A Daughter's Disgrace (5 page)

Alison felt she had ruined everything. She was sure that she’d get the sack again and things would be worse at home than ever. But Fred assured her they hadn’t heard a thing in the shop and when he’d eventually fetched Mrs Dalby’s pork chops himself, she’d been happy and gone on her way. Apparently lots of people were sick at their first sight of a whole carcass, close up. But, he’d reminded her, they had the luxury of an indoor toilet at the back of the building so next time she had better use that. ‘Good job it was raining hard,’ he said.

Alison wasn’t going to let herself down again and resolved to get used to what was in the back room. The next day she forced herself to go inside and look at the pigs and sides of beef, and managed to stay there for thirty seconds before running out again. Hanging over the toilet, she closed her eyes and swore she would become accustomed to it. She’d have to.

Over the next week Fred patiently explained about the different cuts of meat and what they could be used for. ‘People don’t just want to buy the beef or whatever, they want to know what they can do with it,’ he told her. ‘Have you done much cooking?’

‘No,’ said Alison. ‘Mum and Hazel always say I waste good food when I try. Besides, we never had much meat at home. Up till now, that is.’ Her mother and sister had always made it clear that her lack of cooking skills was just one more way that she was a failure around the house. But Fred had been slipping her odds and ends to take back – the remains of a tray of mince, the last two sausages that wouldn’t make a half-pound, pigs’ trotters that looked far pinker than the ones her mother sometimes bought from the market. Cora had been delighted and Hazel was triumphant – every penny saved on food meant more for her wedding fund. However Alison still didn’t like handling the stuff. The cool feel of the trotters had turned her stomach. As for liver and kidneys, she didn’t think she’d ever manage to eat them again.

‘I reckon you should try a spot of cooking, then,’ suggested Fred. ‘I’ve got the Baby Belling. You could do us something for lunch. If the shop smells of home cooking I reckon that will make the punters buy even more.’ He was pleased with the idea. The girl looked as if she could do with fattening up and this way he’d get a good meal at lunchtime as well as the one he always made sure to cook himself in the evening. He’d be doing her a favour too; she’d need to be able to cook when she got married, when the time came.

He had abandoned all thoughts of marrying himself. He’d been in no position to do so when he first took over the family business, as it had been in a bad state and it took him all his time and energy to turn it around. Then came the war, when his flat feet had kept him out of the armed services but he’d spent every spare hour as an ARP warden. Some of the sights he saw in those days made him wonder if he could ever bring himself to care for another human being – there were so many dreadful ways to lose a loved one. The pain of families when he told them their nearest and dearest had been killed by buzz bombs, or crushed when a shelter collapsed stayed with him still. There had been a few grateful widows during those years, but it was no time to think of anything more than a brief affair to hold the everyday horrors at bay.

After that his mother, always bullying and difficult, had got worse and worse till it became clear that she wasn’t only rude and brutal but terminally ill as well. Fred had done his duty, shutting his ears to her comments as he looked after her in the flat above the shop, and secretly, he’d been heartily relieved when she died. So here he was, a bachelor in his early forties, with a quietly thriving business and premises in a prime location. But he was under no illusions about his looks. He’d been called pig face and worse, thanks to his round, stubby nose and face that went red with the slightest exertion, and he knew his prospects of romance were poor. So he concentrated on enjoying his food, getting along with his customers, and making a success of the shop. He tried not to think about what he might be missing out on. He told himself that if he was lonely then it was a price worth paying, and most days he almost believed it.

Alison was dubious about the whole cooking idea but she was beginning to realise that when Fred set his mind to something, he wasn’t easily put off. So she gave in. Sometimes she would fry something quickly during the lunch hour – bacon and eggs, sausage and beans. Other times she would chop up the meat and vegetables for a casserole in the morning and put it on to stew so that it was ready when they needed it. She got a sweet feeling of satisfaction the day that Winnie Jewell came in and commented that something smelt good. As Fred had guessed, she bought more than her usual that day.

