A Mother’s Sacrifice

by Kitty Neale

  Helen dashed her hands over her cheeks as she turned the corner of her street, and was still thinking about Betty when she heard a voice calling out her name. She turned and had a sinking feeling when she saw Billy Myers walking towards her. He must have followed me, she thought, recalling how she’d spotted him half an hour earlier at the church.

  ‘Hi, Helen,’ Billy said as he quickened his pace to catch up with her.

  ‘Hello, Billy. What you doing here? Ain’t you going to Betty’s wake?’

  ‘Nah, I’ve got to go to work for the afternoon shift. I’ve got a job at Price’s Candle Factory now and I’m on most Saturdays, but it’s good money so I don’t mind.’

  ‘Good for you,’ Helen said sincerely. ‘Sorry, but I’ve got to dash. I don’t like to leave my parents for too long. See you, Billy.’

  Billy grabbed her arm as she made to dash off. ‘Hang on a minute, Helen. I want a word with you.’

  Helen didn’t like his tight grip and there was something threatening in the way he was looking at her. ‘Let me go, Billy. I’m in a rush,’ she said as she tried to yank her arm away.

  ‘It’s about your mate Glenda and my brother. See … I’ve known something for quite some time now, but so far I’ve kept it to myself. I know where they are, so what do you think about that?’

  All thoughts of her parents at home by themselves suddenly diminished as she realised that Billy Myers had information that could lead to Harry finding Glenda and Frank. Helen stared at him. Why was he telling her? She would have to tread carefully, but she had to find out what he was up to.

  ‘Well,’ she answered slowly, ‘I assume you’re keeping that knowledge to yourself to protect your brother. After that pasting Harry gave you, we all know what he’s capable of and you certainly don’t owe him any favours.’

  ‘That pasting Harry gave me was nothing compared to what he would do to my brother and Glenda if he got hold of them, and, well, Frank and me have never been close so I can’t say I miss having him around. But Glenda’s your best friend, ain’t she? I bet you miss her. You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her, would you?’

  Helen didn’t like the tone of Billy’s voice but did her best to remain calm. ‘Of course I miss her and no, I wouldn’t want to see her come to any harm. Is there a point to all this, Billy?’

  ‘That depends on you,’ he answered with a sly grin.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If you want me to keep my mouth shut about their whereabouts, you’re going to have to be really nice to me.’

  Billy licked his lips and Helen frowned. Her mirror told her that she was no oil painting. She was short and dumpy and men didn’t pay her any attention, so what could Billy possibly want from her? He licked his lips again, lasciviously, and she felt sick. Surely Billy wasn’t suggesting that!

  ‘I–I–I don’t understand,’ Helen stuttered. ‘What do you mean, be nice to you?’

  Billy ran his hand up Helen’s arm and then briefly brushed it against her breast. ‘I think you know, Helen. We’ll have to come to some sort of arrangement.’

  His meaning was clear enough now and Helen wanted to spit in his face, to run home, but she was frozen to the spot, aghast at his suggestion. ‘What … what sort of arrangement?’ she gasped.

  ‘Come on, Helen, you’re a big girl now, you know what I’m getting at. Let’s say you meet me by your back gate on Friday night at eight o’clock. There’s an alley opposite that nobody uses and it’ll be nice and private. You can show me those lovely big tits of yours and if you’re really good I just might keep my mouth shut about Margate.’

  Billy didn’t wait for Helen to answer; he gave her a wink and sauntered off, casually throwing back, ‘See you on Friday.’

  Helen felt her legs begin to shake. Although she would do anything to protect Glenda from Harry’s wrath, the thought of Billy Myers touching her, of having to touch him, made her feel sick to her stomach.

  Shakily she hurried home and, seeing her parents dozing in fireside chairs, she ran to her room, shut the door behind her and sank onto her mattress. Her stomach was still churning as she wondered how she could get out of this sickening situation. She couldn’t tell her parents, they were too fragile, yet there was nobody else – nobody she could turn to. She threw herself across the bed in despair. If only there was someone she could go to for help! It was then that a name popped into her mind. Maude!

