Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle (58 page)

Reg was a man of few words; he always had been. Sylvie always said he was ‘all buttoned up’ but up until now Dottie had accepted that talking about things wasn’t his way. At times he seemed to relish being awkward. She could put up with his moods – they didn’t happen too often – but it was harder to deal with the silences and the sulks.

As she reached the back door she could see him through the kitchen window, sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. She paused and all at once it hit her. This was breaking his heart. He’d had so little in life before she met him. He’d been abandoned as a child, he’d told her. He’d never known a mother’s love. When Dottie had said she’d go out with him, he’d been the perfect gent. Even though Aunt Bessie never liked him, he always treated her right and he was keen to be part of the family. Look how excited he’d been on their wedding day,
running around the whole house and telling her this was the first time he’d had his own home. As they lay in bed in that little guesthouse in Eastbourne, they’d talked about having children. She was being selfish, wasn’t she? Just because she couldn’t have children didn’t alter the fact that he had a child, a child without a mother on the other side of the world, and it was breaking his heart. How could she do this to him? Just because she couldn’t have what she wanted, should she deny her husband the one thing that would make him happy? All right, it upset her to think about Elizabeth Johns with Reg, but she could get over it and perhaps he was right. If Patsy came, they’d be a family at last.

Dottie smiled as a picture of Patsy formed in her mind. She’d be wearing a little gingham dress, blue and white with a pretty gathered skirt and white Peter Pan collar. She’d have white socks and a ribbon in her hair.

Reg glanced up and saw her smiling. ‘What are you staring at?’ he said acidly. ‘Having a good laugh at my expense, are you?’

She hurried inside. ‘No, Reg,’ she protested. ‘I was trying to imagine what Patsy looks like. Oh Reg, I’m sorry. I’ve been a selfish cow. We’ll save up for her. We’ll work all the hours God sends until we get the money.’

He rose to his feet, his whole face enveloped with a smile. ‘D’you really mean it, Dot?’

‘Yes, dear, of course I do.’

He took her into his arms and hugged her. Dottie snuggled into his wiry embrace. Why couldn’t it be like this more often? ‘But first we have to talk,’ she went on.

He pushed her away, roughly. ‘Oh, I might have guessed there’d be a catch.’

‘It’s not that,’ she said, ‘but we’ve got to make a good story for the people around here.’

‘Story?’ he thundered. ‘What are you talking about? She’s my kid, simple as that.’

‘Fine,’ said Dottie, ‘but how’s she going to feel when everyone knows she’s Reg Cox’s bastard?’

His face paled and he sat back down. She laid her hand over his. ‘We’ve got to make something up, something everyone can believe, but something that won’t hurt her.’ She sat opposite him and waited but he seemed to have been struck dumb. ‘I think the simpler we make it the better,’ she went on. ‘Let’s just tell people we wanted to adopt a child and a friend in Australia has found us one.’

‘What if the welfare people come snooping?’

‘Let them,’ said Dottie. ‘As long as you make sure they send over all her papers with her it’ll be fine. You’ll have her birth certificate with your name on it, won’t you? If anyone says anything, you’ll be able to prove she’s yours.’

‘Then it’ll still get out,’ said Reg gloomily. ‘One of them might talk and it’ll be all over the village in no time.’

‘I don’t see why,’ said Dottie. ‘The welfare people aren’t supposed to talk about other people’s private business and, besides, once you show them you’re her legal father, they’ll have no reason to gossip about her, will they? As long as you don’t show them our wedding certificate they’ll probably assume Elizabeth Johns was your first wife. We can tell Patsy the whole story as soon as she’s old enough to understand.’

‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ he said with a sneer.

‘I’ve done a bit of thinking, that’s all. One thing puzzles me though.’

He looked up, startled.

‘Was she Australian?’

‘Who?’

‘Elizabeth Johns. Was she from Australia? I mean, what was she doing in Burma?’

‘She worked in the NAAFI,’ Reg said quickly. He turned away quickly and reached for his newspaper. Blimey, he hadn’t thought she’d start trying to work things out.

‘In the NAAFI?’ said Dottie. ‘What, in Burma?’

‘Leave it out, Dot,’ snapped Reg. ‘You know what those memories do to me.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

They sat for a moment without saying anything. Dottie watched him rubbing the back of his hand in an agitated way. ‘I met her in India, if you must know,’ he said. ‘I was taken there when I was ill, remember?’

