A Daughter's Disgrace

by Kitty Neale

  It didn’t help that they couldn’t hold Hazel’s funeral until the post-mortem had been completed and then they had to wait for all the paperwork to be sorted out before the body could be released. Cora was totally incapable of making any decisions, and Linda was still in hospital, too ill with her high blood pressure to be asked what she thought should happen. So it fell to Alison and Fred to arrange everything. Of course Hazel had never said what she wanted for such an occasion, and Alison felt out of her depth trying to imagine what her sister might have approved of. Fred decided it would be best to play it safe and be very traditional. They didn’t feel anyone would be able to face the funeral in the same church where Hazel had married Neville, so with much sadness they opted for a service at a different one.

  When the sad day arrived, it was a sombre procession to the church and, unlike Hazel’s wedding, there were no bright flowers decorating the pews this time – just the spray of white lilies on top of Hazel’s coffin. It wasn’t a huge gathering, just some of Hazel’s friends and her workmates from the café, along with a few market traders who had known her.

  Alison fought back tears. She had suffered at Hazel’s hand, but now that her sister had gone, all she could feel was grief.

  Cora had closed in on herself. She felt distant, barely aware of being in the church or of the service, but when the curtain closed around Hazel’s coffin to take her for cremation, her feelings returned. She felt a well of anguish rising. Sobs racked her body, and though she felt Alison trying to take her hand, she wrenched it away. Fred put an arm around her shoulder and gently urged her to her feet before leading her outside the church. He led her over to where the flowers lay, but she didn’t want to look at them or read the accompanying cards with condolence messages. She just wanted to go home – to be left alone to grieve.

  ‘Fred, I want to go home,’ she said, her voice strangled.

  Thankfully, he led her to the black limousine, and as he held the door for her, she was aware of Alison getting in behind her. She didn’t want Alison. She wanted Hazel and closed her eyes rather than look at her youngest child.

  When they arrived at her house, Cora refused any offers of company, adamant that she would be better off on her own. With a gathering of Hazel’s friends due at the flat for tea and sandwiches, Alison had to let her have her way, but she was far from happy about it.

  The only good thing to happen was that the results of the post-mortem came out. It was highly likely that Hazel had not been killed by the knife wounds but had died instantly from a blow to the head. Neville had been overcome with remorse during his imprisonment but still couldn’t remember what had happened that night. He was distraught at Hazel’s death, and wasn’t interested if he himself lived or died. He didn’t care that he wasn’t going to be sentenced to be hanged for murder, and would be facing a lesser charge. For Alison and Vera, though, this was a relief. He’d done an unspeakable thing in causing his wife’s death, but they also knew what Hazel was like, and how she could make someone’s life hell. However, Cora, when she said anything about it at all, still referred to him as ‘that murderer’.

  At least that meant Cora was drinking something, Alison thought one afternoon in early June as she collected the latest batch of mouldy cups and washed them in boiling water. There was a funny smell in the kitchen and she traced it to some beef that had gone off. It was worse than offal, she decided, as she gingerly threw it into the rubbish and set the bin outside. She glanced around the small yard, only to find her mother hadn’t put the rubbish into the alley for collection and it too was stinking in the tiny backyard. Grimly she tidied up some of it that had spilt, trying not to think about rats, and counted on her fingers what day it was. Tomorrow was bin day so at least she could get rid of this lot. ‘Mum, you have to bring the dustbin in tomorrow,’ she called. ‘Promise me you will.’

  Cora grunted in what sounded like reluctant agreement.

  But the next afternoon when Alison went round, Cora had forgotten or hadn’t bothered. There was also an unpleasant smell coming from upstairs.

  ‘Here, where do you think you’re going?’ Cora protested as Alison ran into her bedroom.

  ‘Mum! You haven’t washed your clothes, have you? There’s a big pile here.’

  Cora set her face. ‘So what? There’s no one to see except you, and you don’t count. Mind your own business, this is my home and I’ll do what I want.’

  Pulling a face, Alison gathered the dirty clothes into a bag and carried them downstairs. ‘I’ll do them. Fred’s got me a new washing machine.’

