A Daughter's Disgrace

by Kitty Neale

  Alison skipped breakfast as she was trying not to eat much, thinking she could keep the weight off that way. Also, she still felt sick from the gulps of gin. Cora didn’t notice or, if she did, never commented. She was probably just glad to have more bacon for herself and Hazel. Alison often felt the only way she’d really please her mother was to become invisible.

  The queues at the baker’s and grocer’s were longer than normal and there was no time for a detour via Arding and Hobbs. She couldn’t move as fast as usual because of the pain in her legs. Disappointed, she returned with her bags of goods, to find Cora fussing round the kitchen. ‘Jill wants you over there at half two. If you’re quick you can have a sandwich, and make me one while you’re at it. Use some of that ham you brought back yesterday.’

  Alison did as she was asked, making only half a round for herself. She was ravenous now but in her confused logic she hoped she could hide the growing bump by cutting down on what she ate. Resolutely she pushed away her plate. ‘All right, I’ll be off then.’

  ‘Hold your horses,’ said Cora. ‘I’m coming too. I know Jill will have done a good job but I want to make sure it’s all to Hazel’s liking, as she probably won’t finish at the café in time to see you.’

  I can’t see Hazel hurrying to see me for any reason, thought Alison, as she sat at the kitchen table while her mother ate her ham sandwich. She stopped halfway through to add more Branston pickle.

  ‘I’ll give Fred his due, he does lovely ham.’ Finally Cora finished. ‘What’s got into you, ants in your pants? It’s only over the road. We’ll be there early.’

  ‘She won’t mind us being early,’ said Alison, anxious now to get the ordeal over with. She hated showing her body to anyone at the best of times and she certainly didn’t want her mother scrutinising it now. She’d have to think of a story to explain the latest bruises. Not to mention her growing waistline.

  Jill was waiting for them in her front room, which was scarcely bigger than their own but was somehow much more cheerful. It helped that Mr Parrot must bring home a decent wage, but it was more than that. There were bright cushions everywhere, and a well-placed mirror made it seem lighter and brighter. It felt like a room where people were happy. Music sounded from upstairs.

  ‘More Elvis?’ asked Cora. ‘Hasn’t he grown out of it yet?’

  ‘I wish it was Elvis,’ sighed Jill. ‘Richie’s gone off him. He plays someone called Little Richard now – it’s even worse. He screeches along and we don’t know what to do with ourselves, it’s driving us crazy.’

  ‘I don’t know why he doesn’t like a nice British boy like Tommy Steele,’ said Cora. ‘I don’t mind him. And he’s from quite near here too. Lovely lad. Not like this American rubbish.’

  Alison rather liked what she could hear coming through the ceiling but knew better than to say so.

  ‘Right, Alison, do you want to go upstairs and change?’ Jill asked. ‘Here it is – mind the pins. You can use Kathy’s room, that’s the equivalent of yours over the road. Will you need a hand?’

  ‘She’ll be fine down here,’ said Cora. ‘We don’t want to put you to no trouble. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before so she can change down here. You’ve got net curtains, so no one passing by can see anything. You won’t frighten anyone, Alison.’

  Alison took a deep breath. This wasn’t what she wanted at all – there would be no chance to cover up. But she couldn’t see a way around it. Reluctantly she unbuttoned her shirt.

  ‘Is that new?’ asked Jill. ‘I haven’t seen it before. It’s quite plain, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, I got it for work,’ Alison said hastily. ‘No point in wearing anything fancy there. You never know what you might get on it.’ She undid the waistband of her skirt, which she’d stretched with extra elastic, hiding this as best she could.

  ‘Let’s try the frock, then. If you lift your arms up and bend your legs so you’re at my level, I’ll slip it on you.’ Jill picked up the turquoise fabric, carefully making sure the pins didn’t catch on anything. ‘Over we go … and just tug it gently. Ah, it seems to be a bit stuck. Nasty bruises you have on those knees – did you fall over? Hit your face as well, did you? Stand up straight and I’ll try again. No, it’s still not budging. I wonder if I cut it wrong?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Cora, her expression a mixture of horror and disgust.

