Putting on the Style

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘The same way it usually happens, Dena. Kenny has been to see you before, I take it?’

  ‘What is this? Am I on trial or something? All right, so we went a bit too far but Kenny loves me and . . .’

  Miss Rogers interrupted. ‘Dena, we cannot possibly allow you to go and live with Kenny, even with his mother in the house. The pair of you would be living in sin. How could we condone such wanton disregard of decent morals?’

  ‘We’re to be married. He’s already asked me.’

  Alice said, ‘The sooner the better in the circumstances. We’ll have no bastards in this family,’ then got to her feet and hoisted her bag on her arm, as if having made this statement there was nothing more to be said on the subject.

  The social worker grasped Alice by the wrist to prevent her from leaving. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Dobson, but don’t you think that Dena is far too young at sixteen to be contemplating such a drastic move? What about your own situation? Has that changed? Could Dena possibly come and live with you and her uncle?’

  Alice snatched her arm away and savagely shook her head, making the felt hat quiver, as if with distaste, on top of the stiff curls. ‘Eric would never stand for it. He’s not used to children.’

  ‘I’m not a child any longer, I’m a woman.’

  ‘Aye, and a loose one at that. I wouldn’t dream of asking my brother to allow you to set foot over his threshold.’

  ‘Think I’d contaminate the place, do you?’

  Miss Rogers hastily intervened before the quarrel got quite out of hand. ‘Have you thought about adoption? You could stay on at Ivy Bank until the baby is born and then a good home could be found for it. It’s a perfectly straightforward process.’

  ‘No!’ Dena was horrified by the very idea, although she couldn’t rightly say why; whether it was because she couldn’t bear to give up this child she still hadn’t properly acknowledged even existed, or simply that the thought of returning in shame to the home to face the censure of such as Norah Talbot was too terrible to contemplate.

  ‘We seem to be running out of options. Do you love this boy, Dena, or was it simply an act done out of curiosity, or rebellion perhaps?’

  The woman was far too smart for Dena’s liking. Alice was making little tutting sounds at the back of her throat, and looking very much like a rabbit trapped by a poacher’s torch, unable to escape. Dena wanted to shout at her to go away, to scream that she needed no one, certainly not a mother who didn’t even love her. The very evidence of her disgust fired the rebellion in her all the more.

  ‘What the hangment does it matter? We had a bit of the other and now I’m up the spout. So what? Anyway, yes, if you want to know, I do love him. He’s the best friend I have in all the world. The only friend.’

  ‘And you are willing to marry him?’

  ‘Yes,’ shouted Dena on a note of defiance, not stopping to think properly.

  ‘There you are,’ Alice remarked. ‘The matter is settled. If this young man is prepared to make an honest woman of the girl, she can consider herself fortunate, little tart that she is,’ and this time she did walk away, without even a backward glance.

  Dena screamed after Alice’s retreating figure. ‘Thanks for your support, mother!’ and burst into tears. Where was the point in fighting or rebelling any more? Look where it had got her.

  Matron, in fact, refused point blank to allow Dena to return to Ivy Bank, stating that she was indeed beyond control and should be sent to an institution for wayward girls.

  Miss Rogers was more pragmatic, putting the whole sorry episode down to loneliness and rebellion, with unfortunate consequences. Desperate to find some other solution she again visited the café to discuss the pros and cons of the case and on the way back, still nurturing grave reservations, she ran into Winnie Watkins.

  Winnie said, ‘It’s none of my business but I was wondering what were happening to Dena? I heard she’d be out of that place soon.’

  Miss Rogers agreed that she was indeed out of the home and related the whole sorry story, explaining that Dena was in sore need of somewhere to live, and a job, but was disappointed that the generous offer she’d hoped for had not materialised.

  ‘Eeh, I didn’t realise she was up the stick. I’d like to help myself, but I couldn’t be doing with that, not babies. Anyway, I don’t reckon my Donald would quite approve. No, no, I couldn’t have her at ours if she’s in that condition. Wouldn’t be right, d’you see? The gossips would have a field day. I’m very fond of the lass, but . . .’

