by Jenny Holmes
‘Well, it didn’t work, did it?’ He jerked away from Hazel and walked on. ‘There’s not an honest bone in Sylvia’s body.’
She ran again to keep up. ‘But it still might work – if you would give her a chance and listen to what she has to say.’
‘More lies,’ he said bitterly, with only one thought in his head, which was to shake Hazel off and crawl back into the old family home to lick his wounds.
Without a last-ditch attempt, Hazel saw that she would lose the argument. ‘All right, here are a couple of things you should know. The father of that poor baby is a man much older than Sylvia, who she admired but she hardly knew. She might not see it like this, but from where I’m standing, the man behaved badly. He took advantage of an innocent girl.’
The frown deepened and Norman drew a sharp breath.
‘Do I need to name names?’
‘No.’ A wild look came into Norman’s eyes as he stopped and turned suddenly to face the town they’d left behind. In the distance was row after row of terraced houses lining the steep hillsides. In the smoky, crowded valley bottom, a forest of mill chimneys churned out grey smoke. ‘I’ve heard enough.’
‘Wait!’ As he set off at a run back towards the town, Hazel picked up her bike and followed. ‘Are you going to talk to Sylvia?’
‘No.’ Again the reply fell like a hammer blow on Hazel’s hopes. Anger propelled him, turning his face dark and blocking her out completely.
‘You should,’ she pleaded.
‘Go away, Hazel.’
She felt the wind billow through her open coat and catch at her scarf, knocking her sideways off her bike. ‘Shall I tell her I’ve seen you?’ she called after him.
‘Tell her what you damn well like,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘I mean it, Hazel – leave me alone.’
There was nothing left for Hazel to do except go back to Nelson Yard and report the latest events. She cycled there with a heavy heart that lightened a little when she found a house full of cheerful women rallying round Sylvia and the newborn baby girl.
Mabel was still there, stoking the bedroom fire and quietly straightening sheets. Rose brushed Sylvia’s hair and praised her while Ethel rocked the baby to sleep.
‘Have we got a name for her?’ Ethel asked as she returned the infant to her mother.
‘Not yet.’ Only just coming to terms with the reality of motherhood, Sylvia noticed Hazel observing the scene from the doorway and was caught between eagerness and fear. ‘Did you find him?’
Hazel nodded.
‘How was he? What did he say?’
It was best not to hide the truth, Hazel decided. There’d already been too many secrets. ‘He was upset. It’ll take him a little while to come to terms with things.’
Sylvia’s lip trembled and tears welled up. ‘Does he hate me?’
‘No, I’m sure he doesn’t. He hates what’s happened, that’s all. I gave him a few of the facts.’
‘Oh, Hazel, you didn’t!’ Instinctively clutching the sleeping baby closer to her chest, Sylvia turned to Rose and Ethel. ‘What good will that do?’ she wailed. ‘Tell Hazel she had no right.’
‘Hazel was only trying to help,’ Rose insisted calmly. She too was bursting with questions but she knew she must wait until the time was right. ‘We all are. That’s why we’re here.’
Sylvia fought back her tears and went on quizzing Hazel. ‘Did you tell Norman who the father is?’
Hazel closed her eyes and gave a small sigh. ‘I didn’t have to. I’m pretty sure he’d already put two and two together.’
‘It’s that band leader you were always going on about, isn’t it?’ Ethel too had worked this out for herself and she didn’t beat about the bush. ‘He’s the father. Does he have any idea about the baby?’
Sylvia shook her head. ‘No. And I don’t want him to.’
‘She’s probably right,’ Rose cut in. ‘What good would it do to hold him to account? He’d only deny it. And we can do without more trouble.’
‘So that’s it – he just walks away,’ Ethel muttered. She left the room, went downstairs and could be heard banging pots and pans around in the stone sink.
Hazel took her place by the side of the bed and tried to reassure Sylvia. ‘I do think Norman will come round. Just give him time.’
‘Not after the way I’ve treated him, he won’t.’ For the first time Sylvia saw beyond her own fears. ‘Was he very upset? No, don’t say anything – I already know the answer. Did he say where he was going?’