  A deathly silence fell. Alison knew she was blushing and stared at the ceiling, willing the thumping sounds of Little Richard to make it fall in on them.

  ‘Alison,’ said her mother finally, ‘what’s that?’

  ‘What’s what?’

  ‘That. That bump. The bump in your belly.’

  ‘I’ve got a touch of indigestion.’

  ‘Indigestion? You haven’t eaten enough to feed a fly. Indigestion my arse.’

  Jill gasped, not fully realising what was going on. Then she moved from the window and saw what the fuss was about. ‘Alison? What’s this?’

  ‘I’ve got an upset tummy, it’s nothing.’ Alison said, closing her eyes against the look on her mother’s face.

  ‘It’s not nothing.’ Cora’s voice rose sharply. ‘I know exactly what that is. Do you think I’m stupid, my girl? Do you think I don’t know a fallen woman when I see one? A filthy little tart? That’s what you are, a filthy little tart. My own daughter. Gone and got herself a bun in the oven and never so much as a word about it. So what have you got to say for yourself now your secret’s out, eh? What’s your excuse?’

  Alison said nothing, desperately willing her mother to stop, but she continued her tirade.

  ‘How did you manage that? You actually managed to get a man to come near you? Was he blind? Who is it? Is he going to make an honest woman of you?’

  Tears fell down Alison’s face but still she said nothing. There was nothing to say. All Cora’s ranting and raving wouldn’t change anything.

  ‘Answer me, you little trollop!’ Cora swung her daughter around to face her. ‘Who’s done this? Who’ve you let do this? Who does he think he is? Who do you think you are, ruining our family’s good name?’

  ‘Now, Cora, I’m sure Alison can explain,’ said Jill, horrified at the way her friend had changed. The lively, chirpy neighbour had become a screaming monster who she barely recognised. No wonder the girl was petrified.

  Cora ignored her. ‘When I think of all I’ve done for you! You’ve never been anything but a burden and yet I’ve fed you and clothed you and given you a roof over your head. You’ve wanted for nothing and this is how you repay me. Well, you needn’t think you’re bringing a baby into my house. You’re a disgrace, to me and your dear late father and your sisters. You’ve let us all down. You’re an ungrateful little strumpet and you’ve no one to blame but yourself.’

  Alison stood stock-still, waiting for her mother to finish. She couldn’t go on forever, she’d have to draw breath at some point. But just when she thought things could get no worse, the front door opened.

  ‘What’s going on, Mum? I could hear you yelling from outside,’ said Hazel, red-faced from running back from the café so she could check on how the dress was coming on. She was greeted by the sight of her beanpole sister standing in the middle of the room, barelegged, her taffeta frock halfway over her body, tears running down her face. On one side was Jill, her hands up to her face with an expression of horror. On the other was her mother, hair and eyes wild, looking fit to kill.

  ‘Hazel.’ Jill took a deep breath. ‘We weren’t expecting you so soon. Let me just say …’

  ‘She’s pregnant,’ yelled Cora, stabbing a finger at Alison. ‘Yes, you heard. Your gormless little sister has disgraced herself and brought shame to us all. I wish I didn’t have to tell you, Hazel, but it’s true. Look at her.’ Alison cowered at her mother’s sharp glance.

  For a moment Hazel just stood frozen, but then her face infused with colour. She strode across the room in two steps and slapped her sister hard across the face.

  ‘You li
ttle bitch. You’ve done this deliberately, haven’t you? You’ve done it to ruin my wedding because you’re jealous.’

  ‘I’m not jealous, and I didn’t get pregnant deliberately. I … I was … ,’ Alison cried, sobs racking her body as she broke down, unable to go on.

  ‘Whose is it?’ demanded Hazel, gimlet eyes trained on her sister. ‘Who would possibly want to do it with you? Tell me his name and I’ll bloody kill him.’ She grabbed her roughly by the arm.

  ‘It won’t do you any good,’ Alison wept. ‘He’s gone. He doesn’t even know. His family disappeared and I’ve heard nothing since.’

