Dena watched him go with a terrible aching sadness in her heart.
Following a largely sleepless night Dena was desperate to find Carl and explain how she’d been coerced into going out with Kenny. She also wanted to ask if this story he’d told her about being bullied and abused as a child, was correct, or simply one of his fantasies.
Winnie had left for the market a good ten minutes ago, leaving Dena to wash up and tidy the kitchen. She rushed around, making sandwiches, putting nappies in to soak, gathering up her pile of sewing, at the same time trying to supervise Trudy eating her breakfast. The little girl was growing increasingly independent and had developed a desire to do everything for herself, which meant that it took twice as long.
‘Eat your porridge, there’s a love. Mummy’s in a bit of a rush this morning.’ She was anxious to catch Carl before she started work.
Trudy gave her a placid grin and, turning her spoon upside down, chuckled delightedly as porridge plopped onto the floor.
‘Oh, no.’ Dena snatched up a cloth to wipe it up but couldn’t help but laugh when having watched her mother clean the floor, Trudy did the same again. ‘You’re a right little monkey, you. Come on, let Mummy help.’
Dena took the spoon and scooped up some porridge but Trudy turned her face away at the last moment so that it missed her mouth entirely and smeared all over her cheek. Dena groaned. It was clearly going to be one of those days.
Finally, after an effort, she had Trudy fed and dressed and in her pram. She was really getting far too big for it and Dena made a mental note to check out how much a push chair would cost. The trouble was, with all the expense of Christmas and buying fabric for new stock, her savings were now sadly depleted.
Dena negotiated the pram outside, piled high with sewing, as always, then had to run back in when she realised she’d forgotten her sandwiches.
It was a lovely bright winter’s morning, with a sharp tang of frost in the air, and Champion Street already had that morning buzz to it as goods were being unpacked and laid out, canvas strapped into place and folk called out cheery greetings and ribald remarks to each other. Winnie would have her own stall open by now, and be wondering where she was.
Dena was just about to lock the front door, her mind anxiously turning over what she would say to Carl, when a taxi drew up. As if this wasn’t surprise enough, taxis being rare on Champion Street, Dena was astonished to see her mother step out of it.
And with her came two suitcases.
‘Mam, what’s going on?’ Dena eyed the suitcases with alarm. ‘What’s all of this?’
Alice paid the taxi driver and drew out yet another holdall before turning to Dena with a cool smile. ‘I’ve come to stay with you for a bit. That’s all right, I hope.’
‘Stay with me? B – but you can’t do that.’
‘Why can’t I? You’re my daughter after all.’
‘But this isn’t my house. I’m only a lodger, and there’s nowhere for you to sleep.’ Dena didn’t say that the last thing she wanted was for her mother to be under the same roof as herself and Trudy. But then she didn’t get chance, as Alice was pushing open the door and marching down the lobby as if she owned the place.
Alice flung open the front parlour door, gave it a cursory inspection. ‘You can sleep in here. Bit small but you’ll manage. I’ll have your bedroom. Where is it, at the front?’
Dena shook her head, bemused. ‘No, the one at the back. But it’s got Trudy’s cot in it and everything.’
‘Well, you’ll have to move that out. I can’t have my sleep disturbed by a screaming baby.’
‘But I need space for my sewing and . . .’
Alice paused, halfway up the stairs. ‘Your precious uncle and I have had a falling out so I decided I was no longer prepared to stay with him, and since you told me yourself you were moving in with Winnie, I thought I’d join you. You’d not see your old mum homeless, surely? Fetch them suitcases in before someone runs off with all the possessions I have left in the world.’
And, sighing, Dena did as she was bid, closed the front door and followed her mother up the stairs.
It was half an hour later before Dena managed to extricate herself. And only then after a long argument over the fact that she absolutely refused to move a thing until she’d spoken to Winnie, saying that it wasn’t her decision to make. By this time, it was far too late to speak to Carl. She was late for work so that would have to wait for another time.
