by Annie Murray
‘What is it you want, bab? I’m just doing . . .’ She trailed off as if not wanting to finish the sentence. ‘I’m just helping Stanley.’
‘I thought . . .’ Melly sounded silly now to herself. ‘I just thought, I’d come and see Mr Gittins. Sort of help you look after him, like.’
Lil stared at her. ‘You?’ she said, bewildered. She recovered her natural kindness. ‘Well, that’s nice of you, bab, but I don’t think . . . I mean, not now. You can’t come now – I’m just sorting him out. It’s not a good time for Stanley – and I’m doing our dinner. You could come back tomorrow, but . . .’ She looked vague. ‘I never know, you see, how he’ll be. But . . .’ She was already closing the door. ‘Come back tomorrow, bab, if yer want.’
Twelve
‘Where’re you going, Melly?’ Rachel said the next afternoon. ‘Tommy’ll be home any minute. I want you to help me get the tea.’
‘I said I’d go and see Mr and Mrs Gittins,’ Melly said. She made it sound official. ‘They’re expecting me.’
Rachel looked up from the table where she was rubbing fat and flour for pastry. Irritably she pushed a lock of hair out of the way with her arm. ‘What d’you mean? What d’you want to do that for?’
‘Because I want to be a nurse,’ Melly said. There – she’d said it – first time ever!
Rachel looked at her in amazement before bursting out laughing. ‘A nurse – you! What the hell gave you that idea?’
Melly folded her arms. She felt cold and deflated. ‘I just do. I want to help people.’
‘Well, come and flaming well help me then,’ Rachel said impatiently.
Before Melly could think of an answer there was a knock at the door. ‘Carlson House – got your son outside,’ the taxi driver called and Rachel quickly wiped her hands and hurried after him.
The door of number five was ajar and she gave it a timid tap. Mrs Gittins appeared after a few moments and looked at her, dull-eyed. Mom always talked about how Lil Gittins had been before the war – a happy soul, always singing, dressed up. You’d hardly know her now. The woman who stood there now in a washed-out frock several sizes too big for her looked wizened and heartbroken.
‘What d’yer want, bab?’ She was speaking in a very quiet voice but Melly could still hear that she sounded irritated. ‘Stanley’s just having forty winks in his chair.’
‘Sorry, Mrs Gittins.’ Melly held her hands politely together in front of her. ‘Only, yesterday you said to come back today. You said I could help look after Mr Gittins.’
Lil Gittins leaned against the door frame. She tilted her head so that it rested on the wood with its chipped remains of dark green paint. ‘What d’you think you’re going to do for him, bab? He’s past helping, my Stan. He’s asleep at the moment.’ She turned her head and listened for a second. A faint sound came from behind her. ‘Not that he ever sleeps for long. All right, come in then. I s’pose I should be glad anyone wants to see my old man. There’s precious few of his pals take the trouble now. You can sit with us, keep us company a bit if yer like.’
Melly stepped into the downstairs room. She imagined herself in uniform, neat and knowledgeable, bringing information and comfort. She had never been in the Gittins’ house before. It was gloomy inside, on this winter afternoon.
‘I won’t put the light on yet,’ Lil whispered. ‘He says it blinds him. Here –’ Her essentially good temper was improving now that she had company. She reached for a rickety wooden chair from by the table. ‘Come and sit by me, bab. It’s nice of you to call. I’ll make us a cuppa a bit later once Stanley’s come to. Oh, dear . . .’
She went to shift a bucket that was near Stanley’s chair. A grey cloth was draped over it. ‘It’s not that he can’t walk,’ she said in a whisper. ‘But he don’t like going outside – not even to the lav. He wants to be near me – all the time.’ This was said with a brave desperation.
Seeing the bucket, Melly suddenly noticed the strong stink of wee in the room. Their own house stank of it often enough, since no one wanted to go all the way down the yard at night and they slopped out buckets in the mornings. But in here it smelt especially rank. She told herself nurses had to get used to that sort of thing. Lil hurried the bucket into the scullery, out of sight.
