by Joan Jonker
Eileen dropped her hand. ‘Get in the house, right now! And don’t you dare go in the living room until I’ve had a scrubbing brush to yer.’
The three children sat on the couch watching their mam and nanna through the window, trying to knot the clothes line together. ‘It’s all your fault, our Billy!’ Joan gave her brother a kick on his shin. ‘Yer didn’t tell us it was me mam’s clothes line, did yer?!’
Young Edna joined her sister in raining blows on any part of Billy’s body they could reach. ‘Yer always gettin’ us into trouble, you are!’
Trying to deflect the blows coming at him from all directions, Billy grunted. ‘Yer were cryin’ ’cos yez didn’t have a skippin’ rope, weren’t yer?’ There was disgust in his voice as he gave his opinion. ‘Girls are just like babies. Yer should be suckin’ dummies.’
A shadow crossed the window and in a flash all three were sitting quietly. Eileen stood in front of them, her hands resting on her wide hips. ‘Well? What have yez got to say for yerselves?’
‘It was our Billy’s fault, Mam!’ Joan piped. ‘It was all his fault!’ echoed Edna.
Billy glared at his sisters, vowing he’d never do anything for them again. ‘I was going to put it back, Mam. I thought I’d have it back before yer came home.’
‘Aye, well yer know what thought did, don’t yer? He followed a muck cart and thought it was a wedding.’ Eileen glared when Joan started to titter. ‘Yez are all as bad as one another, so don’t come the little innocents with me.’ Looking at the cause of all the trouble, his head buried deep on his chest, it took Eileen all her time to keep her face straight. ‘As for you, Big Chief Sitting Bull, if yer do anything like that again I’ll tan yer backside so hard yer won’t be holding no pow-wows for a long time, ’cos yer won’t be able to sit down.’ Looking at his bowed head, a wave of tenderness swept over her. Poor little bugger, she thought. Does his sisters a favour and gets into trouble for it.
‘The end of a perfect day, eh, Mam?’ Eileen looked over the rim of her cup. The kids were in bed and the house quiet. ‘Who’d have kids?’
‘I used to think that about you and our Rene.’ Maggie grinned. ‘You were no angels!’
‘Did yer see the look on our Billy’s face when he read what his dad said about him being the man of the house? His chest nearly burst out of his shirt. He’ll give the girls a dog’s life now.’
‘He might try, but he won’t get very far,’ Maggie said dryly. ‘They’re as cute as a boxload of monkeys.’
‘He’s ruined his kecks and his jersey.’ Eileen burst out laughing. ‘Here was me feelin’ all sorry for his mam ’cos I didn’t recognise him!’ She rocked back and forth with laughter. ‘An’ when he saw me, the poor little bugger must have nearly done it in his kecks with fright!’
Maggie stretched her arms and yawned. ‘I’m going up; I’m dead beat.’
Eileen eyed the lines on her mother’s face and the hair that was growing whiter each day. ‘The kids are too much for yer, aren’t they? I should pack in work and give you a break.’
‘You’ll do no such thing! We’d never manage on your Army allowance and my few bob.’
‘I could get a cleaning job for a few mornings a week. We’d get by.’
Maggie shook her head as she made for the door. ‘Leave things be.’
‘OK, boss! I’ll just iron a few of the kids’ clothes, then I’ll be up meself. Goodnight and God Bless.’
As Eileen listened to her mother’s footsteps on the stairs, her eyes swept the room. Clothes were flung over the backs of chairs, shoes scattered across the floor and the sideboard piled high with more clothes. ‘I’d get the length of Bill’s tongue if he could see this place.’ Eileen spoke to the empty room. Her Bill was a quiet bloke and everybody thought she was the boss in the house. But they were very wrong. He didn’t say much, but when he did, everybody took notice. He didn’t have to bawl his head off at the kids like she did. All it needed was a wag of his finger and they knew better than to answer back. He was strict with her, too! Wouldn’t let her get anything on the never-never, which was just as well or she’d have them up to their necks in debt.
