It was now she missed Ana, whose nursing would have given Esme good care. Levi was still in disgrace, having ditched his home to live with Shirley, the blonde bombshell on the stocking bar. Ivy was going round like a demented widow until Esme told her to pull herself together and get a proper job. Now she was working in the dress department of Whiteleys store, pretending all was well when it wasn’t. What was happening to her family?
Only Neville had bothered to come and take her out but she couldn’t get into the Triumph. They had to use the work’s van. At least he’d taken her across the town to visit old friends. It was sad thinking of all those outings in the old days when the kiddies were little: the Olive Oil Club, Ana, Su, Maria, Diana, Queenie, gone or busy with their own lives now. Lily was kind but Arthur was at that grabbing stage, and into her cupboards like a whirling dervish, wanting to play football all the time. A chip off the old block there. She was glad when they had gone home.
‘Want a cuppa?’ Connie asked. ‘Cocoa or Nescafé?’
‘A pot of tea will do nicely. You’ve bottomed this room properly. Come and sit down.’
‘If it’s all right, I’ll go to bed. I’m whacked. I can’t keep my eyes open, but I’ll bring you a drink. Shall I switch on the TV?’
‘You might as well, if you’re going to bed.’
Connie switched on the box in the corner cabinet. The news was on.
‘It’s not that time already, is it? No … hang on. It’s something to do with America,’ Connie said, standing by the door. The sound always took a long time to come through.
‘Oh, no!’ There was a scene of a motorcade in Dallas, the president and his wife, in her pink pillbox hat, and the chaos and the car speeding off. ‘What’s going on?’
‘John Kennedy’s been shot, and he’s dead, Gran. The president of America’s dead … he was doing such a good job,’ Connie gasped, almost in tears. ‘Why do the good die young?’
Esme thought of little Travis and Freddie and Ana. ‘His poor wife and kiddies,’ she said. ‘What is this world coming to? Fetch the brandy … dear, oh dear. Is it the Russians? Turn the sound up.’
They sat there, sipping brandy and tea as bulletin after bulletin unfolded on that November evening, unaware that the doorbell was ringing until someone was banging with their fist.
‘Who on earth is that?’ Esme said. ‘I bet it’s Edna from next door, wanting to talk it all over. Go and see who it is, love.’
Connie brought Neville into the room. ‘You’ve heard then about Kennedy?’ she said.
Neville nodded, pale-faced, grim. ‘Everybody’s talking about it in the street, Gran.’ He stood hesitating.
‘Isn’t it terrible news? Not another war. I thought he’d sorted out the Russians and all those Cuban missiles,’ she continued, but Neville said nothing, standing before them, shaking. ‘What’s up, son? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘I’ve been arrested, Gran,’ he cried, falling into her arms like a little boy, sobbing. ‘I’m in trouble and I don’t know what to do.’
‘Connie, get us another cup. It can’t be that bad, surely.’ But she felt her heart skipping beats and her legs wobbling beneath her. He didn’t look drunk. He wasn’t the type, not like his father. Perhaps he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer but Neville had a steady job and was enjoying being in the amateur dramatics.
‘I can’t tell Mum and Dad. They’ll kill me,’ he wept breaking down. ‘We weren’t doing any harm to anybody,’ he said, looking up, and she noticed, not for the first time, how attractive, how appealing his eyes were, fringed with dark lashes, almost girlish. A terrible thought stabbed Esme but she pushed it back … ‘Go on then, spill the beans. Your gran is all ears,’ she said. ‘Turn the telly down, Connie.’
‘Trevor and I weren’t doing any harm,’ he whispered.
‘Trevor?’ she asked.
‘Trevor is my friend, my chum. We’d been out for a few drinks, and to the Chinese and then for a ride in the car,’ he replied, not looking her in the face.
‘So? What’s the harm in that or did you crash the car?’
‘No, Gran, there wasn’t an accident. We went up to Leaper’s View for some air. You can see the lights of Manchester down the plain. We often go there to … talk,’ he said.
Esme went cold, knowing it was a notorious spot for lovers to canoodle.