Winnie, when she heard the news, was startled but resilient. ‘She’s your mam so we can hardly leave her to kip on the pavement. We’ll all have to hutch up and make room.’
Particularly me, Dena thought.
She was late getting out for her dinner break, feeling the need to make up to Winnie for taking an hour off that morning, and by the time she was free, there was no sign of Carl. He had been there, Lizzie Pringle told her, but half an hour ago he’d packed away his stall and gone. Lizzie didn’t know where.
Dena felt sick.
She meant to go round to his house that evening but the entire time was taken up with moving cots, clothes and sewing equipment around, and making up beds. Dena felt so sad to have lost not only her bedroom and work space, but her privacy and independence. At one time she would have welcomed living with her mother. Not any longer. She’d grown used to her own freedom, and what had her mother ever done for her?
It was typical of Alice that she’d chosen the larger of Dena’s two rooms, even demanding that supper be brought up to her on a tray. Anything for a peaceful life, Dena thought. No mention had been made about her contributing a share of the rent.
Dena spent a cramped and uncomfortable night among the muddle of her sewing equipment in the front parlour, with Trudy fretful over the change.
Fortunately, because of her disturbed night on the sofa she was first up the following morning and out of the house before her mother had stirred.
Perhaps now she could at least put things right between herself and Carl.
Heart in her mouth, Dena approached his stall. Carl didn’t even glance her way, although she could tell by the way he deliberately turned his back that he was well aware of her presence.
Dena felt sick. How stupid of her to allow Kenny to talk her into going out with him. Why hadn’t she sympathised with his problems and left it at that? She should have stuck to her guns that it was all over between them, instead of trying to make him feel better about himself. As a result of this stupid, soft-hearted weakness on her part she’d damaged a growing relationship with Carl at a very delicate stage, and would probably have Kenny calling round night after night and being a pest all over again.
Dena waited patiently for him to finish serving a young woman. He was giving her a long-drawn out demonstration of a new Hoover vacuum cleaner. He spread some dust on a strip of carpet then brushed it up with a dustpan and brush. Next he scattered more dust and this time used the vacuum cleaner to suck it all up. After that, he proved his case by showing how the dust was now safely in the bag and how easy it was to empty this into a dustbin.
By the time the demonstration was complete he had quite an audience and one old woman called out, ‘You had the dust in that bag already. It’s a con trick.’
‘I do assure you madam that it is no such thing,’ Carl said in his most polite, salesman’s voice. ‘See, the carpet is perfectly clean, and all the pile neatly brushed up.’
The younger woman must have been convinced because she brought out her purse and purchased one there and then. ‘I’ve been promising myself one of these things for months and now, at last, I can afford one, thanks to Champion Street Market.’
‘You’ve been robbed, missus,’ insisted the old woman.
Carl smiled confidently at the younger one. ‘If you’re not highly delighted with your purchase, please bring it back within seven days and you can have your money fully refunded. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with it though, it’s an excellent model.’
‘This offer so
astonished his audience that he sold two more, including one to a young man who said his wife deserved a bit of help in the house.
‘Good thinking, sir,’ Carl grinned. ‘Then she’ll have more time to spend with you.’
Only when the crowd had dispersed, leaving the odd browser searching through his bargain box of wooden spoons, tin openers and nut crackers, did Dena take a deep breath and launch into her carefully prepared speech.
‘Are you very angry with me?’
‘Sorry?’ He looked at her blankly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Yes, you do. You’ve every right to be angry after what happened – after what took place between you and me, I mean.’ As Dena struggled to say what was on her mind, Carl kept on moving about his stall, dusting down the Tala kitchenware, tidying the packets of Lux Flakes and Eucryl tooth powder, neatly stacking the Nugget shoe polish and constantly improving the displays. Dena lost patience.
‘Will you please stand still and let me explain?’