Eileen lumbered to her feet and walked through to the kitchen. There was a smile on her face as she put the flat iron on the gas ring ready for Billy’s trousers. ‘A lot of things would be different if my Bill was home! I wouldn’t be standin’ here talking to meself like someone doodle-allie, for a kick off! And I wouldn’t be walking up those bloody stairs on me own every night, either!’
Chapter Ten
Mary lay in the darkness listening to her mother’s gentle breathing. The illuminated fingers on the alarm clock told her it was half past six. Too early to get up yet. Through the stillness she heard the faint click of the letter box, followed by the plop of a letter as it landed on the lino in the hall. She threw the bedclothes back and felt her way round the furniture to the door which she closed quietly behind her. The envelope lay face upwards and the sight of the familiar handwriting sent Mary’s heart racing. She picked the letter up and was tearing it open as she took the stairs two at a time.
My darling Mary,
I’ve just got back to camp and it’s bedlam. Everyone’s rushing round like mad because we’re moving out tonight or first thing in the morning. No one is allowed out of camp so one of the women from the NAAFI has promised to post this letter if I can get it to her before she goes off duty. I don’t know when I’ll be able to write to you again, but you can keep writing to the usual address and the letters will be sent on to me. I’ll be thinking about you all the time, and I’ll keep your photo next to my heart. Remember me to your mam and tell her I hope she’ll soon be better.
I love you, my darling, with all my heart.
Yours till hell freezes over.
Bob.
Mary read the letter through again then hunched forward on the side of the bed. He’d be on a ship now, miles away! She suddenly had a clear vision of Bob standing on the deck of a ship surrounded by hundreds of soldiers. They all had heavy kit bags on their shoulders and were carrying rifles. The picture was so clear in her mind she could even see Bob laughing as he talked to the soldiers standing near him. Then the sound of a bell ringing transported her from the deck of the ship back to her bedroom. Folding Bob’s letter she placed it on the tallboy and called, ‘I’m coming, Mam!’
The room flooded with light when Mary drew the heavy black-out curtains and she turned from the window to see her mother struggling to raise herself on her left elbow. ‘Hang on a minute, Mam! I’ll lift you!’
Carefully avoiding the eyes that could read her like a book, Mary propped her mother up on the pillows. ‘It’s not worth lighting the fire this morning, but I’ll clean the grate out before I see to something to eat.’ Taking the poker from its hook on the companion set, she started to rake the ashes out, her mind on the letter upstairs telling her Bob had gone. Tears threatened but she willed them away. She mustn’t upset her mam. Martha watched her daughter rattle the poker between the bars of the grate and something about the set of her daughter’s shoulders told her all was not well. She thought of her promise to Eileen, then brushed the thought aside. She had to know what was wrong.
‘You … awight?’
The poking stopped and Mary turned her head slowly. Her eyes travelled the room before coming to rest on her mother’s face. ‘Did you hear anything?’
‘You … awight?’
Mary’s eyes never left her mother’s face as she stood up. Then she blinked several times before whispering, ‘Mam?’
‘Eth … Mary?’
The poker went flying as Mary dashed across the room. Flinging her arms round Martha’s neck, she sobbed, ‘Oh, Mam! Mam!’
‘Now … now.’ Martha could feel the tears on her neck. ‘No … need … to … cry.’
‘I’m crying with happiness,’ Mary gulped. ‘I can’t believe it!’
‘Not … good … yet.’ Martha’s words were slow and slurred, but clear
enough to be understood. ‘Get … better … soon.’
‘Not good! You’re brilliant!’ Mary took her arms away and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘But I don’t understand how you can talk all of a sudden?’
‘Eileen … help … me. We … want … surprise … you.’
‘You’ve done that all right!’ Mary was laughing and crying. ‘Just wait till I see that Eileen! Fancy not letting on!’
‘I … let … cat … out … of … bag.’ Martha’s throat was sore but she carried on. ‘You … looked … sad.’
‘I’m not sad,’ Mary lied. ‘I heard the postman and I didn’t want to disturb you so I took the letter upstairs to read. It was from Bob.’
‘Bob … awight?’
