A Daughter's Ruin

by Kitty Neale

  She would never forgive Albie for the way he treated her, or the lies that rolled so easily off his tongue, but she was a little happier now. He was still more out of the house than at home, but that suited her, and Dora was kinder. True to his word he was giving her five pounds a week and she was saving as much of it as she could.

  It was a lovely sunny day as she walked down the road to the bus stop, pleased that she didn’t have long to wait for a double-decker to arrive. Soon, Connie alighted at the market, and from there it wasn’t far to Ethel’s flat. Mary opened the door to let her in, and Constance drew in a deep breath, dreading what she had to do.

  ‘Hello, love,’ Ethel greeted. ‘Albie not back yet then?’

  Constance took a seat and, head bowed, she said, ‘He hasn’t been away.’

  ‘What? In that case, why hasn’t he been to see me again?’

  Constance had decided to tell Ethel the whole truth and it all came tumbling out now: her sham of a marriage, her trying to leave Albie, and his emotional blackmail to persuade her to stay. She watched the range of emotions that ran across Ethel’s face, her surprise, her shock, her disappointment, and almost in tears she said, ‘Oh, Ethel, I’m so sorry. I wish now I hadn’t told you.’

  ‘Sorry! You ain’t got nothing to be sorry about and I’m glad you’ve spilled the beans. When Albie found out what I’d done, I could understand why he didn’t want anything more to do with me, but I still love him and always will. However, he’s not the young man I thought he was, a lovable but kind rogue. Instead, from what you’ve told me, he’s a nasty piece of work and I’m not surprised you want to leave him. As for coming to see me, well, if he walked through this door right now, I’d tell him to get out.’

  ‘Oh, Ethel, you don’t mean that.’

  ‘Yes, I do. I’m ashamed and disappointed in him. I never want to set eyes on him again. Now come on, dry those tears and Mary can make us all a nice cup of tea. The cure for all ills, they say, and though I don’t know about that, a nice cuppa certainly cheers me up.’

  Mary grinned, and said, ‘I dish out lots of tea in the café and it’s always cheerful in there.’

  ‘It certainly is. Those stall-holders are a cheery bunch and so is Percy. It makes for a nice atmosphere,’ Ethel said.

  ‘Are you back at work, Mary?’ asked Constance.

  ‘Not yet, but I’ll be starting part-time hours on Monday. Percy has sorted cover for the rest of my shift.’

  ‘He’s a good bloke,’ Ethel said, ‘and you don’t want to keep him hanging about for too long. If you do, someone after a good catch is bound to come along and snap him up.’

  ‘I dunno, Ethel. I still think he’s too old for me.’

  Constance listened to this exchange, wondering if Ethel was putting on a front. She couldn’t believe that she didn’t want to see Albie again, yet she’d appeared adamant. She wished she too didn’t have to set eyes on Albie either, but for now she had no choice. She’d just have to keep saving and maybe one day a way to leave him would present itself. She hoped that it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

  Dora knew that Connie had gone to see Ethel, and her stomach churned. There had been a moment when, hearing that her mother she was gravely ill, she’d been tempted to go and visit her, but that moment soon passed. She couldn’t forgive her and, dead or alive, she doubted she ever would. She sat at her station in the paint factory, watching white emulsion fill the tins, until her reverie was broken by one of the women.

  ‘Here, Dora,’ Winnie called. ‘My Wendy had got one of those miniskirt things that are all the rage. I told her it’s far too short, but she won’t listen to me. It’s at times like this that I wish my Ernie was still alive. He’d have sorted her out.’

  Dora forced her mind away from her mother and said, ‘Yeah, I’ve seen some girls wearing them and if you ask me, they’re asking for trouble. Talk about flaunting what you’ve got, but no doubt my Albie enjoys ogling girls wearing them.’

  Winnie chuckled. ‘He’s a married man now so as long as he only looks and don’t touch …’

  ‘Yeah,’ Dora responded, wondering if that was all Albie did. He was out every evening, and could be up to anything. She just hoped he was behaving himself. The baby was due in about a month, so maybe that would make a difference and encourage him to settle down. She hoped so – hoped he’d be a good father, but he’d never had one as an example. Her mother had seen to that, Dora thought, and once again she hardened her heart against her.

