‘I never beat you in the ring though, Barry.’
Barry’s eyes glistened with pride. ‘Few can. So, what’s this idea you’ve had then?’
‘I’m fed up with the driving and was wondering about setting up with a stall of my own on the market.’
‘What sort of stall?’
‘This and that. Household goods mostly. Soap, washing lines, mops and buckets, brushes and dusters, you know the sort of thing. And I thought I could also do pans and electric kettles, kitchen gadgets and the like. They’re all the rage now that folk have so much more money to spend. We don’t have such a stall on the outside market, let alone in the market hall. Do you think it’d do well?’
‘Sounds a good notion. I reckon you’d make a bomb. What does your mam say?’ Barry jerked his head in the direction of the counter where Belle was gossiping with Sam Becket. ‘She’s the one with the ear of the market superintendent. If anyone knows whether a stall is due to fall vacant, it’s Belle.’
Carl fidgeted and chewed on his sandwich for a bit. ‘I haven’t mentioned the idea to Mam yet. I thought she might raise all sorts of objections and I just wanted to talk it through with a mate first.’
‘I’m flattered, but why do you reckon she’d object?’
‘She has grand ideas for me and Kenny. Says she hasn’t slaved away on the market all her life for us to follow suit. I think she imagines that we should turn into prosperous businessmen, almost overnight, that’s assuming we don’t actually stand for parliament and run the country. You know how mothers are.’ Carl pulled a wry face.
Barry grinned. ‘Mine was just as bad. Always telling me off for something or other, but fierce as a terrier if anyone else said a word against me. Nay, I wouldn’t hang about though, get her told. There’s plenty of room for another stall on the outside market, even if you might have to wait a year or two to move indoors, till somebody pops their clogs, probably. I wouldn’t mind moving into the warm myself, but ‘m still waiting.’
Carl felt decidedly more perky having sounded out his idea. It suddenly seemed feasible, and his doubts vanished. Barry was a bit of an old woman himself but had a sound business head on his shoulders.
‘Before I tell her, I need to have costed it out as a business proposition. Trouble is, Mam plays her cards close to her chest, so I haven’t been able to gather all the facts, not properly. I don’t know all the regulations, for instance, nor do I want to go and see Joe Southworth until I’m ready to come clean with Mam. I know what the rents are, insurance, cost of running a van. What else do you reckon I should take into account? I’ll be eighteen next month, would I be allowed to have a stall? And how many days a week would I be likely to get?’
The two men quietly talked business for a good hour, Barry helping as best he could to answer Carl’s questions. Occasionally Belle would glance over in their direction but she never came near. Barry wasn’t her favourite person, but he was accommodating and helpful. They had a good enough working relationship.
Barry said, ‘I like to see a young man making his way in the world. Who knows, you could be a millionaire by the time you’re thirty.’
Carl laughed. ‘I very much doubt it, but I am keen to work for myself. He got up to leave. ‘I’d best be off. I’ll be in dead lumber with my boss for taking so much time out, but I mean to hand in me notice straight after Christmas. As you say, no point in hanging about. Then I can give this plan my full attention. The world is changing, folk are wanting nice things to put in their houses, and I mean to take advantage of that fact.’
‘Good for you. Well, you know where I am if you want another chat, lad. You’ll happen be down at the club on Friday, eh?’
‘Aye, I reckon so. See you there. I’ll let you know how I’m getting on.’
‘And if you don’t show up,’ Barry laughed. ‘I’ll know that Belle has killed you and chucked you in the cut.’
‘Don’t even joke about it.’ Carl shuddered. He had the chilling feeling that some person or persons unknown had done that once already.
Belle’s reaction to Carl’s plan was exactly as her son predicted. She was furious. After weeks of making careful plans he thought he’d chosen a good moment. It was the following Sunday morning and she was happily frying bacon and eggs for their usual family breakfast, loudly singing Love Is a Many Splendoured Thing in tune to the wireless when he announced his decision. Carl thought for a moment that she might actually hit him over the head with the frying pan.
