The Docklands Girls (14 page)

Hildy was called to the foreman’s office in the factory to be told that her mother was in hospital. Olive had her down as next of kin and had listed her home address, but she had the sense to know that at the time of her admission, Hildy would be at work and the hospital had called the factory.

‘Sit down, love,’ the foreman said when he saw the shocked look on Hildy’s face. ‘I took the number of the hospital and the name of the ward where your mother is, so give them a call and find out what’s going on. I’ll wait outside. Give you some privacy.’

With shaking hands, Hildy dialled the number, asked for the ward and enquired after her mother.

‘Your mother is down in theatre at the moment, Mrs Miller. She has peritonitis and needed an emergency operation.’

‘Is she going to be alright?’

‘She’s in the best hands so try not to worry.’

‘When can I come and visit?’ Hildy asked with mounting concern. She didn’t exactly know what peritonitis was except she knew it was serious.

‘Leave it until this evening. That will give your mother time to come round from the anaesthetic. I know it’s hard but try not to worry. It won’t help your mother and it certainly isn’t good for you.’

‘Yes, I’ll try and thank you.’ Hildy put down the receiver and opened the door to let her foreman back into his office. She told him what had happened.

‘Oh, Hildy, I am sorry, love. But it seems as if they’ve got it all in hand. After all, they didn’t waste any time before they operated.’ He looked at his watch. ‘You only have fifteen minutes before your shift finishes so go and sign out now. Go home and make yourself a strong cup of tea. Try and relax.’

Once inside her flat, Hildy did put the kettle on, then lit a cigarette. Despite the difficulties she had with her mother, she was still concerned about her wellbeing. Hopefully the operation would be a success, but then Olive would have to come home to recuperate and there was nobody to look after her … except Hildy.

She sat on a chair in the kitchen and buried her head in her hands. She wouldn’t have a choice; she would be duty-bound to take care of Olive. No way could she leave her to fend for herself – that would be inhuman. She knew what would happen then, she could almost write the dialogue. But not this time. No, she wouldn’t let her mother take over her life again. She would wait and see the outcome of the operation and then she’d make her plans.

Later that evening, Hildy walked into the ward at the hospital and found her mother, laid back against the
pillows, eyes closed, looking pale and older. It had been some time since Hildy had seen her and she was shocked at the fragility of the woman lying there.

What do you expect?
she thought.
She’s just had an operation
. She sat in the chair beside the bed and, leaning over, said quietly, ‘Mum, it’s me, Hildy.’

Olive could hear a voice, but it seemed so far away. Was it Hildy? It sounded like her. What was she doing here and where
was
here? Her mind couldn’t or wouldn’t make sense of what was going on. She slowly opened her eyes. Above her was a ceiling with strange lights. She was in a bed, but it didn’t feel like her bed. There was someone sitting beside her. She tried to focus.

‘Hildy. Is that you?’ The voice was frail and childlike.

‘Hello Mum. Yes, it’s me. How are you feeling?’

Everything suddenly became clearer. She saw her daughter staring at her with a worried expression. Looking around, Olive then realised she was in a hospital as she saw the line of beds and the nurses walking by, tending to their patients. Then she remembered. The sudden agonising pain – then nothing.

‘What happened? Why am I here?’

Taking her mother’s hand, Hildy said, ‘You collapsed and an ambulance brought you here. You’ve had an operation, Mum.’

Olive frowned. ‘I have?’ She tried to move and winced.

A nurse appeared at her side. ‘How are you feeling, Mrs Dickson?’

‘A bit fuzzy. I want to sit up,’ she said.

The nurse helped to lift her higher up the bed, adjusting her pillows to make her more comfortable. ‘There,’ she
said. She took a glass of water with a straw in it from the top of the locker. ‘Just take a sip,’ she said. ‘A bit later you’ll be able to have a cup of tea.’ She smiled at Hildy. ‘I’ll bring you one too.’

Olive gazed silently at her daughter with mixed emotions. She was relieved to see her, but deep down she still couldn’t forgive her for walking out and leaving her. All for a man. She gave a baleful stare at Hildy.

