‘We don’t know,’ Royston muttered. Both boys looked stricken, staring at her as though she were a stranger. ‘Is that true? We’ll have to move out?’
‘We’ll be homeless?’ Roger whispered.
‘Where will we go? Where will we sleep?’
She regretted blurting it out so suddenly the moment she had spoken, but decided that, having done so, she had to tell them the full story. ‘And so,’ she finished, ‘we’ll probably have to leave here, and with nowhere to go, you tell me what we should do. Fourteen you are, finished with school and supposedly a part of the adult, working community. Assuming responsibilities, capable of contributing to the household, of keeping a job. So you tell me, where should we go? What should we do?’
A sound outside made her stop and listen, and they all looked towards the back door. The handle turned and a bedraggled Ivor came in. His jacket and trousers were creased and bits of straw and foul-smelling stains were spread over them. He tried a nonchalant smile. ‘Bit late for a family conference, isn’t it? What’s new then?’
‘Where have you been?’
‘Nowhere special, just out, talking to Jack Harris and Morris Fender.’ He thumped Roger on the shoulder light-heartedly. ‘Got sacked again I hear, you stupid boy. You’d have done all right with Jack Harris. A mate of mine he is.’
‘Royston has lost his job too.’ Marie spoke softly.
‘I’ve got to get out of these filthy clothes or I’ll be sick,’ he said, his face a mask of horror. ‘I can’t bear dirt and this is stinking.’
Another time it might have been funny, Ivor, who was so particular about the tiniest mark on his clothes, who was offended by a stray thread of cotton spoiling his immaculate appearance, standing there covered in dirty straw that smelled of manure.
‘That’s not all. There’s something else,’ Marie said.
Ignoring her he glanced at the boiler, from which steam drifted up like a miniature cloud. ‘Hot water, thank goodness.’
‘That was for me,’ Marie said, but she shrugged and added, ‘Your need is clearly greater than mine.’
Saying the words was going to be hard. Telling him that the rent money had been stolen had to be said without sounding as though he were accused. His need for a bath was a reprieve that she accepted with relief.
Ivor hoped he could avoid her asking how he had got in such a mess. He could hardly explain that he’d left his tidy clothes hidden, changed into old ones and returned to find that his good clothes had been stolen. Otherwise he would have returned as clean as when he’d set out. He couldn’t explain the reason for the complication either. That was something she must never find out, however many lies he needed to tell.
They moved from the kitchen and no one offered to help him fill the bath from the boiler, bucketful by bucketful. No one moved. He closed the kitchen door and they listened to the sounds of his washing himself singing cheerfully, then the swish of pailful after pailful gushing down the outside drain and the scraping sound as he dragged the bath back outside.
The twins yawned but were unable to go to bed until they knew what Ivor had to say about the missing rent money.
Hopefully he would reassure them that they were not about to be thrown into the street to sleep in doorways like some sad, injured and confused ex-soldiers they had seen. A family being driven from their home, protesting wildly, with their pathetic collection of furniture piled haphazardly around them on the road outside, was something they had witnessed once and the memory still frightened them.
When Ivor emerged from the kitchen wearing underwear and carrying the rest of his clothes delicately in an outstretched hand, he saw the line of anxious faces and began to pass through the room and head for the stairs, humming nervously.
‘Something’s happened and you have to help us deal with it,’ Marie began. She didn’t want to start with a challenge, there might still be a mistake. An error at the rent office, or even a reason for the money to have been moved. She desperately wanted there to be a simple explanation, although none of the more and more unlikely thoughts whizzing through her mind gave her much hope.
‘Let’s get to bed,’ he said with exaggerated patience. ‘Now isn’t the time for serious discussions. It’s almost midnight and I’m tired.’
‘We might as well hear it now. Waiting till morning won’t change anything, Ivor.’
Ivor glanced around the room, at his solemn-faced wife, at his sons, who were uncharacteristically subdued, their blue eyes wide, their faces white. Ignoring her quietly spoken remark he returned to the subject of the boys and their inability to stay in employment. ‘Its only a job,’ he said, clouting Roger softly on his head. ‘Plenty more for strong lads like you two.’
