by Kitty Neale
‘Mum, I’d best go. Promise me you’ll eat that stew later.’
‘Yeah, I promise.’
‘I still think you should see the doctor.’
‘Look, I’ve told you, I’m fine.’
‘Why do you have to be so stubborn?’
‘Me! It ain’t me who’s stubborn, it’s you. You’re just like your father.’
Lily had no memories of her father, a man who had been killed close to the end of the First World War in the year she’d been born. Lily knew it had been hard for her mother, could remember being looked after by her grandparents when she’d been forced to take on full-time work. ‘How come you always compare me to him?’
‘’Cos you really are like him, and not only in looks.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ll have to take your word for that.’
‘It must have been rotten for you, growing up without a dad.’
‘No, not really. I had Nan and Granddad, and I still miss them.’
‘Yeah, me too. I hate war, Lily. First I lost your dad, and then during the last conflict a bomb flattened me parents’ house, with them inside.’
‘I know, Mum,’ Lily said sadly.
‘I’ve upset us both now, and wish I hadn’t brought it up.’
‘Never mind, Mum, but I really have got to go. I’ll pop round again in the morning, and,’ she warned, ‘I want to see that you ate that stew.’
‘Don’t worry, I will. See you tomorrow, pet.’
Leaving her mother sitting by the fire, Lily left the house. She really was too thin, and Lily knew she had to get her mother to the doctor’s somehow. For now though, she had to sort those boys out, and knowing they’d be likely to be home from school now, she hurried back to Cullen Street.
Lily went to see Tommy Wilson’s mother first, pounding on the door, her head high with righteous indignation. When it was opened, she spat, ‘I want a word with you about your son.’
‘Oh, Gawd, what’s he been up to now?’ Olive Wilson asked.
‘Him and his friend Larry got hold of my daughter on the common. The dirty little buggers showed her their willies, and pulled up her skirt.’
‘They what!’ she screeched. ‘Bloody hell, you’d better come in.’
Lily stepped inside, but when they walked into the kitchen she was puzzled by Tommy’s reaction. Instead of fear, Tommy just smiled when he saw her. He was a nice-looking lad with dark hair and green eyes, but at only fourteen, coming up fifteen, his build was tall and lanky. Lily fixed her eyes on his face, waiting to see his guilt when his mother spoke to him angrily.
‘Mrs Jackson says you got hold of her daughter. Is that right?’
‘Got hold of her. What do you mean?’
‘Did you and Larry show Mavis your thingies?’
A light seemed to dawn in Tommy’s eyes. ‘Oh, yeah, but that was about a month ago and we only did it’ cos she asked us to.’
‘She asked you to?’
‘Yeah, Mum. She’s a bit funny, a weirdo, and every chance she gets the daft cow latches on to us. She’s always trying to get us to show her our willies and, just to shut her up, we did.’
‘You’re lying,’ Lily snapped. ‘It wasn’t like that and you know it.’
‘Ask Larry if you don’t believe me,’ Tommy said.
‘Oh, I will, you can be sure of that.’
‘Tommy, swear to me that you’re telling the truth,’ Olive ordered.
‘Mum, I swear,’ Tommy said earnestly. ‘On my life, we didn’t touch her.’
Olive turned to fix her eyes on Lily. ‘I know my son and he’s telling the truth. If you ask me, it’s your daughter who needs sorting out. It sounds like she’s acting like a little tart.’
Shocked and floundering, Lily said, ‘I’ll see what Larry has to say.’ She spun around and without another word marched out of the house.
When Mavis left school she ran almost all the way to the route Sandra would take on her way home. She had to find her, to talk to her, her face pinched with anxiety as she scanned the street.
At last Mavis saw Sandra walking along, thankfully alone, and, quickening her pace, she caught up with her. ‘Sandra, please, you know what I told you this morning? Please, please, don’t tell anyone.’
‘Mavis, it’s all right. I only told my mum.’
‘Oh, no! No! She’ll pass it on to my mum. Oh, God, she’ll kill me!’ Hand over her mouth, Mavis fled.
