The Scarlet Sisters

by Helen Batten

  As Alice rounded the corner, the person actually waiting for her was rather taller, thinner and more dashing. She felt all jittery and nearly had to turn around and walk round the block to collect herself.

  However, Joseph spotted her before she had the chance. ‘Hello, beautiful,’ he said, and she smiled shyly back at him. ‘So, what are we going to see today?’

  ‘A Woman of Affairs.’

  ‘Oh, really? How intriguing!’ He did that thing with his eyebrow again – the left one shot right up his forehead. ‘I can see you’re going to be constantly surprising me.’

  Still smiling, Alice blushed. Joseph grinned back at her, but his eyes were quite intense. Like looking at the sun, she couldn’t hold his gaze for long and had to look away. Joseph bent down and kissed the top of her head. ‘Come on, then. I don’t want to miss any of this woman’s affairs.’

  Settled at the back of the cinema, in the warm darkness, Joseph and Alice held hands. A Woman of Affairs was everything Alice had hoped for: it starred Greto Garbo and was intensely passionate and wonderfully doom-laden. Diana (Greta Garbo) is in love with Nevs (John Gilbert) but her parents don’t approve, and Nevs is sent to Egypt. It ends with Diana driving her car into the tree in front of which she and Nevs had declared their love and eternal fidelity. So it wasn’t cheery, but it did offer lots of opportunities for Joseph to take Alice’s hand, and gently stroke her palm with his thumb. And when it got really sad and she started to cry, he offered her his handkerchief and carefully and seriously wiped away her tears, and then left his comforting arm around her shoulders. But, most of all, it gave Joseph the opportunity to say to Alice at the end: ‘Nothing must ever get between you and me and our love. See, it only ends badly.’

  At which Alice spooked Joseph, leaving him wondering what he’d got himself into by saying, with slightly too much passion: ‘I promise you, Joseph, nothing ever, ever will.’

  From then on, Alice and Joseph could always be found together. Friday nights they snuggled at the pictures, Saturday nights they danced – although Alice wouldn’t allow him any more table-top exhibitions – and Sunday afternoons they met on the ‘monkey parade’. This was the traditional promenade where groups of young women, dressed in their Sunday finest, would walk through the municipal park and along the seafront, observed by groups of young men. The groups mingled, flirting took place, and couples split off from the crowd. It was open and public and semi-respectable. However, Alice was not in a group – she was very much glued to Joseph Davidson’s arm. They had so much fun together – Grays had a boating lake parallel to the seafront and on a fine Sunday afternoon, Joseph would take her out and row her into the middle and refuse to take her back to the shore unless she kissed him. He was a rubbish rower. His long, skinny arms seemed to be incapable of moving at the same time, so they would go round in circles for a bit, Alice practically rolling around on the bottom of the boat laughing, and then she would grab the oars and do it herself.

  On one occasion, she wrestled the oars from him and started singing in her pretty soprano voice, ‘What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor?’

  Joseph listened, entranced, and when she had finished he said, ‘You are not like anyone I have ever met before. That’s why I like you.’ And then he stood up and started serenading her with ‘Run, Rabbit, Run’, in a loud but execrable voice.

  Now they were causing a scene. People were staring. Particularly when Joseph flung open his arms and tried to kneel down on one knee and what with his centre of gravity being so high above the water and not being great at balancing anyway, he wobbled; and then his arms flung back wildly and he fell backwards, straight into the lake.

  ‘Crikey!’ Alice had no idea whether he could swim or not, and all of a sudden she had a vision of her father, Charlie, falling into Marlow lock and sinking three times. ‘Help!’ she shouted.

  But there was no need – times had changed, lidos were springing up around the country, not least in Grays, and Joseph had grown up perfecting his breaststroke. But if drowning wasn’t a problem, hauling his long, suited frame back into the boat was. Alice held an oar out to him, and dragged him to the side of the boat. He tried to haul himself over the side, with Alice helping and getting soaked. Then she got the Swain giggles – the more she tried to haul him in, and the boat tipped perilously to one side, the more she laughed hysterically.

