by Joan Jonker
There was sarcasm in Alice’s laugh. ‘Listen, lover boy, you got the bargain of yer life tonight. The full works for a tanner! Yer’ll never get that again, not off me, anyway.’
‘How much d’yer charge, then? I’m willing to pay more.’
Speaking as though she was an assistant behind a shop counter, Alice rattled off the price list. ‘Ten minutes down a jigger is a shilling, half an hour in bed is two bob, and all night in bed is four bob.’
‘In bed!’ Tom’s voice was high with excitement. What he wouldn’t do to spend a whole night with this woman. ‘D’yer mean yer take the men home with yer?’
‘There’s no chance of that – my neighbours think I’m a respectable woman. I work the pub with ten other girls and we rent two rooms off an old lady who lives in one of the streets nearby. We pay her a tanner for every punter we take there and she’s glad of the money.’
‘I know the pub yer mean, I’ve passed it on the tram. I’ll be down one night to see yer, maybe Tuesday.’
‘If I’m not there, one of the other girls will fix yer up. And don’t worry, yer’ll get the same treatment off any one of them.’ She turned to walk away. ‘But not for a tanner.’
Tom watched until she was out of sight, then walked in the opposite direction. My God, it was a stroke of luck he’d picked that pub and that particular seat. OK, so she was a common prostitute, but she certainly knew her business. There was no messing around; she got straight down to it when they got in the entry, taking over as though it was a job of work. Which it was to her, of course. And she was good at it. There were times when he thought his heart, lungs and head were going to burst. He would definitely be after more of the same, even two bob’s worth next time. The only way he could afford that was to cut down on his drinking, but it would be worth it.
His body was still tingling from the effects when he opened the front door. And when he saw the living-room door was firmly closed his lips curled into an unpleasant smirk. Who would want to be bothered with someone as pathetic as his wife? Someone who balked at doing the things that made him happy. She wouldn’t even get undressed in front of him, he had to rip the clothes off her. No, he didn’t need her any more, he’d landed on his feet tonight, all right. And he had Betty Mason to thank for it. If she hadn’t thumped him one he would have gone to his local as usual and probably never found out what he was missing.
Mary lay in the darkness, waiting for her husband’s return with apprehension. She’d forced herself to stay awake, knowing she needed to be alert in case he came in drunk and took off on her. And when she heard the key in the lock her heart began to pound. She lifted her head from the cushion and gripped the cosh tightly in readiness. Seconds passed and there was no sound, none of the usual fumbling or stumbling which would tell her how drunk he was.
Then she heard his footsteps on the stairs and her brow furrowed. She sat up and slid her legs over the side of the couch. What was he up to? Never in a million years would Tom Campbell let her get away with what had happened earlier. She’d made a fool of him and he’d be down to punish her, she was sure of that. Then she heard a thud from upstairs and recognised it as the sound of shoes being flung across the room. He did that on purpose, she thought in terror, to make me think he’s getting into bed. But I know him too well to fall for that.
Mary covered her shoulders with a blanket and felt her way to the fireplace. She found the box of matches on the hob, and as she struck one she stood on tiptoe to see the time on the clock on the mantelpiece. It was only a quarter to eleven, he never went to bed so early. He was biding his time, making her sweat. Perhaps he was hoping she’d be asleep and he’d catch her unawares and knock hell out of her. Well, she’d be ready for him. So wrapping the blanket closely around her, cosh gripped tightly in her hand, Mary sat on the edge of the couch and waited.
Her nerves shattered by the long wait, and shivering with the cold, she struck another match. She couldn’t understand it, he’d been upstairs half an hour and there hadn’t been a sound in all that time. It didn’t make sense. There was no way he’d sit up there in the cold all this time; he liked his comfort too much. And if he was fast asleep there was no point in her sitting up all night waiting and worrying. The only way to find out what was going on was to go up and see for herself.
