The Glowing Hours

by Marina Oliver

  *

  'I am utterly, madly bored!' Kitty declared.

  Maisie suppressed her irritation. Kitty was fun, but also often exasperating. 'I don't see how you can be,' she replied after a moment, concentrating on smoothing her rouge powder with a brush. 'You don't have parents forever asking where you've been and who with, and forbidding you to pluck your eyebrows and use lipstick.'

  'My dear Mama may be in America, but you can be sure Meggy tells her absolutely everything I do!' Kitty said petulantly. 'Actually, even if she were here I don't suppose she would care frightfully. She didn't care enough to marry my father, whoever he was.'

  'I think that was fearfully brave of her,' Maisie declared. 'If I were ever in such a position I'd die!'

  'Not if you were enjoying it.' Maisie looked blank. 'The position, silly. The one you have to get into before you can conceive a bastard!'

  Maisie flushed a painful red, her natural colour vying with the harsher scarlet of the rouge.

  'Kitty! You shouldn't talk like that!'

  Kitty shrugged. 'Don't be so dreadfully bourgeois! It's almost 1925! Everyone talks about sex now.'

  'But they didn't when your mother had you. Has she really never told you who your father is?' she added after a minute.

  'I doubt if she knew herself. She and her friends lived in Chelsea amongst the artists, and free love was the fashion. Orgies in studios when they weren't in Holloway or chucking themselves under racehorses.'

  'Then your father might be someone famous!' Maisie was awed at this new idea.

  'Or he might have been a docker or a groom! They weren't fussy, you know, Mama and her friends. For them free love and equality meant lifting their petticoats for any man who took their fancy.'

  'She kept you. She didn't try to hide you.'

  'She had her own money, or I might have finished up in Dr Barnardo's home in Moseley, or worse. Forget it, Maisie. I try to. I'm not proud of being a bastard.'

  'You're so pretty your father must have been someone handsome.'

  'I said forget it! I'm bored.'

  'I wouldn't be bored if Paul Mandeville took me to dinner,' Maisie commented. 'But he never looks at me. Was it fun?'

  'He's fun for a while, but when I wanted to drive out to the Lickeys afterwards he said he had to be up early the next day. So terribly ancient!'

  'He works.'

  'Yes, and that's boring too! I wish Andrew or Timothy were here.'

  'Andrew works. When does he come back to Birmingham?' 'Playing a saxophone isn't work! He doesn't need to do it. It isn't serious. I don't know when he'll be back. In a few weeks, I think, when his band comes to the Theatre Royal. He never lets me know, says I can look in the theatre advertisements, as if I could be bothered. You can if you're interested. What shall we do today?'

  'Let's go into town and have lunch. Then I want to do some Christmas shopping. And I saw an advertisement for a new compact, different compartments for powder and rouge and lipstick. Someone might have it.'

  Kitty shrugged. 'If you want to. I might see if there's a new evening gown I like in Lewis's. It's much more fun to have it straight away instead of waiting ages until a dressmaker's finished it. By then I don't like it.'

  Soon they were walking down the Hagley Road, having decided they needed some exercise.

  'I've never been to Endersby's Hotel,' Maisie commented as they passed the long, white-painted, elegant building.

  'Shall I suggest to Paul that he takes you on Saturday? Instead of me?'

  'Kitty, you couldn't!'

  'I could, but I don't think I'll be so self-sacrificing! Even Paul is better than no one.'

  *

  Nell insisted that Tom left her well before they reached her court. Even though it was dark now the street lights were good in the main roads. She didn't want prying neighbours speculating on where she'd been on Sunday afternoon. She was angry with herself, knowing she ought not to have accepted Tom's invitation to tea. His parents had been kind, but Mrs Simmons had dropped some heavy hints about it being time Tom found himself a nice girl and settled down, and Mr Simmons had been jocular, insisting on kissing her when they left.

  'You don't object to a fatherly kiss, do you, lass?' he'd boomed, clutching her shoulder so firmly that she'd had to submit.

  She would make excuses next time, she vowed. She didn't want Tom, but had felt an obligation to Mrs Simmons and had let herself be persuaded. Taking a girl home was a declaration, and she wasn't at all ready for it. She had other ambitions now.