She looked at him aghast. ‘You’ve what?’
‘I’ve decided to leave the transport. Christmas Eve will be my last day. I’ll collect me wage packet and that’ll be that. Job done!’
There was a long and terrible silence. ‘How dare you hand in your notice without even telling me! What the hell are you going to do now without a job?’
Carl told her that too and stood back to await the fireworks.
She went dangerously quiet. Always a bad sign where Belle was concerned. Carl found her much easier to deal with when she was screaming at him.
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. Well, you can think again. Go back this minute and tell Catlow’s that you made a mistake and you’ve changed your mind. Tell ‘em you want your job back.’
‘No, Mam, I’m not going to do any such thing. I don’t want me old job back. I’ve talked to Barry, got some tips, and I’ve been to see Joe. He’s agreed for me to have a stall. It’s not in a particularly good position, being right at the back but he’s promised to let me know if a better pitch comes vacant. I’ve even looked out a few suppliers.’
Belle sank slowly in to a chair, her knees unable to hold her any longer, the frying pan still in her hand. ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’
‘I certainly have. First thing Monday morning I’m expecting deliveries to start arriving. Barry has offered me some space in his lock-up for the time being, till I can find something of me own.’
‘You knew how I’d feel about this. That’s why you didn’t tell me, isn’t it?’
Carl looked uncomfortable for a moment, taking refuge in filling the kettle. ‘Look, don’t get upset, Mam. It’s my life and I should decide what I want to do with it. Tea or coffee?’
‘I don’t want no coffee, I want you to come to your flaming senses. All my life I’ve worked hard, scrimped and saved, done my best to build a better future for both you two lads, and this is the thanks I get!’
She suddenly leapt out of the chair and slapped him across the head with the back of her hand. ‘You great lummock, you’ve ruined everything. I’ll never forgive you for this. Never! I meant for you to get out of this place, not struggle all your life as I have done.
‘And as for Casanova here . . .’ She turned on Kenny, who’d been quietly eating his cornflakes, oblivious of the row. ‘You were going to be a famous engineer yet gave up on that after only a few months. What have you achieved since? Nowt, just mooching about going from one job to another, great lazy lump that you are!’
Kenny pouted. ‘I earn a bit of brass here and there.’
‘I’ll bet you do, but is it honestly earned or one of your scams, or else a lucky bet on the gee-gees?’
Kenny had a sudden brain-wave, meant to mollify her. ‘Hey, I might pop over to Catlow’s and ask for our Carl’s old job on the driving. How would that be?’
‘How would that be? Illegal, that’s what it would be. You’re too young to take the test yet.’
Kenny looked deflated and slightly peeved, clearly viewing such a regulation as an irritating nuisance. ‘Well, I haven’t decided what I’ll do yet, not long term. Happen I’ll stand the market an’ all. Happen I won’t. Anyway, I mean to find myself a job one day, all in good time, don’t you fret about that. I need to have some money for when Dena gets out. They’ll have to let her out of that place soon, when she turns sixteen.’
Belle looked astounded. ‘You’re not still soft on that lass? If you bring any trouble to my door, you’ll be sorry.
Do you hear?’
Kenny looked at his mother with a cold expression in his light blue eyes, annoyed by her reaction to this great love of his life which he believed in completely. ‘That’s a bit rich coming from a woman who’s had two children from different fathers, a couple of abortions and more men than I’ve had hot dinners.’
Belle knocked the dish of cornflakes off the table, flung the pan of half-fried bacon in the sink and stormed out of the house.
Chapter Nineteen
Dena was standing in line for her morning porridge when Norah crept up behind to whisper in her ear. ‘I saw you go out, and I heard you come back.’
Dena’s heart skipped a beat. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Aye, you do. I just want you to know that you were seen. Where did you go?’
Dena’s mind was racing but decided there was little point in denying it since the girl seemed to know so much already. ‘For a breath of fresh air. I couldn’t sleep. What’s it to you?’