‘You weren’t being Peeping Toms, were you?’
‘They were spying on us,’ he croaked.
‘Who?’ This was all too confusing so late at night.
‘The coppers. Two policemen came and put their torches on us when we were …’ Neville halted, unable to go on.
‘When you were doing what?’ She didn’t understand. ‘Watching the view?’
‘Not exactly. You see, we were being friendly and they put their torch on us and arrested us.’
‘When you were chatting?’ she said coldly. The silence was deafening.
‘No, we were kissing and such …’ he whispered. ‘There were other cars, but they didn’t go spying on them did they? If it were Connie and her boyfriend out in the car no one would bother them, but because it’s two men … we’re finished, exposed in the papers. Dad’ll kill me,’ he wept ‘It’s not fair.’
She looked at his crumpled face, his eyes filled with tears. ‘Eeh, son, I didn’t think you were that type of a lad but I suppose you allus were a bit different. I put it down to Ivy’s spoiling. You tell your parents the truth … Don’t let them read it in the papers first. I expect Ivy will want to marry you off to prove your innocence, but they’ll want what’s best for you, I’m sure,’ she offered, more in hope than certainty. It would rock them to their foundations and they’d each blame the other.
‘However did you get mixed up with them nancy boys?’ she sighed. No point shillyshallying.
‘It’s not like that, Gran. I can’t help it. I love Trevor. You’ll like him,’ he said.
‘How old is he?’ she asked.
‘Old enough to know his own mind,’ Neville replied.
‘That’s a relief. You can get sent to prison for interfering with young boys,’ she answered, thinking about the Lord Montagu case a few years back. ‘By heck, you know how to make life complicated.’
‘I didn’t choose to be this way. We’re harming no one, but now the whole town will laugh at us and I’ll have to go away.’
‘Perhaps you will after the fuss dies down, but now you have to face the music, show your mettle, be a man not a mouse,’ she ordered.
‘Dad’ll call me queer and Mother will never speak to me again … I feel like jumping off a cliff.’
‘Oh, no you don’t! That’s the easy way, son. Show them you’re strong, that you choose to own up to who you are. That’s all I can say. I’ll be proud of you if you answer your charge bravely. We won’t desert you, will we, Connie?’
Connie put her arm around her cousin and gave him a hug.
‘Will you tell them for me?’ he pleaded.
‘Have you not heard one word I’ve said? Just do it!’ Esme ordered. ‘Besides, there are far worse things in life than being queer,’ she offered, surprised at her own broad-mindedness. There’d been some funny love affairs when she was a suffragette, and she often wondered about Diana Unsworth.
‘Like what?’ he sighed, looking for crumbs of comfort.
‘Like being mean-spirited and a hypocrite, for a start, or being violent to kiddies and animals, being a bully and a liar. What you do with your private life is up to you?’
‘Come on, it’s late. I expect you want a bed on the sofa. No point in going home now. It’ll look better in the light of day.’
‘I feel such a fool.’
‘What does Trevor think?’
‘I don’t know. They wouldn’t let me see him. What a bloody mess!’
‘None of that language in this house. It’s a messy business being different, right enough. People like us all to be the same, think the same thoughts, and them in the rig
ht order. It makes us feel safe, I suppose. Look at the mess our Freddie got into,’ she sighed.
‘That was different. He wasn’t a queer and everyone hates queers,’ said Neville.
‘I don’t know about that son, but I’m tired. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Good night and God bless … Pray for that widow and kiddies in America,’ she said, touching his lips with her finger.
‘Gran, you’re a good egg.’
‘A scrambled egg, perhaps,’ she replied, managing a weak laugh. ‘All I need now is sleep and plenty of it. And keep the television down low if you’re watching the news. We’ll find a way through, won’t we?’
When Esme was safe in her bedroom, Connie and Neville huddled under a blanket in the lounge, sipping Horlicks and dunking biscuits, watching the news reports.