  As she turned into the court she heard a strangled sob. Their one lamp was out again, but she could see someone huddling down outside the door.

  'Who's there?' she called sharply, and suddenly two wet, bitterly cold hands clasped her own.

  'Nell! We'm frit!'

  'Benjy? Norman? What on earth's happened? Why are you so wet and cold?'

  Norman's teeth were chattering so hard he couldn't speak, but Benjy stammered out an explanation. 'Norm fell in canal, we was playin' by paper mill. I 'ad ter jump in ter get 'im out!'

  'Come in right away, and take off those wet clothes!' Nell snapped, but as she moved towards the door they hauled her back.

  'Pa! 'E'll kill us! 'E said we weren't ter play there no more!'

  'Go in the washhouse then, and I'll bring you a towel!' Luckily Pa was snoozing in front of the fire. Nell was able to take the thin towel out to her brothers, and despite their muffled protests rub them dry.

  'Rub your hair now, and I'll see if I can get something for you to wear.'

  All she could find were an old pair of working trousers Danny had discarded when he changed into his best ones before going out earlier in the day, and the old skirt she'd brought home from Kitty's house.

  'I'm not wearin' gal's things!' Norman protested indignantly, feeling braver now he was dry.

  'Then go in naked!' Nell said exasperatedly. 'All you've got to do is sneak past Pa – he's asleep – and get into bed. When he goes up to bed I'll spread these out in front of the fire, and hope they dry in time for school!'

  *

  Sometimes Paul was quite fun, Kitty admitted to herself a few days later when they were once more sitting in the spacious restaurant of Endersby's. Andrew had told her of the escapades he'd indulged in during his years in the army and as a student, but she'd seen little of this lighter side. It was a coup to have him as her escort. He seemed to know every other diner, and Kitty was aware of several envious looks from girls dining with their families or less handsome men.

  When they were drinking coffee a tall, distinguished looking man came across the room towards them. He wasn't much older than Paul but there were slight wings of grey in his dark hair.

  'Paul, it's good to see you again. Marigold said you'd been in the other week. How is your mother?'

  'Disliking the English winter after her trip to Australia. Have you met Miss Denver? Kitty, may I present Mr Richard Endersby.'

  They exchanged a few polite remarks, then Paul asked where Mrs Endersby was. 'I thought she was usually here on Saturdays?'

  'She is, but it's young Harry's first birthday tomorrow and she had the preparations for that to see to.'

  'Is he a year old? It seems no time since Diana was born.'

  'She's fourteen months older. And Dick is already nine. It's hard to believe.'

  'You haven't a dance this evening,' Kitty interrupted. She thought only women talked about their offspring in such doting, sentimental tones. 'I thought you had one every Saturday?'

  Mr Endersby turned towards her. 'Not tonight, but they will be regular from next week. I've hired a new band but they couldn't start tonight. They are so good I thought it was worth waiting for them, and I trust you'll agree.'

  'We must come if you recommend them,' Paul nodded.

  'Do you have anyone to demonstrate the new steps?' Kitty asked eagerly. This was more interesting than talk of babies.

  'Actually, I'm letting a dancing school have the ballroom several times
a week. The proprietors want to run more classes, both modern ballroom and stage dancing, where there is more room to practise. They will give occasional demonstrations on Saturdays. They seem very good.'

  'Shall we come again next week?' Paul asked when Mr Endersby had moved on to speak to some other guests. Kitty could be as delightfully charming as she was often irritatingly perverse. He was finding the task imposed on him by his mother more enjoyable than he had expected. It was doing him good to have some social life, he admitted. He must go out more, though he never wanted again to sink into the whirl of pleasure he'd enjoyed as a student. That, he supposed, had been when he was trying to forget the horrors of the trenches, seeing men die all round him. Sometimes he wondered if, had he been older and joined the army in the beginning, he could have survived the experience. But he was never, he mentally reassured his mother, remotely likely to lose his heart to Kitty.

  'It might be amusing,' she said now. 'I wonder what sort of stage dancing they teach? I thought one had to start as soon as one could walk to do ballet.'