‘When I found him he was halfway to Hadley, to his mother’s house, I expect. But then, after we’d talked for a while, he backtracked. I tried to follow him but I lost sight of him getting onto a tram on Overcliffe Road.’
‘That means he could be anywhere by now.’ Mabel reached for her coat hanging on the door peg. ‘Anyhow, I’ll leave you to it,’ she decided with one last fond look at the baby and a smile for Sylvia.
Hazel followed her down the stairs. ‘Ta,’ she said quietly. ‘I mean it – thank you very much.’
Mabel nodded. ‘I’m glad I could do my bit. But this is exactly what I was talking about – nothing’s straightforward these days.’
‘You’re right, it isn’t.’
‘And that’s why I’m ready to bow out.’ Unable to resist one last piece of timely advice, Mabel turned in the doorway. ‘I’d keep on looking for that young man if I was you,’ she told Hazel.
‘You mean Norman?’
‘Yes. He’s a loose cannon and there’s no telling what he’ll do – he could get into a fight, or worse.’
Hazel was reluctant to believe it. ‘No, not Norman – not once he’s had time to calm down.’
‘It’s up to you,’ Mabel said, solid and phlegmatic as ever as she departed. ‘But I’d go after him if I were you. You know what they say – better safe than sorry.’
The day rolled on and Hazel was caught up in showing Sylvia the best way to put the baby to the breast. She let Ethel demonstrate how to put on a nappy without sticking the safety pin into baby’s tender flesh and welcomed Jinny into the fold when she got back from the market and came straight away to Nelson Yard to find out the state of play. It was six o’clock – a dull, windswept evening that seemed to put paid to hopes that spring was round the corner.
‘All’s quiet on the Western Front, I see,’ Jinny murmured as she ventured into the kitchen.
‘Yes, but you heard about the father?’ Hazel whispered.
‘I did. News like that travels fast. Never mind, we’ll just have to make the best of it.’ Jinny squeezed Hazel’s hand warmly then went upstairs. ‘Oh, Sylvia, love – are you going to let your aunty have a hold?’ she asked as she crossed the room with arms outstretched.
Staying downstairs, Hazel listened to the gentle flow of conversation overhead and was thinking again about Mabel’s warning when she looked out of the window and saw John crossing the yard. She rushed out to meet him.
‘How are things?’ he asked.
She quickly explained that Earl Ray was the father of Sylvia’s baby. ‘I haven’t forgotten about the bike,’ she added. ‘I was about to wheel it back up.’
‘Never mind about that.’ He held up a small bunch of keys. ‘I borrowed the car from Reggie, just in case.’
‘In case what?’
‘In case you didn’t manage to track Norman down. I thought we could carry on looking for him together.’
‘In the car?’ She jumped at the chance, not even going back into the house to fetch her coat or explain to the others. ‘Norman’s not normally a hothead, but Mabel is worried he’ll rush headlong into trouble if we don’t find him.’
‘She might be right.’ Running up Raglan Road, they reached the parked Ford and jumped in. ‘I had a word with Dan earlier. He said he bumped into Norman on Canal Road. Norman had been hammering on your landlady’s door, asking for Earl Ray.’
‘Mabel was right, then – Norman is looking for trouble.’
‘Sh
e sent him away with a flea in his ear. But Norman found out from Dan that Earl Ray is back in town and that he’s due to play at the jazz club tonight.’
‘Is that where we should be heading?’
John looked at his watch. ‘It’s too early. The club doesn’t open until eight.’
For a while they sat in silence, held up by heavy traffic and without any firm idea of what they should do next.
‘I read your note.’ As they waited at a crossroads, John nudged the talk in a new direction. ‘Tomorrow is fine by me.’
‘That’s good, then.’
‘I mean what I said – I really have turned over a new leaf,’ he assured her, tapping his finger on the wheel.
‘You’re not the only one.’ Hazel relived in a rush the feeling she’d had of opening up the prison door of shyness and reticence, of stepping out into the sunshine and letting her feelings grow and blossom. ‘I’ve seen what happens when a person tries to hide from the truth. From now on I intend to be open and above board.’
