A Daughter's Disgrace (20 page)

‘How did the wedding go?’ called Joe as Hazel walked along through the market stalls. ‘Everyone admire the dress, did they? And how was the wedding night?’ he asked as she drew closer.

‘Enough of your cheek,’ said Hazel, pretending to be outraged. ‘Yes, everyone loved the frock, you done me proud. Got to dash, I’m on my lunch hour.’ She sped up and walked on, as Joe shook his head.

‘What’s got into her?’ he said aloud.

‘Thought you said she just got married,’ leered Barry from the stall opposite. ‘She’ll have had plenty into her, won’t she.’

Hazel knew they were talking about her behind her back but she ignored them. Everyone was being friendly and interested but she didn’t want to speak to any of them. Here she was, back shopping at the market, as if her special day had never happened. The only difference was all their savings were gone and they had to scrimp even more. Her fantasies about transforming the new flat into their first beautiful home had been short-lived. Most of their wages would have to go on rent and food, leaving them little to save.

She wouldn’t even be able to rely on decent cuts of meat from her sister but would have to return to the butcher’s market stall instead, to get scrag ends. Fuming, she stood in the queue, her fierce expression putting anyone off talking to her.

That hadn’t been the biggest disappointment though. Things hadn’t improved in bed. She couldn’t believe she’d spent so long saving herself for Neville only for it all to be such an anti-climax. He’d tried and failed every night since the wedding, and last night she’d lost her temper, telling him not to bother. She couldn’t believe he was getting any enjoyment out of it. She certainly wasn’t. Was this really what it was like for most people?

‘Good to see you back, Hazel,’ said the butcher. ‘Or do I say Mrs Parrot now?’

‘No need,’ said Hazel with gritted teeth. ‘A pound of that, please. And half of sausages.’

Her sister’s good fortune added to her anger. How come Alison had nearly disgraced them all and yet she’d landed in the lap of luxury when she, Hazel, had done everything right but ended up as poor as ever and with a husband who couldn’t satisfy her? It was enough to make her weep. If she wasn’t careful she might have to concede that her mother had been right after all about Neville. No, she wasn’t ready to believe that quite yet. But he was threatening to be a disappointment in every sense.

‘Penny for ’em,’ said the butcher.

Hazel realised she’d been standing staring into space and the women in the queue behind her were starting to mutter. Bloody interfering old bags, she thought, paying for her meat and then turning back towards the café. She was back to working five days a week, but sitting alone in the flat on her days off when Neville was at work only reminded her of how little money they had to spend on it. Maybe she’d go back to working the extra day. It wasn’t as if she had to sleep in after long nights of unbridled passion.

It’s early days yet, she reminded herself, you got to give it time. In one way she should be pleased; it showed that Neville hadn’t been at it with loads of other women before he met her or, worse, behind her back while they were engaged. That had happened to some girls she knew and she’d always prided herself that her Neville would never have done that. He’d never betray her. Yet now she found herself wishing that he had – at least he might have picked up a few useful tips.

She’d never admit what was happening to anyone. It was too shameful. To think that she, talked about as one of the best-looking girls in Battersea, had chosen someone who couldn’t make love to her was too painful to put into words. She deserved better than this. Life had cheated her. Meanwhile her sister was living the life of Riley with her new clothes and what sounded like a huge new flat. She had no intention of going round to visit – she was far too envious.

Head held high, Hazel strode back to the café, where at least she’d be too busy to worry about what was going on at home.

The next few weeks were too hectic for Linda to even think about how her sisters were doing. Terry had heard of a bigger house coming up and persuaded her to go to see it.

‘Isn’t it too soon?’ she’d asked him. ‘We don’t want to rush into anything.’

He’d won her round and when she caught sight of it she knew why. It wasn’t modern but it was an end of terrace, with a big garden. Whoever had had it last had installed a proper inside bathroom, for which she was glad – she wasn’t going back to outside lavs and tin baths for anyone. The kitchen was as up to date as it could be and there were gas fires in every room. Best of all there was a third big bedroom and a small box room. When she looked out from the box-room window she could see the downs in the distance.

‘Oh Terry,’ she’d said, turning to him. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking? What this could be?’