  Eventually he was trying not to laugh too. ‘Alice, stop! Just get a grip. One, two, three … come on! Put your back into it …’

  In the end they gave up and Joseph swam to the edge and got out, to the delight of the crowd, who clapped as he hauled himself out of the water. Someone provided a towel.

  Alice rowed herself back to the shore, also to claps from the crowd. And as she got out, Joseph dashed over, picked her up in his arms and kissed her – getting her soaked again – to the accompaniment of more cheers.

  And that should have been that – just a crazy little mishap on a sunny spring day, to be remembered and recounted with merriment in years to come. However, as sometimes happens, it sparked off a rather serious chain of unintended consequences.

  A couple of days later the local busybody, Mrs Barlow, was sitting in the ‘resting chair’ of Clara’s shop and bursting with a bit of mischief.

  ‘So, Mrs Swain, has your Alice dried off yet?’

  Clara was serving Mrs House and trying to concentrate on measuring out some sugar. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Barlow. I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  ‘No, I was just saying … that little mishap of Alice’s beau on Sunday.’

  Clara stopped her measuring. She wasn’t aware of any beau, never mind a mishap.

  ‘Oh, did you not hear?’ asked Mrs Barlow innocently. She turned to Mrs House. ‘Your Jessie was over at the boating lake on Sunday, wasn’t she?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, yes! It was quite a palaver by all accounts. Lucky that Joseph Davidson can swim and there was no harm done.’

  ‘Except for a ruined suit. And pride.’

  ‘Oh, no. Jessie said they were laughing all the way, and Joseph did a little bow at the end and Alice flung her arms around him, even though he was soaking wet.’

  ‘Well, I never! Quite a one isn’t she, your Alice?’

  Of course Clara still had no idea what they were talking about, but she was not going to give them the satisfaction of letting on. Instead, she said, ‘Alice is indeed special and sunny-natured and always looks on the bright side. And I’m sure she had no problem expressing her joy that this gentleman was safe and sound. Now, is there anything else I can help you with, Mrs House? Because I have to shut up shop in the next few minutes.’

  ‘Right, well, I’ll be off then,’ Mrs Barlow said, getting up, satisfied that her work was complete.

  That evening, when Alice got home from work, her mother was waiting. Alice didn’t even have time to take off her hat.

  ‘What on earth have you been up to?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘That’s not what I’ve heard.’

  ‘What have you heard?’

  ‘Sunday afternoon. The boating lake. With a sopping beau.’

  At this point, the sisters who were gathered round the kitchen table started to giggle.

  ‘Ah, that.’

  ‘Yes, that. When did you think you were going to tell me about it?’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing to tell, Mum. Just a little accident. I didn’t fall in. No one was hurt.’

  ‘And the beau?’

  ‘What beau?’

  ‘Don’t give me that! If the Mrs Barlows of this world know you’ve got a beau, then surely your mother has got a right to know.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t tell you because there’s nothing to tell. I haven’t been walking out with him for long, and it’s nothing serious.’

  At which point Grace snorted and Alice shot her a look.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘You don’t know him.’

  ‘Well, why don’t aquaint me then? Let’s start with his
name.’ Clara’s habitual control was slipping. She was beginning to sound menacing.

  ‘Joseph Davidson.’

  ‘Why haven’t we been introduced?’

  ‘No reason. As I said, we’ve only just started seeing each other.’

  ‘In which case, there’ll be no reason why you can’t bring him to tea on Saturday, will there?’

  Alice could think of many reasons not to bring Joseph to tea – not least because he was a bus driver and a Roman Catholic. Alice may have come under the influence of a nun at primary school, but the Swain family were profoundly Church of England. However, she had been somewhat outmanoeuvred by her mother. ‘No, Mother. Indeed. I shall ask him to call at five o’clock, shall I?’

  ‘Yes, you do that. I look forward to meeting him.’ And Clara strode out of the kitchen, satisfied.

  ‘Lordy, lordy, Alice, what are you going to do?’ Grace whispered.

  Alice shrugged. ‘What can I do? She’s going to have to meet him some time. And she’s going to have to lump it. I tell you – I’m marrying him whether she likes it or not. It’s Destiny.’ And with that she turned on her heel and followed her mother out of the room, her sisters watching, open-mouthed.