The only downside to cooking lunch was that she had fewer excuses to go outside and catch a glimpse of the young man who worked next door. She saw him now and again, if she had to go on an errand to the post box or bank – Fred had decided she was trustworthy and would sometimes send her to fetch the change. But there had been no more conversations under the awning.

A few weeks after she’d started working at the butcher’s, Fred was sorting through the drawers underneath the counter, pulling out odds and ends, but not finding what he was after. ‘Drat. There’s no string left,’ he said. ‘That won’t do. You go next door and get us some more. Take it out of the petty cash.’

Alison hurried off at once.

The hardware shop seemed dim compared to the bright white tiles of the butcher’s. At first she could hardly make out if there was anyone else there, as the shelves seemed to extend forever into a dark back area and the counter was lit only by a weak bulb. Not a very good advert for their lighting department, she thought.

Then someone cleared his throat. ‘Yes, young lady?’ An elderly man was behind the counter, stooping over it. ‘Is there something you wanted?’

Before she could answer, the door opened once more and in came a middle-aged woman, dressed as if she worked in an office. ‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘I’ve come for the Denman and Sons order.’ Alison recognised the name of one of the oldest solicitors’ firms and of course the old man turned his attention to the new customer. ‘Mr Lanning!’ he called. ‘You’re needed at the front counter.’

Paul emerged from the gloom, wiping his hands on his brown overall. He grinned wickedly. ‘Good morning, miss,’ he said. ‘And how may I help you?’

Bravely Alison made herself smile back. ‘I’d like some string please.’

‘What sort of string? Garden twine? Parcel string? We’ve lots of string. If it’s string you’re after, you’ve come to the right place.’ Even in the semi-darkness she could see his eyes were twinkling.

‘Oh, not garden twine,’ she said. ‘Definitely not that. String suitable for tying around cuts of beef. And parcels of greaseproof paper.’

‘Ah, that sort of string. Well now, you’re in luck. Seeing as we are so close to a butcher’s we make sure to keep that kind in stock.’ He made his way to a set of drawers and pulled open one of them. ‘Here you are. Do you need a paper bag?’

‘No,’ said Alison, feeling a blush creep up her face. ‘I’ll put it in my pocket.’

‘If you’d care to come over to the till, miss,’ he said, grinning even more wickedly. As he took her money and gave her back the change his fingertips brushed her palm. She was sure he did it deliberately, and right under the eyes of his boss and the formidable office lady. It was all she could do to get out of the shop in one piece.

Well now, thought Paul. I’ve made her run away again. Even in the half-light of the hardware store he could tell she’d gone bright red. Maybe it was time to step things up a little and not to wait for events to take their course. He was tired of not having a woman. He didn’t want one permanently – or not one who looked as odd as this one did. But he needed the practice. She couldn’t get many offers with those looks. She’d be grateful. He liked the idea of taking advantage of that.

‘We’ve picked the date for the wedding, Mum,’ said Hazel. She was so excited she couldn’t even wait to get her coat off. ‘Second Saturday in September. So that’s seven months to get everything ready.’

‘And where’s the money to come from?’ asked Cora. She still hadn’t got through to her daughter that a big wedding was a waste.

‘You know Neville’s been working all hours,’ said Hazel. ‘He ain’t taken me to the cinema for weeks cos he’s been on extra shifts every weekend. He’s so tired he can hardly stand. And I’m only taking Sundays off from now on. So that’ll all add up.’

‘And it helps that I’m bringing home decent food,’ Alison said, wishing they’d acknowledge her efforts.

‘That’s as may be,’ snapped Cora, ‘but it’s only offcuts. Fred couldn’t sell that stuff. So don’t you go getting above yourself, thinking you’re bringing us home something special.’ In truth she wouldn’t be without the extra supplies and she’d got used to them very quickly but that was no reason to be soft on her youngest. ‘See if you can get something this weekend. Linda’s bringing June up for Sunday tea. A bit of ham for sandwiches would be a start.’

‘I’m sure that will be fine.’ Alison couldn’t do enough for her big sister and niece. ‘Fred wouldn’t object to that.’

