A Daughter's Disgrace (25 page)

Dennis wandered in, late but not bothering to hide it. ‘Lucky for some of us that manage both. Talking of good looks, what’s happened to young Neville’s? He’s fallen over a lot of steps lately.’

Frank turned round. ‘Just going through a clumsy phase.’

‘Oh come off it, Frank, you don’t believe that,’ said Bill. ‘He was never like this before. What, as soon as he marries Hazel he can’t stand on his own two feet? Not a great advertisement for married life, is it?’

‘Maybe he’s too tired,’ sniggered Dennis. ‘He’s been trying out all them things I suggested and can’t stand up straight after. Don’t blame him. Even I get tired sometimes and God knows I’ve had plenty of practice.’

He picked up his overall and sauntered off to the machines.

Frank stared after him. ‘Well, maybe that’s what it is.’

Bill looked at his boss. He knew him well enough to be able to tell when he was keeping something back, even if he didn’t always realise what it was. ‘What are you really thinking, Frank? You got that look on your face that means something’s up.’

Frank shrugged, reluctant to voice his suspicions. Sometimes it was hard being the eldest at the factory, knowing what he did of life, surrounded by all the young men with their confidence that nothing bad would ever befall them. Neville, now there was a lad who wouldn’t hurt anyone, and yet he sensed there was something going badly wrong there. He didn’t want to spell it out. No man would want to admit he’d been beaten up by his wife – he’d be a laughing stock and would never be able to hold his head up with pride again. If Bill couldn’t read the signs, he wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

‘I’m not thinking anything,’ he said now, adjusting his overall and putting his pen away. ‘Just … we better keep an eye on him, make sure he’s all right. Don’t want him to have any worse accidents, do we?’

‘What, do you think he’s ill?’ Bill was suddenly concerned. It had all been a bit of a game before, his mate doing something as stupid as falling over twice in quick succession. He hadn’t seriously thought anything was up.

‘I’m sure he isn’t,’ said Frank hastily. Now he’d made it worse as Bill had got the wrong end of the stick. ‘No, of course he isn’t. He’s as healthy as they come. I’m just saying, let’s hope he doesn’t have any more near misses. We don’t have to make a song and dance about it.’

‘All right,’ said Bill, still feeling he was missing something. ‘I’ll ask the others, shall I?’

‘No,’ said Frank instantly. Then he corrected himself. ‘I mean, no need. We don’t want to make a fuss, we just agreed that. You’re his friend, you keep it to yourself.’ Bill nodded, still looking baffled, and moved off to start work.

Frank put his paperwork away and sighed. The last thing he wanted was for Nobby to get wind of this. The man worked hard, he’d give him that, but there was something about him he didn’t quite trust. He didn’t think he was dangerous, but he seemed to enjoy undermining Neville and Hazel whenever he got the chance. If ever he got to hear about this, heaven knows what he would do.

Cora was thrilled at Linda’s news and couldn’t wait to see her eldest daughter again. Now that the family had moved to a bigger house she had high hopes of an invitation to spend Christmas with them but none was forthcoming. Linda had explained why they wouldn’t be coming back up to Battersea for the day either, as they’d only just been and she was beginning to feel tired. ‘You know what it’s like, Mum,’ she had confided as they were leaving Fred and Alison’s flat. ‘And on top of that we’ve still got lots to sort out in the new place, plus June keeps me run ragged. I’m not complaining but I’ll be glad of the rest. I might even get Terry to learn how to roast vegetables.’

Terry had smiled at that; in his world, the women did the cooking and the men brought home the wage packet. He wasn’t going to trim any Brussels sprouts. Neither did he want his nosy mother-in-law poking around his business.

In the run-up to Christmas Day, Hazel had forced herself to be calm and not lash out any more, worried about what people would think if they saw any more evidence. She and Neville had come to an uneasy truce, which lasted as long as he didn’t try to come near her. He was back working lots of late shifts, getting ribbed for it by his mates, and as often as not came back and slept on the sofa. She was relieved. Having him in bed beside her was just a mockery, a reminder of how things should have been.

She had no intention of inviting anyone over to the flat, now that it was tinged with such misery, and so she leapt at Jill’s invitation for them to come to Ennis Street. ‘We’d love to have you, unless you’re desperate to spend your first married Christmas in your own home,’ Jill had said, and Hazel had snapped up the offer at once.

‘Will your mother be spending the day with Alison and the new baby?’ Jill went on. ‘I expect they could do with the extra pair of hands.’

Hazel didn’t care if they needed help or not, but was pretty certain that Cora wouldn’t want to spend the day cooped up with the daughter she disliked, even if it would have meant the most succulent turkey in the area. ‘They’ll probably want to be by themselves this year, what with the baby being so little,’ she said diplomatically. So Jill invited Cora across the road, and they all crammed into the cheerful house, where Richie was persuaded to stop playing rock and roll and to put on Bing Crosby instead.