‘It isn’t about the boys.’
‘Oh come on, love, I’m tired and I want to get these clothes off. Fell I did. Right into the chickens’ coop, sneaking home through the farmer’s yard. That’ll teach me, eh?’ He looked at the boys, expecting them to smile, but their faces were numb. ‘All right, what’s happened?’
All her intentions of taking it slowly, treading carefully, vanished. ‘You! That’s what happened. You’ve been stealing the rent money and we have little more than a month to find the arrears or we’re being evicted.’
Ivor tried a laugh but it vanished from his face the moment it appeared. ‘What d’you mean. I stole the rent money? That collector must be a thief. Yes, that’s what happened, he took it and didn’t hand it in. I always thought he had shifty eyes.’
‘When have you seen the collector? He comes when you’re at work. Or have you been sacked too?’
It took a while but he eventually admitted that he had borrowed the money. ‘There’s these deals, see. Some cigarettes at half price, and I bought them and sold them with a bit of profit. I’d have put the rent money back in time for the next week, no trouble. But then there was the chance of some foodstuff, tins mostly, and that went all right. That’s why I’ve been out so late at night. Had to be careful not to be caught, see. Then I got some off-ration bacon, ham and some meat and it went wrong. I hid it in the barn near the river and someone found it and I lost the money. I wasn’t worried, though, I knew there’d be another chance.’
‘So you “borrowed” more money, but once more you couldn’t pay it back?’ Marie was feeling sick. Until she had spoken to Ivor she’d held on to a faint hope that the situation could be retrieved, and hope was fading with every word he spoke. ‘What you’ve said accounts for a couple of weeks. What happened before that? Where did it go before these “deals”? Treating your friends? Handing it over to the bookies?’
‘Tonight I’d arranged a meeting with a couple of restaurant owners who were going to buy the last batch of stuff, a good deal it would have been, sorted out all our troubles, but when we got there the farmer had filled the barn with young chickens and they’d ripped open the packets and, well, it’s all ruined.’
‘And so are we,’ Marie whispered in a voice that trembled. ‘So what are you going to do? Where will we live?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll find us a place. Better move if we can, no point paying off the arrears when we can leave and make a fresh start.’
‘Moving won’t cancel the debt!’ Marie’s voice rose to a scream. ‘The cost of moving will just add to what we already owe!’
‘Hush, love, we don’t want to wake our Vi, do we? If we move all quiet, at night, and tell no one where we’re going, we’ll get away with it.’
‘Oh yes, hide away, not tell Mam and Dad and Jennie. Or d’you intend involving them in your lies and fraud? And what about Vi? Hide her away? Keep her out of school? Brilliant that would be.’
‘Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow we’ll sort it.’
‘We’ll sort it? You’ll do nothing, as usual. It will be me having to sort it, but this is the last time, Ivor. One more disaster, one more mess that I’m expected to retrieve us from, and I’m leaving you. Did you hear that, boys? One more chance for you as well. This is the
end. Right?’
She ran upstairs and threw down bedding and a pillow. ‘Use the couch, Ivor Masters! I’ll be awake all night wondering what will happen to us, and I hope the broken springs do the same for you.’
Marie went downstairs the following morning at six o’clock, having struggled to stay in bed, certain she wouldn’t sleep but knowing that to walk around downstairs wouldn’t help solve the difficulties that faced her. Her mind was made up. She would try to arrange a regular repayment to the council, or borrow the money somewhere. There was no shortage of work for her, but how could she possibly work longer hours than she was doing already? Tears threatened but she forced them away. The time for tears and self-pity was long gone. Now action was needed.
Moving wasn’t a possibility. Where would they go? To find somewhere cheaper would mean living further from town or renting somewhere very run down. Typical of Ivor to think of doing a moonlight flit, running away, leaving everything they owned, covering their tracks in the hope of leaving no trail for the debtors chasing them. What about her beautiful furniture, things she had chosen with Kenneth, gifts from his parents, valuable pieces that she had treasured?