  ‘Constance, your feet are badly swollen,’ Ethel observed. ‘You should put them up.’

  ‘Yeah, Ethel, they look worse than yours,’ Mary agreed.

  ‘How long have you got to go now?’ Ethel asked.

  ‘About four weeks.’

  ‘Babies can come a bit early, or late, and I don’t think you should do much travelling from now on.’

  ‘I know, but I love coming to see you.’

  ‘It won’t be for long, and soon you’ll be bringing my great-grandchild to see me. Oh, and by the way, I’ve made a little something for you,’ Ethel said, handing Constance a gift.

  Constance unfolded the material to find it was a pram blanket. Her eyes lit up as she said, ‘Oh, Ethel, it’s lovely. Thank you so much. To be honest, I’ll be glad when the baby is born. I feel like a whale, I can’t sit or lie comfortably and oh, the indigestion.’

  ‘Never mind, love, it’ll soon be over.’

  Constance smiled fondly at Ethel. She meant so much to her and she’d dreaded upsetting her. She wished now she’d found a lie instead of telling her the truth about Albie. Yet what could she have come up with, every time she came to see Ethel, to explain why Albie wasn’t with her? It would have meant continually making excuses, and after a while Ethel would have seen through them.

  With a sigh Constance rose to her feet. She’d been there for two hours now and with the journey home to face, she said, ‘I’m afraid it’s time for me to leave.’

  ‘All right, love. It’s been lovely seeing you. Now take care and rest up until that baby arrives.’

  ‘I will,’ Constance promised. She was already finding it difficult to stay on her feet for long, and between household chores she had to sit for a while. She leaned over and kissed Ethel on her cheek, and then gave Mary a hug which was returned with vigour. It was nice to show and receive affection, something that was lacking in Kibble Street.

  After the sunny start to the day, it was drizzling as Constance walked to the bus stop, but again thankfully a bus soon pulled up and she sat on the nearest available seat. Her mind drifted during the journey, her thoughts turning to her father. She knew it would take a long time to save enough to be able to leave Albie, and wondered again if she should ask her father to let her return home.

  When the bus pulled up at her stop, Constance rose to her feet, allowing an elderly man with a cane to walk ahead of her. When they stood each side of the open platform he stepped down, and Constance did the same on the other side, but the man stumbled, his cane rising up to catch Constance on her ankle, tripping her.

  Constance felt herself tipping forward, and unable to stop she landed heavily on the wet pavement. Despite feeling dazed, she was aware of the bus pulling away. The elderly man seemed unaware of her plight and hobbled away, leaving her alone. Then an agonising pain ripped through her stomach. She cried out, frightened, but then heard a man’s soft voice.

  ‘It’s all right. You’ll be OK. Someone has gone to the telephone box to call an ambulance. Try to lie still until it arrives.’

  ‘My … my baby.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll soon be in safe hands,’ he said, and taking off his jacket he laid it under her head. ‘My name is Melvin Nelson, and I know you. You live next door to my mum, Ivy.’

  ‘You … you’re Ivy’s son? I … I don’t think I’ve seen you before,’ Constance said as she looked up at him. Melvin was nothing to look at, but he had a wonderfully kind smile.

  ‘I keep myself to myself,’ he
said.

  Another pain ripped through Constance, making her cry out again. Melvin held her hand, soothing her until at last it passed. ‘My mum always talks about the pain when she was having me, and I can see what she went through now. Mind you, she says I’m still a pain.’

  Constance appreciated his attempt at joviality and managed a small smile. ‘I doubt that.’

  She was so frightened, so worried about the baby, but Melvin continued to reassure her until at last there was the sound of an ambulance bell, growing closer, and then it drew alongside them.

  ‘You’ll be all right now,’ Melvin said softly.

  ‘Thank you so much for helping me. Will … will you tell my husband what has happened?’

  ‘Yeah, of course I will.’

  Constance let go of his hand as she was lifted into the ambulance. The doors were closed and she could no longer see Melvin. She felt very alone.