‘I suppose you’re going to measure Linda for a bridesmaid’s frock?’ Cora said, busying herself laying the table. ‘Here, Alison. Make yourself useful and do this.’

Alison looked up from her seat by the fireplace. ‘And am I going to be a bridesmaid?’

Hazel glared at her. ‘Why would I want you to spoil the wedding pictures? Linda’s different, she’ll look the part, but you’ll only depress people. Besides, God knows how much material we’d need to make you a frock. If you were normal height there’d be no problem and we could use the same pattern for both of you but no. You’re too tall and you’re a weird shape.’ She threw her handbag to the floor.

‘It’ll seem odd though, won’t it?’ Alison went on. She didn’t particularly want to be a bridesmaid, it would make her the focus of too much attention, but she knew how to rile her sister. A little spark of new confidence made her do so now. ‘Is Neville’s sister going to be a bridesmaid too? Cos if she is it’ll look a bit funny if I’m not one too.’

‘Of course Kathy’s being a bridesmaid. She’ll look really pretty. Which you won’t.’ However, Hazel hated the thought of doing the wrong thing in public. It didn’t matter how rude she was to her sister behind closed doors – she wanted to be seen to be respectable and nothing must spoil that impression. ‘I’ll think about it but don’t push your luck. And if –
if
– I say yes, you’ll have to stand at the back.’

‘Obviously,’ said Alison, setting down the salt and pepper. ‘As I’m going to be looking over all of your heads. Including Neville’s.’

‘Give it a rest,’ Cora shouted. She’d had enough. ‘I’m sick to death of hearin’ you go on. I don’t know what’s got into you. Don’t you dare ruin your sister’s big day.’ She almost groaned as her back gave her a painful twinge. Standing over the stove hadn’t helped. ‘Alison, you dish up while your sister puts away her work things. And less of your lip.’

Alison dished up a meal for the second time that day, giving herself the smallest portion as she was still full from lunch at the butcher’s. She liked eating in the middle of the day – it gave her energy to work hard all afternoon. She found herself enjoying it more and more, as long as she didn’t have to cut up offal. She had at least stopped being sick at the sight of it or the smell of blood, and now her appetite was back with a vengeance. She had also started to chat to the customers and found herself even bantering with some of them – she couldn’t have imagined doing that a few weeks ago. It made it more difficult to put up with her mother and sister, though. She was more and more tempted to answer back, which she’d never have done before. Still, Linda and June were going to be here on Sunday. She could look forward to that at least. And maybe, just maybe, she would see Paul again tomorrow.

‘I don’t know what you think you’re smilin’ at,’ Cora snapped, seeing a dreamy look pass across her youngest daughter’s face. But Alison didn’t care. There was no way she’d mention him to her mother, but already she was thinking of what items they might be short of so she could make an excuse to pop in to the hardware store as soon as possible.

‘It’s your round, Paul,’ said Paul’s best friend, Kenny Parker. They’d been in the pub since six o’clock and this would be their third pint. Paul was in no hurry to go home. He shared his flat with his father and two older brothers, and it was a tip. He hated the place but his father was adamant they couldn’t afford anything else, even with all of them working. Paul guessed that was because his father spent everything at the dog track, or if he couldn’t go there in person, at the bookies. It had been the same ever since his mother had died. This was the fourth place they’d moved to since then and each had been worse than the last.

‘Same again, mate?’

Kenny nodded.

‘Here you go.’ Paul set the drinks down on the sticky table-top. ‘How’s work?’

‘Same old,’ said Kenny, sipping the bitter and smacking his lips. ‘Turn up at nine, leave at five, paid on Friday. Not much more to it. How’s yours? Been there a few weeks now, ain’t you?’

‘It’s all right,’ Paul said. ‘The boss is ancient and he can’t see what I’m doing half the time. Can’t say it’s anything to get excited about.’ He raised his glass and drank. ‘I might get some fun out of the girl who works in the next shop though.’

Kenny looked up, interested. ‘What’s she like? Should I be jealous?’