  Maude didn’t want Harry to find Glenda and Frank either, so surely she would help. She might be middle-aged, but she was tough; someone you wouldn’t want to mess with. The idea brought Helen some relief. Her parents would probably wake up soon so she knew she couldn’t go to see Maude now, and it was doubtful that she’d be able to catch the woman alone tomorrow as it was a Sunday. No, it would have to wait until Monday, and then as soon as she could get away she’d go to her for advice and, hopefully, help.

  Helen rose to her feet to go back downstairs, feeling comforted by the thought that she might find an ally in Maude. Surely between them they could find a way to sort Billy Myers out, without her having to go along with his disgusting demands.

  Chapter 16

  On Monday afternoon, Maude was enjoying a cup of tea in a quiet moment whilst Johnnie had his after-lunch nap. She hadn’t been home from the shops long. There was a knock on the door. She tutted impatiently before opening it to find Helen on the doorstep, the young woman looking pasty and worried.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs Jenkins, but I need to talk to you.’

  Maude invited Helen in and poured the girl a cup of tea from the fresh pot, thinking that she looked like she needed one. ‘What’s troubling you, gal?’

  Helen’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I’ve got a problem with Billy Myers and I don’t think I can handle it by myself.’

  ‘Billy Myers? Him that told my Harry about Glenda and his brother?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s a dirty scumbag.’

  ‘I know, but he said he knows where Glenda and Frank are. He … he’s blackmailing me to keep quiet about it.’

  ‘Blackmailing you? What does he want? Money, I suppose?’

  Helen looked awkward before answering, ‘No, not money, Mrs Jenkins. He wants … you know … favours.’

  ‘Favours? What sort of favours?’

  ‘Sexual ones,’ blurted Helen, her face reddening with embarrassment.

  ‘Oh, does he indeed? The filthy pervert. But are you sure he knows where Glenda and Frank are?’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Helen and the tears overflowed. ‘If I don’t agree to meet him, he’ll tell Harry where to find them. I’m sorry, Mrs Jenkins, I just didn’t know who else to turn to. What can I do?’

  Maude slurped her tea and handed Helen a hanky that she had stuffed up the arm of her sleeve. ‘Stop that bawling malarkey for a start,’ she answered firmly, ‘and tell me more. When are you planning on meeting the dirty swine?’

  ‘Friday at eight, but I can’t do it, I just can’t. I love Glenda, but –’

  ‘Shut up, girl, you haven’t got anything to worry about. You won’t be meeting him,’ Maude interrupted with a wicked smile, ‘I will be.’

  In Dungeness, Glenda was hot and it was no wonder that Polly was fretful; the carriage on the beach was stifling. She carried her outside, and sat on the wooden bench that Frank had knocked up. She’d made a couple of cushions for it and it was a lovely place to perch and look out to sea. Polly was mostly a good baby, and this time she was able to breast feed, but every time she fed her, Glenda found tears welling up. She had felt guilty that she hadn’t been able to breastfeed Johnnie, because her milk was insufficient, but that was nothing compared to the guilt she felt at leaving him. She longed to see him again and had written to Helen a few weeks ago, but so far she was still awaiting a reply.

  There were quite a few people scattered about. Glenda gazed at an old man sitting on a small seat by the sea, fishing. The nearest person to him was a woman sitting on a blanke
t wearing a floppy sun hat, two children frolicking next to her at the edge of the sea. They were shrieking with glee as the waves came in, soaking their legs up to their knees before washing out again. Glenda saw the old man turn to look at them, and suspected he was none too happy that the noise was probably scaring off any fish that might venture close to shore. He stood and reeled his line in, picked up a canvas bag and, carrying his rod, moved further down the beach. Glenda doubted he’d catch any fish, but maybe he just enjoyed trying.