There was very little room to move. Two armchairs took up a lot of space near the old range. A mirror hung over the mantelpiece, along which were strewn a few dusty trinkets and a pair of brass candlesticks with stubs of candles in them. There was a table near the gas stove, and a chipped, white cupboard, curtained off at the front with a piece of brown-and-white flowery material. Another curtain, more like an old grey blanket, hung behind the door and the walls were covered in a drab, pale brown patterned paper which looked as if it had been there forever. In one corner, near the front of the house, the ceiling bulged downward as if afflicted with a cancerous growth.
Melly remembered the inside of the Suttons’ house when Evie and the others were still there, the horrible squalor of it. These two houses, built against the wall, seemed to be worse than the other three. This one was not as bad as number four, but there was still that creeping, mouldy smell and everything felt old and damp and worn out. Gladys always made sure that her house was painted every once in a while and she liked to make new, colourful curtains and spread a cheerful cloth over the table. And the Morrisons’ house was done up as well as you could do up these ‘jerry-built rat traps’ as Mo called them, because they now had several wages coming in. Not like Lil and Stanley.
Melly sank on to the chair which she placed quite close to that of her patient. In her head she was still playacting. The nurse had come to call, to see how the patient was faring. Her eyes were drawn to his face. She couldn’t help staring.
Stanley was asleep in his chair, his tilted head back. In the gloom she could see the dark hole of his open mouth and that with no hat on, he was almost bald. One side of the scalp was papery and distorted right up to his left eye, though the eye itself was intact. He was very thin, his nose pointed, cheeks gaunt, a thin layer of salt-and-pepper stubble covering the lower part of his face. For a second, in between breaths, Melly thought he looked as if he was dead. It was an unsettling feeling, like watching a statue breathe.
‘My poor old boy –’ Lil whispered, leaning closer to her. A powerful smell of body odour filled Melly’s nostrils from Lil’s dress. Lil nodded towards her husband. ‘You’d never know he’s the age he is – looks like an old man, don’t ’e?’ She spoke in a flat way, as if all feeling had long been drained out of her. ‘Sounds cruel to say, but I lost him the way a lot of other wives did – in the war. The war took my man from me, chewed him up, spat him out. Only – my husband came back, like a ghost. They don’t say anything about the ones like Stanley when they talk about heroes, do they?’
Melly was not sure what to say, so she shook her head.
‘When I first met Stan, he was cock of the walk,’ Lil said, a fond smile playing round her lips. ‘Full of it, he was – handsome, lively, strong. Carted all sorts of stuff for the railways, up and down across Birmingham.’ The light which had come into her eyes died abruptly. ‘Our Marie can’t bear to see him. Hardly ever comes near.’ She touched Melly’s hand for a moment. ‘But you’ve come, haven’t you? Tell you what, I’ll put the kettle on now and then there’ll be some water for tea when we want some. You’ll have some tea, won’t you, bab?’
‘Yes, please, Mrs Gittins,’ Melly replied. That made her feel more welcome.
Lil Gittins got to her feet and picked her way round the furniture. Melly watched her thin shoulders as she filled the kettle from a pail by the stove. As Lil lifted the kettle on to the gas the lid fell off and hit the floor with a tinny clatter.
‘Oops-a-daisy!’ Lil said softly, turning to look at Stanley. The noise made him jump and stir with a low, startled groan. Both of them watched him. He did not open his eyes, but moved restlessly in the chair.
‘It’s all right,’ Lil whispered. ‘The sligh
test thing makes him jump, see.’
Melly sat watching him, stern and floppy as a rag doll in the chair. He twitched and muttered. He didn’t look happy, she thought. She wondered what she could do, what a nurse would do.
Glancing at Lil, who was laying out cups, she stood up and leaned over Mr Gittins. With the words, ‘There, there, it’s all right,’ she laid her hand on his clammy forehead, the way a nurse would—
She was almost flung backwards. Stanley Gittins shot up in the chair with a yell. He did not get to his feet but threw her off and sat panting, staring wildly about him.
‘Who? Wha’ the . . . ? What was . . . ?’ He caught sight of Melly. ‘Who the hell’re you? Oh – Lil – where are yer, Lil?’ he shouted, flailing back and forth in the chair, arms folded across him, groaning and beginning to weep.
Lil wove through the room at urgent speed. ‘It’s all right, love – Stanley . . . Stanley . . .’ She knelt at his feet and took the distressed man in her arms, rocking him as he cried and murmuring to him. ‘It’s all right, babby – there’s nothing wrong, your Lilly’s here . . .’