Paul wondered whether to wind his friend up and make Alison sound more than she really was but decided he would get caught out in the lie too easily if Kenny decided to pay Falcon Road a visit. ‘Nah, probably not. She’s not much of a looker.’

‘Then why are you bothering?’ Kenny asked. ‘What else has she got going for her?’

‘She’s got good tits,’ said Paul, which he hoped was true, although her mac hadn’t given him more than a rough idea. Still, he’d passed away several boring hours in the hardware shop imagining what might lie beneath. ‘And I reckon she’s got really long legs. She’s tall, see. But her face … no, you don’t want to know about it. Her teeth are horrible and so’s her hair.’

‘Bit of a mare then,’ said Kenny. ‘So you better keep yer eyes on her tits and legs if you don’t want to be put off.’

‘Well, I can do that easily enough,’ laughed Paul. ‘She’ll be desperate for me, you wait and see. She’ll be begging me for it.’

‘Bet you she won’t,’ said Kenny. He’d heard all this before and to the best of his knowledge no girl had ever begged Paul for anything.

‘Bet you she will,’ said Paul, suddenly serious. ‘It’s February now and I bet you five bob that before March is over I’ll have had her.’

‘You’re on.’

‘I shouldn’t even accept that as it’ll be like taking candy from a baby,’ said Paul, finishing his pint with relish. ‘But I know you’ll be offended if I say no. Five bob, end of March, she’ll have been begging me for weeks.’ He was certain he was right. And if she didn’t beg him, he’d have her anyway.

‘Nice sandwiches, Mum,’ said Linda. ‘June, have you tried one? Eat something so Granny can see you like her food.’

‘Oh, she can have some cake if she’d rather,’ said Cora, giving her granddaughter a cuddle. ‘You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you, Junie? Try some of this.’ She put a small slice of jam sponge on a plate and June eagerly took it from her.

‘What sort of material are you thinking about for our frocks, Hazel?’ asked Linda, who’d spent the last half-hour upstairs with her sisters, getting measured up. ‘Did you have a colour in mind?’

‘Something to go with my hair,’ said Hazel, pushing an auburn wave back over her ear. She was very proud of her hair but knew she’d have to avoid reds and pinks. ‘Probably green or blue. Suppose I’ll have to see what Joe Philpott’s got going. He said he’d keep an eye out for something nice for me.’

‘He’d do that, he’s got a soft spot for you,’ said Linda. ‘What about your dress? Will he get that fabric too?’

‘I’m still hoping I can buy one,’ said Hazel. ‘Of course if Alison hadn’t messed up her job interview at that place …’

‘Then you wouldn’t be eating ham sandwiches now,’ said Alison. ‘And we can all enjoy this whereas it’s only you who gets to wear a big white wedding dress.’

‘Can I have a special dress?’ asked June. She wasn’t sure what they were talking about but she did like getting new clothes.

‘We’ll see,’ said Linda, ‘but you can’t go getting jam over it.’ She wiped her daughter’s face with her handkerchief. ‘That’s better. Maybe you can have a frock trimmed with the same pattern that Mummy and Auntie Alison will be wearing.’

Hazel knew that June would steal the show if she was a flower girl and couldn’t work out if that would be good or not. Would it take attention away from her? ‘We’ve got to get enough for Kathy’s dress as well so I ain’t sure if there will be enough …’

‘Don’t worry, I didn’t mean you’d have to fork out for another one,’ said Linda, helping herself to another sandwich. ‘I only meant if there were scraps left over we could make a bow or a ruffle or something like that. If it’s a problem then Terry will be happy to pay. He’s doing really well at the moment.’

‘That’s good,’ said Hazel, secretly seething that Terry was, yet again, such a success. She felt sure Linda was only saying it to emphasise how little Neville earned by comparison. That was so unfair – he couldn’t even join them for tea because he was doing extra shifts this weekend.

‘We’re lucky, I know,’ said Linda. ‘Not everyone is a good provider like my Terry.’

‘I’m sure we can manage something for June,’ Cora said. She’d love to see the girl be part of the proceedings. ‘Maybe a little waistcoat and hairband?’ She ruffled her granddaughter’s golden curls. ‘Blue or green would go with her colouring.’