The explanation didn’t really satisfy her. She wanted to ask more. What was an Australian woman doing in India? How did he meet her? What was she like? But he’d put the paper up in front of his face.

She touched his hand. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Reg. Everything will be fine.’

‘Course it will,’ he said, relaxing.

‘Good,’ said Dottie. ‘Now all we’ve got to worry about is getting the money together for the fare.’

‘I’ve already got that worked out,’ said Reg. ‘The pig can go to market. That’ll fetch a bob or two. Michael Gilbert says it might fetch a tenner if we leave it till Christmas, but we’ve still got to feed it.’

‘Reg,’ Dottie said, ‘we need seventy pounds.’

His face fell again.

‘But you’re right. We’ll manage,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve got a bit saved.’

‘You?’ He sounded really surprised.

She nodded. ‘I’ve got seventeen pounds saved.’ And I would have had another ten bob, she thought ruefully, if I hadn’t had to pay Ann Pearce for her silence.

‘Seventeen quid,’ Reg gasped. ‘Where did you get that kind of money from?’

‘I sold some of my sewing.’

‘Somebody paid you for that stupid rubbish?’

She willed herself to stay calm. ‘Well, they didn’t think it was
rubbish when they bought it,’ she said indignantly, ‘and I got seventeen pounds for my trouble.’

‘Pah!’ he said scornfully. ‘Some people have more money than sense.’

‘Seventeen pounds is still a long way from seventy,’ she said, glad that she hadn’t told him about the fifty-four pounds she’d got in her Post Office savings bank.

‘What about your friend Sylvie?’ he went on. ‘Can’t you butter her up for a loan?’

Dottie paused. ‘Well, I don’t know when I shall see her again, do I?’ she said cautiously. ‘It’s not the sort of thing you write in a letter, is it?’

Reg shrugged and picked up his paper again, shaking it irritably. Grabbing the runner beans, she took them outside into the scullery to start preparing them to bottle.

‘All right then,’ he called out. ‘Tell Sylvie she can come.’

‘Thanks, Reg,’ she called back, willing her voice to stay level. ‘I can ask her about the money when she comes.’

‘Just for the one night, mind,’ he added acidly. ‘I don’t want her cluttering up the place for days on end.’

Smiling to herself, Dottie licked the end of her finger and drew it down in front of her.

Dottie one, Reg nil.

Thirteen

Dottie decided not to argue with Reg about Sylvie’s length of stay … for now. As soon as he’d gone off to the pub on Sunday evening, she sat down and wrote back to Sylvie, inviting her to come Friday 7th and stay over until Sunday afternoon. As she licked down the envelope, Dottie could hardly contain her excitement.

Ann Pearce was leaning on the gate as Dottie came back from the post box.

‘My gas has gone out again,’ she said. ‘I wondered if you might have a couple of quid spare.’

Dottie looked at her coldly. ‘No, I haven’t.’

‘My kids will go hungry if I don’t get some money,’ Ann called after her receding back. ‘I wouldn’t want to have to take them to the doctor, would I? And you never know, if they go hungry all the time, they might get ill.’

Dottie stopped walking. This was getting beyond a joke. ‘No.’

‘I’d have no choice then,’ Ann went on. ‘I’d have to go to the doctor.’

Dottie took in her breath as she turned around slowly. Ann was staring defiantly at her, her head up and a sneer on her lips.

‘Why are you doing this?’ Dottie demanded. ‘If you want help, ask for it.’

‘I don’t need your charity,’ retorted Ann.

‘Fine.’

Dottie turned away but plainly Ann wasn’t ready to see her go.
‘I’ll tell the whole world about you, Mrs Bloody Perfect who isn’t so perfect any more.’

Something inside Dottie snapped. ‘If you’re trying to scare me,’ she spat, ‘you’re doing a pretty poor job of it. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘Paid up pretty darned quick last time, didn’t you?’ said Ann. ‘I’d hardly call that the actions of an innocent party.’

‘If you want to go to Dr Fitzgerald, that’s fine,’ said Dottie walking back. ‘I’ve just seen him off and I’ll do the same with you.’

‘Seen him off,’ said Ann. ‘Don’t make me laugh.’

‘You’ll not get another penny out of me.’ Dottie willed her voice not to quaver although her blood was already thumping so loudly in her ears, she felt as if the whole village could hear it.

‘You bitch!’ Ann shrieked.