  ‘Of course he has.’ Cora looked at her daughter with disgust. ‘Got everything, you have. God forbid you have to work at anything.’

  Alison bit her lip, not replying that she’d been on her feet in the shop since half past seven. She remembered how, even when they were at their poorest, her mother had never sent them out in dirty clothes. She’d taken in washing for years and would have been ashamed to send her daughters out in anything but the cleanest things, even if they were hand-me-downs and patched and worn.

  ‘He’s put up a new clothesline for me in the backyard as well. We’ve rearranged it to give us somewhere to sit out and for David to play, now summer’s almost here. You’ll have to come round and see it.’ Alison thought that might do the trick – she might want to visit her grandson.

  Cora wasn’t interested. ‘Very nice, I’m sure. Now you’ll want to be getting back to them, I dare say. Don’t let me keep you.’ She practically bundled Alison out of the door.

  Fred was pacing around the kitchen when she got back, with David crying on his shoulder. ‘He just started when we came up,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him but he doesn’t need changing or feeding.’

  ‘Here, let me.’ Alison reached out for the little boy. It was strange how natural this felt now. ‘Maybe he just wants a good cry. I know how he feels.’ She rocked him up and down and he snuffled against her hair. ‘Honestly, Mum’s getting worse, not better.’

  ‘Ah, well.’ Fred looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t want to make things even worse but I had better tell you. Just after you left, her boss came in. He’s not very happy.’

  ‘What did he want?’ Alison felt a sense of dread.

  ‘He wanted you or me to take a message to Cora. He doesn’t want to go round there himself. She hasn’t been to work since … since Hazel died, so he’s given her the sack.’

  ‘Oh no.’ If she was honest Alison knew this was coming but she’d hoped her mother would get better and go back to the job she’d enjoyed so much. ‘Then how will she pay the rent? She hasn’t got any savings. Did you ask him to think again?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Fred. ‘But as a business owner I have to say he’s got a point. He’s had to take on someone new. Your mum won’t like it.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Beryl. Winnie Jewell’s sister. She jumped at the chance apparently. She’s moved to a new flat after all the trouble first with the Lannings and then with Hazel and Neville, and it’s even closer to the newsagent’s. Her new neighbour will take her children to school and she’ll be finished in time to pick them up. She’s already started and the paperboys love her.’

  Alison groaned. ‘I’ll talk to Mum again when I take her laundry back, but a fat lot of good it’ll do. She’s in no state to get herself another job. Oh, now, now, don’t start crying again.’ She began to walk around, trying to comfort the baby. ‘He’s usually so good. I hope he’s not going to start doing this a lot. What’ll we do in the shop?’

  Fred went over and gave them both a hug. ‘It’ll pass. We’ll worry about that if we need to. Got enough on our plates at the moment as it is.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ Yet she knew David wouldn’t stay quietly in the back room for much longer. They’d have to come up with something soon. For the moment, though, Fred was right – they had enough on their plates.

  It took Alison quite a while to persuade Cora to open the door the
next day, even though she had the bag of clean laundry with her. Alison tried to reason with her mother through the letterbox, aware that several of the neighbours were watching from behind their curtains. Just what Cora wouldn’t want. ‘Open up, Mum, they’re all looking and you’ll get a reputation,’ Alison called, crouching down to call through the slit. That worked. There was the sound of a key turning and Cora stood there, her expression stony. ‘Come on then, don’t just stoop there.’

  Alison followed her in, dragging the heavy bag. ‘Here you are, all fresh and ironed. What’s this?’ She almost tripped over a pile of paper, pushed to the side of the door. ‘Oh, Mum, it’s your post. You haven’t been opening it, have you?’

  Cora threw her a look. ‘Why would I? Nobody’s got anything good to say.’ She turned her back and went through to the kitchen.

  Alison flicked through the envelopes, opening them and growing more anxious as she did so. ‘Lots are letters of condolence, Mum.’

  ‘I don’t want them.’

  ‘Well, I’ll keep them in case you do later. Hang on, what’s this?’ She reread the final letter. ‘Oh Mum. Looks like you’ve got behind with your rent.’

  ‘What if I have?’