Carl glanced at her, brows raised in polite disinterest. ‘I really don’t think there’s much point, do you? You’re perfectly entitled to go out with whoever you please. And I can certainly see the attraction of dinner at the Midland. I doubt I could equal such a treat, certainly not on a regular basis. Obviously my young brother must have greater resources than I, or else he holds the key on how to win your heart.’
‘Oh, for heavens sake, stop being so pompous. He talked me into it. I felt sorry for him. He came to see me last night and told me . . .’
‘How much he missed and needed you. How his poor heart was broken in two.’ Carl pressed a hand to his chest. ‘Ah, yes, of course! I can see how pity for his lovelorn soul could easily sway you into accepting an expensive meal, even with a man you claim has been harassing you for weeks on end. Quite irresistible, I should think.’
‘Carl, stop talking like a clichéd character out of Red Letter and listen to me please, without interrupting. I need to explain . . .’
Carl turned away to serve a customer. ‘Thank you, madam, that will be two and sixpence. Lovely day, isn’t it, now that the snow has gone and the sun is shining? Never put the cheese grater away wet, will you, or it’ll go rusty. Here you are, two bob to you. Special offer.’
‘Ta, love. See you next week.’
‘And a Happy New Year to you. Oh, Dena, are you still here? I thought you’d have gone by now. What was it you wanted to say again?’
Dena turned on her heel and stamped away.
Chapter Forty-One
Kenny had shrugged off the embarrassing incident as of no account and was happily organising the purchase of a new consignment of burglar alarms. He meant to start the new year on a high note, and sell twice as many per week as before.
Things were going well for him at last. He had regular money coming in each month as a result of his security business, and his mother’s plan to provide cover for this more risky venture was now nicely in place with the legitimate trade he was building up selling burglar alarms. He’d sold half a dozen already. Easy money!
Best of all, Dena seemed to have finally decided to stop being difficult.
He intended to take her to the flicks tonight. He wanted to see Jayne Mansfield in The Girl Can’t Help It. He wouldn’t mind rock ‘n’ rolling with Jayne Mansfield, so he would enjoy the film even if Dena didn’t. Not that he’d told her yet that they were going, but he’d no reason to suppose she’d refuse.
And later, if he kept her in a good mood, who knew how far they might rock and roll together? This was a new beginning for them both. Before January was out he’d have her in his bed or his name wasn’t Kenny Garside. By summer he’d have her standing at the altar as his wife, and he’d be a happy man.
He was mortified when Dena turned him down, claiming she had too much work to do, as was ever her excuse. Some yarn about her mother moving in so that she needed to sort out furniture and her sewing stuff to make proper space.
‘Well, how about tomorrow then?’ Kenny said, irritated at having his plans spoiled and not really interested in her domestic arrangements, although he did feel a certain pride in the fact that he was the one who’d helped her and Alice get back together.
‘No thanks, Kenny. Look, going out with you the other night may have been a mistake. I’m sorry about your troubles, and I’ll always be ready to listen if you want to talk any time. But that’s all. Like I keep telling you, it’s over between us. I’m not your girl any longer.’
He stared at her blankly, not taking in a word she said. Then he smiled. ‘You’re excited over your mam moving in, aren’t you? This isn’t the right time to talk about us, and you think you might lose me. That’s what’s bothering you, eh? Don’t worry, you won’t lose me. I can wait. I’m a patient man.’
‘Oh, for goodness sake, Kenny, why won’t you listen? It’s over. I’m sorry, but there it is,’ and she walked into the house and closed the door, leaving him standing on the pavement looking a complete nincompoop.
Women, he thought, what a pet they got into over nothing. It was a shame though, about him missing the picture. He’d been looking forward to drooling over Jayne Mansfield. Still, he could always ring Jenny, she might be available. Dena would come round in the end, as she had before, once things settled down between her and her mother. Right now, she was obliviously tired and feeling a bit fraught.