Terry didn’t have to be asked. He knew the way his wife’s mind worked. ‘It’ll be the nursery,’ he said. ‘It’s big enough for a cot and a cupboard and a comfy chair. You can sit here with June’s little brother or sister and nurse him or her and look out at the view.’ He smiled at her. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes, and June’s room all pink.’

‘Whatever you want,’ he agreed. ‘But it will have been worth it, won’t it?’

‘Don’t remind me,’ she’d muttered.

They’d never have managed to live in such a place if Terry hadn’t taken those risks, she told herself, as she cleaned up in the old kitchen for the last time. Terry hadn’t let the grass grow under his feet but had signed for the new house the day after viewing it. Now after several weeks of frantic planning, packing and organising, they were moving later that afternoon. She gazed around her kitchen with a pang of sadness. She’d thought it was luxury beyond her wildest dreams the first time she’d set foot in it. Now it seemed poky and old-fashioned in comparison to the new place. Pull yourself together, she murmured, as she finished mopping the floor. Nobody was going to be able to find fault with the way they left the house. She wouldn’t have anyone saying she was a slob.

Finally satisfied, she twisted the mop to wring the water from it and emptied the bucket into the outside drain. The floor in the new kitchen would be easier to clean too – it had beautiful checked lino tiles, freshly laid by the looks of them. She’d have to make sure her friends didn’t wear stilettos when they came to visit.

She quickly ran through the checklist she’d memorised. Boxes packed and labelled, the one with the kettle, teapot and cups on the top. June to be picked up to spend the afternoon after nursery with her best friend. Keys to be posted through the landlord’s letterbox. Last-minute items – coat, hand towel, cleaning things – to go into the big shopping bag. At last, everything was ready to go. She could sit down and take a breather, even if she couldn’t make a cup of tea.

As she sank onto the one remaining kitchen chair, she began to relax. Anything that hadn’t been done by now would just have to stay undone, she could do no more. Satisfied with her work, she sighed with pleasant exhaustion. Then the thought struck her.

When had she last had her monthlies? Before Hazel’s wedding, surely. Yes, the more she thought about it, the more definite she was. What if Terry’s prediction had come true and they had managed to conceive a baby that night on her mother’s rug, as they tried in vain to stifle their shouts of passion? The harder they’d tried to be quiet, the worse it got. She blamed the sherry. Her mother had looked at her strangely the next morning but hadn’t said anything.

Linda tutted. Here she was, getting her hopes up all over again. Don’t even think about it, she warned herself. Don’t jinx your first days in your new house. This is a fresh start – no more deliveries of dodgy boxes, no waking in the night wondering what’s in them or if they’ve been stolen. Don’t set yourself up for disappointment. Forget you’ve counted back on your fingers and worked out it’s possible.

Linda couldn’t help it though. As she went to answer the doorbell to the removal van, a little flicker of hope burst into flame in her heart. She knew she was clutching at straws but what if this time she wasn’t mistaken? What if their new life in their new home was to be blessed by a new baby?

‘Not long now,’ said Vera as she ran in through the door and pulled out a chair. ‘What are you having? Don’t suppose you can fit much in any more.’

‘Thanks a lot.’ Alison had been waiting for over fifteen minutes in the café by the station but she didn’t blame her friend. The ladies’ wear supervisor had been stricter than ever recently and had taken to keeping Vera behind to punish her for the smallest fault, real or imagined. ‘It’s worse than doing detention at school,’ Vera had scowled. ‘It’s only because she’s jealous. She’s got the hots for the head of menswear and he’s not interested. She thinks it’s cos he fancies me. It isn’t, I can tell you.’ Vera had pulled a face. ‘He’s much keener on the fellow who’s head of haberdashery but I ain’t telling her that. Let her work it out for herself.’

‘It’s good of you to come to see me,’ Vera said now, hanging her coat on the back of her chair. She began to unwrap a bright paisley scarf from her neck – it was late November and the winds were cold. ‘Aren’t you tired out?’

‘A bit,’ Alison admitted. She was completely exhausted but didn’t intend to let that stop her seeing Vera. ‘Doesn’t matter. Who knows if I’ll be able to do this for much longer? Can’t see me bringing a baby in here. It’s hard enough getting between the chairs and tables as it is.’