‘He’s fine!’ Mary jumped from the side of the bed. She couldn’t face her mother and tell lies. ‘I’ll have to shift if we want to be ready when the ambulance gets here.’
There was a bus pulling up at the stop outside the hospital and Mary ran to catch it, cursing the old suitcase banging against her legs. It was only a couple of stops to Walton Vale and Martin’s cake shop. There was a line of people outside, and as Mary joined the end of the queue it struck her that this was what her mother had had to do every day to make sure there was something on the table for her dinner.
The queue moved quickly and soon there was only one woman in front of her.
‘Six pies, please.’ Mary heard the woman ask, then the assistant telling her, ‘Only two pies and a small loaf to each customer.’
‘Fat lot of good that is for a family of six.’
‘I’m sorry.’ For the umpteenth time that morning the fed-up assistant tried to explain. ‘If we gave everyone what they asked for, we’d be sold out in five minutes. So we try to be fair and ration them out.’
When Mary left the shop she was carrying two piping hot pies and a small crusty loaf. Martin’s were noted for their pies, which were baked on the premises and served straight from the ovens with gravy oozing out of the holes cut in the top. She could feel the gravy running down her wrist and her steps quickened. She’d forgotten how hungry she was until the smell of freshly baked bread had wafted up her nostrils.
Mary could feel the loaf under her arm starting to slip so she stopped and put the case down so she could swap hands. Then she noticed she was outside Allen’s, the fish shop. There was no queue outside, nor was there any fish on display in the window. But feeling brave after her success at Martin’s, Mary walked in. The shop was empty of customers and staff and Mary was about to leave when a man came out of the side door. ‘Can I help you, love?’
‘It doesn’t look like it.’ Mary smiled. ‘You seem to be sold out.’
The man had a roving eye for pretty girls, and he stretched his five foot seven frame to its full height as he stroked his Clark Gable moustache. ‘You’re in luck as it happens.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I’ve got a nice piece of cod under the counter that I was saving for me own tea. But who could refuse a pretty girl like you.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of taking the bite out of your mouth.’ Two red spots appeared on Mary’s cheeks. She hated men who fawned over women. And this one looked a right Casanova, with his hair plastered down with brilliantine. ‘I’ll come back another day.’
‘I was only joking! I always keep a bit of fish back for me regulars.’
Forget your pride, an inner voice whispered. If you don’t take it then someone else will. ‘Thanks, that’s very nice of you.’
The man wrapped the fish in newspaper and as he handed it to Mary he caught hold of her hand. ‘Shall I save you a piece tomorrow?’
Mary’s smile was tight as she withdrew her hand. ‘I’d be grateful if you could keep me a piece on Friday … fish day!’ She took the one and threepence out of her purse to pay for the cod. ‘Will that be all right?’
‘I’ll look out for you.’ The false teeth flashed. ‘There’ll be a nice fillet of plaice under the counter, just for you.’
Once outside the shop, Mary grinned. All that for a piece of flamin’ fish!
Mary’s appetite vanished as soon as she stepped into the empty, silent house. It didn’t seem like home without her mam. And the pies she’d been looking forward to didn’t taste the same, either. She dropped her plate into the kitchen sink and lifted her face to stare at her reflection in the small mirror. You’re twenty-two years of age, Mary Bradshaw, and it’s about time you grew up. Self pity won’t get you anywhere. All your life your mam’s done everything for you. But she’s not here now, so you’ll just have to get on with it. There’s other people far worse off than you. Look at Eileen and all the trouble she’s got! And look at Vera Jackson next door, with that beast of a husband of hers! No, Mary Bradshaw, you don’t know how lucky you are.
Mary turned and walked through to the living room. I wonder how Vera got on last night? There hadn’t been a sound from there after Eileen had left. On impulse, Mary grabbed her purse with the front door keys in and headed for the Jacksons’. Three times she rapped on the knocker, and was about to walk away when the door was opened slowly. ‘Oh, my God!’ Mary gasped when she saw the angry red and black bruises on Vera’s face. ‘He did that?!’
The door was opened fully. ‘Come in.’