  ‘I understand,’ Miss Rogers said, rather stiffly. People were such hypocrites. No one was prepared to help the poor girl, abandoned by her mother and now the home too, everyone quick to censure her because she’d made one foolish mistake. ‘What about employment? You once said something about a job. If I find her accommodation elsewhere, would you still be prepared to offer her work?’

  Winnie looked thoughtful. ‘I’d have to speak to my dear Donald, of course, but I doubt he would object to such an arrangement.’

  Miss Rogers suspected that Winnie was actually the one who ruled the roost and made all the decisions in that household, but didn’t say so. ‘She’s a very willing girl, and quite bright I’d say. It’s only her youth and difficult circumstances that has led her down this sorry path, rather than wilful waywardness as her mother seems to think. In fact, the mother is part of the problem, though I really shouldn’t say as much.’

  ‘I agree with you there. Always was too high on the moral rectitude was Alice. Nosy and interfering I may be, I don’t deny it, and I have me standards but I couldn’t hold a candle to Alice Dobson. And it’s certainly true that I could do with a bit of help on the stall. I’m run off me feet most of the time. Folk take ages to choose which fabric they want, then there’s all the measuring to be done, advice given and such like. I’m fair worn out half the time what with caring for my Donald on top of everything. He’s not well, you know, not since the war.’

  ‘Then you’ll do it? You’ll give her a job?’

  Winnie realised she’d talked herself into this one. ‘Aye, all right, you can tell Dena there’s a job here for her whenever she wants one. But she can’t live with me. My Donald wouldn’t take to a screaming infant about the place.’

  Miss Rogers grasped Winnie by both hands in a flurry of gratitude. ‘Thank you so much. I really do appreciate it, and so will Dena.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘At least you have a job to go to,’ Miss Rogers told Dena, feeling rather pleased with herself. ‘All I have to do now is find somewhere for you to stay, temporarily at least, if that’s the best we can hope for at present.

  Dena, still recuperating in hospital, felt a burst of happiness. It was all going to come right after all. She liked Winnie a lot, yet so much was happening to her and far too quickly, that she couldn’t seem to get her head around how her life had so radically changed.

  ‘What about Kenny? Is he coming to see me? Has he said he’ll still marry me?’

  Miss Rogers patted her hand. ‘I spoke to his mother and she said he would be coming along to see you soon. As for the wedding, that’s something you must discuss between yourselves.’ After a small pause the older woman continued. ‘Are you sure about this, Dena? You don’t have to keep the baby. We can easily make other arrangements. This needn’t ruin your life entirely, just when you’re getting started.’

  Dena looked at her in distaste. ‘You think I should give my child away, don’t you? Just like my mother abandoned me to that home. Well, I won’t, so there. Never!’

  The social worker actually smiled at her vehemence. ‘Splendid! I’m delighted to hear it. But it won’t be easy, Dena, even if your boy friend does agree to marry you. People will count on their fingers and there’s bound to be whispering and gossip. You can count on that!’

  Kenny’s first reaction when Miss Rogers informed him of the new situation, was fear. This was not at all what he’d bargained for, to father a kid at seventeen. He’d never
even considered the possibility, not from just one quick screw. Dena was still the love of his life, at least, he loved her as much as he could love anyone, but how would he manage? He still didn’t have a job.

  Carl too was appalled, and strongly opposed to his getting involved in what he termed a shot-gun wedding. As for his mother, she viewed the entire saga as some sort of joke.

  ‘By heck, this is the funniest thing I’ve heard in months. So you do have some lead in your pencil after all, lad? And here’s me thinking you were a Mary-Ann, and soft as butter with it.’

  ‘I’m no Mary Ann!’ Kenny spluttered, face scarlet.

  ‘Nor is he soft,’ put in Carl. ‘Have you seen what he carries in his pocket? Show her, Kenny.’

  The colour seemed to drain from his face in an instant, leaving Kenny white with rage. ‘How the hell do you know what I’ve got in me pocket?’

