers
Rose was sitting on the end of her bed. She had followed their teacher’s advice and told them everything she knew, stressing that Eddie was innocent of any crime. ‘I know, pet. So do I .’
‘It’s because he hit that policeman,’ Marlene said as she sucked her thumb, her red hair spread over her pillow like a bright red cobweb.
‘Well, it was all a misunderstanding.’
‘And he hasn’t got a ball and chain round his leg?’
‘No, that’s only in comics.’
‘Can we go to see him?’ Donnie’s lips trembled.
‘Not yet, sweetheart. Mummy has to go first.’
‘When?’
‘Next Wednesday.’
‘Is it a long way away?’
‘Not far.’
‘What if anyone says nasty things about Daddy again? What do we tell them?’
‘To mind their own business,’ Rose replied firmly.
‘Mummy?’ Donnie was finally looking sleepy. Rose got up and tucked the sheet over her. ‘Does Daddy still love us?’
‘He loves you more than ever. And he’s very proud of you. You can write him a letter tomorrow after school,’ Rose murmured as she bent to kiss them. ‘And I’ll take it with me when I go next Wednesday.’
‘Me spelling ain’t that good,’ Marlene yawned.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Me painting’s better.’
‘Well, you can paint him a picture then. Now, off you go to sleep, my darlings.’
By the time she switched off the light, they were both far away, dreaming, she hoped, of fairytale castles and princes and princesses. She didn’t want her girls to grow up. She wanted them to have a long childhood, full of innocence and happiness. But would that be possible now?
For the next couple of days Rose waited at the school gate after the girls went in. She wanted the other children and their parents to see her there. Even when a teacher came out and blew the whistle she didn’t leave the railings, but waited until the last child disappeared inside and all the parents had gone.
Most of the mothers returned her smile or said hello. But she knew what they were thinking. They had read that piece in the newspaper and had marked Eddie down as guilty.
Only Sally Piper’s mum, Jane, spoke more than a few words. ‘I was sorry to hear about Marlene. Sally told me,’ she said as they walked back to Ruby Street. ‘Is she all right?’
‘Not too bad,’ Rose nodded as Jane tried to control her two toddlers. ‘It was over the bit in the paper about Eddie. It was the parents’ fault, not the little boy’s who didn’t really understand what he was saying.’
‘Kids catch on pretty quick,’ Jane said ruefully as she battled with arms and legs all wriggling in the pram. ‘I’m sure it’ll all blow over.’
‘I hope so.’ Rose wondered how Jane kept so calm with her multiplying family.
‘Try not to worry,’ Jane said as she struggled to push her second youngest back on the seat attached to the bassinet. ‘You won’t be the first to encounter ignorance and definitely not the last. Time spent worrying is time lost, love.’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’ It was nice talking to Jane who, despite frequently being in a tearing rush, always had time for a few words at the school gates. Their daughters were good friends and had been since they’d started school at St Mary’s two-and-a-half years ago.
‘See you later,’ Jane grinned as she left and Rose told herself that if all her neighbours reacted to the news of Eddie’s imprisonment like Jane, she would consider herself lucky.
When Friday evening came Rose waited outside the playground and was relieved to see happy faces coming towards her. ‘Had a good day?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Yes.’
Marlene, slightly red faced, said eagerly, ‘Can we play Snakes and Ladders tonight?’ Friday was a special night. Usually Rose allowed them to wait up for Eddie, as they didn’t have school in the morning. But it wouldn’t happen this evening, Rose thought, then remembered Miss Keene’s words about routine being good for children. It also appeared the situation had improved in school too as Jane Piper had insightfully suggested it would.
‘We’ll have a little party,’ she said joyfully. ‘I’ll make a cake too.’
‘I hope I don’t go down that big fat snake in the middle,’ Marlene wailed. ‘He’s got a mouth as big as Blackwall tunnel.’
‘Just like you,’ Donnie giggled.
‘I ain’t got a big mouth.’
‘Now you two, don’t start.’
Rose smiled as they skipped in front of her. For the first time since Eddie had been away, she felt a flash of normality in her life.