  ‘But this isn’t the first letter from the landlord. What did you do with that? Did you read it?’

  Cora stood in the kitchen doorway and shrugged. ‘Can’t remember. I might have burnt it.’

  ‘Mum! This is serious. You’ll get evicted.’ Alison did her best to stop her voice from rising. ‘You’ve got, let’s see, three days to pay the back rent or you’re out. Mum! Listen to me.’ Cora had wandered into the kitchen. ‘You haven’t got the money, have you? And you won’t be getting any in, because you haven’t been going to work. Mum, look at me. You haven’t got a job any more. Your boss came round and told Fred he’s had to take on somebody else.’

  For a moment Cora showed a spark of interest. ‘Who?’

  ‘Beryl, Winnie’s sister.’

  ‘Oh, her.’ Cora turned away again. ‘Good luck to her. She’ll need it. People coming by and pestering you all the time. Winnie will be pleased. That bloody family.’

  ‘Steady on, Mum,’ Alison protested. ‘Vera’s my friend.’

  ‘Might have known it.’ Cora sounded triumphant. ‘A right pair you make. Well, you’ve said your piece. Time for you to go.’

  Alison couldn’t keep the despair from her voice. ‘Mum, haven’t you been listening? You’re going to be evicted and you haven’t got a job to pay any rent. What are you going to do?’

  Cora shrugged again. ‘Sleep on the street. What does it matter?’

  ‘But you love this house. We’ve lived here for as long as I can remember. You said it made you feel closer to Hazel. Linda told me.’

  ‘Well, I was wrong,’ said Cora. ‘That was just after she died, but I don’t feel like that now. I might have been a bit crazy then. I know she’s not here any more, God love her. Not here nor anywhere else. So it doesn’t matter where I go. Anyway, what’s going on with Linda? She ain’t been round for ages.’

  ‘Mum, you know she’s in hospital,’ Alison sighed. ‘I told you. She’s got high blood pressure and they’re worried she’ll lose the baby. So she’s there until it comes down again, or the baby’s born. You know that already.’ She didn’t mention the car crash. Terry had rung to tell them what had happened but asked them to keep quiet about the accident as there was no point in upsetting Cora any further.

  ‘So she is.’ Cora lost interest in that as well. ‘Right, time you were off. There’s nothing you can do here.’

  Alison cried all the way back to Falcon Road and had to pretend it was hay fever when an old neighbour stopped her. When she got back home, Fred rushed to her as soon as he saw how distraught she was. He held her hand as she gulped out what had happened in the little house which had been the only home she’d known as a child. ‘And the worst thing is, Mum doesn’t seem to care, not about anything. Not losing her job, the house, Linda being ill, nothing. I don’t know what to do.’

  Fred rubbed his forehead. He’d never come across anything like it. It was so far from the Cora he knew, the proud fighter with a scathing tongue, and before that the young woman full of hope and life, yet was it surprising when she’d lost a daughter? ‘Do you think …’ he began, but then a wail came from the back bedroom. ‘Sorry, love, he’s been like this more or less since you left. I thought he’d gone quiet at last but there he is again.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Alison, glad that at least here was somebody she could do something for.

  ‘As soon as I finish up and close the shop, we’ll take him for a walk,’ Fred suggested. ‘We can have our dinner after that.’

  ‘Yes, all right,’ Alison agreed as she hurried to see to David, lifting him tenderly into her arms. To think she had once rejected him. It didn’t seem possible when she loved him so much now.

  At least if she kept going all day she fell asleep easily. She dreaded lying awake with all the worries flying around her head.

  As soon as Fred closed the shop, David was tucked into the big Silver Cross pram and they set off along Falcon Road. Slowly the trundling along did its work and David grew quiet, leaving Fred to start putting his thoughts into words. ‘I was just wondering,’ he said. ‘Maybe it would help if your mum felt needed. She’s sat there all day, doing nothing, and now someone else is even doing her job at the shop. It’s not like her to give up. She could have done that when Jack died but she didn’t, because she had you three to look after.’