Cora enjoyed herself with the good-natured Parrot family but was just as glad to get away. It was a pleasant change not to have all the clearing up to do, though she’d offered to help with washing the dishes. Jill had pointed out that there wasn’t room in the kitchen and that Hazel and Kathy could share it. So Cora sat in her own living room, which didn’t seem as cramped now there was only her there, and poured herself a small port and lemon. What a year 1957 had been. There had been times when she thought her family would never get through it unscathed. Yet they’d all survived it and in better shape than ever before. Yes, she thought as she unsteadily mounted the stairs, things were definitely looking up for the Butlers.

Alison made it her new year’s resolution to heed Vera’s advice and take things one day at a time. It helped that her friend had some time off over the festive season and came round more often. ‘Make the most of me as I’ll be on duty for the sales when I go back,’ she warned. ‘It’s going to be mayhem in there. All those stuck-up madams that like to think they’re so grand fight like madwomen when it comes to a bargain. You don’t want to get in their way. I’m dreading it.’

Alison thought it would take more than a dedicated bargain-hunter to get the better of Vera but didn’t say so. ‘Maybe I should come along, see if I can get some baby clothes the next size up.’

‘You watch yourself,’ said Fred, coming into the living room as he was taking a break from the endless accounts. ‘Don’t you get caught in any ruckus just for the sake of money off. When it comes to David we can get him the best.’

‘Who’s a lucky boy,’ cooed Vera, dandling the baby on her knee. ‘Don’t even need your auntie Vera’s discount, do you? Do try not to dribble on her new skirt though.’ She hastily reached for her handkerchief. ‘Do you think he’s looking different? Is it his hair?’

‘Hard to tell when you see him every day,’ Fred replied, beaming in adoration at the little face. ‘But I reckon he’s got his mother’s mouth and maybe her hair.’

‘My hair?’

‘Yes, why not?’ said Vera, keen to back Fred. ‘Your hair is lovely now it’s cut properly and you use the right stuff on it. You are using it, aren’t you? I got you those bottles especially for you, so don’t go leaving them on the bathroom shelf, I know what you’re like.’

‘No, I am trying, I really am,’ said Alison hastily. She was still getting used to the idea that anyone would praise her hair, for so long the butt of many jokes. But she had to admit that evening when she looked in the mirror, it wasn’t bad at all. If it made Vera happy she would carry on with the special shampoo and spray. So maybe it wouldn’t be so awful if the boy had her hair. There. She’d done it. She’d thought a good thing about the baby. It was a start.

So a few weeks later when Fred commented on how nice her hair looked she didn’t shy away or act embarrassed like she usually did when anyone paid her a compliment. She tried to do as she’d seen Vera do on many occasions, just laugh a little and smile. The truth was, she was beginning to feel better about herself. It had been a long time since anyone had pointed at her in the street and called her horse face. Now when she ventured out, people looked at her differently. The haircut and the stylish clothes helped.

Stepping out of a new car did wonders as well, particularly when it came to the boys who had tormented her for years. They seemed confused more than anything, as if they couldn’t quite take in that it was the same person they’d picked on for fun. In fact, Alison realised one day in early spring, she didn’t feel like the same person either. The events, good and bad, of the past year had changed her. She was no longer scared to say boo to a goose, or awkward around everyone. She had a proper friend for the first time in her life and a husband who spoilt her. That was another change – somewhere along the line she’d stopped thinking of Fred as her father’s friend who was also her boss. Their relationship was altered too.

‘I got an idea,’ said Fred one evening over dinner. She’d made a chicken pie, something else she couldn’t have done a year ago. ‘Now the weather’s brightening up, why don’t we get David a proper pram? That carry-cot is all very well but we can’t lug that around all the time, not if we want to take him for walks. I’ve seen some I like, I was keeping an eye out.’

Alison cut herself another small piece of pie. Ever since she’d had David she seemed to be starving all the time. ‘That would be nice. We could take him to the park once it warms up. Where would we buy one? Shall we see if Vera can get us something?’

Fred shrugged. ‘We could. But I thought we could go to Peter Jones in Sloane Square instead and make a trip out of it. They do the Silver Cross ones there, and David must have the best.’

Alison put down her fork. ‘I’ve never been there. I’d like to go. Kathy talked about it as it’s not far from where she works now, but I’ve never even thought of it. When were you thinking of?’

‘How about tomorrow? It’s Monday, it’ll be quiet, I could shut the shop for the morning.’

‘Really?’ He’d never done such a thing before. ‘Won’t there be deliveries?’

‘No, the pork supplier cancelled, he’s coming on Thursday instead. It would be perfect. What do you say?’

Alison raised her eyes to meet his and gave a big smile. ‘I’d love to. Thank you, Fred. You’re very generous.’

Fred pushed away his empty plate. ‘Not a bit. It’s what the boy deserves, and you do too. I don’t want any hand-me-downs for him. I’ve worked hard for all these years and now I can enjoy spending some of the proceeds on someone special.’ He got up. ‘Let’s have our coffee somewhere more comfortable, shall we?’

