The Docklands Girls

by June Tate

  Hildy wasn’t going to be drawn into an argument. ‘I knew you wouldn’t enjoy seeing me and Milt marry, so I spared you the experience,’ she said and before her mother could respond, she stood up. ‘I’ll be in with your stuff tomorrow after I finish my shift. I’ll be in during visiting hours in the afternoon.’

  Olive was too tired to answer. She just nodded.

  Hildy left the ward with mixed emotions. Naturally, she was sad to see her mother so unwell, but she wasn’t going to let her get away with her snide remarks. She was amazed that Olive had the strength after an operation to still be so vindictive. She stopped at the desk and asked the nurse how long she thought Mrs Dickson would be in hospital.

  ‘It’s too soon to say. We will wait to see how she recovers. The doctor will take a look at her on his rounds tomorrow morning. We may know more then. But as far as I know, the operation was a success.’

  Hildy let herself into her old home to collect her mother’s belongings. After she’d packed a small case, she made herself a cup of tea and sat in the kitchen drinking it. She hated this house. It reminded her of the years she’d been a prisoner within its walls, pandering to a selfish and wicked woman and now it looked as if she’d have to return for a short time to do the same. Well, she would look after her, but she wouldn’t become a permanent fixture again. With the money she was earning and the money that Milt sent her, she could afford to pay for help some of the time and that would allow her to retain her independence. Her mother wouldn’t like that, but that’s how it was going to be.

  That night Hildy wrote to Milt and told him what had happened and her plans for her mother’s recovery.

  Obviously I have to see she’s taken care of until she’s fully recovered. But I’m going to hire someone to help so that I’m not my mother’s only attendant. Then she’ll realise that I now have a life of my own as a married woman.

  A few weeks later when he read Hildy’s letter, Milt frowned. He’d seen for himself the way Olive had manipulated Hildy in the past and was relieved that his wife had the sense to make this arrangement. He understood that Olive would need care at home until she recovered, but knowing her he guessed she’d hang it out as long as possible to keep a stranglehold of her daughter. Thank goodness Hildy was now able to cope with her, but he would be so happy when she was over here with him, being looked after herself for a change. He transferred some money into her bank account to help with the expenses.

  The next afternoon, Hildy walked down the ward, carrying the case with her mother’s things in it. As she stopped beside the bed, she was relieved to see that Olive looked marginally better than the previous day.

  ‘Hello Mum, I’ve brought your things.’ She started to put them away in the locker. ‘You’re looking better.’

  Olive scowled. ‘Well I don’t feel it! I’m sore and didn’t get much sleep last night. That woman over there was moaning all night long.’ She nodded to the bed across the ward.

  ‘I’m sure she couldn’t help it,’ Hildy ventured. ‘What did the doctor have to say?’

  ‘I’ll be here at least for two weeks, maybe three. It all depends how I recover from the operation.’ She looked slyly at Hildy. ‘He said when I go home it’s essential that I have someone to look after me. I can’t be left on my own.’ She waited for an answer.

  Pulling up a chair, Hildy sat beside the bed. ‘That’s to be expected,’ she said, ‘you’ll feel a bit weak for a while, but don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.’

  The look of triumph on her mother’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

  Hildy continued, ‘I’ll arrange for you to have daily help and in between I’ll call and prepare meals for you. They will only need to be heated in the oven; we’ll need to build up your strength until you’re well enough to look after yourself.’

  This wasn’t at all what Olive was expecting. ‘You won’t be moving in to look after me?’ she demanded.

  ‘No, Mum. It won’t be necessary. You’ll be well cared for at all times, so I don’t want you to worry.’

  The woman was speechless. Her carefully laid plans were being dismissed. She was convinced that Hildy would have had to move back and once again she’d be in control. She was outraged. Her cheeks flushed with anger.

  ‘Well, I’ve never heard of anything so heartless!’ she snapped.

