by Kitty Neale
‘I hope you don’t think I’m an idiot, but I have no idea who you’re talking about, Frank.’
‘Turner – he was a famous artist. And for the record, no, I don’t think you’re an idiot. Well, apart from staying with that husband of yours!’
‘I can’t say you’re wrong on that point, Frank,’ Glenda said, nodding, ‘but this Turner bloke can’t be that famous. I mean, I’ve never heard of him!’
They both laughed and Glenda looked around her: at the Thames to her right, glistening as the sunlight caught the tops of the ripples, and the tall, gated mansion houses to her left, which held so much wealth and luxury for their lucky residents. This was such a perfect day and she didn’t want it ever to end.
Frank stopped at a vacant black iron bench that faced the river. Perfect, he thought, as he beckoned Glenda to sit down.
‘Well, I don’t know about you, but that walk has given me a bit of an appetite. Fancy a bite to eat?’ He rummaged in his carpet bag and pulled out two sandwiches, along with a bag of chewy bonbons. ‘I hope you like egg sandwiches.’
‘Egg! Real egg?’ Glenda exclaimed as she parked the pram.
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh, Frank, I hate powdered egg so this is a real treat, and sweets too!’
‘Well, I had a bit of luck with the sweets. An old dear on the hospital ward had a visit from her granddaughter who used her sweet rations to buy her the bonbons. She didn’t like to tell her that with no teeth she couldn’t eat them. The eggs came from my mate down the street where I used to live before our house was bombed. He’s turned the old bomb shelter in his garden into a chicken house.’
Glenda took the proffered sandwich, relishing the taste as she bit into it, and for a few minutes a comfortable silence fell between them as they ate. Frank poured two cups of dandelion and burdock and handed one to Glenda, and the pair of them clinked their tin cups, both announcing ‘Cheers’.
Frank felt the urge to lean across and kiss Glenda but refrained from doing so, reminding himself that they were just friends. Although he wanted far more than that, he didn’t want to frighten Glenda off and he knew she was far too loyal to be unfaithful to Harry. In spite of this, he couldn’t stop himself taking her hand in his. Her skin felt beautifully soft.
‘Glenda,’ he began, ‘I understand that this is difficult, but you must know how I feel about you.’
‘I think I do, Frank,’ she answered, lowering her eyes to the pavement. ‘I’m falling for you too and I know I shouldn’t. I just can’t help myself. And having you in my life somehow makes things at home more bearable.’
Frank’s heart was breaking for the poor woman. She was stuck in a loveless marriage with a man she feared and, as much as he wanted to take her away and save her, he had nothing to offer.
‘I love you, Glenda. There’s no mistaking it. I want you to leave your husband and be with me, but I know how hard that would be for you. So if once a week is all I get of you, then that will have to do. I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I would rather have something than nothing. I can’t let you go, not now I’ve found you.’
‘I’m so sorry, Frank. I never expected this to happen, but it has and I’m the same – I have to see you, even though I know it’s wrong. I … I can’t give you anything more than friendship, it just wouldn’t be right, so are you sure that’s enough for you?’
Although Frank knew Glenda would never be his, it still felt like a blow to the stomach. Hearing her say that they could only be friends hurt him physically, yet still he had to be with her, had to see her on any terms. He managed to raise a smile.
‘Friends it is then. I tell you what, I’ve got Wednesday off work, some sort of mix-up with my shifts. How about we go for a walk in Battersea Park?’
‘Yes, I’d like that.’
‘The nipper can feed the ducks,’ Frank said, leaning forward to look in the pram.
‘Don’t be daft. He’s only a baby,’ said Glenda with a smile.
Daft, yes, I’m certainly daft about you, Frank mused, but refrained from voicing those words. He didn’t want to upset Glenda, and a walk in Battersea Park was better than nothing.
On Wednesday Billy Myers had bunked a day off work in the hope of seeing Glenda out and about doing her shopping and washing. Trouble is, he had to think of yet another excuse to be in the high street instead of at the building site. He’d nearly got caught out last time, when he lied about his mum being ill, and he didn’t want Glenda thinking badly of him. I’ll fake a limp, he thought, and pretend I’ve hurt my ankle or something.