He started to stroll away, and brightened as a new thought struck him. At least Alice was more handy, now that she’d moved into Champion Street. That was a bit of good news. Kenny licked his lips at the prospect of continuing to enjoy the mother, only until he finally got his hands on her luscious daughter, of course.
What would Dena think if she ever got wind of this little dalliance with her mam? he wondered. Happen it would be a good thing if she did. She’d be green with jealousy. It might stop her taking him so much for granted.
Kenny got out his comb and began to preen himself. Dena was only playing hard to get, he could tell. She wouldn’t be able to resist him for much longer. She was weakening already. Why else would she have agreed to go out for a meal with him to the Midland Hotel?
Kenny pushed back his padded shoulders and swaggered off, chuckling at his own cleverness.
Kenny was determined to pay no attention to Dena’s little outburst. His chief concern now was that he must make enough money to buy them a decent house. He certainly had no intention of living with his mam longer than was absolutely necessary. He wouldn’t enjoy that any more than Dena would.
His monthly trawl of the stalls to collect his dues took no time at all, apart from the usual haggle with Alec Hall and Sam Beckett.
‘There’s no need to pay security to you any more,’ Sam announced. ‘Joe has asked the police to keep a better watch on the place. He’s even talking about employing a security guard to occupy the building at night.’
‘I wouldn’t rely on Joe Southworth, if I were you. He’ll be history by the spring. My mam will be in charge by then. She can rely on your vote, I trust, Sam?’
‘She’ll never manage to get elected.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that. There are ways and means.’
‘Well, count me out. Joe’s also promised to speak to the council about the litter problem, and enquire about the possibility of extending the market. He’s getting his act together at last, so I’ll stick with the devil I know. Besides, I don’t care for all this talk of Belle’s about putting up the charges. I’m paying a fair whack as it is. I can’t afford any more.’
‘I doubt you can afford not to, security being the problem that it is. Course, if you want to take the risk of something nasty happening, that’s up to you but . . .’ Kenny allowed his voice to taper off, finishing with a sad little smile. ‘Neither Joe Southworth nor any new security guard, if he ever gets round to employing one, can guarantee that your stall will remain safe.’
There was a small silence. ‘That sounds very like a threat.’
&
nbsp; ‘Sounds more like common sense to me.’ Kenny slid the bicycle chain from his pocket and swung it nonchalantly about, twining it between his fingers as a menacing smile played about his lips. ‘Still, like I say, it’s up to you.’
The following morning he called on Sam again, commiserating with him over the sad fact that during the night someone had broken in and wrecked an expensive display of light fittings.
‘These terrible things will keep on happening. You’re so unlucky,’ Kenny sympathised.
Sam paid up, as did Alec Hall. No one else had the courage to defy him, not even big Molly Poulson who glowered over her stack of meat pies at him as she peeled off notes with her podgy fat fingers.
The Higginson sisters were of course easy meat, more than willing to hand over several pounds in cash, including the cost of a new burglar alarm.
‘We’re still having trouble you see, Kenny,’ Annie complained in her high pitched whine. ‘Some months we have no bother at all, yet just before Christmas we were broken into twice. The thieves stole several of our best hats and all the Christmas takings from that little safe I’d had fitted under the counter. It’s so distressing. How do they even get into the building, that’s what I’d like to know? I mean, the council has had a wrought iron gate fitted, in addition to the old Victorian doors.’
Kenny had been annoyed about the gate. It had taken some considerable effort on his part, and no small amount of clever negotiating with his mother, to get his hands on the key for it. Of course it did prove that her sleeping with that old po-face came in handy now and then. Joe never noticed that she’d borrowed it and Kenny had a copy cut that same night. His mam had slipped it neatly back in the pocket of Joe’s trousers long before he thought to put them on again. Far too interested in getting his leg over to pay proper attention.
Now Kenny smiled at the two sisters and sadly shook his head. ‘There are windows on the upper floor, so it wouldn’t be too much trouble for a clever thief to shimmy up a drainpipe.’
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