  ‘I make it my business to know everything about you. I’m your elder brother, responsible for you, so help me. Go on, show her the bicycle chain, and anything else you’ve got tucked away in that fancy jacket of yours.’

  Belle’s finely plucked eyebrows lifted in mock astonishment. ‘Bicycle chain? Have you taken up cycling or what?’ She watched dispassionately as a small tussle took place between her two sons; collars were grabbed, arms twisted and a great deal of pushing and shoving until Carl finally had Kenny pinned up against a wall. Then he roughly frisked him and pulled out the offending weapon from his pocket, along with a knuckle-duster. He tossed them both on to the kitchen table.

  ‘There you are. That’s what he gets up to when he’s out wandering the streets.’

  Something glittered behind Belle’s eyes as she looked at her younger son. ‘My word, you have grown into a big lad. Still, it’s nothing to do with me what you carry in your pocket, nor yours neither, Carl. Leave the lad alone.’

  Carl looked at his mother in open distaste. ‘You don’t care that your own son is turning into a hooligan? A Teddy-boy?’

  Belle shrugged her shapely shoulders and continued applying poppy red lipstick to her full lips. She and Joe were going out tonight, miles away from Castlefield to a posh restaurant in Cheadle Hulme where they’d be unlikely to meet anybody they knew, so she really didn’t have time to get involved in silly family squabbles.

  ‘Just because he wears a fancy jacket and carries a bicycle chain doesn’t turn him into a criminal. He’s just a daft young stud, flexing his muscles. Proving he’s a man.’ Belle chuckled. ‘And he’s done that right enough, hasn’t he? Mind you, he’ll have to draw in his horns once he’s wed.’

  Kenny’s knowing smirk at his mother’s stout defence of him faded into a slight frown at these last words. ‘I don’t intend to be hen-pecked,’ he said, thinking he’d best make that clear to Dena from the start.

  ‘Have you been to see her yet?’

  ‘N-no, not yet. I don’t like hospitals.’

  ‘Huh, some young Lochinvar you are. You’d best get yourself down there, Kenny lad. You’ll be wanting to fix the date, eh? We don’t want any question marks hanging over any grandchild of mine. It might be the only one I get, since some I could mention aren’t making any effort at all in that direction.’ She cast an accusing glance across at Carl who, disappointingly, didn’t even have a steady girl friend at the moment. ‘Whatever happened to that nice red-head, Maggie, was she called?’

  ‘What do I do about these?’ Carl snapped, choosing not to go into his private life. ‘Chuck ‘em in the bin?’

  Belle turned on him, violet eyes hard. ‘Should my lovely boy ever meet trouble, he needs to be properly equipped to protect himself, don’t you think?’

  Kenny snatched up the offending weapons and returned them to his inside pocket, then swaggered off with a satisfied smirk on his face.

  Belle called after him, ‘You’d best ask her to tea on Sunday, love, then I can tell her exactly what she’s letting herself in for. I might even get the family photo album out.’ And the sound of his mother’s raucous laughter followed him all the way down Champion Street.

  Kenny was suddenly overcome by doubt. What would married life be like? Would he really have to draw in his horns, stop seeing Maureen for instance? He supposed a wife might object to a husband visiting a prossie. And did he still want to marry Dena, or should he tell her to get the kid adopted and leave him out of it? He certainly hoped she didn’t expect him to deal with dirty nappies and all that messy baby stuff.

  Oh, but he did still love her. He adored her. Dena Dobson was more beautiful than the new Queen in his eyes. More holy than the Virgin Mary. She was wonderful. He just wanted to set her up on a big white marble pedestal and worship her. Untouched by any other man but him, utterly perfect and without flaw. His girl!

  But why did his mother still see him as some sort of Mary Ann? Why should she find the idea of him being a father so funny? Hadn’t he proved that he was truly a man?

  Kenny decided to go and see Maureen before calling at the hospital. She always boosted his self-confidence and he felt in dire need of some right now. And it might prove useful to discuss his problem with someone other than his own family. Kenny couldn’t think of anyone better qualified to offer advice.