  *

  Pa had, as usual on Saturdays, rolled home roaring drunk. Nell lay tense, poised for flight, but he staggered no further than the room where he and Ma slept in the sagging iron-framed bed, with the babies on a mattress on the floor, and within minutes she heard him snoring loudly. She relaxed. She'd been prepared to go, but she felt guilty these days at leaving Amy to face Pa without her. Now she wouldn't have to make that agonising choice. She was half asleep when noisy footsteps on the stairs brought her wide awake, sitting up in bed while Eth clutched her arm nervously.

  'It's Danny an' Sam, blast 'em! They'll wake Pa!' Eth grumbled.

  'They sound drunk too,' Nell muttered. 'They haven't come home drunk before.'

  In fact, since the fight with Pa, they slept out of the house more often than not. She'd never asked where, but from sly hints Sam dropped she suspected they'd found a couple of girls who welcomed them into their beds.

  'Bloody women! Dunno their own bleedin' minds,' Danny was saying as he staggered up the stairs.

  'Mek 'em learn! Mek all bloody women learn!'

  Their voices were slurred, and Nell could hear their boots scraping on the stairs, and the dull thuds as they crashed from side to side of the narrow staircase. Whichever one was in front kicked the door, and it slewed open on its single hinge, as drunkenly askew as they were. For once the lamp in the court outside the house was lit, and Nell could see the two boys clinging to each other, swaying precariously. Waves of beer and onion fumes wafted before them into the small room, and Nell felt like retching.

  'Be careful, you'll wake Pa!' she said sharply.

  'Oo, lissen ter posh Nellie! Thinks 'er's too good fer us,' Danny jeered.

  'Mek 'er learn!' Sam suddenly thumped his brother on the shoulder. 'Women! Learn 'em 'ere! We don't 'ave ter bother wi' shtuck-up judys loike that pair o' drabs in Sandpits. Know what I'm thinkin' Danny boy?'

  'Women? 'Ere? Sam, you'm a bloody geniyus! Why should us 'ave ter goo out in cold when we've got women 'ere? Eth fer you, an' pretty little Nell fer me! Eh, Amy an' Fanny, an' rest on yer, out!'

  Eth began to whimper, but Nell stood up to face her brothers as the younger ones scuttled past, Norman helped on his way by a kick from Sam. Amy herded in front of her the two little girls, Lily and Betty, who were wailing with fright after such a rude awakening.

  'You're blind drunk, and talking obscene rubbish!' Nell stormed at them, trying not to show how frightened she was. Frightened? Of her own brothers? She was often frightened of Pa, but never before had any reason to believe her brothers might harm her. But they were tipsy, too incapably drunk to know what they were doing. She looked round for a weapon, but there was none. Sam had already pushed Eth down on her bed, and was tearing at her ragged petticoat, while Eth sobbed and pleaded with him to stop.

  Nell circled in the small space available as Danny lunged towards her. She dragged at the curtain which divided the room into two, and as it fell it impeded him for a precious moment. Taking her chance she stooped and reached under the bed for the heavy chamberpot. Danny had been stretching out for her and overbalanced as she bent down, and she had time to stand up, raise the chamberpot in both hands, and bring it crashing onto his head. She didn't wait to see whether he was knocked out, but grabbed the largest piece of the ruined chamberpot and advanced purposefully on Sam. He, heedless of all but his need to control Eth, had torn her underwear into shreds and was struggling to unbutton his flies.

  'Get out of here, or you won't ever be able to do anything to a girl again!' Nell threatened, grabbing him by the shoulder. He staggered and rolled away from Eth, who scrambled swiftly as far away from him as she could and cowered against the wall. Nell brandished her improvised weapon, and as Sam stretched out his hand to try and take it from her she slashed down at his arm.

  'Next time it'll be somewhere a lot more painful!' she threatened.

  'Yer rotten bleedin' cow!' he gasped as blood began to pour from the wound.

  For some time Nell had been vaguely aware of shouts from the other room and now, with a moment to pause, she realised it was Amy screaming at Pa to wake up and save Nell. Then she heard Pa's voice and he came staggering through the door.

  'Yer've killed Danny an' nearly crippled me, yer blasted bitch!' Sam said viciously, but to Nell's relief Danny began to groan and rolled over on the bed where he'd fallen. She hadn't wanted to kill him even in the height of her fear and rage.