Mary opened the living-room door slowly and popped her head out. No sight nor sound. So she put her hand on the bannister and trod each stair carefully, keeping to the sides to avoid any creaks. Halfway up, she stopped and wrinkled her nose. What was that sweet smell? She sniffed up again and again. It was definitely a woman’s scent! But how on earth did the smell of scent get in here? She couldn’t afford soap, never mind scent. Urged on by the mystery, Mary climbed the remaining stairs to the landing. The smell was much stronger up here. She put her ear to the bedroom door and her husband’s snoring told her he was in a deep sleep. So she plucked up enough courage to open the door quietly, ready to flee if he was only feigning sleep. The smell of the cheap perfume was overpowering now, and she put her hand across the bottom of her face as she backed out. He’s been with a woman, she thought, as she trod down each stair carefully. He must have been in very close contact with her too, because his clothes reek of it.
Back on the couch and with the scant bedding wrapped around her, Mary thought it all through. She knew now why he’d left her alone tonight – he’d been satisfied elsewhere. She rubbed her swollen tummy and whispered, ‘Thank God for that. If he’s found favour with someone else, I’d like to shake her hand, whoever she is.’ She shuddered at the thought of the things he’d made her do, sadistic and degrading. Would another woman put up with that? Or did she let him get away with it simply because she didn’t have the guts to fight him? Mary turned on her side to try and find comfort for herself and the child she was carrying. As her eyes closed and she began to drift away, her last thought was that she hoped the woman, whoever she was, would put up with Tom Campbell’s antics at least until after the baby was born.
‘Don’t blame me for the time, Dot,’ John said, slipping his arms into his coat. ‘I did offer to go at ten o’clock as promised.’
‘It’s all right.’ Dot put a hand across her mouth when she felt a yawn coming on. ‘The game lasted longer than I thought.’
‘You won, anyway, Mam,’ Katy laughed. ‘Ye’re richer by ten matches.’
‘Better than a kick in the teeth, sunshine.’ Dot looked anxiously at Billy. ‘I hope you won’t get into trouble with yer mam. She’ll think I’m a fine one keeping yer here till this time.’
‘Don’t be worrying, Mrs Baker, me mam won’t mind. She knows I’m here an’ she said it’s better than me walking the streets and getting in with the wrong crowd.’
‘It’s only ten to eleven,’ John said. ‘It’s not too late.’
‘It is for my eyes. I could do with using those matchsticks to keep them open. And as for me feet – well, they were ready for bed hours ago. So off yer go, the pair of yer. Katy will let yer out, to save banging the door and waking Colin.’
‘We’d better go quietly, young man, before D.D. gets serious and kicks us out.’ As John pushed Billy ahead of him, he asked, ‘Will it be all right with you if I call tomorrow to see how Mary fared?’
‘I suppose so,’ Dot stifled another yawn, ‘but don’t you dare show yer face until the afternoon because I won’t be fit company before then.’
Katy came back from seeing them out to find her mother clearing the table. ‘Shall I rake the fire out, save a job in the morning?’
‘If yer would, sunshine, while I tidy up.’ Dot shook the green chenille cloth before throwing it over the table. ‘There’s nothing I hate more than coming down to an untidy room.’
Katy was on her knees in front of the grate, rattling the poker between the bars to send the ashes through to the ashcan. ‘Mr Kershaw’s so nice, yer wouldn’t think he was a boss, would yer, Mam?’
‘Well, he’s only a little boss,’ Dot said, plumping a cushi
on. ‘Probably a floorwalker or something like that.’
Katy turned her head to look over her shoulder. ‘He’s not, yer know, he’s the manager of the whole factory. He’s over all the men.’
‘No, he’s not, sunshine. Whatever made yer think that?’
‘It’s true, Mam, honest! One of our customers works there, and he came in the shop as Mr Kershaw was leaving with our Colin. He told me, and he said he’s never had such a good boss in his life.’
Dot stood with the cushion pressed to her chest. She was silent for a minute, then asked, ‘Are you sure yer’ve got it right, Katy?’
‘Of course I’m sure, Mam. I’m not thick.’
‘Well, I think he’s got a bloody cheek! Fancy him coming here all this time and not telling us. Ooh, I’m that mad I could spit feathers.’
Katy scrambled to her feet. ‘What d’yer mean, Mam, he’s got a cheek? He hasn’t done nothing wrong.’
‘He should have told us, that’s what he should have done.’
‘But why?’ Katy couldn’t understand her mother’s attitude. ‘If he’d told yer, it would seem as though he was bragging, and Mr Kershaw’s not like that. He’s not big-headed or anything, he’s just nice.’