Carol was sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by coloured bricks and her arms went out when she saw who their visitor was. ‘Hello, sunshine!’ Mary swept her up and held her tight. ‘Give us a big kiss.’ She sat on the couch with Carol on her knee and looked up at Vera. ‘How d’you put up with it?’
There was despair and hopelessness in Vera’s eyes. ‘If he didn’t have me to lash out at, he’d take it out on her.’ She nodded to Carol who was stroking Mary’s long hair. ‘I can take it, she couldn’t.’
‘Why don’t you leave him? I couldn’t live with a man who hit me.’
‘If you only knew how many times I’ve promised meself I’d leave the next day. But where would I go? Who’d have me with three kids; especially with her being the way she is? And what would I live on?’
‘But it’s not fair to you or the kids!’
‘He’s not bad with the boys.’ Vera sighed. ‘It’s always her he picks on. He’s ashamed of her and doesn’t want to look at her.’
‘It’s not your fault Carol’s the way she is.’ Mary hugged the little girl, wondering how anyone could hurt her.
‘Oh, but according to Danny it is my fault! He throws it up every time I dare answer back.’
‘He wouldn’t hurt her, would he?’
‘If he ever laid a finger on her, I’d swing for him.’ Vera’s voice was like cold steel. ‘I may be weak for letting him treat me the way he does, but if he ever hurt her, I’d kill him.’
‘What do Colin and Peter think about their dad?’
‘How would you feel, Mary, if your twelve-year-old son said, “He won’t hit you when I’m big, Mam, because I won’t let him”?’ There was a catch in Vera’s voice. ‘They’re both frightened when he starts, and the baby’s terrified.’
Sensing something was wrong, Carol stretched her arms out. ‘Mama.’
‘Here’s your mama, sunshine!’ Mary placed her in Vera’s arms. ‘Your mama loves you, doesn’t she? And Auntie Mary loves you!’
‘Thanks for coming, Mary.’ Vera held her daughter tight. ‘It’s nice to have someone to talk to, and I feel better now.’
‘If he kicks off again, knock on the wall and I’ll come in.’
‘He’d be as nice as pie with you. But the minute your back was turned I’d end up getting another one of these.’ Vera winced as she touched her bruised face. ‘You see, Mary, my husband’s a coward.’
Mary banged her leg on the end of the bed in her haste to open the door for Eileen. ‘Boy, am I glad to see you! The house is as quiet as a graveyard!’
‘I can’t stay long.’ Eileen was out of breath. ‘I’ve only called to ask how yer mam got on, an’ to tell yer me news.’
‘Me mam was fine! The ambulan
ce men put her in a wheelchair and she waved to Elsie Smith like she was the Queen.’ Mary lowered her head. ‘It was me that was crying, not me mam! Anyway, what’s your news?’
‘I’ve had a letter from Bill!’
Mary’s mouth puckered in surprise. ‘Isn’t that great! Where is he?’
Eileen lowered herself down on the couch and in graphic detail explained all about the letter. It didn’t take long for her to go from the letter to the clothes line and Billy’s Red Indian outfit. A natural story teller, she soon had Mary in stitches as she described, in colourful language, every little detail. She couldn’t talk without using her hands and they were waving about all over the place, adding humour to the story. She was shaking with laughter herself by the time she came to the end of the tale, and the springs in the couch were groaning. ‘Every time I think of meself feeling sorry for this kid’s poor mother, I nearly wet meself laughin’.’
Mary was rocking to and fro, her arms wrapped round her tummy. ‘I’ve got a stitch in me side with laughing! I’ll have to run to the toilet.’
Still laughing when she flew in from the yard, Mary was closing the door behind her when she heard Eileen’s voice. ‘You can get locked up for talking to yourself …’ The words died on Mary’s lips when she saw Harry Sedgemoor leaning against the sideboard, smiling at her. ‘Hi, Mary!’
When Mary didn’t answer, Eileen asked, ‘Cat got yer tongue, kid?’
‘No! It was just a surprise, that’s all.’
‘I couldn’t keep ’im standing on the step while you were on the lavvy, could I?’