‘Wait, you didn’t do anything wro…’
Blood pounding in her ears, Mavis didn’t hear Sandra. She ran blindly at first, but then unable to carry on she at last stopped, her chest heaving as she drew in great gulps of air. How could she go home now? How could she face her mother?
Feet dragging, Mavis made her way to Mrs Pugh’s house, and when the woman opened the door, she felt she had found sanctuary.
‘Hello, Mavis, come on in,’ the woman said. ‘You look upset. Are you all right?’
It was a quarter to five, but Mrs Pugh hadn’t said anything about her tardiness and, fighting for composure, Mavis said, ‘Ye…yes, I’m fine.’
‘I expect you’re a little nervous, but there’s no need. I’m not an ogre, though I am rather fussy when it comes to cleaning. We’ll concentrate on the sitting room today,’ Mrs Pugh said, indicating with a crook of her finger that Mavis should follow her.
Despite feeling sick with fear at the thought of going home, Mavis found her eyes widening. The room was immaculate. There was a cream and brown brocade three piece suite, the sofa facing the fireplace and a chair each side. The curtains were also cream, sumptuous, and under the window there was a mahogany sideboard with a crystal rose bowl on top. In one corner she saw a glass-fronted cabinet, full of porcelain figurines, and now another fear made her heart pound. Oh, please, she inwardly begged, don’t let me break anything.
‘Now, Mavis, as your mother told me you can be a bit clumsy, I’ve already dusted the ornaments. I’d like you to vacuum the carpet, and then under the cushions on my three piece suite. Is that all right, my dear?’
Mrs Pugh was smiling, her voice kind. Mavis found herself relaxing a little. ‘Ye…yes.’
‘Right then, take off your coat and hang it in the hall. I don’t want any marks on my furniture, so before you start please wash your hands. You’ll then find my vacuum cleaner in the cupboard under the stairs.’
‘Wh…where do I go to wash my hands?’
‘Come with me,’ Edith Pugh said, leading Mavis back into the hall. She then opened a door that revealed a small cloakroom with a lavatory and sink.
Mavis walked inside, and though still flustered, she couldn’t help marvelling at the luxury of an inside lav. She ran water into the sink and washed her hands, but seeing a beautiful white, fluffy towel hanging on a small rail, she looked at it worriedly. What if she marked it? Deciding not to risk it, she wiped her hands on her skirt and then stepped outside to see Edith Pugh waiting.
‘May I see your hands, Mavis?’
Surprised, Mavis held them out.
‘Yes, that’s better, but you haven’t scrubbed under your nails. I’m sorry, my dear, I know I’m fussy but, as I said, I don’t want my furniture marked. Do them again and use the nail brush this time.’
Mavis did as she was told, but even with the small nail brush it took her a long time to remove all the grime. Oh, if only she could stay here. If only she didn’t have to go home and face her mother. At last, her fingers feeling sore, she faced Mrs Pugh again, thankful that this time her hands passed inspection.
‘Right, Mavis, I’ll leave you to it,’ the woman said and after showing her the understairs cupboard, she at last went down the hall and into the kitchen.
Mavis started work, and though her mind was raging, she made sure to cover every inch of carpet around the furniture. Gran! She could go there. No, no, Gran would be just as disgusted when she found out and wouldn’t want to take her in. Yet surely going to Gran’s was better than going home.
‘Mavis, have you vacuum
ed under the suite?’
Startled, Mavis spun round. ‘Er…no.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, but that isn’t good enough. I told you yesterday that we’d give one room a day a thorough clean, so please don’t cut corners. Now do under the suite.’
‘Yes, Mrs Pugh,’ Mavis said meekly.
This time the woman didn’t leave, but stood watching as Mavis heaved one of the chairs to one side. It was worse when it came to the sofa, but somehow she managed to move it, thankful to see a look of approval on Mrs Pugh’s face when she’d finished.
‘Well done, Mavis, and now that just leaves under the cushions. When you’ve done that, come through to the kitchen.’
Mavis had felt uncomfortable with Mrs Pugh watching her and was glad when she left. She still wasn’t sure what to make of the woman. One minute she seemed kind, the next strict and stern—but even being here with Mrs Pugh was preferable to facing her mother.