‘If what you say is true, Katy, he’ll earn more in a week than we do in a year. And yet he’s sat here and drunk tea from chipped cups, ate chips from a newspaper and sat in a chair with the springs coming through.’ Shame made Dot feel anger against the man. ‘He probably has everything of the best in his own house, so why does he spend so much time here? Does he like slumming? Or perhaps he just wants to see how the other half live.’
Katy was stunned. She’d never disagreed with her mother before, but she did now. ‘I can’t believe ye’re saying those things about Mr Kershaw. Because he’s a boss and earns good money doesn’t mean he can’t be a good man. And if he does live in a posh house, that doesn’t make him a snob.’
‘I’m not saying he’s not a good man, or that he’s a snob, but he’s not the same as us and he should stick to his own kind.’
Katy was shaking her head in disbelief. ‘Mam, I think ye’re being horrid about Mr Kershaw. He doesn’t come here because he likes slumming, he comes because he likes it here and he likes us. It’s not an act he’s putting on, yer can see how comfortable he is. Perhaps he prefers us to what you call “his own kind”.’ Katy waved her hand around the room. ‘Look at the house now, to what it was before. Look how good he is to Colin, and to Mary, next door. He’s a good man, a kind man, and I think it’s mean of yer to say those things about him.’
Dot had her head bent over the cushion she was holding. When she looked up there were tears glistening in her eyes. ‘Me pride’s been dented, sunshine, and it’s pride that’s kept me going all these years. I’ve been remembering the night John first came here, carrying our Colin. I can still see the big hole in Colin’s sock when we took his shoe off. I can hear meself saying we couldn’t get a doctor out to him because we didn’t have the money. And I can remember how me heart sank when you asked him to have a cup of tea because I knew we didn’t have one decent cup in the house. I felt ashamed that night, but it didn’t really worry me because I thought we’d never see the man again.’
Katy could hear tears in her mother’s voice and hastened to put her arms around her. ‘Don’t be getting yerself all upset, Mam, otherwise yer’ll have me crying as well. But yer’ve always told me it’s best to say what yer think, and I think ye’re being unfair to Mr Kershaw.’
Dot swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Me own common sense should have told me, by the clothes he wears and the way he speaks.’
‘Yer can’t hold that against him, Mam. Even if he wore a suit made of pure gold, and spoke as though he had a dozen plums in his mouth, he’s still a nice man. And yer must know that he doesn’t come here because he’s nowhere else to go. He comes because he likes it here. I’d be very sad if yer stopped him from coming, and our Colin would be heartbroken.’
Dot disentangled herself from her daughter’s arms and threw the cushion on the couch. ‘I’ll not stop him from coming, but things won’t be the same. When I think of the way I’ve spoken to him – ordered him around as though he was a skivvy . . . I won’t be able to look the man in the face again.’
‘If he didn’t like it, Mam, he wouldn’t keep coming back for more. He really does think a lot of yer, anyone can see that, so don’t let on I’ve told yer. Don’t spoil things.’
Dot cupped her daughter’s face and kissed her. ‘We very nearly had our first row, sunshine, and it would have been my fault. You were right to put me in me place. Me and my blinkin’ pride, it’ll be the ruination of me one of these days.’
‘So yer won’t say anything?’ Katy asked. ‘To Mr Kershaw, I mean.’
Dot stretched up to pull the chain at the side of the gas light and plunged the room into darkness. ‘Of course I’ll say something to him – he’ll get the length of me blinking tongue.’ She reached out for her daughter’s arm. ‘But don’t worry, sunshine, I won’t fall out with him.’
Katy opened the door to John the next afternoon and, looking up into his face, she whispered, ‘If me mam starts shouting at yer, it’s all my fault. I let the cat out of the bag.’
John smiled and chucked her under the chin. ‘I don’t know what the cat you let out of the bag said, but don’t look so downcast. I think I’m too big for your mother to put me over her knee and spank me.’
Katy closed the door behind him, crossed her fingers for luck and prayed that her mother had mellowed. If she said all the things to his face that she’d said last night, the chances were Mr Kershaw would walk out of the house and they’d never see him again.
John entered the room to find Dot standing with her hands on her hips and her head tilted. This was the stance she took when about to argue and the one John found so endearing. ‘Oh dear, what have I done now, D.D.?’
