by Kitty Neale
‘Horses and the dog track. Beryl heard it all. The old man blew everything on one last bet and lost. His boys didn’t take kindly to it and they’ve been arguing for days on end. So they couldn’t pay the rent or anything else and now they’ve done a runner.’
‘Your poor sister,’ said Cora. ‘What a worry. And her with little kids.’
‘It’s been awful for her,’ Winnie said. ‘At least now she’ll have a bit of peace. He’ll have to do the place up, and that’ll mean he’ll be a bit more careful about who he lets move in next time. He won’t want anyone that rough again. She might get some decent neighbours at last.’
‘The least she deserves,’ said Cora. ‘Can I get you anything, Winnie? Or did you drop in to tell me the news?’
Winnie put her hand in her pocket. ‘I’ve only gone and forgotten my list. That’s what it’s been like these past few days. I’ll take a packet of shortbread for the time being and come back later if I need more.’ She handed over the money and put the biscuits in her big net bag. ‘I’d best get on.’
Drawing her warm cardigan around her, Cora watched the woman go. That was a good start to the morning. A pity nobody she knew would know who this family who’d done a flit were, but it was a choice piece of gossip none the less.
Ten minutes later, Jill Parrot came in, a large parcel under her arm. ‘Hello, Winnie. I’ve just come from the market with Hazel. We went there together when she was on her break and look what we bought.’ She put the parcel on the table and carefully unwrapped it.
‘This is the famous turquoise taffeta, I suppose,’ said Cora. Hazel had gone on and on about it at the weekend and she’d got fed up, but now she couldn’t help a flutter of excitement as Jill pulled back the last of the brown paper. ‘Oh, it’s lovely. I’ll give her credit where it’s due, that girl can pick a good material.’
‘It is, isn’t it,’ beamed Jill. ‘And look what’s underneath. We’ll have to be careful as there isn’t much leeway, but as long as we don’t make any big mistakes …’
‘This is for Hazel’s dress?’ Cora fingered the delicate lace and felt a tear come to her eye. Stop it, you daft old fool, she told herself. But she was thrilled that her daughter was going to get her big white dress after all. ‘I don’t know what to say. It’s so fine. She’ll look like something out of the magazines. You’re doing her proud, Jill. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘Well, it’s Neville’s big day too,’ Jill pointed out. ‘He wants nothing more than to make Hazel happy. If I can help with that, I’ll be more than pleased.’ She began to rewrap the parcel again. ‘Don’t want to get newsprint or anything on this. There’s not an inch to spare. She wanted you to see it at once though.’
‘Oh, she’s a good girl.’ Cora sank down on her stool, almost overcome with emotion. ‘I can’t believe she’ll be gone soon. And I have to say, you are good neighbours. I know you aren’t from round here but you’ve been nothing but kind to us.’
‘Thanks, Cora.’ Jill tied the string tight around the bundle, careful not to damage it.
‘Talking of which,’ Cora added, ‘there’s been a right to-do down towards the power station. You won’t know her but Beryl – that’s auntie to Vera Jewell that Alison used to work with – she had awful neighbours and now they’ve done a bunk.’
‘Vera Jewell? I think Neville’s mentioned her.’
I bet he has, Cora thought. ‘Yes, apparently it was all about gambling debts. A family of four disappeared overnight. Dreadful, isn’t it?’
‘Sounds like it,’ agreed Jill. ‘We should count our blessings. There but for the grace of God and all that. Right, I’d better get this home and start thinking about patterns.’
‘Yes, we’ve a lot to be thankful for,’ said Cora, wondering who she could pass the news on to next. It never hurt to have a good piece of gossip to spread.
Chapter Fourteen
Alison dreaded the thought of going to work on Monday morning but there was no getting out of it. She couldn’t pretend she was still feeling the effects of falling on the wet pavement. Nobody had questioned her story as the weather had been filthy on Friday night but she wasn’t going to risk it.