‘What am I going to do, Con? They’ll kill me … Those coppers were waiting up there on the off chance, hidden in the bushes. They thought it was a joke. It’s our lives they’re messing with. How can I face Strangeways? I’ve heard such tales about what they do to guys like me in there.’
‘It won’t come to that. The family will find a good lawyer. You’ve never been in any trouble before. You’re nineteen. It’ll be OK.’ The truth was she’d heard the same things, but why put the fear of God into him now?
‘Trevor’s only seventeen … Oh, it’s such a mess.’
‘It’s not as bad as the mess I’m in, Nev. I think I’m pregnant.’ Her worst fears were finally given voice.
Neville looked up. ‘You are joking?’
‘I wish I was. I’ve missed two periods. I’ve never done that before. My bra is tight and I feel sick each morning.’
‘Have you told Marty Gorman?’
‘He’s gone to Hamburg.’
‘You must contact him. He’ll do the honourable thing.’
‘I can’t.’ How could she tell anyone she wasn’t sure whose baby it was?
‘If you won’t then I will. No one knocks up my cousin and gets away with!’ he added.
‘Thanks, but it’s more complicated than that. I did something stupid. Please leave it to me. I’ll sort something out. You have enough on your plate. Don’t tell a soul, I beg you. I’m trusting you with this. Promise?’
‘What do you take me for? Have you seen a doctor?’
‘No, not yet. I wanted to be sure. I wish my mama was here. She’d know what to do.’
‘You must tell someone soon … Joy or Rosa. They’ll help you.’
‘I can’t, Nev. I’m so scared!’
‘Me too. How am I going to break the news?’
‘Maybe like Gran says … just come out with it and see what happens. I’ll come with you, if you like, for support.’
‘I suppose we could do it together. They wouldn’t know who to beat up first.’ Neville gave a false giggle.
‘That’s better,’ Con whispered. ‘There’s got to be a funny side somewhere in all this, but the future’s bleak for both of us right now.’
‘We could cook them a meal, invite them to lunch, soften them up on roast beef and Yorkshires …’
Connie couldn’t believe he was being serious. ‘I can’t cook in my condition. I’d throw up all over them,’ she replied.
‘But I can,’ said Neville. ‘I wasn’t joking. Kill two birds with one stone.’
‘Better make it a chicken then,’ Connie said.
‘Think about it. Only those who need to know: Gran, Su and my parents. We stand together on this one, kiddo. Remember the family motto: Family First and Foremost.’
‘It’ll have to be soon. Gran’ll be so furious. I’ll get chucked out,’ Connie groaned.
‘It’ll be hatchets at dawn for me. My lot will just bury me in the back garden. Oh, Connie, why do we do these things?’
‘Because we are who we are. I didn’t think, and you forgot to be careful,’ Connie sighed.
‘We both forgot to be careful,’ Neville replied.
Connie sat in the college, not taking a word in. Everyone was talking about the assassination of President Kennedy and his poor family, saying where they were when they heard the terrible news. All she could think about was her own predicament and Neville’s court case, all the shame coming on the family and her future.
How could she look after a child and do her studies, make a home? Would Su let her back to the Waverley or could she stay with Gran in Sutter’s Fold. What if Neville, her only ally, was sent to prison?
What no one must know was that she wasn’t sure who the father of this baby could be. Was it Marty, or Lorne Dobson after that one drunken spree? She’d no idea, and that fact alone would make her a slut in anyone’s eyes. Better to say nothing, better to hold her doubts to herself. They would be too stunned to take much in at first so she had time to make plans now her A levels were resat. Studying had been her one consolation and she felt sure her results would get her a university place, but first there would be a summer baby to see to.
The thought of trying to get rid of it never entered her head. The poor thing hadn’t asked to be born, but it deserved a chance in life. She’d heard tales of knitting needles and hooks, gin baths and other extreme measures. There were clinics where rich girls could get sorted by discreet doctors, but she was not one of them. Mama had given her a chance of life by coming here. She had been so strong and brave, and Connie must be the same now.
On the way home, she took a detour by the allotment where Mama used to grow vegetables, and sat on the old stool where they used to pod broad beans for their special bean stew.