  'Wassamarrer?' Pa asked. He was almost as drunk as the boys.

  'They was goin' ter mek us – ' Eth stopped. Even in this extremity she couldn't quite bring herself either to believe or speak about what had so nearly happened. Instead she burst into tears and clung to Nell.

  'Gerrout! Don't ever come back 'ere again!' Pa roared, and as Sam, holding onto the gaping tear in his arm, stared stupidly at him, Pa took him by the shoulder and bodily threw him down the stairs. Then he turned to Danny, who was sitting groggily on the bed holding his head and groaning.

  'Albert, don't 'urt 'em!' Ma was wailing, but Pa took no notice and heaved an unresisting Danny to his feet and through the door.

  It was then he noticed the mess of broken pottery and worse on the bed.

  'An' who did that?' he demanded angrily. ' Who's ruined a decent mattress an' blankets? An' a good pisspot!'

  'It were Nell, Pa,' Eth whimpered. ' 'Er was stoppin' Danny from – ' Again she dissolved into tears, and Pa glared at Nell.

  'I'm tekin' me belt ter you, me gal. It's time you learnt 'oo was boss.'

  He turned to go downstairs, where there was a considerable commotion as Ma berated the boys while she tried to stem the bleeding from Sam's arm, and Sam, by now sober and afraid of what they had tried to do, urged Danny to get on with it and come quick.

  Nell didn't dare trust that Pa would be diverted, nor that he would listen to her explanation. He hadn't had a fight tonight and would take out all his spleen on her. Within seconds she was out of the window, and then running as fast as she could away from the court. She had to avoid her brothers too, now. Even if, when sober, they felt ashamed of what they'd tried to do, they might still want to retaliate.

  ***

  Chapter 7

  'Oh, it's you, I hoped it would be! Thank goodness, I'm late, I just couldn't run, and Miss Fremling said she'd dismiss me if it happened again.'

  Nell was panting as she hung up her coat. Then a bout of coughing made her double up in agony, and it was some time before she could catch her breath. Gwyneth guided her to a chair and fetched a glass of water.

  'Sit down and drink this. You don't look fit to be at work anyway, you're feverish.' She looked concerned. Over the past two weeks she'd talked with Nell several times, and found she had more in common with her than she did with Lizzie or any of her fellow pupils at the dancing school.

  'It's just a cold. I'll be all right. I must be. I can't afford to be ill.'

  'Here, I bought some buns, have one with
your tea.'

  Nell licked her lips. 'I oughtn't. You're always giving me cakes and things. You're so kind. Why do you bother with me? You're properly educated, your parents are middle class, while I live in one of Birmingham's worst slums.'

  'What on earth has that to do with anything? Where we or our parents live doesn't matter in the least! I like you, Nell. Isn't that enough?'

  There was something about Nell which made her special. Gwyneth suspected her life was very hard, more from what she avoided saying than the few details she revealed. When she was relaxed she could be amazingly funny, as on the occasion when she had mimicked an elderly bespatted gentleman who had been staring at them through the glass of the door, and when he'd seen them looking at him had scuttled away in haste, getting hopelessly entangled between his walking stick and umbrella.

  Nell smiled. 'Thanks,' she said shyly, then caught sight of the clock. 'Oh, I haven't time for tea, I'm late already. I'll keep you late if I don't finish on time.'

  'It doesn't bother me.' She poured out the tea and handed Nell the cup. 'Why do you have to run to get here on time?'

  'I don't finish in the factory till half past seven, much later some nights if the foreman's being nasty, and I have to be here by eight. I always have to run some of the way.'

  'You do another job all day and then work here every evening?' Gwyneth was horrified. Nell hadn't told her this. Nell nodded, holding the cup in both hands to warm herself. She shivered and leant her head back against the wall. 'But you're ill! Do you have to work so hard?'

  'I need to earn enough money to get away,' Nell admitted. 'But it's taking such a long time! Sometimes I think I'll never do it.'

  'Get away? From where?'

  'Home.'

  Gwyneth frowned. 'That's two of us. I ran away from home too. But if you have a job in the daytime as well as here surely you can afford to rent a room somewhere?'