Melly backed away towards the door. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, I never meant to . . .’ But neither of them could hear her. She didn’t like to leave. She stood by the door, crying tears of sorrow at what she had caused.
Eventually Stanley quietened. Lil got wearily to her feet and noticed Melly’s tearful face.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, her voice flat and tired. ‘I just never thought you’d touch him.’
Stanley was staring at them both.
‘Who’s that wench?’
‘It’s little Melly from number three. ’Er just came in to keep us company. Come on, bab – sit down again. Just never touch him – he can’t be surprised, ever. I’m gonna put the light on now, Stanley, all right?’
The bulb spread its weak light round the room. Melly found Stanley looking at her, his eyes now watery.
‘Sorry, bab,’ he said and with a shaking hand he indicated the chair that she had been on before. ‘Come and sit down. I never meant to frighten yer.’
‘I’ll make us that tea,’ Lil said. ‘I might find the odd biscuit . . .’
Melly wanted to open the door and run home across the yard, but she went back to the chair, wiping her eyes, and perched on the edge of it. ‘Sorry, Mr Gittins,’ she said. ‘I never meant to make you jump.’
Stanley sank back, clenching his quivering hands to try and still them. ‘I know, wench. It’s just the way I am. You’re all right. Sit and have yer tea.’
‘Lil said you went in to see them,’ Mom said on Sunday morning. She and Lil had been chatting in the brew house. She looked at Melly, seeming puzzled.
‘I told you I was going,’ Melly said, shrugging. Mom hadn’t been listening.
Rachel put her hands on her hips. ‘Well, it’s an odd choice of company, I must say.’
Melly didn’t know how to answer. She had a sense of pride that in the end they had sat and drunk their tea. Not much was said, but it seemed to be all right that she had visited and when she left Mr Gittins looked up and said, ‘Ta-ra, bab,’ as if it was normal that she should be sitting there.
‘Come another time, if you want,’ Lil said, sounding as if she didn’t think this likely.
But Melly turned at the door and said, ‘All right – ta, Mrs Gittins.’ There was something she liked about being there. Everyone at home was so busy all the time and the one thing the Gittins had was time. She felt a bit useful.
‘How is he, anyway?’
Melly saw her father look up. He was sitting forwards, leaning on his thighs in the way he often did, smoking.
‘He’s . . .’ Melly hesitated. How would you describe Mr Gittins? ‘He’s jumpy.’
‘You can say that again,’ Danny said. He threw the stub on the floor and ground it out before picking it up again. ‘Poor sod.’
Gladys was putting her coat on. ‘You coming to church, Melly?’ Gladys had her routines – church on Sunday, a matinee at the pictures one day in the week.
Melly nodded. Church meant her best frock and time with Auntie. She liked the atmosphere in the church and the singing. ‘Can Tommy come?’ She thought that now Tommy was at school and going out every day he might be all right with being out on the street. But Tommy was already shaking his head.
‘No – don’t want – to.’
‘All right, bab,’ Gladys said. ‘No need. Come on, Melly, get a move on.’ As they walked across the yard, Gladys said, ‘Dolly said Reggie’s coming home this week. She’ll be glad to have him back . . .’
The words passed into Melly, a thumping excitement in her blood which rushed to her cheeks. Reggie!
‘Oh,’ she said, not looking round. ‘That’s nice.’
Thirteen
December 1954
‘He’s here!’ Freddie Morrison came charging along the entry into the lamplit yard. ‘He’s just got off the bus!’ He disappeared back out to the road again.
The Morrisons, who were eating their tea, came pouring out of the house.
‘Hark at that,’ Gladys said.
Melly rushed to the door. The others followed. Dolly and her boys had hurried out to the street and in a few moments the entry was full of shouts and laughter. Ethel Jackman poked her head out of number two to see what was happening, then went in again.
‘Mardy old thing,’ Melly heard her mother mutter.