His brother Frank had been up early that morning, and his chirpy whistling woke Billy, so, although he didn’t expect to see Glenda for at least an hour, he set out eagerly, deciding to ‘accidentally’ bump into her at the shop on the corner of her street. This would give him the opportunity to spend a little more time with her as well.
Billy reached the corner of Inworth Street and went into the shop. He picked up a magazine and paid for it, but then pretended to be flicking through it whilst watching out for Glenda. Shortly after, her front door opened and the familiar sight of Johnnie’s pram emerged. Billy was perplexed to see that there were no laundry bags balancing on top, and when Glenda came into view he saw that she wasn’t wearing her usual headscarf. Instead her hair was pinned in neat waves close to her head. She looked a knockout.
He left the shop, ready to bump into her, but when Glenda reached the corner of the street, instead of turning right and towards him, she turned left. Puzzled, Billy frowned. This wasn’t Glenda’s usual routine. Her pace was brisk as she marched along the road, while Billy followed discreetly, keen to find out where she was going. Though it had been dry when Glenda left her house, drizzle began to fall and as she stopped for a moment to tie a headscarf over her hair, Billy stopped too.
Twenty minutes later, Billy watched as Glenda entered Battersea Park. With the rain becoming heavier, he thought it a bit odd to go out for a walk, and he couldn’t go limping up to her pretending to be out for a walk himself, not with a twisted ankle. So instead he remained a short distance behind her whilst he re-thought his plan.
Suddenly, Glenda was waving and to Billy’s horror he saw his brother running up to her. Frank kissed her affectionately on the cheek then embraced her in a way that looked far too friendly. The cheeky swine, Billy thought, no wonder he’d been acting so cagey lately. He was secretly meeting Glenda! Jealousy coursed through Billy’s veins and an angry knot grew in his stomach. It was bad enough that he had Harry to contend with when it came to Glenda’s affections, but now there was Frank too. What was wrong with Glenda that she could see anything in his skinny runt of a brother? Hatred for Frank surged through him and he ground his teeth. Billy pictured Harry kicking Frank’s head in. He wanted his brother to suffer big time.
Billy hated seeing them together, yet something kept him following the couple, unable to take his eyes off Glenda as she headed towards the park café, happily nattering away to Frank.
‘No, this won’t do. I ain’t having it,’ Billy muttered over and over, ‘I’ll put a stop to this! Just you wait and see, Frank. Yeah, you’re gonna pay for taking my girl!’
He took Glenda’s stolen knickers from his pocket, twisted the material tightly and watched as his knuckles went white, imagining that those knickers were around Frank’s neck.
Frank’s mother, Joyce, was draining some boiled cabbage as he came through the front door of the prefab, whistling the same happy tune as he had that morning. Even his mum’s stinking veg couldn’t ruin his mood, Frank thought, clicking his heels as he skipped up the hallway to his bedroom.
Then Frank heard his mother call out.
‘Where ’ave you been, Frank? I thought you had the day off and you was gonna clean me windows?’
Bugger, he’d forgotten. He walked back to the kitchen, taking his braces from his shoulders and letting them fall to his sides.
‘Yeah, sorry, Mum. The window cleaning went clean out me head,
ha ha, get it, clean out me head? Never mind,’ he said, looking at his mother’s blank expression. ‘I went up Charing Cross way. I fancied a mooch around them old bookshops.’
‘Charing Cross! Books? You ain’t blinkin’ normal, Frank. Do you think any blokes around here ever got anywhere on books! Your father would be turning in his grave … bloody books my arse! Typical of you though. You’ve always thought you’re a cut above the rest of us, but just remember, son, you ain’t! You’re just like the rest of us, so forget those fanciful ideas of yours and worry about how we’re gonna get a proper house. Your brother never seems to bring home a full pay packet and you, pushing them invalids around, well, you should be out there looking for a real man’s job!’
‘Leave it out, will ya, Mum? I’ve got a “proper” job. Just ’cos I don’t come home every night covered in muck doesn’t mean I’m not working. And as for my books, I enjoy reading them!’