  ‘Oh no.’ It dawned on Cora who she meant. ‘Not those good-for-nothing gamblers? Not the Lannings? You let one of them … you’re carrying a child from that bad lot … How could you? How could you do this to your family?’

  With a loud cry Alison wrenched the bridesmaid dress off, scattering pins all over the floor. There was the sound of tearing fabric but nobody tried to save it. She then threw on her skirt and shirt before fleeing out of the front door.

  ‘And don’t come back!’ Cora cried after her. ‘Don’t you dare think you can show your face round here! You’re nothing but a tart and a slapper and you’ve disgraced us all!’

  Jill Parrot stood by her kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. She was in shock, unable to take in what had just happened. She tried to make excuses for Cora, although she was horrified at the behaviour of the woman she’d begun to think of as a friend. She hoped she’d have reacted differently if Kathy, God forbid, found herself in such a position. Then Hazel had hit her sister. She would never have believed it if she hadn’t seen it. But she had to make allowances. They were both upset and obviously neither had had the slightest idea beforehand.

  What would Neville do now? He’d have to be told. Would he feel tainted, marrying into a family that had been disgraced? She didn’t know what to advise him. People would be bound to talk when they found out and everyone associated with Alison would be under scrutiny. Then again, he wasn’t marrying Alison, he was marrying Hazel, and he loved her. It shouldn’t matter what her sister had done, but she knew not everybody would see it like that. It was bound to affect them.

  As for the lovely dress … she knew it was the least of their worries but when she’d heard that fabric tearing part of her had wanted to cry too. She’d spent so long carefully cutting it to Alison’s unusual size, and had looked forward to seeing how it fitted the girl. She’d wanted to make her something special, something she realised her mother and sister never did. Now there would be no need. She wondered if she should feel angry at her, for doing this damage to them all, but couldn’t find it in her heart to do so. She felt deeply sorry for her.

  Cora came through into the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry, Jill, I really am. All your hard work on that lovely frock. Well, she won’t be wearing it now.’ She shook her head. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather. Alison of all people. I never thought she had it in her. Never so much as whispered anything about a boyfriend. Now it turns out he’s done a runner. Can’t say I blame him.’

  Jill sighed. ‘Cup of tea? And would Hazel like one?’

  ‘No, that’s kind of you, but I won’t,’ said Cora. ‘Hazel’s already gone so she can see Neville between shifts. She’d rather he heard it from her than anywhere else. I better get home. I got some thinking to do.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, Cora.’ Jill was slightly relieved to be rid of the woman when she was in this mood.

  Cora almost ran across the street, not trusting herself to say another word. She was beyond anger. To think that one of her daughters could have stooped so low. Never in all their years of poverty had she let them do anything shameful. Money couldn’t buy you a good name. They had been brought up to know right from wrong and how they should behave. Perhaps she hadn’t drummed into Alison hard enough what she should and shouldn’t do where boys were concerned as she’d found it hard to imagine the need would arise. Linda and Hazel had always had boyfriends and yet neither of them had got into trouble – they were very strict, never risking their reputations. Now Alison had brought ruin to their door. Their name would be muck.

  Cora hardened her heart. If Hazel’s happiness was at stake then she wouldn’t let Alison wreck it. The girl had made her own bed and would have to lie on it. Clearly she thought she was big enough to make her own decisions. Well, now she’d have to learn to live with the consequences. Her youngest daughter wouldn’t be getting any help from her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Alison found herself retracing her steps down to the river, where she had wandered after the row with Fred. That seemed like ages ago. That was when she’d come up with the stupid idea to make herself ill to try to lose the baby. A fat lot of good that had done. She knew that she was stuck with it. Now that the truth was out, she had to face the facts. She was having a baby, her family had thrown her out and she was on her own.