‘Nothing. Just remember I saw you, that’s all. Tread carefully, Dena Dobson.’
‘Is that some sort of threat?’
‘You must make up your own mind about that,’ and with a sarcastic little chuckle Norah picked up her dish of porridge and sauntered off, a smile of pure triumph on her nasty face.
Dena understood perfectly. It meant that she must tread very carefully indeed, that Norah could hold this knowledge over her and, were Dena to offend the girl, she would not hesitate to use it.
Despite this simmering animosity between the pair of them Dena began almost to enjoy life. They were having great fun that winter sledging and even skating on the duck pond, making snowmen and throwing snowballs at each other.
On Christmas Eve they were all given hot chocolate and a sticky iced bun for supper, and in the morning the usual bag of treats: a book or game, orange or apple and a small bag of sweets. No more tossing them in the air for the fittest and fastest to catch.
Christmas dinner was festive with paper hats and crackers, and a choice of roast chicken or turkey. Afterwards they played charades and other silly games, and then sang carols around tree. The tea table positively groaned with cakes and jellies, grapes, nuts and raisins, and then best of all they were all allowed to watch I Love Lucy on the television, and a special edition of What’s My Line.
January saw the usual outbreak of coughs and colds, Dena herself spending a few days in the sanatorium with flu’. By February she was permitted to leave the laundry and start work in the garden and Dena happily sowed seeds in the old Victorian glass-houses ready for planting out when spring came to warm the land. It pleased her to think that by the time they were full grown, she wouldn’t even be here.
When she wasn’t thus engaged, Dena spent a great deal of time in the needlework room happily sewing, and so, by and large, life had grown quite pleasant. She felt much calmer and more relaxed, and, to her surprise, Dena even discovered that her anger and rebellion seemed to have quite burnt itself out.
For the first time in years she felt content.
Somehow, without even realising it, she’d managed to put the tragedy of her little brother behind her. That wasn’t to say she didn’t still think of him a great deal. A part of her would always ache for him but she was young still, with all her life before her, and, give or take a few worries about her mam and what the future might hold, she felt pretty good.
Best of all, by April she would be packing her bags and leaving Ivy Bank for good.
In preparation for this great day, and most of the girls in Dena’s dormitory would likewise be leaving at Easter, they were permitted to choose the fabric for a new dress which was made up for them over the winter in the needlework room. Dena had chosen a pretty pink floral cotton for herself.
The first week of March was set aside to make plans for leaving. Time was allowed for important decisions to be made and extra training and lectures given. They were taught how to manage their money and organise a bank account; how they must behave towards an employer or mistress, and how they must always behave with decorum, dignity and absolute honesty as they had been taught to do at Ivy Bank.
One day a very embarrassed biology teacher explained to them the facts of life, with the girls sitting listening in silence, their faces bright red and simply bursting to giggle. It fleetingly crossed Dena’s mind to ask if a dose of flu’ always caused periods to be late, but couldn’t quite pluck up the courage to do so. Besides there was so much going on, and she was so excited about leaving, that the instant the lesson was over, she forgot all about it.
Each of the leavers were called in turn to Matron’s office where they were grilled on their plans, or lack of them, for the future. She was far from impressed by Dena’s decision to go back to working on the market.
‘Isn’t that how you got into trouble in the first place?’
‘I was never in trouble. My mother was ill, that’s why I was sent here.’
Matron gave one of her disapproving sniffs. ‘Misbehaving with some young man, that’s what I was told.’
‘Then you were told wrong.’ Dena didn’t know what had come over her. She really shouldn’t be arguing with Matron, not at this late stage. She tried to soften her words with a smile. ‘Sorry, but I feel I belong on that market, Matron, d’you see? I’ve worked there for years as a Saturday girl, and now I’ve got promise of a full time job back at the café with Mrs Garside. She’ll keep an eye on me.’