Hazel decided that having Linda, Kathy and now June as her attendants would make it less likely everyone would notice Alison so much. ‘You’re right, Mum,’ she said. ‘She’ll look gorgeous. Could you do that, June? Maybe hold a special bunch of flowers at my wedding?’

June smiled happily, enjoying being the centre of attention.

‘How’s the new job, Alison?’ asked Linda. ‘What’s it like working for Fred?’

‘He’s been very kind,’ said Alison. ‘All the blood and stuff turned my stomach to start with but I’m getting used to it. I haven’t been sick for ages.’

‘For God’s sake, you never told us that,’ exclaimed Cora. She wondered that her daughter hadn’t been sacked on the spot. ‘You need to toughen up and fast, my girl. If his customers find out you’ve been throwing up round the back they’ll stop coming and then where will you be? Well, you’re used to being out of work, but think of poor Fred. You don’t want to ruin his business when he’s been so good as to help you out.’

‘I’m sure it’s hard to get used to it to start with,’ said Linda.

‘Big girl like you, being sick!’ Cora went on.

‘I just said, I haven’t done that for ages,’ protested Alison. ‘You should see what it’s like with all that dead meat in one place. The smell of it is disgusting. But I’m getting much better. Fred said so.’

‘I’m sure you are,’ said Linda. ‘I don’t know how I’d have managed. And you bring home ham like this, so there’s a bonus.’

‘Fred asked to be remembered to you,’ said Alison. ‘He’s been teaching me to cook as well. Says one of my lunches sets him up for the rest of the day.’

‘Sets him up for food poisoning more like,’ snapped Hazel. ‘Or have you suddenly improved? He’s too good to you by half.’

‘Maybe you’re practising to become a housewife,’ Linda gently teased. ‘Is there a boyfriend on the horizon you’ve been keeping quiet about?’

‘Of course not,’ said Alison, hoping she wasn’t going to blush. She realised she’d been blushing quite a lot since the visit to the ironmonger’s. ‘Don’t be daft. Who’d look at me?’

‘True,’ said Hazel at once.

But you don’t know everything, thought Alison, not even tempted to rise to the bait this time. Someone has looked at me. And he seems really nice. What’s more, I’m going to make sure I see him tomorrow.

Cheeky tyke, thought Cora, shooing the last of the paperboys out of the shop early on Monday morning. He’d had the nerve to ask her where her ugly daughter was as he hadn’t seen her around for a few weeks. Suppose he’ll be taking the mickey out of some other poor sod, she said to herself, looking up at the sky. As March approached it was getting just a bit warmer and signs of spring were beginning to appear. She couldn’t wait. She’d had enough of being cold and her back and hands were always worse during the winter.

Flexing her fingers at the idea, she made her way round the shop making sure all was in order before the first customers arrived. Often she thought this was the best bit of the day – everything in its place, all the boys out of the way, nobody to disturb her peace and quiet. But she knew she’d hate it if nobody came in all day and there was no gossip. That’s what gave the job its spice.

It wasn’t long before Winnie Jewell set the doorbell ringing. ‘Morning, Cora!’ she called.

‘You’re early, Winnie,’ said Cora.

‘I need some aspirin for my Vera before she goes to work,’ explained Winnie. ‘She’s got such a headache, poor love, and I can’t send her out looking miserable to Arding and Hobbs. You know, they expect better from their staff than that.’

Probably got a hangover, thought Cora. ‘Poor girl,’ she said aloud.

‘That’s just what I thought,’ said Winnie, getting out her purse. ‘How was your weekend? I had my sister Beryl round and she’s having such trouble, I thought she was never going to leave.’

‘Really?’

‘It’s her neighbours,’ Winnie went on. ‘I told her not to move down that way but would she listen? She’s not that far from the power station and it’s not a patch on her old place, though the rent ain’t bad. As for her neighbours, well, the place is filthy. I said to her, you got to be careful, what if they get rats? They don’t empty their bins and their back garden’s like a junk yard. If they get rats then they’re bound to come over the fence and into her kitchen. Think of that. And she’s got young kids. What if they get bitten? Then she’ll wish she never left her old place.’