  But Hildy was ready for her. ‘Not at all. You will have someone to clean your house, make you comfortable, wash you, help you to take a bath, make sure you eat well, and I’ll pop in and check up on you and do my bit too. But I don’t see the need to move in. After all, I have my own place now.’

  Olive glared at her. ‘I really don’t know you anymore. Ever since you moved out, you’ve become hard. I suppose that’s due to that man you’ve married.’

  Hildy met her mother’s angry gaze. ‘That man has a name, he’s called Milt and I’ve not become hard as you put it, but I now have a life of my own and I’m really happy for the first time in my adult life. You must accept the fact that you no longer rule me. The sooner you do, the better we’ll get along.’

  Olive leant back against her pillows and with a sneer she said, ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you? You think you know everything now you’re a married woman.’

  Knowing her mother so well, Hildy knew that Olive was about to give vent to her feelings and an argument was forthcoming. She stood up, put the chair back in its place and said, ‘I have to go now, but I’ll have a word with the nurse first. I’ll be back tomorrow.’

  ‘Are you sure you can spare the time?’

  Hildy ignored the barb. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said and walked away, stopping at the desk to check with the nurse on her mother’s condition.

  ‘Your mother will be here for about three weeks,’ she was told. ‘The operation went well and once the stitches are out next week, she’ll be much better.’

  ‘Then once she’s allowed home, what then?’

  ‘Obviously she’ll be weak, but after a couple or three weeks’ care she should be back on her feet.’

  Hildy thanked her and left. She gave a wry smile as she left the hospital. Her mother was so predictable. But her plans for getting Hildy back under her thumb had been well and truly scuppered. Well mother, she thought, you no longer run my life. Those days were well and truly over and once Olive was at home, with someone else to look after her, perhaps at last her mother would finally get the message.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Whilst Hildy was sorting out her problems in London, Cora was enjoying life. She was working still in the same dress shop and earning good money. The bonuses she’d earned boosted her weekly wage. She and the manageress were getting along very well; she was making friends and slowly building a social life. But most important of all, Joe Keating had stopped calling at her flat.

  Cora had become friendly with Simon Pritchard, the young man who lived on the same floor as she did. He was tall, athletic and good-looking. They used to meet coming in and out of the apartment building and eventually started going out together. He’d not been called up to fight due to a perforated eardrum, an injury he’d sustained playing rugby at school. Instead, he joined the Metropolitan Police Service as a constable. He was charming, great fun to be with and their friendship blossomed. Sometimes he’d meet her after work and Cora would be teased by her boss.

  ‘Your police escort is waiting for you, Cora,’ Linda would say. ‘Just be sure he doesn’t have a Black Maria round the corner!’

  Cora just laughed, thinking of the time in Southampton when she and Belle were arrested for soliciting and been driven off in one of them. But she was also aware that she did have a police record for that one occasion. Something she pushed to the back of her mind when she was with her boyfriend.

  She was enjoying being courted by this upstanding young man. He treated her affectionately, but with respect and although his kisses were full of passion, he never let his physical longings get out of hand. Cora loved that. For so long she’d be
en paid to pleasure such longings, now she was being cosseted for a change. But as the weeks passed, she longed for more. She wanted to be held in Simon’s arms, to be made love to and it was driving her crazy because she didn’t want to spoil the image he had of her. Then one evening, she told him how she felt.

  They had been to the cinema to see Brief Encounter with Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard. A tale of unrequited love between a married woman and another man. It was a poignant story and Simon teased Cora as they left the cinema with her mopping away tears.

  They returned to their building and went to her flat for a nightcap. As she poured them a drink, they discussed the film.

  ‘I think it was a shame that they had to part,’ Cora remarked.

  Simon looked shocked. ‘But she was a married woman!’

  ‘I know and you’re right, of course, but sometimes when you can’t have what you long for, it can be hard to live with.’ She sat beside him on the settee, putting their drinks down on a table.

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. ‘Now what on earth could you want and not have that would make you feel that bad?’