‘Uh-oh, should I be worried?’ he asked with mock alarm. The traffic eased forward and they crawled the length of Calvert’s mill, empty now that the workers had clocked off, with the furnaces to drive the engines dying down in the back courtyard and the restless, relentless looms lying silent.
‘Let’s see, shall we?’ Hazel took a deep breath then turned in her seat to gaze directly at him. ‘Keep your eyes on the road, don’t look at me. Here goes. I was thrilled when I got your letter. I’d been hoping to hear from you for I don’t know how long.’ There – she’d said it.
‘Blimey.’ He glanced sideways then straight ahead again. ‘What else?’
‘That’s enough for a start. Now it’s your turn.’
‘Right. I wrote the darned thing then screwed it up and chucked it in the bin I don’t know how many times. When I finally posted it, it felt worse than facing a firing squad – in case you turned me down. How’s that?’
‘Not bad.’ Hazel gave a quick nod. ‘Now me again. Once I recognized your writing, I could hardly open the envelope, my hands were shaking so much.’
‘“About blooming time” – that’s what you thought.’ He glanced again with the special smile playing on his lips.
‘Yes, but now I realize that any earlier would have been too soon – for both of us.’
‘Yes. Knowing that and deciding to stand back nearly killed me,’ he admitted. ‘Let’s face it – you’re a catch, Hazel. One look at you and any man in his right mind would want to make a move – Reggie for a start, and any one of those hospital doctors who hang around at the jazz club. I nearly drove myself mad thinking about it.’
Flattered, Hazel raised a rueful smile. ‘We’ve both learned a lot about ourselves lately and now I see the timing is just right.’ She felt strangely calm and confident.
With both hands on the wheel and resisting the impulse to pull over and embrace her, he drove on. ‘Tomorrow it is, then.’
‘Yes, but for now we have to concentrate on finding Norman. Let’s turn onto Canal Road. I suppose there’s a chance he’s still hanging around there, waiting for Earl Ray to show up.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
There was no sign of Norman outside Hazel’s lodgings. She and John waited almost an hour, sitting inside the car with the engine turned off. Dusk thickened and the gas street lights were turned on. A misty rain began to fall.
‘I know the band doesn’t start playing until eight, but do you think they’ll get there early to rehearse?’ Hazel broke a silence that had re-focused her mind on the problem to hand. Her mouth felt dry at the prospect of what Norman might say and do when he finally came face to face with Earl Ray.
‘Yes, that’s a thought.’ John started the engine and drew away from the kerb. He drove the short distance into town and found a parking spot outside the library. ‘You stay here if you like,’ he offered. ‘I can go and take a look.’
‘No, I’ll come with you,’ she decided.
They got out of the car and walked together past the shiny plate-glass window of Merton and Groves, threading through the crowd of men milling around the entrance to the pub then pausing at the top of the cellar steps.
‘I can hear a saxophone playing.’ Hazel had been right – the band had arrived early and were running through parts of their repertoire.
Spotting someone he knew, John hailed him. ‘Jack, you haven’t seen Norman Bellamy, by any chance?’
‘Sorry, pal, I haven’t.’ The man flicked the glowing butt of his cigarette into the gutter then turned away.
‘My missis heard via Mabel Jackson that they’ve invented a new party game called Pin the Tail on the Real Father,’ someone else quipped.
John picked up the innuendo. ‘Very funny,’ he muttered, leaving the gang to make smutty remarks about local lasses led astray by Hollywood glamour. ‘It looks like we’ve beaten Norman to it,’ he reported back to Hazel.
‘Thank goodness.’ Peering down the steps, Hazel caught sight of two women coming out of the ladies’ cloakroom – it was Gladys and Mary Fenning.
‘Wait here in case he turns up,’ she told John hurriedly. ‘Let me go and have a word with Gladys.’
She flew downstairs and accosted her cousin.
‘Look who’s here to watch the rehearsal!’ Gladys was gleeful when she saw Hazel. ‘You couldn’t resist getting in on the act, after all.’
‘No, honestly – I’m not here for that.’
Gladys, who had obviously not picked up the Raglan Road gossip about Sylvia’s baby, would have none of it and made a beeline for the room where the band was tuning up. ‘Oh, is that a fact? Come off it, Hazel, who are you trying to fool?’