Rose made her first major decision in Eddie’s absence. She was going to return the Parkers’ money and clear Eddie’s name on that score. That night, after Snakes and Ladders when the girls were tucked up in bed and fast asleep, she removed fifty pounds from the shoebox.
It was late when Rose knocked but Olga opened her door at once. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded in surprise.
‘I’ve got something for you.’
‘What?’
‘Here’s what you asked for.’ Rose drew the money from her pocket.
Olga stared, her eyes wide with shock. ‘Where did you get that?’
‘Do you want it or not?’
‘Fifty pounds?’ Olga took the money and counted each note.
‘Is your husband there?’ Rose wanted him to witness the transaction.
‘He’s not at home.’
‘Well, I’ve got no option, then, but to leave you to tell him the money has been fully repaid.’
Olga looked up suspiciously. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘It’s the money you gave to Eddie for the television, of course.’
But Olga was in no mood for forgiveness. ‘It was still an embarrassment,’ she said acidly.
Rose bit her tongue with difficulty. ‘For which I have already apologized.’
‘Your husband should never have sold it to us.’
‘If you hadn’t gone on at him, he wouldn’t. Eddie said Leslie asked about the telly. Anyway, I’m not here to argue and I don’t bear any grudges,’ she said quietly. ‘And I hope you won’t.’
Olga sniffed loudly. ‘No, I suppose not,’ she conceded.
‘Goodnight, then.’ Rose turned and walked away hoping to be called back. But she wasn’t. The door closed sharply behind her. Although Rose had derived satisfaction from settling the debt she knew that in a strange way she had alienated her neighbour even more. What was it like, she wondered, to be a foreigner living in another country? It couldn’t be easy and since the Polish had suffered badly in the war, perhaps there were things in Olga’s past that made her unhappy too.
I should have been friendlier, Rose worried that night as she got into bed. She had wanted to impress on the Parkers and her neighbours that Eddie was no thief. Well, she’d done that all right. But what had it achieved? A clear conscience, yes. But Olga still bore ill will. Rose slid down between the sheets, sadly aware of the cold space beside her. At least she could tell Eddie she’d returned the money and people would know then he hadn’t intentionally deceived the Parkers.
The following morning brought another surprise. Rose had just got up and was brushing her hair, wondering what she was going to give the girls for breakfast, when she heard the letterbox go. Marlene was down the stairs first. ‘We’ve got a letter,’ she shouted up and Rose hurried down.
‘I’ll open it in the kitchen. Get dressed now.’
‘I ain’t brushed me teeth.’
‘You can brush them in a minute.’
Rose sat at the table. It would be wonderful to hear words of support, something she could always rely on with Em. Her sister might even suggest they visit Eastbourne for a holiday. Not that she could afford to travel, but it would be nice to be asked.
Rose opened the sheets of thin, lined blue notepaper. As she read, her jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe what Em had written.
; Just then Donnie appeared. ‘What’s the matter, Mummy?’
Rose blinked. ‘It’s Auntie Em. She . . . she—’
Donnie sat down on the other chair. ‘She what, Mum?’
Rose looked at her daughter. ‘Uncle Arthur’s dead. They’ve just had his funeral.’
‘So Auntie Em and Will are a bit like us, then? All on their own,’ Donnie questioned with childlike innocence.
Rose nodded, aware that her sister Em, at only thirty-one years of age, was now a widow. Her brother-in-law Arthur, a man who had always boasted good health, was dead and buried.
Chapter Six
Anita’s eyes were wide. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Nor can I.’ Rose slid her sister’s letter back in the envelope. ‘Arthur always boasted he’d live to a hundred.’
Anita raised an eyebrow. ‘Just shows you don’t know what’s round the corner.’
‘What will Em do now, I wonder?’
‘Poor cow.’ Anita frowned. ‘Funny she didn’t invite you to the funeral.’
Rose nodded. ‘I know.’
‘When are you writing back?’