She walked to school with Violet and wondered how she was going to get through the day, smiling, advising people with apparently charmed lives about the best gown to buy. Would the police call regarding Roger and Royston’s shoplifting? They were well known already because of their poaching. Again her thoughts turned to her first husband. Disloyal thoughts or not she knew none of these things would be happening if he had lived. Then, as always, she reminded herself that she and Ivor had been happy for all these years, until the day Airborne won the Derby, and she wouldn’t have had Violet. She put an arm around the little girl and hugged her tightly. ‘I love you, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Of course, Mam, and Daddy loves me too.’
‘Yes, he does.’ But he loves gambling more than either of us, she thought sadly. Dealing in illegal meat was only slightly different from betting on the speed of a horse, it was a gamble against being caught, losing everything or making a profit. The excitement was much the same.
Ivor was an orphan, she knew nothing about him. From what he’d told her he’d been born into a moneyed background. His parents had been wealthy people, but their money disappeared when they died. There was nothing to suggest a weakness for gambling. Perhaps that wasn’t his only problem. Perhaps he was involved with another woman, even taking these risks to keep two homes. Had her sister hinted at it when she had reminded her to take more care about her appearance? Was she working at two jobs, struggling to keep them out of debt, to finance another woman? Sadly, that made sense. If it were true, what could she do except leave?
*
Roger and Royston were worried. Both decided they had to help.
‘We’ll have to stop fooling around and keep our jobs for a start,’ Royston said.
‘We could ask Gran and Gramps to help. They might have enough to pay off the arrears.’
‘No. Our Mam doesn’t want them to know.’
‘Why?’
‘Pride I suppose, although what’s pride if we’re sleeping on the pavements?’
When Marie left the shop at lunchtime they were waiting outside.
‘We’ve decided to get a job in the factory, making saucepans and things,’ Roger said at once. ‘It’s better pay and you can have all of it.’
‘Thank you,’ Marie said, hugging them, to their embarrassment. ‘But I’d rather you stay where you are, if Gwennie Flint and Jack Harris will give you one more chance. Just until you’ve decided what you really want to do.’ She put a hand on their shoulders, pulling them towards her. ‘I love you and I’m proud that you want to help. Whatever job you take, do it well. Get a reputation for being good workers, that’s the best way you can help.’
‘You’ll still have all we earn,’ Roger said tearfully. ‘No pictures or treats.’ She waited and, as expected, he added, ‘It isn’t fair.’
‘No, but we’ll deal with it, together.’
*
Jennie and Lucy were happy sharing the management of the hairdressing shop. Mr James didn’t interfere and, apart from when they handed over the appointments book and the takings every evening, they rarely saw him. Their wages had increased generously, and it was this that gave Jennie the idea that they should find a couple of rooms to share.
‘Leave home you mean?’ Lucy asked, as though her friend was joking. ‘We can’t do that.’
‘Why not? We’re old enough. Time we unfastened our mothers’ apron strings. Just think, Luce, we’ll be able to please ourselves what we do and when we do it, invite friends around, it would be great. And I’d get away from Mam and Dad taking me for granted as a live-in nurse.’ She gave a low groan.
‘Imagine it, Luce, at Mam’s beck and call all day every day. Heavens, I’d not only leave home to avoid that, I’d leave the country!’
‘I don’t know,’ Lucy said doubtfully. ‘It would be a lot different. Going home and having to cook a meal for ourselves. Do our own washing, and cleaning and shopping, managing the rations.’
Jennie hadn’t thought deeply about that side of the independent life, but she shrugged it aside as unimportant. ‘What’s a bit of washing?’ She grinned and said, ‘We can always take it home to Mam! And as for cooking, what’s wrong with fish and chips? We’ll be able to afford to eat out now and then and there are always men willing to treat us, eh? Come on, Luce, it’ll be a gateway to freedom. After all, girls have been going into the forces, haven’t they? Living away from home? Most of them a lot younger than us. Old Mr James was married with kids when he and Thelma were younger than we are. Come on, it’ll be fun.’