Mary raised her eyebrows then sashayed ahead with Gladys, leaving Hazel no option but to follow.
The room was empty except for the four musicians onstage and two barmen with trim moustaches and slicked-back hair wiping down tables. Everything looked tawdry under the glare of overhead electric lights. Instrument cases were piled carelessly against the stage, coats lay thrown over tables and the previous night’s dirty glasses still cluttered the bar.
‘Here comes Earl.’ Gladys noticed the band leader jump down from the stage and make his way towards them, smiling broadly. ‘Be nice,’ she warned Hazel, giving her a jab with her elbow. ‘I wangled special permission to come in early, so I don’t want you putting a spanner in the works.’
‘He-llo, lovely ladies!’ Earl swung his arms around Gladys’s and Mary’s waists and drew them close. ‘Glad y’all could make it.’
Instinctively Hazel took a step back, out of the orbit of the man’s brash confidence. He was dapper as ever – sporting a yellow checked waistcoat beneath a dark, double-breasted jacket, a glint of gold around his wrist, two-tone brogues and a diamond tie-pin as a finishing touch.
‘Barman, give the gals a drink – feel free to choose, ladies.’
As the others ordered their drinks at the bar, Hazel checked all around the room to make sure that Norman hadn’t slipped in unnoticed. No – thank heavens, there was no sign. Now she needed to get back to John, but Earl wasn’t satisfied with two pretty admirers – he wanted three.
‘Hey, missy – hold it right there,’ he drawled when he saw her ready to depart. ‘Why not have a cocktail with a cherry on a stick? Any flavour, any colour – it’s on the house.’
‘No, ta.’ Aware that a slow trickle of customers had started to take their seats and that Sonny Dubec was calling Earl back onstage, Hazel made her excuses. ‘Sorry, I’m in a rush. I’ve got a friend waiting for me upstairs.’
‘Rightio, Hazel, see you later.’ Gladys covered up the awkward moment with a quick, chirpy dismissal.
Hazel turned away, noticing Dan and Reggie among the early birds. They called loudly for her to join them. Again she refused and signalled her answer by pointing to the exit. ‘John’s waiting for me.’
Dan nipped across to intercept her, smartly dressed in his weekend tweed jacket and twill tr
ousers. ‘Hello, Hazel. I see you got all dolled up for your night out.’
Suddenly aware of her creased and crumpled work clothes, she frowned dismissively. ‘Sorry, Dan – I really have to go.’
However, she’d only got as far as the bottom step when there was a disturbance up above. She could hear shouting and scuffling, and then a dishevelled figure pushed free of the crush. Flailing his arms and thrusting people aside, Norman stumbled down the stairs towards her. John was close behind.
Hazel didn’t budge. She grabbed hold of the banister and braced her other arm against the wall, determined to stop Norman. But nothing would halt his progress. Head down, he barged into her and sent her tumbling backwards. Then he stepped right over her and ran on.
John helped her to her feet. ‘Are you all right? I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen.’
As she stood up, Hazel saw a trickle of blood from a cut at the corner of his mouth. ‘I’m fine. What happened to you?’
‘He socked me in the jaw.’
She grimaced. ‘Come on – we’d better go after him before he does any more damage.’
Inside the room, there was further confusion. As Dan tried to waylay Norman then tussled with him, a table crashed to the ground and the band broke off from the warm-up to their first number. Before either Hazel or John had the chance to step in, Norman had vaulted onto the stage and launched himself at Earl Ray.
‘For heaven’s sake – somebody do something!’ Gladys’s strident voice rose above the buzz of disbelieving voices.
A few men in the audience spat on the palms of their hands, rolled up their sleeves and climbed onstage to separate Norman from Earl, who had staggered back but now regained his footing and struck a boxer’s pose, fists up to protect his face. In a split second, Dubec and the two other musicians had put down their instruments and moved forward with lithe, expert punches intended to knock the local men clean off their feet. Soon it was mayhem – Norman threw himself at Ray a second time, dodging under his raised fists and grappling with him while John joined the mêlée and tried to pull Norman off. Hazel watched with a racing heart.