  No more was said until Saturday afternoon arrived and with it Joseph Davidson, knocking on the front door with a loud rap.

  Alice had been lurking in the hall and ran forward and flung the door open quickly so that, before anyone could see, she could give him a kiss on the lips and then bury her head in his shoulder, inhaling his smell with deep breaths. ‘I’ve missed you so bad.’

  Not for the first time Joseph was taken aback by her fervour.

  ‘I’ve missed you too, sweetheart,’ he said, and she looked up at him and smiled.

  Grace came bounding out into the hall and beckoned with a flourish. ‘Come on,’ she said, in a dramatic whisper, ‘Mother’s waiting.’

  Alice grabbed Joseph’s hand and pulled him into the back room that served as their parlour Laid out on a table was a fine spread of dainty cakes, pastries and sandwiches, which Clara had taken some time out of her busy day to prepare. She was determined to show this Joseph what an upmarket family the Swains were.

  However, Clara immediately wondered why she had bothered. She was not impressed. Not impressed at all. He walked in and she couldn’t help but say, ‘My, you are tall!’

  At which all the girls (none of them having wanted to miss the show) chorused, ‘Mother!’

  Joseph didn’t handle it well. Instead of smiling and thanking her and putting her at ease, he looked embarrassed.

  There was an awkward silence, until Alice made an attempt to start again by saying, ‘Mum, this is Joseph Davidson.’

  ‘Obviously. Pleased to meet you, Joseph Davidson. I’m Mrs Swain.’ Clara got up from her chair and went to shake his hand. He took it but his handshake felt limp and sweaty. Clara never trusted a man with a limp handshake. It’s another piece of Swain advice that has been handed down to me, as well as never trust a man whose eyebrows meet in the middle or a man who carries a purse. She also didn’t trust a man who couldn’t look her in the eye, and she didn’t understand why he didn’t return her gaze – he was either rude or shifty or both. He just stood there looking like a fish out of water. ‘Or maybe an eel,’ Clara thought. ‘He’s that long and skinny.’

  ‘Sit down then,’ she said, her annoyance beginning to show.

  Alice grabbed Joseph’s hand, sat down on the sofa and pulled him down next to her.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Clara was already pouring his cup.

  ‘No, thank you. I don’t drink tea.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘No, I’d rather have a glass of water, if you don’t mind. Thanks.’

  ‘Oh, I know what you’d rather have.’

  Charlie, who had been silently sitting in the corner, leapt to his feet. ‘How about a glass of the old giggle water?’

  Joseph looked uncomfortable. ‘No, thank you. I don’t drink.’

  Which rather stopped Charlie in his tracks. And while this should have endeared him to Clara, all it did was to make him look stranger.

  ‘Katie, go and get this young man a glass of water,’ she snapped.

  ‘And get me a beer too,’ Charlie added.

  All the girls shot him a look.

  ‘Now, surely you’ll have a piece of cake?’ Clara said.

  ‘Just a sandwich, please.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence as Clara filled his plate, her lips pursed. As she picked out the best of her dainty cucumber triangles, out of the corner of her eye she could see Alice clinging to Joseph and looking all moonfaced. ‘Goofy-in-love’ was the phrase that ran through her mind and she was so irritated she tipped over Joseph’s plate, which brought on another chorus of ‘Mother!’ and some hurried clearing-up.

  When calm had been restored, Clara jumped straight in with the question that was on everyone’s mind. ‘So, I don’t believe Alice has told us. What exactly do you do?’

  ‘I’m a bus driver.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Yes. The Grays to London line.’

  This piece of information helped Charlie to recover from the shock of having a teetotal man in his house, and he leapt into action. ‘Must be great getting behind the wheel of those big engines. I’ve done quite a bit of car mechanics myself. In fact, I drove trucks in the war.’

  ‘Really, what kind?’ For the first time, Joseph perked up too.

  ‘Yes, Charlie, tell us about it. Alice’s father is remarkably quiet about his wartime experiences,’ Clara bristled. It was typical for Charlie to be so easily won over.

  Charlie suddenly remembered all the danger that lurked in talking about his army career. He changed the subject quickly. ‘So, how did you get into that?’

  ‘My dad’s a bus driver. Same line.’

