by Joan Jonker
‘I’m comin’ with yer,’ Corker boomed, ‘so don’t be wasting yer breath trying to talk me out of it.’
‘Yer’d better be makin’ tracks, then,’ Molly said. ‘Ellen will be on pins. An’ go out the back way, so Nobby won’t see yer passin’.’ She stood by the kitchen door as the two men walked down the yard. ‘Don’t forget it’s Boxing Day. No fightin’, d’yer hear?’
‘No, don’t come,’ Ellen cried, ‘there’ll only be trouble.’
‘There’ll be no trouble unless Nobby starts it,’ Corker said, looking down at the two girls. They stood shivering, looking so frightened he could feel his blood begin to boil. No children should be as afraid of their father as these two were. And no wife should look as terrified as Ellen did this minute. Just let Nobby Clarke say one word out of place, Corker thought, and I’ll throttle him.
‘There’s no need for you to come, Alec,’ said Jack. ‘Me an’ Corker will sort it out.’ He took the two girls by the hand. ‘Come on.’
Nobby’s face drained of colour when he saw the two men with his wife and daughters. His eyes blinking rapidly, he ran a hand through his uncombed hair. ‘I wasn’t expectin’ company.’
‘We came to see if yer’d sobered up, Nobby,’ Jack said. ‘Make sure it was safe for your family to come home.’
Nobby smirked. ‘Aw, yer know ’ow it is, Jack, I ’ad a few drinks too many, that’s all.’ He threw a dirty look at Ellen. ‘The trouble with the missus is, she can’t take a joke.’
‘Oh, a joke, was it?’ Corker bellowed. His gaze started at Nobby’s feet and travelled slowly upwards until he met his eyes. ‘I must be like your wife, no sense of humour, ’cos I don’t think it’s funny, either.’
‘Aw, I got a bit drunk, that was all.’ Nobby was quickly weighing up the situation. There was no way he was going to take on Corker. The big man would flatten him with one blow. The only thing he could do was swallow his pride and talk himself out of it.
‘Storm in a teacup it was.’ Nobby’s attempt at a smile made him look even more sinister. ‘I went out lookin’ for the wife an’ kids, but they were nowhere to be seen.’
Afraid as she was, Ellen couldn’t prevent the gasp that left her lips. The flaming liar! God, but he was evil, her husband. He was too much of a coward to stand up to Corker or Jack. Hitting someone who couldn’t hit back was more in his line.
‘Come on in.’ Nobby was wrestling with his anger as he jerked his head at Ellen. ‘I’ll make yez a cup of tea to warm yez up.’
She put a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders, and as she pushed them forward turned her head to gaze into Corker’s face. She felt so ashamed that the man she used to dance with at the Rialto and the Grafton should see her reduced to this.
Corker wasn’t happy with the situation, and he moved forward to have another go at Nobby. But the shame and fear he saw in Ellen’s eyes pulled him up short. He understood she was pleading with him to let things be, not to start any trouble. So he stood back and watched her follow the girls into the house.
But while Corker was watching Ellen, Jack’s eyes were on Nobby. He could see the anger his neighbour could barely hold in check, and knew that once the door was closed, and Nobby thought he was safe, Ellen and the children would be in for it.
‘There’s not goin’ to be a repetition of last night, I hope, Nobby.’ Jack kept his voice low. ‘I’m not one to interfere, but nor will I stand by an’ see a woman ill-treated.’
Nobby put his hand on the door latch and half closed the door. With his family safe inside, he began to feel cocky. He’d say what he had to say then close the door quickly before they had time to retaliate. ‘No one asked yer to interfere, an’ if yer hadn’t then none of this would ’ave happened.’
That was enough for Corker. He lifted his foot and kicked the door so hard it crashed back against the wall, trapping Nobby’s hand. ‘Teilin’ us to mind our own business, are yer, yer jumped up little pip-squeak?’ he thundered. ‘Tellin’ us we should just stand by while yer batter yer wife and children?’
Nobby winced with the pain from his squashed hand. It felt as though every one of his fingers were broken. But he was too terrified even to bat an eye, never mind move his hand. ‘No, no, Corker,’ he blustered, ‘yer’ve got me wrong. I didn’t mean that at all.’