She stayed in bed as late as she dared, deciding that she’d rather arrive after nine than see Paul opening up the shop next door. Her mother and Hazel had left earlier than her as usual, so she didn’t have to face them at least. Slowly she forced herself to get ready, carefully washing her bruised face, wincing at the rough flannel. But that was nothing to the agony she felt inside. Disappointment and betrayal were mixed with an awful sensation that she’d asked for what he’d done to her, that it was all her fault. All her life she’d been told she was to blame for everything bad that happened to her, so this was no different.
Approaching the row of shops she felt her heart hammering in her chest. Somehow she had to act normally, to carry on, just to get through the next few hours. What if Paul came out to do the awning like he often did? There was no sign of him however and the boxes that were usually stacked outside the ironmonger’s were nowhere to be seen. She hurried past, fearful he would come out.
Fred gasped when she went in. ‘Whatever have you gone and done to your face, Alison? That looks painful. Have you put anything on it?’
‘Slipped on the pavement in the rain,’ she muttered. ‘I’m all right really. Looks worse than it is.’
‘You should have put a raw steak on it,’ said Fred. ‘Pity you weren’t here when it happened.’ He looked at her directly. ‘On Friday, was it?’
‘Yes, in that cloudburst. But can you see my mum wasting good steak on a bruise?’
‘No, you’ve got a point there.’ He knew there wouldn’t be much steak to spare in the Butler household. Still, he couldn’t help remembering what he’d seen through the shop window when the girl had left on Friday night, chatting to the lad from next door. Fred had had little to do with the young fellow but something made him instinctively distrust him. He was too cocky, too full of swagger. However he kept his suspicions to himself.
The morning passed in its usual way. Mondays were often quiet as people had Sunday roast left over to eat as cold cuts or make into other meals to eke it out. Fred and Alison got on with sorting out deliveries and restocking the front counter, putting out the eggs that were beginning to prove popular, and stopping to serve the occasional customer. Alison was glad of the routine and relieved she didn’t have to make much small talk. She was still in shock at what had happened and while the physical pain was slowly fading, her heart felt like it was breaking. She blamed herself for being so stupid as to think someone might actually like her. She should have known better. But why had he seemed so friendly when he’d hated her all along? She couldn’t understand it and the riddle went round and round in her head.
It was almost lunchtime when the doorbell went and the manager of the ironmonger’s came in. Fred looked up. ‘Hello. We don’t often see you in here.’
‘No,’ said the man, who seemed rather embarrassed. ‘My wife does all the shopping. I haven’t come to buy anything.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen my assistant this morning? Mr Lanning?’
‘No, can’t say as I have,’ said Fred.
‘I wondered if you knew anything, miss,’ said the man. ‘You seemed to get on well with him.’
Alison blushed bright red. Surely he hadn’t worked out what had happened? ‘Not really. I spoke to him now and again, but I don’t know him very well. I haven’t seen him today.’
‘Well, it’s most inconvenient. He might have let me know if he was ill again. At least last week his brother came in to tell me but I’ve not had a word this morning. Most irregular.’
‘Perhaps they’ve all come down with the bug,’ Fred suggested. ‘I’m sure he’ll turn up.’
‘He’d better have a good excuse or he’ll find himself out of a job,’ snapped the man, before turning abruptly and leaving.
Fred shrugged as the door slammed. ‘Bit odd, but
he’s got his knickers in a proper twist, hasn’t he? Funny old sod.’
‘Mmmm,’ said Alison but her mind was whirling. Had Paul stayed away to avoid her? She’d hated the thought of seeing him again but assumed he would turn up and act as if nothing had happened. He might even threaten her again. Part of her was beginning to feel relieved that she wouldn’t have to endure that, or at least not today.
‘Right, let’s get stuck in to parcelling up this pork,’ said Fred. He looked at her carefully, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Alison did as she was asked and tried to concentrate, but now she was more confused than ever.
Neville had worked an extra night shift at the paint factory over the weekend in order to have the Monday afternoon off. Now he knew what ring size Hazel wore and what sort of things she liked he could buy her what she wanted. They’d looked at loads of beautiful rings on Saturday and she’d found it hard to choose. It was true many were beyond his budget but there had been a few places with items that he could have stretched to. Now he was on his way back to one of them, selling second-hand jewellery, which was within his price range. He didn’t think Hazel would mind it not being new. It was more important that it looked right.