Edith’s body was aching and she hobbled with pain to sit by the kitchen fire. Mavis had seemed nervous and upset when she arrived, but other than that, so far so good, she decided.
Mavis had meekly followed her orders and it boded well, but there was a long way to go yet. To forward her plans Edith knew she had to strike the right note. There had to be a measure of firmness, together with kindness, and somehow she had to ensure that Mavis was more presentable.
Edith laid her head back, finding that the distant hum of the vacuum cleaner was soothing. She closed her eyes, drifting, unaware that she had fallen asleep until the sound of Mavis’s voice started her awake.
‘Are you all right, Mrs Pugh?’
Edith looked up to find Mavis bending over her, the girl’s startlingly blue eyes wide with concern.
‘Yes, yes, I was just having a little nap. Have you finished in the sitting room?’
‘Yes, and I’ve put the cleaner away.’
‘Good girl,’ Edith said as she glanced at the clock. ‘You still have fifteen minutes to go, so do you think you could manage to make a cup of tea and then peel some potatoes?’
‘Er…yes.’
‘I won’t get up, but you’ll find everything you need easily enough.’
As Mavis moved away, Edith watched her every move and at first she looked competent enough. However, when it came to handling the teapot, Edith could see that the girl’s hands were trembling. She’d prepared for this, making sure that her old Brown Betty was in use, along with a couple of odd cups and saucers. Yes, Mavis was nervous, but Edith was sure that she wasn’t as bad as Lily Jackson had indicated. In fact, she was sure that a lot of the girl’s problems were due to lack of confidence, probably a result of the constant criticism she received, and not just from her mother.
Edith had seen a lot when she’d been school secretary—had taken an interest and observed many children she was sure just needed extra help. Of course, class sizes, along with lack of time, made it impossible for the teachers to concentrate on just a few children and though some were more prepared than others to put in the extra mile, Edith was sure that what these children needed was specialised schools.
Eyes closing with sadness, Edith wished she had been able to fulfil her dream of becoming a teacher. The war and then having Alec had put paid to that. Now, of course, with multiple sclerosis, it would remain just a dream, yet perhaps, just perhaps, she could put her theories to the test with Mavis.
When the tea was made, Mavis carefully covered the pot with the cosy, and then looked at the tray that Edith had already set with two cups and saucers, a sugar bowl and small jug of milk. ‘Pour one for both of us,’ Edith said, ‘but no sugar for me.’
Mavis looked worried, but Edith made sure she looked unconcerned. Hesitantly the girl poured two cups of tea, her hands shaking so much that tea slopped into the saucers.
‘Thank you, my dear.’
‘I…I’m sorry I spilt some.’
‘Oh, it’s only a little,’ Edith said, hiding her fastidiousness as she poured the tea from the saucer, back into her cup. ‘Do drink yours and then get on with the potatoes. Four medium-sized ones cut in half should be enough. It’s too early to put them on yet, so just leave them in a saucepan of cold water.’
‘Yes, Mrs Pugh.’
When Mavis was finished, Edith again looked at the clock. She had worked for just over an hour, but the first ten minutes had been wasted just getting the girl to wash her hands properly. However, she now needed her out of the house and struggled to her feet. ‘Thank you, Mavis. You’ve done really well and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘I…I’m not in any hurry, Mrs Pugh. In fact, I’d be happy to stay longer.’
‘No, my dear, you get off home. I told your mother an hour and she must be expecting you.’
The colour seemed to drain from Mavis’s face. ‘She…she won’t mind.’
Edith was puzzled. Mavis seemed reluctant to go home, in fact, almost afraid. ‘Is there something wrong, Mavis? Are you in some sort of trouble with your mother?’
‘No, but…but what about the cups? I could wash them up.’
Edith didn’t want the girl here when Alec came home and he was due in about fifteen minutes. Until she had sorted Mavis out, she wanted to keep them apart as much as possible, and it would be difficult enough at weekends. ‘Thank you, Mavis, but I’ll see to the cups. Off you go now.’
With reluctance, Mavis walked with Edith to the door. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Pugh.’