‘Oh, I haven’t got you wrong, Nobby Clarke,’ Corker said. ‘I’ve got your number right enough. But a word of warning. I’m goin’ next door now to have a drink with me friends. If I hear one sound from this house I’ll be round like a shot, and believe me, by the time I’ve finished with yer yer won’t know what hit yer.’ He glared at Nobby for a second to make sure he’d got the message. Then, with a look of disgust on his face, he turned to Jack. ‘Let’s move. There’s a bad smell around here.’
Ellen was standing in the middle of the room when Nobby came in, the girls either side of her. She could feel her husband’s anger and steeled herself for the blows she was sure would come. But Nobby was too busy nursing his injured hand which was throbbing like hell. He jerked his head at Phoebe. ‘Go an’ put the kettle on, the two of yez.’
The girls glanced at their mother, and when she nodded they walked with their heads bowed into the kitchen. But they made no attempt to put the kettle on. Instead they stood behind the door and peeped through the crack. The saw their father prowling the room, noises like a wild animal coming from his mouth. And when he stopped in front of their mother and raised a clenched fist to her face, they clung together in fear.
‘So, yer’ve been cryin’ to the neighbours, ’ave yer?’ Nobby was seething. It was all her fault, and by God she’d pay for it. ‘Makin’ a fool of me, eh?’ His nose was within an inch of Ellen’s face. ‘Well, yer know what yer’ll get for doin’ that, don’t yer? A bloody good hidin’ is what yer’ll get.’
Phoebe and Dorothy dashed into the room. ‘If yer ’it me mam I’m goin’ to tell next door.’ Phoebe stood in front of Ellen. Although she was shaking with fear, she was determined that this time she wasn’t going to stand by and see her mother take a beating.
‘Get upstairs, the pair of yez,’ Nobby snarled, ‘before I take me strap to yez.’
‘No!’ Phoebe’s thin face was white with fear, but she wasn’t going to give in. Not this time. ‘You ’it me mam an’ I’ll run for Mr Bennett.’
‘An’ I’ll scream,’ Dorothy nodded, her thin lips clamped together. ‘I’ll scream the ’ouse down an’ Sinbad will come an’ fight yer.’
Nobby was speechless. He looked first at Ellen, then from one daughter to the other. Their faces told him that while they were frightened, they would carry out their threat. They’d never done this before . . . not one of his kids had ever dared answer him back. ‘Why you little . . .’ Nobby was so angry he rested his sore hand on his chest while going for his belt with the other. He was undoing the buckle when a picture of Corker flashed before his eyes. He was in no doubt that the big man would think nothing of booting the door in, and he also knew that if he was at the receiving end of a blow from one of those massive hands, he’d end up with a broken nose.
Nobby let his hands fall to his sides. There was no point in asking for trouble. He’d bide his time, then woe betide these three. ‘Go an’ get yer brothers out of bed,’ he growled. ‘They’d ’ave been up hours ago if yer mother wasn’t so bloody stupid.’
A nod from their mother sent the girls scrambling up the stairs, their shoes clattering on the bare boards. They were too young to understand that in defying their father for the first time they were rebelling against the life of misery he forced them to lead. Last night, for just a few hours, they’d seen what it was like to be part of a loving family. They’d felt the warmth and kindness, and they’d heard the laughter of happy people. They’d never questioned their life before because it was all they had ever known. They were used to being laughed at by the kids in school because their clothes were torn and shabby, used to hearing their bellies rumbling with hunger as they huddled toget
her for warmth in the cold, cheerless house. And from an early age they’d learned to keep out of their father’s way. One innocent word or titter could earn them a lashing from his belt.
This was the life they had always known and accepted. But last night their young eyes and minds had been opened to a different life, one they envied. As they grew older, would they be strong enough to tame Nobby? Or would he wear them down, like he had their mother? Strip them of pride and self-respect?
Ellen was asking herself this as she stood in the kitchen waiting for her heartbeat to slow down. Please God, she prayed, give them a better life than I’ve got. Don’t let them suffer for my weakness and stupidity. She could hear Nobby mumbling to himself as he paced the living room floor. She knew he wouldn’t be content until he got his hands on her. Her punishment hadn’t been cancelled, only postponed.