‘The only thing those bloody books are good for is fuel for the fire! Now cut out the backchat and get washed up for your tea. Where’s that brother of yours? The lazy sod didn’t go to work again today so he should be home by now. He thinks I’m stupid and didn’t suss it out, but as he was dressed up in his best white shirt it was a bit of a giveaway. I dunno what he’s been up to, but you can bet your life it involves a woman.’
It was gone ten that night when the front door opened and Billy staggered in, the smell of beer billowing from him.
‘About time too. Where the hell ’ave you been? Spending my house money down the Castle again, no doubt?’ Joyce spat.
‘Don’t bloody start, woman,’ Billy slurred as he bounced off the kitchen door frame, ‘I’ve had it up to here today.’
‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’ Joyce snarled at her younger son. ‘I’m your bleedin’ mother so show me some respect. Don’t take me for a fool neither. I know you haven’t been to work.’
‘No, I ain’t, and so what! Shall I tell you where I went earlier today?’ Billy glared at Frank. ‘I went to Battersea Park, and do you know what I saw? Eh? I’ll tell you, shall I, Mum? I saw our Frank with a woman, but you’ll never guess who she is. No, of course you won’t so I’ll tell you –’
‘Billy!’ Frank yelled, panicked. ‘Shut your mouth! Come on, let’s go outside for a little chat.’
‘I don’t think so, Frank. I reckon Mum should know what’s been going on. After all, we both know there’s gonna be trouble, and trouble that will end up on her doorstep.’
Joyce was suddenly standing between the two men, her eyes dark with anger as she pushed the sleeves of her cardigan up to her elbows, which was a sure sign she meant business.
‘Billy! Frank! The pair of you, sit at that table, and you had better tell me what’s going on!’
Frank went to speak but Billy got in first.
‘Frank has been seeing that Glenda Jenkins – you know, the one who is married to Harry.’
‘It’s not what you think, Mum, honest. We’re just friends,’ Frank quickly protested. He wasn’t prepared for this. Apart from Harry, the last people he wanted to know about him and Glenda were his mother or his brother. He knew his mother would give him an ear bashing about having anything to do with a married woman and as for Billy, well, it was none of his business.
‘From what I saw, it looked like more than that,’ said Billy sarcastically.
‘I don’t know what you think you clocked, Billy, but I’m telling you, there’s nothing more to me and Glenda than friendship.’
‘So you’re saying that you have a “friendship” with Glenda Jenkins, one that I don’t suppose her old man knows anything about. Is that right?’ asked Joyce.
‘Yeah, but that’s all there is to it, Mum. Like I said, we’re just mates.’
‘Not any more you ain’t! I know all about them Jenkinses, bloody gyppos, the lot of them. He’s a nutter, that Harry. If he finds that you’re seeing his missus he’ll be straight round here and he’ll have your guts for garters! You’ve got to stop seeing her,’ Joyce warned.
Frank looked at his younger brother, who was smiling slyly, before turning to his mother again. ‘I don’t see why. We’re doing nothing wrong. We just talk, that’s all.’
‘In that case, if it’s so innocent, how come her old man knows nothing about it?’
Frank sighed and said heavily, ‘Because, like Billy, he might get the wrong idea.’
‘Anyone would. She’s a married woman and you’re meeting behind her husband’s back. You’ve got to knock it on the head, Frank. If you don’t and Harry Jenkins gets wind of it, as I said, he’ll be round here to give you a kicking. From what I’ve heard about him he might give me a slap too, so stop seeing her, Frank. She ain’t worth it.’
Frank saw that his mother was wringing her hands in fear and knew that she was right. If Harry found out, he would go berserk and he’d be vying for Frank’s blood. However, his mum was wrong about one thing. Glenda Jenkins was worth it.
Billy woke up the next morning with a thumping headache. He’d drunk far too much beer the day before, but had felt the need to drown his sorrows after the shock of finding his brother with Glenda. Though his memory was a bit fuzzy, Billy recalled the conversation at the kitchen table with Frank and his mum. He knew that Frank wasn’t prepared to stop seeing Glenda. Nothing his mother had said would change Frank’s mind, so if she couldn’t make him stop, Billy was left with no option other than go to the one person who could – Harry.