‘Goodbye, Mavis,’ Edith said, pleased when she closed the door behind the girl that her instincts had been right. Mavis wasn’t happy at home. And judging from the way she had worked, with more coaching, she was indeed the perfect choice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Larry Barnet and his mother had been out and Lily had been forced to go back an hour later. This time they were home and without preamble she confronted Larry, told him what Kate Truman had said; but, like Tommy, he looked horrified, his large, brown eyes wide with innocence.
‘It wasn’t us! It was her,’ he protested, going on to tell a story that matched Tommy’s.
‘Now look,’ Jill Barnet said. ‘I know they shouldn’t have done it, but your daughter asked them to get their willies out. Boys will be boys and at this age they’re curious. With Mavis asking for it, you should thank your lucky stars that it didn’t go any further.’
‘But it did. They threw her on the ground, lifted her skirt, and if someone hadn’t come along I dread to think what would have happened. Mavis was able to run off, but she was frightened out of her wits and, if you ask me, she had a lucky escape.’
‘We didn’t do that, Mum, we didn’t,’ Larry cried. ‘It was her. She pulled up her skirt, wanted us to see that she was different to us.’
‘That isn’t true! You’re telling lies.’
Jill Barnet bristled. ‘Hold your horses, lady. You said earlier you heard about this from Kate Truman. If your daughter is so innocent, and was scared out of her wits when she ran off, how come she didn’t tell you about it herself?’
Lily floundered. Yes, why hadn’t Mavis told her? It had happened a month ago, but she had no memories of her running home frightened.
Jill spoke again, and Lily saw the pity in her eyes. ‘I think you need to talk to Mavis. If she keeps up this sort of behaviour, she could end up in trouble.’
With a gasp, Lily turned on her heel. She marched out, hurried home and slammed the door behind her. In the kitchen she began to pace, going over and over what she had heard.
Dark clouds gathered in Lily’s mind, a storm building, and when she came to a conclusion, it broke with ferocity. When she got her hands on Mavis, she’d kill her! It was bad enough that her daughter was backward, but to find out that she was a little slut was like a slap in the face.
Lily craved respectability. She wanted to be like the other women in the street, ones whose husbands provided for them, and had prayed that Ron meant all his promises this time. Yes, he was a known gambler, but if he really did change and start up his own b
usiness, she would at last be able to hold her head high. Lily fumed with anger. It was never going to happen, and now this! Mavis was acting like a tramp and the gossips would have a field day. She’d never live it down. Never! Lily’s eyes flew to the clock. Where was Mavis? It was after six, and though she was doing an hour’s cleaning for Edith Pugh, the girl should have been home by now.
By seven, Lily was almost at the end of her tether, her mind still dark with fury. She flung her coat on and stormed out of the house, determined to find Mavis.
It was a good walk to Edith Pugh’s house, yet it didn’t calm Lily. She banged loudly on the woman’s door, tapping her foot with impatience until it was opened, and saying bluntly, ‘Is my daughter still here?’
The young man frowned as he peered out at her. ‘Your daughter?’
‘Yes, Mavis—Mavis Jackson.’
‘Oh, Mavis. No, she isn’t here.’
‘Do you know where she is?’
‘No, I’m afraid she left before I arrived home.’
‘What about your mother? Does she know?’
‘Look, I don’t know what all this is about, but you’d better come in.’
Lily followed Alec Pugh to the large, spacious kitchen at the back of the house to see his mother sitting in a fireside chair. ‘Mavis hasn’t come home yet. What time did she leave here?’ she asked abruptly.
‘Oh, she left a long time ago, at around ten to six.’
‘Did she say where she was going?’
‘No, but I presumed home. What is it, Mrs Jackson? Is Mavis in some sort of trouble?’
Lily wasn’t about to wash her dirty laundry in front of this stuck-up, uppity woman, or her son who was looking at her as if she was something that the cat had dragged in. She floundered for a lie. ‘No, of course she isn’t in trouble. It’s just that it’s not like Mavis to stay out this late. I know she’s worried about my mother so I’ll try there.’
‘I must say she seemed upset about something when she arrived. Is your mother unwell?’