He walked quickly past Clapham Junction, dodging the crowds of people that were always coming and going around the station whatever the time of day, and made his way along past Arding and Hobbs, head down against the wind. He turned up his collar as he went and almost bumped into someone coming out of the huge store.
‘I’m so sorry …’ He stopped. The figure looked familiar. She was wearing a tightly belted raincoat, high stiletto heels, and very bright lipstick.
‘Neville Parrot, isn’t it?’ The young woman met his glance with her sparkling blue eyes. ‘I’m Vera, Vera Jewell. Are you still at the paint factory? I know some of your colleagues there.’
‘Of course. I thought I knew your face.’ Neville grinned, as it wasn’t only her face that was familiar. Her curvy body was unmistakable, even though he’d never seen it up close. Then he reminded himself what he was meant to be doing this afternoon.
‘I used to work with Alison Butler,’ she went on. ‘You’re going out with her sister, aren’t you?’
‘That’s right. We’re getting married. In fact, I’m just going to buy her the engagement ring.’
‘Really?’ Vera’s face broke into a big smile. ‘Congratulations. Where are you buying it? In here? I could get you a discount.’
Neville shook his head. Even with a discount he knew the prices in the department store would be beyond him. ‘Nah, we’ve seen a few we like in a little place round the corner. She wants it to be special, you know, so she’s pointed out a few and now I’m going to pick the best one.’
Vera nodded. ‘She’s a lucky woman. Most men wouldn’t know how to do that.’
Neville shuffled his feet. ‘Well, I don’t really know much about it either, but it’s what she wants.’
‘Don’t suppose you’d like some help with the final decision?’ offered Vera. Then she checked herself. ‘Sorry, you probably think I’m being really cheeky. But I love looking at jewellery and now I’m working in there I’ve got a better eye for colour and style. Everyone says so.’ She gave him another little smile.
Neville hesitated. What harm could it do? He knew Vera had a bit of a reputation but that was likely put about by men she’d turned down. She seemed perfectly friendly, not at all the manipulative schemer some of his colleagues had described. ‘Are you sure you’ve got time?’ he said.
‘Yes, it’s my lunch hour.’
‘In that case I’d be glad of your help,’ he said. They set off towards the second-hand jewellers and Neville decided everyone had got completely the wrong idea about this woman.
Alison arrived back after work with a bag of pork offcuts to keep her mother quiet. There had still been no sign of Paul and his boss had come into the butcher’s on two further occasions. By the time he’d finished Alison felt as if she was being accused of hiding something. Even though she’d denied knowing where he was she thought she’d probably sounded guilty as she had something much worse to hide. If only they knew. But she would rather die than tell anyone what had happened. Fred had looked at her oddly several times but she’d assured him there was nothing wrong. She was certain he would sack her on the spot if he found out. She was damaged goods now. He most likely wouldn’t want to be tainted by having her anywhere near the shop. She was desperate for sympathy but dared not hope for any. The pain was so great though that she didn’t know how she would bear it on her own.
‘Here, look what Fred sent for you,’ she said as Cora turned to see which of her daughters it was.
‘Pork? Oh, that’s good of him.’ Cora was all smiles. ‘He’s a nice man and don’t you ever forget what a kind deed he did taking you on. I only hope he doesn’t live to regret it. You make sure you’re a credit to him.’
‘He says I’m learning fast,’ Alison said. She knew her mother would never believe that she could be good at something, so she was wasting her breath, but Fred’s confidence in her was the one way her life had improved. Carry on as normal, she reminded herself. Don’t give her cause to suspect anything is wrong.
‘Like I said, he’s a nice man.’ Cora made room for the pork in her crowded kitchen. ‘He won’t go saying you’re useless even if he thinks it. Now come and show me your new skills by chopping those veg.’