Dottie was caught by surprise as the other woman grabbed hold of her hair. Her bun disintegrated almost immediately as Ann tugged at it with all her might. The gate was still between them but Ann mounted the bottom rung as the two of them wrestled. The pain in Dottie’s head was almost unbearable. She desperately tried to prise Ann’s fingers away but they seemed to be becoming more and more entwined.

By now the pair of them were screaming at the tops of their voices. Most of it was incoherent, but the occasional ‘Bitch!’ and ‘Sodding liar!’ came from Ann and ‘Let go, you cow …’ from Dottie.

The fight came to an abrupt end when Dottie managed to slap Ann across her the side of her face, which made her lose her balance. As Dottie pulled away, Ann toppled over the gate and landed in a heap in the road.

Breathless, Dottie stepped back, her head throbbing with pain and her hair spilling all over her face and shoulders like a wild woman’s.

To complete her surprise, instead of jumping up and coming for her again, Ann burst into tears. For a second, Dottie was tempted to leave her but something kept her rooted to the spot, although she felt it wise to keep her distance. She was nervous that if she bent over Ann she might grab her hair and start the fight all over again. She looked around helplessly.

There was nobody was in sight. Dottie thought she saw a curtain move in the house opposite, where Vera Carter lived, but nobody came out. When she looked at Ann’s house, she was horrified to see two tearstained faces staring out of the sitting room window. Ann’s little children, Brian and Phyllis, made a pathetic sight. Dressed only in grubby and holey vests, their little shoulders heaved up and down as, racked with sobs, they stared at their mother sitting in the road.

Dottie closed her eyes with shame. What a thing for the children to see. Their mother and her neighbour brawling in the street like a couple of tomcats.

‘Get up, Ann.’

Ann hit her hand away.

‘Ann, your kiddies are watching you,’ said Dottie quietly. ‘Let me help you up.’

Ann struggled to her feet and Dottie helped her.

‘Do you really need money that badly?’ Dottie asked.

‘I can’t go on much longer,’ Ann wept. Her guard was well and truly down. ‘I get virtually nothing from the welfare. I can’t get a job because there’s no one to look after the kids.’ She fumbled up her sleeve for a handkerchief and then blew her nose. ‘You haven’t a bloody clue, have you? I watch you and Mary and Peaches Smith swanning around in your pretty dresses and all you lot do is kick a dog when it’s down.’

‘When did I do that?’ cried Dottie.

‘When you reported me,’ said Ann, obviously sensing the upper hand.

‘But I didn’t!’ Dottie cried. She bit her lip. Obviously Ann
didn’t know it was Reg who’d reported her. As far as Dottie could see, he’d done it out of spite.

‘When Lennie cleared off back to his wife,’ Ann went on. ‘Me and the kids was left with nothing.’

‘I’ll lend you some money.’

But Ann wasn’t listening. ‘What did it matter to anybody what I was doing anyway?’ She was in full swing now. ‘The kids were fed and well looked after. Lennie and me was happy. We might have even got married if we could have saved up for the divorce.’ She covered her face with the handkerchief.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Dottie. ‘I didn’t know.’

It was getting dark. Reg would be back home in a minute. She glanced up the road anxiously. He’d go bananas if he saw them talking together.

Ann blew her nose again and, tugging at the front of her dress, she turned towards her house, mustering what little dignity she could.

Back in her own cottage, Dottie opened her tin of savings and took out five one-pound notes. That would keep Ann going for a bit. Damn Reg and his principles. She grabbed a couple of jars of jam from the dresser and stuffed some runner beans into a brown paper bag.

As she scraped her hair back into an untidy bun, she thought better of the jam and beans. If she rushed next door laden with all that stuff, Ann would probably slam the door in her face. After all, she had her pride.

A little later when she knocked on Ann’s door she heard the scampering of little feet and Brian opened the door. The grubby vest was all he was wearing.

‘Hello, Brian, is Mummy there?’

Ann appeared behind him. She looked startled. ‘Go in the sitting room with Phyllis, Brian,’ she said sharply.

His eyes grew wide with fear and he hurried off.

‘What do you want?’ said Ann coldly.

‘Look,’ said Dottie. ‘I really am sorry.’ She reached for Ann’s hand and pressed the rolled-up notes in it.

Ann looked down and her face flamed with colour. ‘I told you, I don’t want your charity.’

‘It’s not charity,’ said Dottie. ‘It’s a loan. Pay me back when you can.’

‘What will Reg say?’