Chapter Ten
Doreen rubbed her elbow over the window of the tram, clearing a circle in the condensation caused by dampness rising from the clothes of the passengers who were stamping feet and rubbing hands, their noses ranging in colour from bright red to blue. Although it had stopped snowing there was an icy cold wind blowing that could penetrate the thickest of clothes.
Doreen recognised the Metropole Theatre on Stanley Road. Only three more stops now. The shiver that ran through her body was more from apprehension than the cold. She was on her way to her first interview for a job and the prospect terrified her. In the handbag she’d borrowed from Jill was the card she’d been given when she’d gone to sign on at the Labour Exchange yesterday, and her school report.
Her mam and dad had been over the moon, and she’d been feeling very pleased with herself when she went to bed. But lying in the darkness, the house silent, sleep eluded her as doubts set in. What happened when you went for an interview? Did you get a written test, or did they just ask you questions? She hoped they didn’t give her any sums to do because she wasn’t any good at arithmetic. She was hopeless at spelling, too!
Doreen peered out of the tram window. This was where she got off. She let out a deep sigh as she made her way down the aisle to the platform. Holding on to the rail, she could see they were passing the North Park. How often she’d gone there to play when she was younger. With a bottle of water, a ha’porth of lemonade powder and a few jam butties, she and her mates often used to spend the day there.
The tram was shuddering to a halt when Doreen jumped to the pavement outside the large building that was Johnson’s Dye Works. She stood in front of the main entrance long enough to smooth down the front of her old school coat, which still looked shabby even though her mam had sponged and pressed it. Then, straightening her shoulders, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. As she did so, a group of girls about the same age as herself turned to stare at her. ‘Are yez all here for an interview?’ Doreen asked the girl nearest to her.
‘Yeah.’ The girl had a round, pale face and long black hair. She had her coat wrapped around her body and looked as frightened as Doreen felt. ‘We’ve been told to wait ’ere till someone comes for us.’
Another girl detached herself from the group and came to stand next to Doreen. ‘Is this yer first job, or have yer worked before?’
‘I only left school at Christmas.’ Doreen was busy counting the girls. There were nine of them, ten including herself. ‘I wonder ’ow many jobs are goin’?’
‘Dunno!’ The girl was small and slim, with a round smiling face framed by thick, black hair cut in a short bob, and laughing brown eyes. ‘I’ve only just left school, too. My name’s Maureen, what’s yours?’
Doreen didn’t answer, her eyes were on the middle-aged, officious-looking woman walking briskly down the corridor towards them. ‘Good morning.’ She held her hand out. ‘Can I have the cards from the Labour Exchange, and your school reports, please?’
After a brief glance at each card, the woman said, ‘Come this way.’ She led them to a door halfway down the corridor. ‘Wait in here until your name is called.’
Maureen linked her arm through Doreen’s and pulled her towards the chairs set around the room. ‘Let’s stay together. I’m shakin’ like a leaf.’
‘Me too!’ Doreen managed a shaky smile. ‘It’s worse than waitin’ to get the cane.’
‘I hope we both get taken on,’ Maureen said. ‘If you go in first, will yer wait outside for me to let me know ’ow yer got on?’
‘Yeah!’ Doreen was thinking she’d like to work with this girl, ’cos she seemed so friendly. ‘An’ you do the same if you go first.’
‘D’yer live round here?’ Maureen asked. ‘I live down Scottie Road.’
‘I’m not far away, in Walton! If we get taken on, we could catch the same tram in the mornings.’
‘Wouldn’t it be the gear?’ Maureen’s infectious laugh rang out. ‘We could be friends.’
The door opened and a voice from outside called, ‘Miss Shepherd.’
‘That’s me!’ Maureen jumped up. ‘I’ll see yer later, kid.’
Doreen was the fourth to be called, and by that time she was in a nervous sweat and her legs felt like jelly as she crossed the room. The same officious-looking woman was waiting for her. ‘Follow me. In here.’ The woman opened a door on the opposite side of the corridor. ‘Miss Doreen Bennett,’ she called, pushing Doreen gently over the threshold.
Doreen managed a half smile, and remembering her mam’s warning to watch her manners, croaked, ‘Thank you.’