  Clara snorted. The girls all looked at her.

  ‘And your mother?’

  ‘Well, Mum’s always been very busy, what with there being fourteen of us.’

  ‘Fourteen?’ Clara couldn’t hide her shock.

  ‘Yes. Twelve boys and two girls. But she does take in washing and she helps out a lot at the church.’

  This was getting worse. Taking in other people’s dirty laundry was the last resort of the very poor, and something that even the Crisp family in Southwark had never had to do. There was nothing Clara could say to that so she asked, ‘Oh, and what church is that?’

  ‘The Church of St Thomas of Canterbury in East Thurrock Road.’

  There was a stunned silence.

  ‘But that’s the Roman Catholic church, isn’t it?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. We’re Catholic.’

  Alice felt a kind of panic sweep over her. Within the first few minutes absolutely all the skeletons in Joseph’s marriage-potential cupboard had tumbled out, while all of the good things about him – his fun, kindness and charm – had remained firmly hidden. She looked at him. He didn’t seem himself at all. He had gone a kind of pale grey and there was sweat on his brow. She looked in desperation over at Grace but all she got was a sympathetic frown back.

  Suddenly, Joseph slumped forwards.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Clara cried. ‘Katie, where are you with that glass of water?’

  ‘Bring the beer as well!’ Charlie shouted.

  Alice leapt up and laid Joseph out along the length of the sofa. In fact, they all jumped up and gathered round him.

  Joseph’s eyes were rolling. He looked like death and was all clammy.

  ‘Crikey, he’s having a turn,’ Grace said. ‘Loosen his collar.’ She started fiddling with his neck.

  ‘Leave it out – I’ll do it!’ Alice pushed her out of the way.

  Katie rushed in with the glass of water and the glass of beer.

  ‘What on earth—?’ she started.

  ‘Quick, give him a sip,’ Clara said.

  Katie panicked and flung the glass at him instead, soaking his face.

  ‘Katie!
’ they all shouted.

  ‘You idiot!’ Alice said, and punched her in frustration.

  ‘Ow! I don’t know, he looks like he’s dead,’ Katie howled.

  Luckily, the accidental shower seemed to have something of a Lazarus effect upon Joseph – he shook his head a bit, his eyes stopped rolling and he looked around, slightly confused.

  ‘Here, give him some of this.’ Charlie grabbed the beer from Katie’s other hand and poured a little down Joseph’s throat.

  He choked and then seemed to remember where he was.

  ‘Are you all right, Jo?’ Alice peered anxiously at his face.

  ‘Yes, yes, sorry. I don’t know what happened. Perhaps I can have a little bit of your cake?’

  ‘I think you should, young man. Looks to me like you don’t eat enough,’ Clara said, and produced a piece of her best Victoria sponge.

  As he sat up and started eating, Alice said, ‘Oh, Jo, you gave me such a turn! I thought you’d dropped off yer perch.’

  ‘Yes, you came over a bit queer, son,’ Charlie said. ‘I’d start drinking more beer if I were you. It’s nutritious.’

  At which point, Bertha and Katie started to giggle.

  Joseph, still looking a bit grey, nibbled at his cake while everyone watched, and then he said, ‘I’m feeling a bit poorly. I think I’d better go home.’

  Clara looked at the magnificent spread she’d made and said pointedly, ‘Well, that’s a bit of a shame.’

  Joseph got up and took his leave. Everyone followed him out of the room except for Dora and Grace. Dora sat in the corner, ominously quiet.

  ‘Well?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Someone just walked over a grave,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, Dora, belt up! Don’t you think we’ve had enough drama today?’ Grace said, and walked out of the room in disgust.

  Alice knew what her mother was going to say. Fortunately, Clara kept it short. ‘He’s not good enough for you,’ she said. ‘I don’t ever want him to cross the threshold of this house again.’

  But Alice didn’t stop seeing him. She just was careful to be discreet, and Grace provided alibis. Of course the parental disapproval heightened the excitement. Alice felt like she really was Greta Garbo in A woman of Affairs – the good girl of the family was for once being extremely bad. And the moment when her badness tipped from being a relatively innocent rebellion to something more serious was the May Day carnival.