‘Tonight, when the girls are in bed.’ It was Sunday morning and the two women were talking over the fence. The sun had disappeared and there was a faint mist creeping over the houses. To call the year a wet one so far was an understatement, but now there was a gentle mellowness that heralded the long-anticipated summer.
Rose loved the light evenings when the girls could play out until late knowing the exercise would guarantee a good night’s sleep for all concerned. On occasions she would take them down to Island Gardens with a flask of tea, a bottle of lemonade and a bag of sweets. Here they would play for hours and run around the small park as though it were the never-ending countryside. With the noise of the boats on the river and the factory hooters there wasn’t much peace. But the kids didn’t mind and nor did she as she sat on the bench and decided what to buy for tea. Eddie liked his steak and kidney pie winter and summer alike, followed by roly poly pudding and custard, a unanimous vote as afters.
Rose pushed Em’s letter in her pocket and brought out another one. ‘I had this from Eddie.’
Anita whistled through her teeth. ‘At last.’
‘I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever hear from him again.’
‘What’s this?’ Anita held up the slip of paper.
‘A visiting order for next Wednesday, two o’clock. Trouble is I’m worried about getting back in time to meet the girls.’
‘I’ll tell the boys to fetch them and bring them home,’ Anita volunteered. ‘I’ll be back from work meself at five and give them tea.’
‘Will David and Alan mind?’
‘’Course they won’t.’
‘If you’re sure, then.’
Anita narrowed her eyes, leaning forward a little. ‘What’s the matter? And don’t say nothing, ’cos I can tell there is.’
Rose knew she couldn’t hide much from her friend. ‘A little boy told Marlene her dad was in prison with a ball and chain round his ankle. Marlene walloped him. And he walloped her back.’
‘Oh, blimey.’ Anita gave a soft sigh.
‘Kids can be so cruel.’
‘Just say the word and Alan and David will sort out the mouthy little blighters.’
‘I hope it won’t come to that,’ Rose added quickly.
‘Don’t worry, my lads can be very diplomatic when called for. They’ve had a good deal of practice watching us get me father-in-law out of trouble. Falling over in a stupor in the middle of the street is the norm for him when he’s on a bender. Lucky Benny and the boys are big lads and can take his weight, managing to make it look like he’s just dodgy on his pins.’
‘Why does your mother-in-law put up with it?’
‘She doesn’t. She waits till he sobers up, then lets him have it.’ Anita tilted her head. ‘So what did you do about this little sod bashing Marlene?’
‘The girls’ teacher, Miss Keene, asked to see me. She said there’s been talk after the newspaper piece.’ Rose paused. ‘She advised me to tell the girls everything and so I did.’
Anita nodded slowly. ‘She’s right, you know.’
‘And I’ve let my presence be known at the school gates.’ Rose pursed her lips firmly. ‘If anyone’s got anything to say they can say it to me.’
Anita couldn’t hide her smile. ‘That’s the spirit, love.’
In the deepening warmth of the summer’s day they spoke a few minutes longer until Rose turned and looked at the house. ‘Better get the dinner on the table,’ she smiled and Anita nodded.
‘Yeah, me too. See you Wednesday, then. And don’t worry about the girls. Alan and David will look after them. Oh, and when you write to Em, tell her I’m sorry about Arthur. Or, I’m sorry for her.’
‘I will.’
The front door was open and Rose went in. Donnie and Marlene were sitting on the doorstep, two little backs leaning together. ‘Time for dinner,’ she told them as they jumped up.
‘Smells like stew.’ Marlene rubbed her tummy appreciatively.
‘Yes. Now wash your hands and I’ll dish up.’
‘Can I help?’ Donnie loved cooking, in fact any household duty that Rose allowed her to perform.
‘You can stir the gravy.’
‘Do I have to lay the table?’ Marlene asked reluctantly.
‘Yes. That’s your job.’
‘Can I have another job instead?’
‘Why?’
‘Knives and forks are boring.’
‘But important,’ Donnie reminded her sister, glancing at Rose. ‘Or else we’d have to eat with our fingers.’