  Much later, in the labour room, she was aware of Albie and Dora arriving. Albie didn’t stay in the room for long, saying he’d wait outside, but Dora remained with words of encouragement, until everything was blotted out by pain and the overwhelming urge to push her baby into the world. She was vaguely aware of Dora being told to leave the room, but then, six hours after falling off a bus, Constance gave birth to a baby boy.

  Albie paced the corridor until he and his mother were at last allowed back in. He was handed the baby, a nurse saying softly, ‘It’s a boy. You have a son.’

  ‘Oh, Albie, he’s gorgeous.’

  Albie couldn’t agree with his mother. To him the baby looked wizened, but he felt a surge of something as he held him. His son, something he’d never expected to have.

  Connie said weakly, ‘He arrived a little early, but he’s fine, if small at just six pounds. I … I’d like to call him Melvin.’

  ‘Leave it out,’ Albie said. ‘I know you told Mum he helped you a bit, but there’s no need to do that. I want him to be named after my father, William. Billy for short.’

  ‘Oh, Albie, that’s lovely,’ his mother said, her eyes filling with tears of emotion. ‘Can I hold him?’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Albie said, handing him gingerly over.

  ‘I suppose William is all right, and I’d prefer that to Billy,’ Connie said, looking and sounding exhausted.

  Albie had expected her to protest, but could see that the birth had taken a lot out of her, and then his mother said, ‘Now that he’s here, perhaps you’ll be at home more often.’

  Albie looked at his son in his mother’s arms, his thoughts all over the place. He loved the life he had now, his trips to Soho, and his latest conquest whose tastes matched his own. He didn’t want his freedom curtailed and knew he’d have to find a way to make sure it wasn’t. It was then that a thought struck him. He’d been offered a bar job in his favourite club in Soho, but as it would mean working until the early hours he’d turned it down. Now though, it could be perfect, but a lot depended on how his lovely new brunette would feel about it.

  With Connie in hospital for over a week, he’d go to the club after dropping his mother off at home. He’d find out if it was feasible and if it was, he’d contrive the perfect excuse for being out nearly every night of the week.

  ‘Albie, it’s ten-thirty and I think we should leave now. From the look of her, Connie needs to get some sleep and this little fella is out for the count too,’ Dora said as she gently put the baby into his hospital crib.

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ he agreed, glad to go. He forced himself to give Connie a kiss on the cheek, but she was almost out of it.

  ‘Bye, Connie,’ said his mother. ‘We’ll see you and the baby again tomorrow.’

  Connie lifted her arm in a weak wave and then as her eyes closed they left. His mother was full of the baby on the drive home, going on and on about how gorgeous he was and how she couldn’t wait to see him again the next day. Albie barely listened as she prattled, his mind on how his idea would be received. He pulled up outside their house in Kibble Street. ‘I’m going for a drink to wet the baby’s head.’

  ‘What! At this time of night? Surely the pubs are closing.’

  ‘Yeah, pubs, but I’m going to a club. I’ll try not to wake you when I come home.’

  ‘All right. At least I haven’t got work in the morning,’ his mother said as she got out of the car.

  When the passenger door closed again Albie drove off, keen to get to Soho. The doorman recognised him and let him in to the exclusive club without question. It was packed, couples clinging to each other on the dance floor, and his eyes searched the room. There was his brunette, sitting at the bar, a hand raised to wave and a welcoming smile.

  ‘Darling, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to turn up.’

  ‘Sorry, I had a bit of urgent business. What are you having?’ Albie asked.

  ‘Champagne, of course. You know I always have champagne.’

  Yes, he knew, and so did his wallet, Albie thought as he ordered a bottle. He poured two glasses and then said, ‘Can we find a quiet spot to talk?’

  ‘Of course.’

  They found a spot in a side room, where more couples were sitting talking, but there was a booth free at the back. Albie waited until they were seated and then said, ‘Marcos has offered me a job behind the bar. It’ll mean working from eight in the evening until around three in the morning, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to take it.’