Lucy knew her friend well enough to remind her that, ‘We share the work, mind, both taking turns at all the jobs, nice and nasty?’
‘Of course. Shall we start looking then? Get the evening paper and see what’s to let?’
‘All right, but not a word to anyone. If we can’t find anything suitable it’s best our parents don’t know we’ve tried.’
‘We’ll find something.’ Jennie waved a hand, brushing away the mild concern as an irrelevance. ‘I’ll ask our Marie. She knows a lot of local people and we can ask our customers. Bound to find something we are. Oh, Lucy, it’ll be great.’
Jennie took the appointments book and the takings to Mr James. Bill was there and he looked on with amusement as his father asked politely what the girls were doing that evening. ‘Pictures? I go now and then, but it was dancing I used to enjoy.’
‘Why don’t you start again, there are plenty of—’ she had been about to say old people but checked just in time and said instead. ‘—Plenty of all ages. You’d find a partner. I’ll dance with you myself, I’m really quite good.’
‘That’s something to think about,’ Mr James said with a laugh. ‘Can you see me on a dance floor, Bill?’
‘Why not?’ Bill was looking at Jennie with a curious expression. ‘Jennie would give you a few lessons in… whatever you wanted to learn – wouldn’t you, Jennie?’
‘Of course,’ she said, wondering exactly what he meant. ‘Any time, Mr James, just ask.’
‘I think Mr James almost invited me out on another date,’ she whispered to Lucy as they put on their coats.
‘He never did!’
‘Yes. He said he used to like dancing and might try it again.’
‘Oh yeah? In his navy suit, collar and tie and his trilby stuck on his head?’
‘Now Bill-the-lovelorn, he might be a different proposition,’ Jennie said with a wink. They went out singing ‘In the Mood’. ‘Mister what you call it what you doin’ tonight…’
*
A few days later, Bill was at the cemetery. He laid the posy of late marigolds and cornflowers he had brought on the grave of Gloria, the first of his fiancées who had died after being hit by a car. The more recent grave of Emily was not far away and he had already placed a bouquet of Michaelmas daisies, one
of her favourite flowers, on the harsh, freshly disturbed earth. How could this have happened a second time? And why hadn’t the police found the vehicle? He had been devastated when Gloria had died so tragically, but the death of Emily was far worse, haunted as he still was by the possibility that if they hadn’t moved her she might have lived.
Why had Ivor and he panicked? He was innocent but he’d been afraid the police might have been able to prove different. Guilt swept over him as he stared at the new grave, returning to the moment he saw her lying there in the road. It had been so reminiscent of the last time. The sudden realization that Gloria’s death was being repeated made him fear for himself. Both had been engaged to him, and there was nothing else, no one else, connecting the two women.
He sat for a long time staring into space, seeing in his mind the two women in the road. Gloria, then Emily, until the two scenes melded into one and it was as though he were standing there watching the car come and smash into them. The shock was repeated time and again, the sound of a car approaching and suddenly increasing its speed, intent on murder. Both were dead and somehow he had been the catalyst. But why?
As he walked away, stooped and sad, grieving for the young lives destroyed, a figure stepped out of the line of trees and bushes on the perimeter of the quiet place. The flowers on both graves were snatched up, shredded and strewn wildly across the wasteground outside the wall. A spray of Michaelmas daisies escaped and fell near her feet and she kicked it and stamped on it until it lay in ruins.
*
Taking a couple of hours off work was frowned upon by Mr Harries, manager of the dress shop, but when Marie told him it was important business he reluctantly agreed. Dressed in her smartest clothes for work, she presented herself and asked to discuss rental arrears. An hour later, humiliated at having failed to admit to a sensible explanation for the lapse, she had been given an alarmingly short extension. They would accept additional payments each week but the book had to be brought up to date by the middle of December. ‘So we could be homeless by Christmas,’ she said, after sarcastically thanking them for their cooperation.
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