  Alison stopped for a moment. ‘Yes, I can see that, yet she always said that she wished I hadn’t come along, but maybe I was good for something, after all. Funny, isn’t it?’ Before Fred could comment David let out another yell. ‘Oh no, do you suppose he’s teething? But isn’t it too soon?’

  Fred knotted his brow. ‘He could be. That book said they usually start at six months and that’s not so far off now. If that’s the case we aren’t going to get many quiet days in the shop.’

  She looked at him. ‘Well, that’s the answer, isn’t it? If only she’ll agree, we could ask her to come round to care for him while we’re working.’

  ‘In fact,’ said Fred carefully, not wanting to push things too far, ‘what would make sense is if she moved in and looked after him that way. Then you could do more with the business. I’d love it if you did. It could do with your new ideas and you enjoy all the work behind the scenes. We’re a team, we need to work together. How about it?’

  Alison nodded slowly. Not long ago if anyone had made that suggestion she would have panicked, hating the very thought of being under the same roof as her mother once more. But things were different now; she was a different person, and she knew how much help her mother needed. However she knew what Cora’s answer would be. ‘I’ve asked her to come to us before, Fred. When it all happened and several times since. I’ve given up trying. We’ve got room, she’d be close to her friends and everything she knows. She won’t have it.’ She gulped again, holding tight to the pram handle. ‘I don’t know how to get her to change her mind.’

  Fred rubbed her back. ‘Come on, keep moving, that’ll send him to sleep if we walk for long enough. You know, maybe it would help if I went round instead. Tell you what, give me your door key in case she objects.’

  ‘Would you, Fred? That might make a difference. But careful if you let yourself in, she really doesn’t like it. I tried it once and thought she was going to hit me. Try to get her to let you in. It might take a while but it’ll be easier in the long run.’

  Fred smiled. ‘I always take your advice, Alison. You know that.’ He turned the pram to the left. ‘Let’s go down this way. I like the winding old lanes.’ He steered them down the narrow street, and before long they found themselves facing St Mary’s. There was the graceful spire with the clock. ‘Look where we are. Do you remember …’

  Alison blushed. ‘I try not to. Whatever was I thinking of?’ She took his arm. ‘I’m glad I didn’t ju
mp. You saved me, Fred, me and David.’

  ‘Well …’ Fred was blushing as well. ‘Maybe I knew I loved you then. I just didn’t want to admit it.’

  ‘I’m glad you did.’ She sighed and met his eyes. ‘Now look what we’ve got. How well things have worked out for us. All because you came along at the right time and saved me.’ She turned and looked out to the river and her lip trembled. ‘Fred, do you think you can save my mum as well?’

  Fred drew up in the car around the corner from Ennis Street. He didn’t want his arrival to cause a fuss but he had every intention of driving Cora back in it, as long as she agreed to come. Somehow he had to persuade her. Alison had such faith in him that he couldn’t let her down. He thought that Cora had more loyalty from her youngest daughter than she deserved. Then he remembered what Cora had been like as a young woman and how life had dealt her such bitter blows. No wonder she’d finally given up.

  He walked with purpose to the shabby front door, fingering the key in his pocket. It looked as if someone was moving into the house across the road, once the home of the Parrots. He wondered if they knew the history of the family who’d lived there. If they didn’t now, they would soon enough. He gathered his courage and knocked. Nothing happened.

  ‘Cora,’ he called, ‘it’s me, Fred. I know you’re in there. Come on, open up.’

  He waited a few moments and knocked again. ‘I’m not going away without seeing you, Cora. So don’t think you can hide from me.’ Still nothing happened.

  He was going to have to let himself in after all. With Alison’s warning ringing in his head, he brought out the key and was just going to insert it when the door was flung open.

  ‘What are they doing back?’ Cora hissed.

  ‘What?’ Fred was totally taken aback but then he realised what she meant. ‘It’s not the same people, Cora. They’re new. They’re just moving in. Shall we talk inside?’

  Cora turned abruptly and he followed her in. Even though Alison had told him about the state of the place it still came as a shock. Cora herself was nothing but a stick, with wild hair and bright eyes boring into him. ‘What do you want, then, Fred Chapman?’ Her expression was hostile.