  After a few moments of thought the answer came. ‘Darling, of course I don’t mind. I can sit at the bar and watch you work, with the advantage of knowing exactly where you are. When you finish work we can go back to my place and I’ll have you all to myself.’

  Albie smiled. Perfect. He’d already come up with a lie for his mother and Connie to cover his being out all night six times a week.

  Chapter 28

  ‘Cook wants to know what you’d like for lunch, Charlie.’

  Charles Burton Blake ground his teeth. He’d been down in the dumps, lonely and desperate for a bit of comfort when he’d taken Janet, his cleaner, to his bed. However, he had no intentions of making her his permanent mistress – he’d learned his lesson with Jessica, or Daisy as she called herself now, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. Jessica had cost him a pretty penny and if Janet thought she could fleece him too, she was going to be disappointed. ‘You will address me as Mr Burton Blake, or sir. Do not call me Charlie again.’

  ‘All right, keep your hair on, sir. Have I got to call you that in bed too?’

  ‘Just get out and tell Cook I’ll have an omelette,’ Charles growled.

  As Janet scurried off he walked over to the window, looking out onto the common. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was lonely, and if the truth be told he would be tempted to allow his daughter to come home, if she asked him. However, soon there would be a baby too and he doubted if he could stand the sight of Albie’s offspring, even though it would be his grandchild. It would be a constant reminder of the baby’s scoundrel of a father, and the way he’d persuaded him to part with his money. Bad blood, the child would have the father’s tainted blood and he didn’t want it in his house.

  Despite it being mid-May, a light drizzle was falling, the vista outside bleak and matching his mood. He had a sudden wish for blue sky and sunshine, and realised that there was nothing to stop him from having a holiday. The Mediterranean beckoned, or maybe further afield, somewhere in the Far East perhaps. If he chose to, he could be away for at least six months, or even longer, and that could kill two birds with one stone. He’d close up the house, get rid of the staff and replace them on his return. He smiled sardonically. It would be a pleasure to see the look on that presumptuous cleaner’s face when he sacked her.

  With his mind made up, Charles went to his library to find some travel books. He’d peruse them after lunch and meticulously plan his trip. Italy, maybe, or Spain, a country he’d only visited briefly. He could hire a car to explore the wonderful architecture in Barcelona, Madrid and Gran
ada, then spend some time on the coast. Following that he could drive on to Portugal to take a look at the Algarve, before eventually returning home.

  Charles pulled out several books, deciding not to make his mind up yet, and when Janet served his lunch, he hardly acknowledged her.

  ‘I didn’t think Albie would be happy working night shifts in a factory, but he seems fine.’ Dora said.

  ‘Yes, he does,’ Constance agreed. She couldn’t say it to Dora, but she was glad that Albie had taken the job. It meant he was out all night, and when he came home in the morning, he slept till around four in the afternoon. He’d seemed taken with William when he’d been born, but since then he hadn’t shown much interest in his son, barely taking any notice of him. Dora said a lot of men were like that, only getting involved when the baby started to sit, crawl and then walk.

  She moved William to her other breast, her heart swelling with love as she looked down on him suckling. There had been a time when she had wanted to rip him from her stomach, but now he had become her whole world. She’d only been home for a few days, but hoped to take William to see Ethel and Mary next week. They had no idea that he’d come early, and probably thought she was still waiting for the birth.

  Dora went into the kitchen to see to the Sunday roast, while Constance finished feeding William and laid him against her shoulder to wind him. It didn’t take long, he was such an easy baby to care for, and now she just had to change his nappy.

  ‘Give him here, I’ll do it,’ Dora said as she returned to the room, reaching out for her grandson.

  Constance didn’t mind. With Dora at work all week, she mostly had the baby to herself so could hardly begrudge her mother-in-law wanting to monopolise him during the weekend. She stood up and went to the window, hoping to see Melvin emerging from next door. She wanted to thank him again for helping her; his kind, gentle manner had been so comforting. He’d said he kept himself to himself so she turned and said to Dora, ‘I can’t believe I’d never seen Ivy’s son before. He was so kind to me when I was lying in pain on the ground, and as it was raining I should think his jacket was ruined.’