  The sun shone brightly and seemed to mock her. Now and again she saw people wandering along, most likely on their way to Battersea Park. There were couples holding hands, or young families, parents taking care of their small children. She couldn’t ever remember Cora showing such tenderness to her. She’d been a nuisance from the start. She’d never been wanted by anyone except Linda. Fred said she was learning the job well but he could always get another assistant. People like Mrs Shawcross or Vera were kind but they’d be like that to everyone. She wasn’t special, she had never been number one to anybody. As for Paul, she suddered. He had raped her!

  So it was just her and the baby she didn’t want, the creature she’d tried to get rid of, but not very well. Who would care if both of them lived or died? Would anybody miss them? The more she thought about it, the more the answer seemed clear. No.

  Her thoughts turned to stories she’d read in the papers. People threw themselves under trains. She recalled Hazel coming back from somewhere, when she and Neville had just started courting, and they’d been delayed by an accident: a person under a train. At the time she couldn’t imagine how someone could hate the world so much they’d want to end it all. Now she knew how they felt.

  Would she be able to do it? There was no shortage of train tracks around Battersea. They snaked along the river and up to Clapham Junction and beyond. She could pick one. There must be one that was easy to get to – from a bridge or a siding. They were busy all day and into the night with constant traffic. It wouldn’t take long to find somewhere.

  It would be easier if she had a drop of gin first. She’d hated the taste but it had made sitting in the boiling hot bath or the pathetic attempt to fall downstairs just about bearable. That would be hard as she’d run off without her handbag or coat, so she had no money. If she’d been Vera she could have been bold and walked into a pub and sat at the bar until a man offered to buy her a drink. She didn’t have the nerve to try it though.

  Maybe she’d be able to slip a bottle into her bag if she went into a busy shop. Late Saturday afternoon, there would be lots of shoppers about and she might get away with it. But what if she got caught? Then she’d have the shame of being arrested on top of the pregnancy. That would be all over Battersea in two minutes flat. All those men from the factory and boys who used to tease her would snigger and say told you so. Look at her, she was bound to come to a bad end.

  She walked further, not really paying attention to where she was going, the river on her left, the sun behind her. She realised she was hurting all over from her useless leap from the stairs. Ahead were some benches and she sank gratefully down on one before realising where she was. It was the churchyard at St Mary’s. The pointed tower reached high above the columns of its porch, and the clock showed half past five. She’d been wandering around for nearly three hours. No wonder her feet felt like they were on fire – she’d only just registered that but it hardly mattered.

  She stood up again and gazed over the low wall to the river. She could see the north bank clearly today. Red buse
s were going along the embankment. Their passengers would be going home from shopping or heading off for a Saturday night out. They’d be looking forward to showing off what they’d bought or meeting up with family and friends. It felt like a world away.

  Beneath her the river churned, blue and grey, bits of wood floating along in the current. She wondered if that was what the sea looked like. She’d never seen it. Trips to the seaside were for other families, not hers. She never would see it now. There was no future for her or this creature she carried inside her.

  Nobody was around. The passengers on the north bank wouldn’t be able to see her clearly and if they could, they wouldn’t be able to do anything in time. She braced her hands on the top of the wall and found it was quite solid. She scrambled up and it was surprisingly easy. Balancing on the top she looked up at the sun. No more sitting out in the sunshine for her. No more anything. She was as worthless as everyone had always said and they’d all be better off without her. They’d be glad. No more horse face, no long streak of misery, no unwanted burden. She didn’t need gin now to soften the blow. Her mind was made up. This was it. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage to jump.

  ‘Alison!’ said a voice. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Right, lads, one hour’s break and those of you who are signed up for the late shift come back after that,’ said Frank Dalby, the foreman. ‘My Marian’s done a ginger cake for your tea break later so no skiving off tonight.’

  ‘Time for a swift half in between shifts, Nev?’ asked Dennis. ‘I’m goin’ for a quick one before getting ready for a big night out.’

  Neville hesitated. He was tempted, and it was Saturday after all, but he wasn’t as quick with the machinery after a drink. A half would be all right but he knew from past experience they’d buy him another, and then he’d come back and make mistakes. So far he’d got away with it but he knew Frank had his suspicions. He didn’t want to lose his overtime.