The first thing her eyes focused on was the highly polished desk and the small woman sitting behind it. Not knowing what to do, she stood by the door waiting.
‘Sit down.’ Hazel eyes peered over the top of the pince-nez glasses perched on a small, upturned nose. ‘Your name is Doreen Bennett?’
Doreen licked her dry lips. ‘Yes, miss.’
‘My name is Miss Jones, and you have no need to be afraid, I’m just going to ask you some questions.’
Doreen swallowed hard to rid herself of the lump in her throat. The woman was old, older than her mam, and she didn’t half look stern. She reminded Doreen of the history teacher at school.
When the first questions were fired at her, Doreen told herself she didn’t stand an earthly chance of being taken on. She could see her school report on the desk in front of Miss Jones so there was no point in telling lies. No, there was no particular subject she was good at, she admitted, and yes, she was always near the bottom of the class. By this time Doreen had given up hope of getting a job. So when asked, she agreed she was a bit of a tomboy and often used to get the cane for playing pranks.
Miss Jones had her head bent whilst asking the questions, the twinkle of amusement in her eyes hidden from Doreen. It was rare to have someone be so honest. According to most of the girls she interviewed they were all angels, wouldn’t say ‘boo’ to a goose.
‘Tell me about your family.’
Surprised by the question, but thinking she had nothing to lose, Doreen’s outgoing nature surfaced. Her smile flashed, her tongue loosened and without realising it, she talked herself into a job.
‘Right, Doreen! You will report back tomorrow morning for a medical, and providing you pass that, you can start work on Monday morning.’
Doreen gaped. It took seconds for the good news to sink in, then she took a deep breath and said softly, ‘Thank you, Miss Jones.’
‘Give this card to Miss Howard and she’ll explain everything to you. Hours, wages, and which department you’ll be starting in.’ Miss Jones took off her pince-nez glasses and with two fingers rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘Ask her to send the next girl in, please.’
Doreen stepped into the cold air and the warmth of Maureen’s smile. ‘How did yer get on?’
‘I’m to come for a medical tomorrow.’ Doreen giggled. ‘I can’t believe it! I’ve got a job!’
‘Yer not the only one, so don’t be swankin’.’ Maureen put her arm through Doreen’s and squeezed. ‘I’m comin’ back tomorrow for a medical as well.’
&nbs
p; ‘Ooh, I hope they put us together. Wouldn’t it be the gear?’
‘Yeah.’
Maureen’s white teeth flashed. ‘We can be friends, can’t we?’
Her hands one on top of the other, Molly rested them on the round top of the dolly peg. It was hard work plunging it up and down on the dirty clothes in the wash tub. Her muscles hurt and her palms were red and sore. ‘Anyone would think I was doin’ the flippin’ washin’ for an army,’ she complained. Gazing out of the kitchen window at the heavy sky, she tutted: ‘The flamin’ weather’s enough to give anyone the willies. If I’m any judge, we’re in for another fall of snow, so that puts paid to gettin’ me clothes out on the line.’
Molly plunged the dolly peg into the tub a few more times then gave up. ‘That’s it! They can steep for half an hour before I mangle them.’ She walked through to the living room where Ruthie was sitting at the table, head bent over a colouring book. Drying her hands on the corner of her pinny, Molly smiled. Poor kid, she’d been stuck in the house since before Christmas because of the bad weather. ‘How about a cuppa, sunshine, an’ a custard cream?’
Ruthie looked up, smiling. ‘Ooh, yes, please, Mam.’ She’d been licking the ends of the coloured crayons and her lips were covered in red and blue streaks. ‘See what I’ve done, Mam? Aren’t I clever?’
As Molly gazed at the country scene on the page, she had a job to keep the smile from her face. Ruthie had painted the grass red, the trees blue and the sheep green. ‘That’s very good, sunshine. Wait till yer dad sees ’ow clever yer are. When yer start school in a few weeks I’ll bet yer the cleverest girl in the class.’ She ran a finger down the silken cheek. ‘I’ll put the kettle on and we’ll ’ave a little party all on our own.’
There was a look of tenderness on her face as she walked to the kitchen, leaving Ruthie painting the sky brown and singing, ‘Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on, Polly put the kettle on, we’ll all have tea.’