  There was a benevolence in his tone as if he were talking to a child and she didn’t feel anything like a child. She was very much a woman. A woman with needs. She gazed up at him and caressed his face, wondering what his reaction would be if she told him. Then taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I want you. I want you to take me into your arms and make love to me.’

  He was so surprised the smile disappeared. He looked at her with a puzzled expression as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  Cora watched him. She saw the consternation on his face as he eventually understood her meaning and was trying to deal with this unexpected request. He didn’t know what to say.

  Disappointed, more than a little embarrassed and having to cope with rejection, Cora rose from her seat and, heading towards the door, said, ‘I think maybe you should leave, Simon.’

  He got up slowly, staring at her as he walked towards her. Cora opened the door wide and stood back. ‘Goodnight,’ she said.

  He hesitated, then he walked out of her flat. She shut the door behind him, wandered over to the table and drank her gin and tonic with one gulp, before going into her bedroom and getting undressed. Then she came back into the living room, lit a cigarette and drank Simon’s gin and tonic.

  Well, that’s that, she thought. I’ve really buggered up that relationship! She was sad. She liked Simon so much and had hoped that in time, they may well have had a future together, but not any more. With a sigh, she went into the bedroom, turned back the bed covers and was just about to get into bed when there was a frantic banging on the door. Cora rushed out of the bedroom wondering what on earth was wrong, was the building on fire? She opened the door.

  Simon stepped inside, slammed the door with his foot as he picked her up in his arms and marched into the bedroom, putting her down on the bed.

  Leaning over her, he said, ‘I can’t possibly have you feeling as devastated as Celia Johnson because you can’t have what you really want, can I?’

  A broad grin crept across Cora’s face as she gazed back at him. ‘Absolutely not!’

  Ever since their drunken evening together celebrating, Belle and Hildy had kept in touch after Belle moved to the Isle of Wight. Belle was aware of the relationship between Hildy and her mother so understood the difficult position her friend was in when Olive was rushed to hospital; now she was at home being cared for by private nurses and Hildy herself. Belle had called on her at Olive’s home one day when she’d had to go to Southampton and had seen for herself how manipulative Olive was.

  Hildy had confided in Belle. ‘She’s been home almost a month now and I know she’s so much better than she lets on,’ said Hildy. ‘She just won’t let me go.’

  Belle had an idea. ‘I’ll get a room ready for her,’ she said, ‘and next week I want you to pack a case for your mother. I’ll come over on Tuesday and take her back with me for a week, then when she returns, you can tell her that she’s now well enough to cope.’

  Hildy didn’t want to put Belle to so much trouble, but Belle was adamant. ‘It’s the only way you’ll be free,’ she insisted.

  The next Tuesday, Belle arrived by taxi at Olive’s front door. When she knocked, it was Hildy who opened it. She looked at Belle with a worried frown. But Belle just squeezed her hand and walked into the kitchen.

  Olive was sitting by the range. She looked up and barely acknowledged the visitor and when Hildy picked up her overcoat and told her to put it on, Olive glared at her.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she snapped.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Dickson, you are,’ said Belle, heaving her out of the chair, taking the coat and forcing the older woman into it, leading her to the door. ‘You are coming to stay with me for a week. Get some good sea air into your lungs, make you feel better. Come along!’

  Before she was aware of what was happening, Olive was bundled into the waiting taxi, a suitcase in the front seat and the car on the move.

  Belle chattered on, not letting Olive get a word in. ‘You’ll have a lovely time,’ she said, ‘my house is all ready now for next season and you’ll be my first visitor to stay, but as my personal guest so you won’t have to pay for anything.’ The car pulled up by the ferry. ‘Here we are,’ said Belle and helped her out of the car and up the gangway.

  ‘Come on, Mrs Dickson, we’ll go straight to the bar and have a drink.’

  Still in a confused state from the unexpected happening, Olive followed her and sat down at a table.

  ‘What’s your poison, love?’ asked Belle.