Reggie came into the yard, cuffing Freddie round the head in a playful manner, and was immediately jumped on by Wally and Jonny as well. Once he had emerged from the tangle of lads, with Wally’s arm round his neck, Melly saw a tall, muscular man with cropped hair, wearing a suit with wide lapels. She could see the glint of his teeth as he grinned and joked with everyone. She stood at the edge of the crowd, feeling as if a bird was beating its wings inside her. Wally might be as handsome as a film star but it was Reggie she knew was the one. Everything felt right now he was home for good again, like the biggest piece of a puzzle that had been missing.
There was a lot of ribbing and joking as everyone greeted him. Mrs Davies came out, wanting to be part of things, and Lil emerged, smiling, to see him. Melly watched, her excitement dulled a little by how grown up Reggie looked. He would be twenty in a few months. He had been out into the world, the army – why would he take any notice of her? She ached, remembering when they were both children: his cheerful, grinning face, the black-and-white rabbit he had adored for a few days as a pet before it escaped and was never found again; his rolling the rusty rim of a bike wheel across the yard to her, gently, calling out, ‘Catch it, Melly – go on! Cop hold of it!’ He was always older, of course, but back then they had all counted as the little ones. Now she felt the distance between them even more than before.
‘Ooh, Dolly – hasn’t he grown up,’ Lil said, hugging herself in the chill evening. ‘Even since last time he was here,’ she said. ‘He’s a proper man now.’
Melly fixed Reggie with her eyes, willing him to look at her as he stood in the middle of the crowd chatting and greeting him. Dolly started rounding the family up.
‘Come on in – tea’s getting cold.’
As they turned towards the house, at last Reggie caught Melly’s eye.
‘All right, Melly?’ he called to her.
‘All right,’ she said, quiet and shy.
And he was gone but inside her world was lit up.
Melly stood in the yard, shivering as the winter cold gnawed at her bare legs. It was a Friday evening, school had just broken up for Christmas and there was nothing useful she could pretend to be doing out there at this time of night. Tommy didn’t want her. Cissy was here to see Freddie. Again. Cissy had pleaded to be allowed to go out with him – to town, to the Odeon – but Rachel had refused.
‘Ciss, don’t ask me that. What would Mom say if she found out?’
‘She won’t,’ Cissy pleaded. ‘How would she, if you don’t tell her? Anyway, when you and Danny—’
‘That’s enough,’ Rachel snapped. ‘You’ll stay here and that’s that.’
Cissy sulked for a while but was soon out there again, up by the factory, tittering away with Freddie. She had no time for Melly when he was about.
The light had already died and the yard lamp was giving out its feeble glow. But under it was the Norton and bent over it, with tools and a torch, were Wally and Reggie. Round them was a shoal of admiring little boys – Kev and Ricky and some other tag-alongs and Frankie Davies, their breath clouding the already smoky air as they shouted questions about the bike. Wally kept trying to start it. The machine made efforts but then coughed into silence.
‘Out the way, you lot!’ Wally kept shooing them back. ‘I can’t get round it with you in the way – go on, hoppit!’ But they crept back, shoving each other, giggling. This was the most interesting entertainment on offer. Melly could see that Kev was fascinated with Reggie now he was back. She wished she could just hang around them the way the little boys did, but she wanted to hold herself apart.
Melly pulled her coat round her, willing Reggie to turn and notice her. She wasn’t just a kid any more, she told herself. Reggie had grown up, into a man of nineteen. But she had grown too. Thirteen sounded so much older than twelve.
More often these days, she longed to be able to be on her own. What with sleeping in the same room as her brothers, with only a bit of curtain between them, and the house so full all the time, there was barely a moment to be alone. Mom tried to shoo the boys out when they brought the tin bath in by the fire. She would go first and they would follow after and Mom would make them wait in the yard. But of course Tommy was always there, being told to look away. She was never truly alone unless, on rare and special occasions, they went to the baths in Victoria Road and she could wallow in the big bath all on her own for twenty minutes or so.
Sometimes she would go into the scullery, climb on to an upturned pail to look in the dingy mirror nailed to the wall in which her dad shaved himself every morning. Looking back at her she saw a girl with a thin, pale face, shoulder-length mousey hair and big eyes which held a wistful expression. If she stretched her lips to smile at her reflection, big, slightly uneven teeth appeared. She hoped her smile gave her a friendly look. At least they didn’t stick out like Lisa ‘Bunny’ Riley’s at school.