Alison sighed. Her mother was never going to change. She took off her mac and washed her hands at the sink, noticing how shabby everything was compared to Fred’s gleaming surfaces. Her mother scrubbed and scrubbed but it was a losing battle. There was no way on earth the kitchen would look smart. The utensils were battered from many years of use, the cupboards needed a fresh lick of paint and most of the crockery was chipped. Wearily she reached for the peeler, with its wonky handle.
Suddenly, Hazel burst in.
‘Good, you’re here, Mum.’ She ignored her sister. ‘Neville’s coming over in a minute. He’s got it, he’s got it.’
‘Are you talking about your ring?’ Alison said.
‘What else would it be?’ Hazel shot back.
Cora wiped her hands. ‘That’s lovely. Will he want some tea?’
‘No, his mum is doing something. He’s just going to pop over. He won’t be long.’
Almost immediately, there was a knock on the front door.
‘We’ll do this in the front room,’ Cora decided. ‘Come through, Hazel. You too,’ she added as an afterthought, gesturing to Alison. She followed them, thinking how this was rubbing salt into her wound. Hazel’s boyfriend was doing all the right things while her own brief hopes of someone to love had been snuffed out.
Neville came in, carrying a small velvet bag in midnight blue. Hazel could barely contain her excitement as she took it and reached inside. She gasped as she opened the matching velvet box.
‘Oh Neville, it’s beautiful.’ She lifted out the ring and Neville slipped it onto her fourth finger. ‘It fits perfectly. It’s that one we saw, isn’t it? It was my favourite but I didn’t like to say.’
Cora took her daughter’s hand and looked closely at the ring. ‘Those little blue stones on either side of the big one are gorgeous. You are clever. They’ll go with the bridesmaid’s dresses.’
‘They’re aquamarines,’ said Neville. ‘They’re related to emeralds. I thought they’d go with the sort of colours you wear most, Hazel.’
Cora was impressed. ‘You know a lot about these things, Neville. I’d never have thought it. You’ve really looked into this.’
Neville beamed, glad he’d stored away those facts. He knew he had some work to do to win Cora’s approval and this had been a good step towards it. He kept quiet about how Vera had won over the old jeweller, getting him talking and even persuading him to reduce the price. He didn’t want Hazel to think him a skinflint, but it was always a relief to get a bargain, as the wedding costs were mounting up. It hadn’t been the same
man they’d seen on Saturday so he hadn’t known who Neville was buying the ring for. He’d assumed Vera was the fiancée and they’d gone along with it. Neville knew he could never have made such a good choice on his own or have learned about the stones. He definitely didn’t have Vera’s way of bargaining – she’d charmed the jeweller, who’d found her irresistible.
Hazel waved her hand in front of Alison’s face. ‘What do you think?’
‘I love it,’ said Alison, doing her best not to let her emotions show. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Bet you wish you had one like it,’ Hazel said, her eyes glittering. She turned to her sister and hissed quietly, ‘Better make the most of this as you’ll never have one of your own. A pity, but there it is.’
‘Well done, Neville,’ said Alison, forcing herself to ignore the thoughtlessly cruel taunt. She was used to this sort of thing but wondered if the young man had realised how spiteful his bride-to-be really was.
‘I’d better be getting back to Mum, she’s doing bubble and squeak.’
‘Oh, that reminds me.’ Cora’s thoughts flew to her conversation with Jill that morning. ‘I was telling her earlier. Winnie Jewell came in first thing and her sister’s family have been having a really tough time of late. I said to you, didn’t I, Hazel? Awful trouble with their neighbours.’
‘Winnie Jewell? Yes, you did say,’ said Hazel.
‘Did she say how Vera’s doing?’ asked Alison. She’d often wondered how her former colleague was getting on, and missed her cheerful way of making light of any problems. It would have been fun to have got to know her better before that awful day when they’d been sacked.
‘No, I didn’t ask her,’ said Cora, not pleased at having her story interrupted. ‘I’ve got no interest in that girl. No better than she should be, that one.’
‘She’s a right tart,’ agreed Hazel. ‘You want to keep away from the likes of her, Neville. She’d have her grasping hands on you in a flash given half a chance. Go on, Mum.’