‘Shall I take your coat for you, Mr Kershaw?’ Dot asked without a flicker. ‘I’ll hang it up for you.’
‘Why this attention all of a sudden? I usually hang my own coat up.’
‘Ah yes, but that’s before we knew who yer were. I mean, fancy me giving the manager of a factory his chips to eat with his fingers out of a newspaper, and with a cracked cup on the arm of the couch. I really made yer pig it with the rest of us, didn’t I?’
John heard what she said but was more interested in the way she looked. With her rich auburn hair framing her face, her hazel eyes practically giving out sparks, and her stand of defiance, she looked alive and glowing. ‘You know, you should always be in a temper because it suits you. You look so pretty, I think today is a Definitely Delightful Dorothy day.’
Dot was momentarily knocked off-course, but only momentarily. ‘Don’t you be trying to wriggle off the hook, John Kershaw, ’cos I won’t let yer. I don’t appreciate being made a fool of.’
‘Only fish wriggle off hooks, Dot, but I don’t think you meant it in that sense, did you? So will you please tell me what I’ve done to bring on this tantrum?’
‘Tantrum! Tantrum, did yer say? I am not a child, John Kershaw, that cries because they can’t get their own way. This is no tantrum, this is me being bloody angry.’
‘And very pretty you look with it, if I may say so.’
‘No, you may not say so! What yer can say is why yer didn’t tell us what yer job was. I think it was underhanded of yer and I don’t mind telling yer.’
‘I didn’t think it necessary to tell you. There was no reason – unless you judge a person by the material things they have in life, not what they are like as a person. If that is the case, I’m very disappointed in you. I thought you were more fair-minded than that.’
Katy was watching with interest, a smile hovering around the corners of her mouth. She thought Mr Kershaw was doing very well, but then, she wasn’t her mother.
Dot glared at him for a few seconds, then asked, ‘How come I always end up getting the blame when I argue with y
ou? I haven’t done nothing wrong, you’re the one who’s been sly and underhanded.’
‘I am neither sly nor underhanded.’ John’s face was serious now. ‘But if that is your opinion of me, perhaps you would like me to leave?’
Dot tossed her head. ‘Please yerself.’
‘No, if I leave it will be to please you, not myself. I like being here, I always feel contented as if I am among friends. But if you do not wish to be friends, if I am no longer welcome, then I will leave.’
It’s a good job our Colin’s out playing, Katy thought. He’d be screaming his head off if he heard what was going on here. Her mam was being very stubborn and if she didn’t unbend soon, they’d lose the best friend they’d ever had. She crossed her fingers again and sent up a silent prayer. Don’t let my mother send him away, please.
Dot once again stared him out. Then she held out her arm. ‘Give us yer coat and I’ll hang the ruddy thing up.’
John slipped his coat off and handed it to her. ‘Don’t you ever do that again, Dot Baker, it’s not good for my indigestion.’
‘Sod yer indigestion, John Kershaw, what about my heart? When Katy told me that you were Mr Moneybags I nearly had a fit. It’s a ruddy good job we’ve got some new crockery, otherwise yer wouldn’t be getting asked if yer want a cup of tea.’
John waited for her to hang his coat on the hook, then when she turned around he said, ‘At the risk of bringing forth your displeasure once again, can you tell me what difference it makes how much money I earn, or what my job is? If I were a roadsweeper I would still be the same man inside.’
Katy could see her mother had no intention of telling him the truth, so she piped up. ‘Tell him what yer told me, Mam.’
‘Katy, just leave it. I’m too quick off the mark, that’s my trouble. I shout me mouth off first, before thinking, instead of the other way around.’
‘If you won’t tell him, I will.’ Katy’s lips set in a determined line. ‘Me mam doesn’t begrudge you yer job, or yer money, Mr Kershaw, that’s not why she was so mad. She was thinking back to the time yer first came here and we were so poor we had nothing. The house was a mess, everything in the kitchen was cracked or broken, and me mam didn’t even have the money to get the doctor out to see to our Colin. She was ashamed that yer saw us like that at the time, but when I told her what Mr Grimes had told me, it made it ten times worse. We’re still poor, Mr Kershaw, but as I told me mam, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. As long as we’ve got each other, that’s the main thing. Being in a loving family beats all the money in the world.’