Vera waved at the waitress to order their usual and sat back in her chair. ‘Saw your brother-in-law the other day. He was rushing down the road and hardly had time to say hello. Not the best advert for wedded bliss, is it?’

Alison shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve only seen them when I’ve gone round to visit Mum. Fred told me I should ask them over to the flat so I did, but they haven’t come.’

‘Probably they think it’ll be too much for you now it’s so close to your time,’ said Vera generously. Alison shook her head. She knew it was much more likely to be sheer envy. Alison knew she wouldn’t be able to hide her growing contentment at the flat, with all its wonderful new fixtures and fittings, and could honestly say that she didn’t miss her old house at all. As for not seeing her sister, she was only too glad. She’d had enough of her bullying, verbal lashings and shoves and pinches to last a lifetime.

‘Have you got everything ready? Just in case it comes early?’

‘Fred’s got it all sorted out.’ Alison raised her eyebrows. ‘He won’t let me lift a finger. He’s packed a bag to take to the hospital. He’s even gone out and bought a car, one that’s big enough to let me push the seat back. He parks it in the yard and all the delivery lorries have to make do as best they can.’

‘Thought you said you weren’t working any more?’ asked Vera.

‘I’m not. Fred stopped me weeks ago, said it was too much for me. I watch it all happening from the back window. I tell you, if he could have this baby for me, he would. I knew he was generous but I hadn’t realised quite how far he’d go. He’s got a list of all the things to buy once it’s here, although he won’t do so until the birth in case it brings bad luck.’

‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’ Vera looked approving. ‘Most men disappear at the very mention of a baby.’

‘It’s just as well. I wish I could disappear. He’s going to be far better at all this than I am.’ Alison gazed at the ceiling, suddenly wanting to cry. She usually tried not to admit this to herself and here she was, coming out with it in the middle of a crowded café, windows steaming up, draughts spiralling through every time someone opened or shut the door. ‘What if the baby looks like Paul, Vera? What’ll I do then? Every time I see it I’ll think of … you know. What he did that night. I won’t be able to hold it, I’ll want to throw it away. What if I hurt it? I’m meant to love it, aren’t I? What if I can’t? I don’t think I’ll be able to manage to. And then all those things I’ll have to do – what if I get it wrong? How am I meant to know what to do? I won’t exactly have Mum rushing round to show me, and Linda’s too far away, and she’s just moved house.’ She gave a small sob, only just catching herself in time.

‘Stop it.’ Vera’s voice was firm. ‘You stop that right now. Stop getting yourself all het up. That won’t do you no good. Nobody knows what to do when their first baby comes, that’s what my auntie Beryl said. Deep down everyone’s frightened. They still cope though. You just get on with it. Don’t start worrying about what might never happen.’

‘Linda never said that.’

‘Why would Linda say that? You were only a girl when she had June. And, not being funny or nothing, I wouldn’t admit anything was wrong in front of your mum or Hazel if I could help it. I bet Linda’s the same.’

‘No, you’re right, she’d never hear the end of it.’ Alison grew calmer. ‘I don’t know, I’m all over the place at the moment. It’s sitting around all day with nothing to do when I’m used to running round the shop. Too much time to think.’

‘Well, make the most of it cos you won’t have that for much longer.’ Vera smiled as their order arrived. ‘And enough of your miserable face. If this is going to be one of our last visits to the café for a bit, we’re damn well going to enjoy it. If you’re not going to finish that, I’ll have it.’ She speared the end of Alison’s vanilla slice before her friend had had a chance to start.

‘You will come and visit, won’t you?’ Alison was suddenly seized with fear that she’d lose contact with Vera. All at once she realised how much she’d come to rely on her good advice and irreverent attitude. Of all the people she might have ended up making friends with, Vera was the least likely – and yet now she couldn’t do without her. ‘Fred said you’d be welcome any time. Promise you’ll come.’

‘Try and keep me away.’ Vera put down her fork. ‘Don’t be daft, of course I’ll come round. I want to see Fred change a nappy for a start. Might sell the story to the papers and make my fortune. You could rent him out to all the tired mothers of Battersea.’ She reached out and took Alison’s hand. ‘And as for the rest, we’ll take it as it comes, won’t we? That’s what we’ve done so far. So let’s carry on.’