  Also, he had an urge to release some of the tension the confrontation with his family had created in him.

  Maureen obligingly slipped out of her tatty old dressing gown the moment she saw him, and willingly gave herself up to pleasure. Recognising that he was all churned up with anger inside, she suggested he tie her to the bedhead so he could really let rip.

  Kenny was sweating with excitement as he wound the silk dressing gown cord around her fragile wrists and knotted them to the bedpost. Then he did the same with her pretty little ankles. It made him feel in control, as he so liked to be.

  But then Maureen was generous, had taught him so much. His failure with younger girls had deeply affected him so that secretly Kenny had begun to worry that maybe he was indeed a Mary Ann. Maureen had proved otherwise, made him normal at last, like other men.

  And she was so imaginative. Best of all, she didn’t require all the fuss and bother of petting and kissing. She just got right down to business.

  He enjoyed pounding into her while she was strung out, a helpless victim, finding this better than anything they’d tried previously. That’s what women should be: helpless and submissive, not bossy mothers who slept around and ignored you, or daft young girls laughing at him because he couldn’t get it up.

  Kenny knew in his heart that he might never have managed to make love to Dena if Maureen hadn’t taken him in hand. Then she too might have found him unable to perform, just like all the rest. Although, judging by the results, happen it might have been better if he hadn’t.

  When they were finally sated and lying side by side contentedly sharing a Gold Flake, Kenny told Maureen all about his problem. Unlike his mother she didn’t laugh but was deeply sympathetic. She also gently pointed out that there were other possible alternatives he could consider in order to resolve the matter.

  By the time he set off for the hospital to see Dena, Kenny was feeling positively buoyant. Quite his old self again.

  He arrived during afternoon visiting time, a bunch of tired looking daisies in his hand. ‘Hello, Dena. You look as pretty as a picture and not sick at all.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m not sick, it’s just this silly ankle but I can walk a bit now, with the help of crutches. They’ll be letting me out soon, anyway, now they’re quite certain the baby is all right. Oh, Kenny, I’m that pleased to see you, I thought you were never coming.’

  ‘I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I suppose you must be.’

  He sat on a chair beside her bed but made no move to kiss her and Dena felt a spurt of disappointment Perhaps he felt shy about showing any affection in a ward full of the noise and bustle of other people. People stared pointedly as they walked by to visit their own loved ones, no doubt taking in Kenny’s Teddy Boy jacket, his tight trou
sers and greasy quiff. Dena thought he looked very fashionable and as handsome as ever, if a bit subdued. But then she too felt shy and awkward at this much longed for reunion.

  And she was acutely aware of being watched, of faces turning in their direction, whispers behind hands. No doubt it would be even worse when she got out of the hospital and went back to the market. For the first time it occurred to Dena that she would be viewed as a fallen woman now. Disgraced and shamed.

  Kenny gave her an awkward little smile but didn’t seem to know what to say next. ‘They’ll be letting you out soon, I hope.’

  Dena pulled a face. ‘Tomorrow, they tell me. Not that I’ve anywhere to go yet. Miss Rogers is trying to find me a room somewhere. She won’t let me stay at yours, nor even work in your mam’s café. She says it wouldn’t be proper. Winnie Watkins has offered me a job though, and I’m pleased about that. I like Winnie.’

  Kenny cleared his throat. ‘Mam says she would have liked to help but says she can’t have that dragon coming round every five minutes poking her nose in where it’s not wanted. We have to wait till it’s all legal and above board.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You do still want to marry me, don’t you Dena?’

  Dena cocked him a cheeky grin. ‘I don’t remember ever saying that I would, although right now I don’t seem to have much option.’

  Kenny looked hurt. ‘Are you saying that you don’t love me any more?’

  Dena was at once contrite, damping down her natural rebellion as she recognised the pain and insecurity in his sky blue eyes. ‘Oh, course I love you, Kenny. I’m really very fond of you, only this isn’t how we meant to start off, is it?’ Then added more shyly. ‘I suppose Miss Rogers has told you about the baby?’