‘Sounds dreadful,’ said Cora, interrupting Winnie’s incessant chatter. Ennis Street might not be much but at least everyone put their bins out on the right day.

‘It’s because they haven’t got a woman to look after them,’ Winnie explained. ‘There’s four grown men in that flat. A father and three sons. All the boys are working so they can’t be stupid. But they ain’t got no idea how to keep a place clean. That’s not what the main trouble is, though. Gambling, that’s what’s caused all their problems.’

‘How do you know that?’ demanded Cora.

‘It’s common knowledge,’ said Winnie. ‘The father is always down the bookies. Takes his lads in with him sometimes. Throws away all their money on the horses or the dogs. He’s ruined his family, hasn’t got time for anything else. They say his wife died and you know what, I’d say it was a blessing. If my Peter started gambling I’d have to throw him out. I can’t be having that.’

‘Quite right too,’ agreed Cora. She’d no time for gamblers either. There was nothing wrong with the odd flutter on the Grand National but that was where it stopped. She’d seen people get sucked into it, always believing they’d strike it lucky if they gave it just one more go. No, that was the quick road to ruin.

‘As I said, when Beryl came round yesterday, she didn’t want to go home.’ Winnie shook her head. ‘Says her life isn’t worth living with those Lannings bringing the place into disrepute. I told her, go and report them to the landlord. But I don’t know if she will. That landlord takes ages to get off his backside and do anything.’

‘That’s landlords for you,’ said Cora.

‘They don’t like putting themselves to any trouble, do they? Not as long as their rent’s being paid.’ Winnie sighed. ‘Anyway, better be getting back. Nice talking to you.’ She put her aspirin in her bag and left.

Cora didn’t envy Winnie’s sister. Bothersome neighbours were a curse in these streets where the houses were so tightly packed together. Everyone knew each other’s business simply by hearing it all through the walls or open windows. She thanked her lucky stars that they’d had no trouble for a while. She’d lived in Ennis Street for so long that she knew everyone’s histories.

As if on cue, her next customer was Neville’s mother, Jill Parrot. She didn’t know the woman that well, but if they were to be family then that would change. She liked the look of her. Jill kept herself looking smart, even though you could tell her clothes weren’t top quality.

‘Good morning, Mrs Butler!’ she said. ‘Clearing up, isn’t it? We might get a nice day after all.’

‘Call me Cora. We can’t be having all this Mrs business now your Neville’s going to marry our Hazel.’

‘I’m sorry we’ve not had a chance to get together to celebrate the engagement. I’m afraid I’ve been down with a lousy cold. We’re so happy that Neville is going to marry Hazel. She’s a lovely girl and he’s working every hour God sends so they can have their perfect wedding,’ Jill said, smiling.

‘That’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Cora smiled back. ‘Mind you, Hazel’s got her hopes up for a big do. I hope they don’t bite off more than they can chew. She’s going to have June all dressed up too, from what they were saying yesterday. Though I have to say, for a three-year-old she’s beautifully behaved, so there’ll be no trouble. And she’s so little that she’ll hardly need a scrap of material. Not like Alison.’

‘Your youngest certainly is tall,’ agreed Jill. She could sense the impatience behind Cora’s remark but couldn’t really see what was wrong with the girl. She’d always found her perfectly polite. Of course she wasn’t as pretty as her sisters, especially Hazel, but then, not many young women were as fortunate to have looks like that.

‘Hazel was thinking of blue or green for the bridesmaid’s dresses. Will your Kathy like that?’

‘I’m sure she will,’ said Jill. ‘She’s lucky, being dark like Neville, she can wear most colours. That comes from my Lennie. It’s all right for some. I’m too pale to get away with strong oranges and yellows, for instance.’

‘I think we’re safe to say Hazel won’t choose orange,’ Cora replied. ‘With hair like hers she knows there are colours she has to steer well clear of. Linda can wear anything and look good in it. Whereas Alison looks terrible in everything.’