Rose smiled. Donnie knew how to handle her sister even if Marlene thought she was the boss. As Rose prepared dinner she thought about what she would write to Em. It was strange how her sister hadn’t asked them to the funeral. But Rose assured herself it was probably because Em didn’t want to worry her after receiving the letter about Eddie.
It was Wednesday morning, visiting day. Rose had taken the girls to school and was trying to decide what to wear. She tried on the dress she wore on Coronation Day but it was too full of memories and she hung it back in the wardrobe. Next, she chose her dark blue suit, all hand made from a Simplicity pattern. Her mother, a seamstress for a big Jewish tailor’s, had taught Rose all the tricks of the sewing trade. All her clothes and the girls’ were either made or repaired on the old Singer treadle sewing machine in the bedroom. But today nothing seemed appropriate. What should she wear to a prison?
June had begun cold and wet and little lakes had formed in greasy pools on the badly worn roads and blocked gutters. And though it had become warm for a while it was now cool again, with a sky that veered between bruised and misty blue. The spells of heavy rain came without warning and the thundery outbreaks, such as the one yesterday, had drenched the clothes that hung miserably from Rose’s washing line. If she was to arrive at the prison looking half decent, she would need a mac if not an umbrella.
Eventually she settled upon the mac and a plain, dark green dress that she had bought from the market some years ago. Although the repairs were extensive, the material was pure cotton and the full skirt with white trimmed pockets and cap sleeves was fashionable.
Footwear posed no problem. She only had one pair; light brown court shoes that Em had given her years ago. They might be years old, but they fitted and looked smart. Rose knew her long legs looked best in nylons, but she had none without ladders. Eddie, like Benny, preferred the seamed variety and had expressed disappointment during the war when the girls, because of rationing, had drawn lines down the backs of their legs to substitute for the real thing.
Finally she was ready. Rose checked her purse. She had used some of the loose change from the shoebox for the bus fare. If she walked through the foot tunnel under the river, she could catch a bus to Deptford, then one to Peckham.
Rose set out under a clear blue sky. She walked briskly, inhaling the sickly
sweet peanut aroma of the British Oil and Cake Mills wharves. Here the cattle cake was processed and packed and loaded into the barges, their blackened hulls low in the water. She loved smelling the river. The docks had not been this busy since before the war.
The park still boasted a few green trees, their tops obscuring the tall white funnels of McDougall’s Mill. Mudchute banks were bronzed with the sun, the dusty earth dry where everyone tried to grow a vegetable or two. Scruffy and bedraggled, the island basked in the heat like a barnacled old whale.
It was such a lovely day.
How could Eddie be in prison?
Why, oh, why had she let him sell that television to the Parkers?
The journey took much longer than expected. The buses were either late or crowded and her heels had developed blisters from all the walking she’d done.
The prison in Jebb Avenue was hidden behind tall grey stone walls that reminded Rose of a castle without a moat. Along with the other visitors, Rose entered through a big wooden door and was confronted with uniformed guards. They carried keys, chains, locks and had unsmiling faces.
‘Wait here,’ she was told as the prison officer took the permit. Rose stood in line behind the other women, some of them with young children and babies. They all had an air of defeat about them, as though they had been waiting in the same queue for years.
Rose kept her gaze ahead. The conversation mostly consisted of four-letter words. She tried not to inhale the odour of soiled nappies and cheap perfume.
Finally they were led into a courtyard. The main prison doors were unlocked and locked behind them, shutting them well away from the living world. Here in the claustrophobic atmosphere there was an absence of colour, light and fresh air. The visitors’ room smelt of tobacco as it reeked from the old, peeling walls. Combined with the disinfectant and the odour of unwashed clothing, the stench was stomach churning.
Some women were already seated at the small tables, talking to inmates. Rose sat on an empty chair and held her breath, trying not to feel faint. She drew her tongue over her lips and dabbed a handkerchief on her forehead.
She waited, heart pounding as more prisoners filed into the room. Their eyes searched the crowd anxiously. Women reached across the tables trying to take their men’s hands. The children were restless and clambered everywhere making an unbearable noise.