‘Mama, what shall I do? You once knew what I am feeling now. How do I soften the blow? Auntie Su must have felt the same, but Gran, Ivy, Levi – how will they react?’ Auntie Lee would be a good listener, she knew, but she felt so ashamed of herself. Why did you have to die before I realised just how strong and special you were? No one worries about you like your own mother. Now she was gone, and everything was unsafe.
Now she was dangling over a precipice, with Neville holding the very slack rope. Joy was too ill to help and Rosa was far away. Neville was right: they just had to help each other out on Sunday when the Winstanleys were going to get the shock of their lives, and no mistake. One thing was certain: most of them would have indigestion by the time the meal was over.
‘What’s all this in aid of?’ said Esme when she got back from chapel to find the table was laid for six with the best embroidered cloth, the one with hollyhocks in the corner. She had prayed to the Almighty to send a miracle of understanding and compassion for poor Neville. It wasn’t his fault he was born that way. Her husband, Redvers, used to say it was written right through the rock if a man was inclined to his own … There was no changing them, but she wasn’t sure.
Now there was a distinct tincture of burning fat, gravy and roasting meat. Connie’s best attempt at apple pie crust looked a bit like rubber rings, and the best crystal still had the dust on it. It was like setting the table for the prodigal son.
So, that was Neville’s scheme? He was going to tell his mother and father in the safety of a strange house? But who was the sixth place for? Not Trevor Gilligan, surely?
Then the mystery deepened when Susan drove up in her smart Mini. She’d been to the parish church. Connie was busy in the kitchen with her head down. She’d gone so thin since coming back from her trip and hardly ate a morsel. But she and Neville were apparently doing this as a thank you.
Ivy came up on the bus, having refused a lift from Levi. He was put out at missing his own dinner. But Gran had insisted he came when he rang to see what the fuss was about.
‘You’d better come along. I know Ivy’s coming. They’re doing a meal especially for the family. You can have your tea at Shirley’s later, but I want you to promise to drive our Ivy back home.’
‘I’m getting a divorce, Mother.’
‘Not while I’m alive, you won’t. There’s been no divorces in this family. You made your vows quick enough, so stick with them a while longer.’
‘Oh, Mother, there’s no shame in it nowadays.’
‘There is in my book. I shall cut you out of my will.’
‘Mam, this life is not a rehearsal,’ he offered.
‘It is … for the world to come. You’re on trial in this life.’
‘Do you really believe that?’
‘The Lord sends little tests to prove our mettle.’ Wait till you hear what he is sending you today, she thought. ‘Just turn up. Believe me, it’s important.’
Connie’s heart was thumping in her chest. She just wanted to blurt it all out and get it over with, but this was Neville’s big moment; hers would come later. She tested the roast potatoes as Neville was hovering over the gravy. He was such a fusspot when it came to food, always bossing her around. She’d put fresh flowers on the table, linen napkins and water glasses, and Neville had bought a bottle of expensive wine. The thought of alcohol turned Connie’s stomach.
‘What are we celebrating?’ said Ivy, puffing as she removed her fur hat and coat. ‘It’s a steep walk up that hill.’
‘Levi could have fetched you,’ said Esme.
‘I’d rather walk, thank you. I’m not putting my behind on any seat Shirley Fletcher has been sitting on. You never know what I might catch,’ she sniffed. ‘He’s late, as usual. And is this all your work, Constance?’ she sniffed, ‘My, you’re looking peaky. That French air didn’t do much good for you then, did it?’
‘Come into the sitting room and admire the view. Susan’s already here,’ Connie said, biting her tongue.
‘Is this some family powwow? I’m honoured to be invited, I’m sure,’ said Ivy, sitting down on the most comfortable chair and nodding in Su’s direction. ‘How’s the mother-to-be be? What’s all this in aid of?’
Su smiled. ‘I don’t know. I got a summons like you. Joy is on bed rest. They can’t get her blood pressure down. I am so worried.’
‘Connie and I thought it was about time we had a family gathering to thank Gran for her hospitality and to …’ Neville paused.
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