  ‘I’ll have a gin and tonic,’ said Olive, thinking to herself, well, I might at least have something I want. By now she began to realise how she’d been duped, but she was once again in charge of her faculties and she began to plot. She’d pretend to be more frail than she was. These two thought they had her beaten, but they were wrong. She’d show them!

  But Belle was ready for her. After their drink, she took Olive up on the deck and found a sheltered spot for the two of them. Despite herself, Olive enjoyed the trip to Shanklin. The autumn day was reasonably warm and the sun was shining on the part of the ferry where they were seated and after a while, she closed her eyes and dozed off.

  Belle looked at the sleeping figure beside her. Even in repose, the lips were tight and belligerent and she knew she’d have her work cut out for her during the following seven days, but she was determined to get Hildy out of her hole. The girl had done her duty as a daughter and was due a life of her own.

  The ferry docked in Shanklin and Belle woke Olive gently. As they walked down the jetty to the taxi rank, Olive looked about her. She’d never been to Shanklin and was surprised at how pretty it was and she began to relax as they travelled to Belle’s house. When the car stopped in front of the building, she was very impressed, although she didn’t say so.

  Belle paid the taxi driver, picked up Olive’s case and walked to the front door. Opening it, she turned to Olive. ‘Welcome to my home, Mrs Dickson.’

  The tiles on the floor in the hallway shone and the house smelt of polish. The sitting room where Belle took her was cosy, well furnished and sunny. There was a vase of flowers on a table in the window and a fire laid in the hearth. For once, she was speechless.

  ‘Come along,’ said Belle, ‘I’ll give you a tour of the house.’

  Now Olive was intrigued and willingly followed her. She loved the size of the house; it was bigger than any she’d ever been in before. The dining room looked posh to her eyes. The kitchen was large and upstairs the bedrooms were much bigger than any of hers. When she was taken into the one that was to be hers for the week, she was a happy woman. She suddenly thought she’d enjoy her stay here, but she wouldn’t let on to her hostess.

  But Belle wasn’t fooled for a moment. She saw the look of avarice in Olive’s eyes and immediately saw a way to handle this difficult woman.

  ‘We c
an unpack your case later,’ said Belle. ‘Let’s go downstairs and have some lunch.’

  She prepared cold salmon she’d bought the previous day and made a salad to go with it, plus a glass of wine. Olive thought she was in heaven. Belle made a cup of coffee and then after said, ‘Right, put your coat on and we’ll walk along the seafront. We’ll stop and have an ice cream before we come home.’

  This time there was no argument from her visitor and Belle hid a smile.

  They sat in deckchairs on the front and ate ice cream cones like a couple of children. Olive was quite chatty.

  ‘I’ve only ever been to Cowes,’ she told Belle, ‘and that was years ago. I had no idea that Shanklin was so pretty.’

  Belle told her how when she’d taken a bus there she’d fallen in love with the place. ‘I’m hoping to have lots of tourists stay next summer. I shall advertise, of course.’

  ‘Your house is lovely,’ Olive said. ‘I would think you’d do well.’

  Belle was surprised at such a compliment. ‘Well, thank you, Mrs Dickson. It means a lot to hear you say that. We’ll go back when we’ve had this. You can put your feet up until dinner and then we’ll sit and listen to the wireless. Tomorrow we’ll get a bus and I’ll show you some more of the island.’

  ‘Oh I don’t know if I can manage that,’ Olive said. ‘After all, I’m still recovering from my operation, you know, and today has been a busy one for me. I’m tired now.’

  ‘Of course you are. But you see, after a good night’s sleep you’ll be fine. A bus trip isn’t tiring, is it?’

  Olive, now anxious to see more of the island, slowly agreed. ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘We’ll stop off somewhere and have lunch, you’ll like that,’ added Belle as another incentive. Olive obviously enjoyed the good life and she wouldn’t turn down an offer that included an outing to the fleshpots of the Isle of Wight, especially if she wasn’t paying.