  The summer weather had brought more visitors, along with a few people staying in other redundant railway carriages. Glenda had feared that she and Frank would be asked to leave, but her fears were unfounded as they’d been given another six-month lease. She tried to avoid the other carriage dwellers as much as possible. If they were Londoners using their holiday homes, there was always the possibility that one of them came from Battersea. Of course the chance of that was probably remote, but Glenda didn’t want to take any risks. Harry might not be looking so hard for her now, but if someone reported seeing her he’d be down here like a shot and she shuddered at the thought of what he might do to them.

  She heard the sound of someone walking on shingle and tensed up. Then a familiar voice said, ‘Hello, love. It’s a proper scorcher.’

  Glenda sighed with relief when she looked up. It was Frank’s aunt Anne, wearing a billowing sundress with crooked seams. It looked homemade. ‘Hello, Anne, it’s lovely to see you, and yes, it’s really hot. It’s worse in the carriage, but out here there’s a bit of a sea breeze.’

  Anne flopped down beside her. ‘It’s a bit of a trek to get here, a train then a bus.’

  ‘Can I get you a drink? Tea or, as it’s hot, squash?’

  ‘Squash, please,’ Anne said, and took Polly into her arms while Glenda went inside to fetch the drinks.

  When she returned, they were quiet for a moment as both sipped their orange squash. After a moment or two, Anne said, ‘I’ve heard from my sister and she’s asked me for a photograph of Polly.’

  Glenda frowned. ‘I … I don’t think –’

  ‘Now listen,’ Anne interrupted. ‘Joyce is Polly’s grandmother, and it’s only natural that she wants to see her first grandchild.’

  ‘I know you write to her occasionally to let her know how we’re getting on, and that she destroys your letters as soon as she’s read them, but I doubt she’d destroy a photograph, Anne. It’s dangerous for me.’

  ‘Glenda, love, I think you’re being overly paranoid. I’m sure she’ll keep it hidden. She hasn’t told Billy or anyone else where you are, or that she’s a grandmother now, so you have nothing to worry about.’

  Maybe Anne’s right, Glenda thought, maybe I am being over-cautious. The thought of Harry finding them still gave her nightmares. She took a deep breath. ‘All right, you can take a photograph.’

  Anne smiled, obviously pleased, and drew a Brownie camera from her copious bag. She moved back to take the shot; one of Glenda sitting on the bench, her hair prettily windswept, her nose sprinkled with freckles from the sun, smiling down at her beautiful baby daughter.

  It was Wednesday evening and Harry had managed to get hold of a bottle of whisky. He avoided the local pubs now, especially the Castle. He’d once been looked up to, his company sought out, but nowadays he was mostly avoided like the plague. He was viewed with scorn; few men were willing to talk to him, and he couldn’t really blame them. He’d lost his swagger too, and now walked with his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

  His mind was filled with Betty Howard as he walked. Guilt overwhelmed him and he picked up his pace, desperate for a drink. Whisky dulled his mind, and he intended to drink himself into a stupor. He’d drink until he passed out; that way he’d be able to sleep, something that was eluding him at the moment. If he was late for work again, so what – he was already on a warning. The foreman, once a mate, had abruptly told him that unless he pulled his weight, he’d be out of a job. Harry had ignored the warning. There were plenty of building sites around; bricklayers were in demand, and maybe finding work in another borough where nobody knew him would make things a bit easier.

  Harry sat in his fireside chair and poured himself a generous measure. He threw the drink back, grimaced, but then poured another and downed it in one. He’d been so swamped with guilt since Betty’s death that he hadn’t given a thought to Glenda, but suddenly her face filled his mind. He’d been a bastard to her too, he realised that now. Harry carried on drinking, and by the time he drained the last dregs from the bottle, he was so fuddled with alcohol that his mind was numb, thoughts of Glenda disappearing into the fog.

  On Friday evening, Maude called over her shoulder to her husband as she left her house, ‘I’ll see you later, Bob.’

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ he called back.

  She’d told Bob that she was going to see Phyllis Brown, who lived at the end of the street. Though she rarely went calling on neighbours, she and Phyllis had been friends for many years so her popping out to see her, supposedly to help with a problematic knitting pattern, hadn’t caused any suspicion. She’d settled Johnnie down for the night before leaving and Bob was happily listening to the radio.