‘Indeed I hope she does. This will all have to be checked out, you understand? Someone from the council offices will need to go and see this Mrs Garside and make sure that she is prepared to have you back. Is she also willing to offer you accommodation?’
‘I believe so.’
‘That will need to be checked too. She must be made fully aware of what she is taking on.’
Dena nodded. ‘I’m sure it will be – all right I mean.’ She prudently decided to make no mention of Kenny and his hopes for them to wed. Dena rather thought that Matron would not approve of that bit, and might start asking even more awkward questions. As it was, Dena considered that she’d got off rather lightly.
Some of the girls attended interviews at local shops, offices and factories, or were taken into Manchester for this purpose. Others were to be placed in domestic service, and one or two were to go into nursing.
This was all thrilling enough but then a hairdresser was brought in to give their untidy locks a neat trim. The girls were abuzz with excitement, eagerly deciding what style they would like.
Dena opted to have her long hair cut very short into the kind of urchin style currently favoured by Audrey Hepburn. She’d seen pictures of her in the magazines that some of the girls’ families brought in.
‘Gosh, it suits you,’ Gwen said, awe in her voice. ‘You look so different. Really sophisticated. I wish I was as thin as you. Look at my boobs, an absolute sight.’
Dena laughed. She’d grown since she came to Ivy Bank but although she’d filled out somewhat, she was still slender and perhaps always would be as she never seemed to put on weight like the other girls. Dena thought this might be because of too much hunger when she was young but her breasts had plumped up nicely in recent months. Beneath the plain school uniform was emerging a sophisticated young woman. In two weeks time she would be sixteen years old and no longer a schoolgirl.
Phyllis was saying, ‘with the right clothes, and this new hair style, you could easily be taken for one of those mannequins at dress shows.’
‘Ooh, yes Dena, you could. You look lovely,’ added Katy, not wanting to be left out.
Dena caught sight of Norah glowering across at them. How she hated it when the other girls said nice things about her. Norah Talbot no longer wielded the power she once had, and she blamed Dena entirely for that. Dena was all too aware that resentment still burned fierce in her old enemy’s heart, which was really very silly.
Feeling good about herself now, she turned to Norah with a generous smile.
‘Why don’t you have yours cut short too. It would suit you.’
The other girl shook her head, tossing back her long fair curls. ‘Why would I want to look like you, Dena Dobson. Anyway, I’ve always found that boys prefer long hair, and a curvaceous figure. They don’t want to go out with someone who looks very like themselves.’
Dena felt strangely put down by this comment but tried not to let her insecurity show. Would Kenny like her new hair cut? Would he still love her?
Her lack of confidence over-riding common sense yet again, she decided to write and ask him to come down to see her one more time before she left, if only to celebrate her sixteenth birthday. A last romantic tryst beneath the old oak would be lovely, and surely quite safe now that she was leaving?
Belle was somewhat taken aback to receive a visit from a social worker at eight-thirty in the morning, particularly one as nosy as this one. Breakfast was always her busy time and she was busy frying eggs when the woman suddenly appeared at her elbow. Not that this stopped her. She briefly introduced herself as one Miss Rogers who had in the past been responsible for Dena Dobson, then began firing questions at Belle with bewildering speed.
Was she willing to take Dena back as an employee in the café? Would she undertake to keep a proper eye on the girl? In addition, was she willing to offer her accommodation, and could she please make an appointment to inspect her room just to make sure that it was suitable? Miss Rogers also wanted to know what Dena’s wages would be and how much she’d be charged for her keep?
Belle yelled out, ‘Two full English,’ shoved the plates into the hands of her new young waitress and turned back to Miss Rogers with barely concealed impatience. ‘I think you’d better start again. What exactly is it I’m supposed to be offering her?’
‘Surely you know.’
Belle looked at the tall-framed woman with the sprouting whiskers on her pointed chin and then swung about and called into the back kitchen. ‘Kenny! Get yourself out here this minute, I want a word with you.’
Putting on the Style Page 15