Alison agreed, admitting to herself she’d got a taste for coffee which would have baffled her mother, who associated it with unsuitable bars in Soho. She took the plates to the sink while Fred fussed around with the cups and then they took them into the living room. David had already been settled in his cot, although Fred these days insisted on keeping the doors open so they would hear if he cried.

Fred turned the control on the radio until he found some music then settled himself beside Alison. ‘No Little Richard,’ he said.

‘Just as well.’

Fred sighed in satisfaction. ‘You know what, I couldn’t be happier if I’d won the pools.’ Then he shifted slightly. ‘Well, maybe I could.’ He looked at her directly. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Ask away.’

‘May I kiss you, Alison?’

She gasped in surprise. Ever since that conversation with Vera, she’d tried to put these anxieties to the back of her mind. But what had Vera said – take everything one day at a time. So now she had to ask herself, would she really mind?

Fred wasn’t Paul. She could trust him. He wouldn’t make her do anything suddenly or hurt her. And he was very kind. What harm could it do? It was only a kiss.

‘Go on then,’ she said quickly, before she could back out of it.

Gently he leant forward and began to kiss her. At first she didn’t know what to make of it. Then to her surprise she found it wasn’t so bad after all. Something told her he’d done this before and knew exactly what he was about.

After a moment he pulled back. ‘All right? You’re not going to do a runner?’

‘No,’ she said shakily. ‘No, I’m not.’

Softly he held her to him again and this time the kiss was more insistent. Strangely she didn’t want to pull away. She found herself reaching around his neck and kissing him back. It was so unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, and so completely unlike how it had been with Paul, that she forgot to be afraid and let herself be carried away. She stopped worrying and let her body take over, in a way she never could have imagined. All her previous fears were far from her mind. She’d been fretting over nothing. What was happening now felt completely natural, the exact opposite of what she’d needlessly dreaded for all that time.

‘Are you sure this is all right?’ Fred said at one point. But all she could do was nod, as they fell together once more and slowly sank onto the plush carpet. Don’t think any more, she told herself. Just relax. You might enjoy it.

After it was over, she realised she had.

Terry sat in the cab of his lorry, chewing his thumbnail, staring at the darkening sky. The thing that he’d most feared had finally happened. He’d been approached again by Vincent, and had refused to agree to store any more boxes. He didn’t want to risk upsetting Linda with the baby on the way, and they didn’t need the extra money any longer. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Vincent had then piled on the pressure, but Terry hadn’t given in. Enough was enough. He’d done what he set out to do. But Vincent hadn’t seen it that way. He hadn’t been violent but he hadn’t needed to be. He simply told Terry that they knew where June went to nursery school and that he might like to reconsider. Then he’d left Terry to think about the implications.

Deep down Terry had known that it wouldn’t be as easy to walk away from this business as he’d pretended to Linda, but he hadn’t thought they’d stoop so low as to threaten his daughter. The memory of the man who’d disappeared last year came back. Somehow Terry doubted he’d left town of his own accord. He wondered exactly what they’d done to him.

Sitting here panicking wouldn’t help. He had to think. So, they knew where he used to live but nobody had come to the new house. That was good. He could tell Linda they had to change June’s nursery school – he’d have to find a good reason as she would be onto him immediately to spell out exactly why, but it could be done. They knew where he worked, though. They could easily follow him. He had to hope they hadn’t done so already, but then they’d have had no reason to if they thought they could force him to agree. They didn’t like to waste manpower. So he reckoned they were safe in the house, at least for the time being. He didn’t want to contemplate what it would do to Linda if they had to move again.

Sweating hard even though the night was cold, he switched on the engine and moved off. He wasn’t going to let this beat him. Nobody would destroy his family.

‘Right you are, David, in you go.’ Fred tucked the baby into the new pram and adjusted the hood to keep the chilly breeze off the little face but to allow the boy to look out and his parents to look in. It was the first outing with the pram since the very successful shopping trip, in which they’d also managed to buy more clothes suitable for a three-month-old child and order a new cupboard in which to put them. He’d also treated Alison to a new coat and persuaded her to throw away her old one. He gazed at her in admiration.

He couldn’t believe it. She’d let him take her to bed – well, to the carpet – and it had all worked out. She’d confessed afterwards how the idea had frightened her for nearly all of their marriage, as she couldn’t bear to endure what Paul had put her through all over again. But he’d shown her it didn’t have to be that way. In spite of himself he felt proud. Those wartime widows had taught him a few things about pleasing a woman and it seemed he hadn’t lost his touch. There was life in the old dog yet.

This had given him the courage to raise the difficult subject of how Alison was reacting to her son. He’d given her more than enough time to change but there had been little improvement, and it couldn’t be down to exhaustion any longer. He was up in the night more than she was now that David was bottle fed. In fact nearly every time David cried it was Fred who went to him and carried him around until he settled again. He really had to say something.

At first Alison had denied it but then she caved in. ‘I just don’t seem to be able to love him properly,’ she admitted. ‘I feel awful saying it. I want to love him. I don’t want to be like Mum was with me, I don’t want him to feel he’s unwanted. It’s just that he looks like Paul, and I know it’s not his fault but I keep remembering that night …’