  She gently tapped on Helen’s door. Helen checked up and down the street before Maude entered.

  ‘All set, gal?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Helen answered, ‘but I’ve got to say, I’m ever so nervous. I’m really not sure that this is a good idea.’

  ‘Have you got a better one?’

  ‘No, but what if something goes wrong and he hurts you? He’s a nasty piece of work, Mrs Jenkins, and I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.’

  ‘Now you listen to me. I ain’t afraid of the likes of Billy Myers. It’s him that needs to be afraid of me! There’ll be no need for you to worry, and, if you position yourself behind the fence like we said, you might be able to hear everything.’

  ‘All right, but I’m still not sure.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. Now get the kettle on and make me a cuppa before I go and see to this little bastard,’ Maude said as she rubbed her hands together. She was quite excited and almost looking forward to this confrontation with Billy. It had been a good few years since she had found herself in a fight and, though she was getting on a bit, she still enjoyed a good set-to. The thought of Billy Myers thinking he could get one over on the Jenkinses had her riled up. How dare he? The man had already caused enough problems and was lucky that he still had kneecaps after Harry had sorted him out. If Maude had had things her way, she would have made sure he wasn’t walking again.

  ‘I’ve got a big plank of wood and if he tries to hurt you I’ll be ready for him,’ said Helen with a bit more spirit as she passed Maude a cup of tea.

  ‘It won’t come to that. By the time I’ve verbally torn strips off him, he’ll be ready to crawl back into whatever hole he crawled out of. And I’ve got another little surprise for him and all – well, two, actually.’

  Before long, they both heard the faint chime of the clock in the front room. Eight o’clock. Neither spoke as Helen followed Maude out of the back door and into the dark garden. Helen scuttled into place behind the high fence and Maude nodded at her before slowly opening the back gate. She stuck her head out and looked up and down, but it was so dark she couldn’t see anything.

  Then suddenly a match flared and Maude saw the shadowy figure of a man opposite her, standing in front of the entrance to the alley. Without hesitation, she steamed towards the shadow.

  ‘Billy bloody Myers,’ she screeched and as her eyes focused in the gloom she saw a cigarette fall from Billy’s mouth. ‘You look surprised to see me. What’s wrong, were you expecting someone else?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean. I wasn’t expecting anyone,’ said Billy as he looked behind him, obviously concerned that Harry or someone was about to sneak up on him.

  ‘You’re a liar. We’ll add that to your list of desirable traits, shall we? A liar along with a
blackmailer.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Yes, you do. Fancy a little worm like you thinking you can get away with blackmailing a young woman for sex.’

  ‘I haven’t blackmailed anyone,’ Billy blustered.

  ‘Oh, so you didn’t say that you know where your brother is, and threatened to tell my Harry?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I might have, but surely you want to know where he is too.’

  ‘No, I don’t, and I don’t want my Harry knowing either. We both know what he’s capable of and I wouldn’t want him to do time or, worse still, swing for the likes of Frank and Glenda. So I’m warning you, if you dare open your mouth and tell him or anyone else where they are, it’ll be the last thing you ever do!’

  Billy started laughing. ‘And what do you think you can do about it? Look at you, you’re a bitter old woman. What are you gonna do? Slap my bottom?’ he mocked.

  Maude’s hackles rose. ‘I’m not that bloody old. Don’t underestimate me. I’m only going to warn you the once. If you think what Harry did to you was bad, then you ain’t seen nothing yet.’

  Billy turned round, leaned over and chuckled. ‘Go on then, old woman – as I said, do your worst and smack my bum.’

  ‘Yeah, have your bit of fun, but this not-so-old woman knows people, Billy, the sort of people you wouldn’t want to meet in your worst nightmares. Don’t worry, I won’t have you killed, but I can arrange that by the time my people have finished with you, you’ll wish you were dead. So once again, I’m warning you, if my Harry ever finds out where Glenda is, I shall hold you personally responsible and you’ll regret the day you were born.’