He really didn’t feel like going to work today, not with this stinking hangover, and the cold October morning wasn’t doing anything to encourage him out of the warmth of his bed, but he suddenly felt invigorated and spurred on at the thought of grassing Frank up to Harry.
The builders were in full swing when he arrived, already fifteen minutes late for work. His foreman had seen him and was shaking his head disapprovingly, but Billy took up his shovel and got stuck in to mixing mortar for the wall that Harry was bricklaying.
‘All right, Bill,’ called Harry. ‘You were a bit worse for wear when you left the pub last night. You don’t look much better this morning. I reckon you’re a bloody lightweight who can’t keep up with us men.’ Harry laughed and several of the men around him joined in.
Yeah, you can laugh now, thought Billy, but you’ll be laughing on the other side of your face soon. He just had to pick the right time to tell him, and by half past twelve that afternoon, much to Billy’s relief, the rain was falling so hard that work was stopped. They headed for the nearest pub, Billy rehearsing his words in his head as they hurried through the downpour. He was nervous about broaching the subject with Harry, worried that the man would lash out at him in anger, but a few pints of stout gave him the Dutch courage that he needed.
‘Harry, can I have a word, mate?’ he asked, drawing the man to one side.
‘Yeah, go on, Billy, what’s up?’ Harry was in a cheerful mood but Billy knew that what he was about to tell him would change all that.
‘Look, I dunno how to say this, but it’s about your Glenda.’
‘What about my Glenda?’ asked Harry, his smile suddenly diminishing.
‘It’s just that with you being a mate and all, I don’t really wanna have to tell you this, but I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t.’
‘Billy, what are you on about? Just spit it out, will you?’ Harry’s tone of voice revealed his loss of patience.
‘I’ve seen her, Harry. Seen Glenda out and about with another bloke.’
Before Billy could say another word, Harry had slammed down his pint glass and had him by the throat up against the pub wall, snarling, ‘What you on about, Billy? What are you trying to say about my Glenda, eh? Reckon she’s a slag, do you?’
This wasn’t how Billy wanted the conversation to go and he could feel his legs weaken with dread, his voice becoming high-pitched with fear. ‘No, Harry. I ain’t saying that, mate. I’m just saying that I’ve seen her, and the thing is, I know the bloke.’
The pub had gone quiet, all eyes on them, and then the landlord spoke. ‘Any trouble, take it outside, lads.’
Harry dropped Billy and yanked on his arm. ‘Outside, now,’ he growled in his ear.
Billy was almost shoved out of the door and stood with his back against a brick wall as Harry paced in front of him. ‘Harry –’ he began nervously.
‘Right then, you’d better tell me what’s going on,’ Harry interrupted, and to Billy’s relief he seemed to have calmed down a bit.
‘It’s my brother, Frank. I saw him and Glenda in Battersea Park yesterday. I had a word with him about it and he says they’re just friends, but if you don’t know about it, I think it’s a bit suss.’
Billy saw the colour drain from Harry’s face and his fists clench at his side.
‘Are you sure about this, Billy? My Glenda’s a good woman and, let’s face it, you’ve always had your eye on her. You sure you ain’t a bit jealous and out to cause a bit of bother?’
Billy had feared that Harry might not believe him so had come prepared. ‘Harry, I wouldn’t lie to you. And the thing is, I found these in Frank’s bedroom. Do you recognise them?’ He took the stolen knickers belonging to Glenda and held them out to Harry.
Harry grabbed them, crushing the fabric in his hands before he spoke.
‘Friends, eh? This brother of yours has obviously been seeing my wife behind my back and he reckons they’re just friends? So what the fuck is he doing with these? Where is he? Where will I find him?’
‘Harry, come on mate, he’s my brother. You ain’t gonna hurt him, are you?’ Billy asked, but in truth, he guessed that Harry would knock the living daylights out of Frank. Billy didn’t care much for his brother, and if that’s what it would take to put a stop to Frank and Glenda, then so be it, he thought to himself.
‘Nah, nah, I won’t hurt him, Bill. What makes you think that?’ Harry asked sarcastically. ‘I just want a quiet word in his ear, so come on, are you gonna tell me where he is or am I gonna have to knock it out of you?’