‘Didn’t expect to see you ever again,’ she said curtly.

Hildy’s heart sank. Nothing had changed. She looked at the pursed lips of the woman in the bed. She knew that expression so well and the belligerent tone of voice. But this time she was stronger and ready for any onslaught, although she knew that Olive was a sick woman and would have to be handled carefully.

‘I could say the same, Mum, but when I heard you’d been taken to hospital, of course I came. Why wouldn’t I? After all, you are my mother. Is there anything I can do for you?’

Olive tried to think. ‘I need some stuff from the house. Clean nighties, a flannel and soap, toothpaste and toothbrush,’ she said. ‘It seems as if I’ll be here for a while if I’ve had an operation. That’s if it isn’t too much trouble?’ She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice.

Hildy chose to ignore it. ‘If you give me a key, I’ll get these things tonight and bring them in tomorrow.’

‘The key was in my handbag. I don’t know where that is,’ said Olive.

Hildy looked in the locker beside the bed and found the bag. She took out the keys and put the bag back.

As she did so, Olive saw Hildy’s wedding ring and pointed to it.

‘How was the wedding?’ she asked. ‘I saw the pictures in the paper. Not a nice way to hear about your only daughter getting married, I must say.’

Hildy wasn’t going to be drawn into an argument. ‘I knew you wouldn’t enjoy seeing me and Milt marry, so I spared you the experience,’ she said and before her mother could respond, she stood up. ‘I’ll be in with your stuff tomorrow after I finish my shift. I’ll be in during visiting hours in the afternoon.’

Olive was too tired to answer. She just nodded.

Hildy left the ward with mixed emotions. Naturally, she was sad to see her mother so unwell, but she wasn’t going to let her get away with her snide remarks. She was amazed that Olive had the strength after an operation to still be so vindictive. She stopped at the desk and asked the nurse how long she thought Mrs Dickson would be in hospital.

‘It’s too soon to say. We will wait to see how she recovers. The doctor will take a look at her on his rounds tomorrow morning. We may know more then. But as far as I know, the operation was a success.’

Hildy let herself into her old home to collect her mother’s belongings. After she’d packed a small case, she made herself a cup of tea and sat in the kitchen drinking it. She hated this house. It reminded her of the years she’d been a prisoner within its walls, pandering to a selfish and wicked woman and now it looked as if she’d have to return for a short time to do the same. Well, she would look after her, but she wouldn’t become a permanent fixture again. With the money she was earning and the money that Milt sent her, she could afford to pay for help some of the time and
that would allow her to retain her independence. Her mother wouldn’t like that, but that’s how it was going to be.

That night Hildy wrote to Milt and told him what had happened and her plans for her mother’s recovery.

A few weeks later when he read Hildy’s letter, Milt frowned. He’d seen for himself the way Olive had manipulated Hildy in the past and was relieved that his wife had the sense to make this arrangement. He understood that Olive would need care at home until she recovered, but knowing her he guessed she’d hang it out as long as possible to keep a stranglehold of her daughter. Thank goodness Hildy was now able to cope with her, but he would be so happy when she was over here with him, being looked after herself for a change. He transferred some money into her bank account to help with the expenses.

The next afternoon, Hildy walked down the ward, carrying the case with her mother’s things in it. As she stopped beside the bed, she was relieved to see that Olive looked marginally better than the previous day.

‘Hello Mum, I’ve brought your things.’ She started to put them away in the locker. ‘You’re looking better.’

Olive scowled. ‘Well I don’t feel it! I’m sore and didn’t get much sleep last night. That woman over there was moaning all night long.’ She nodded to the bed across the ward.

‘I’m sure she couldn’t help it,’ Hildy ventured. ‘What did the doctor have to say?’

‘I’ll be here at least for two weeks, maybe three. It all depends how I recover from the operation.’ She looked slyly at Hildy. ‘He said when I go home it’s essential that I have someone to look after me. I can’t be left on my own.’ She waited for an answer.

Pulling up a chair, Hildy sat beside the bed. ‘That’s to be expected,’ she said, ‘you’ll feel a bit weak for a while, but don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.’

The look of triumph on her mother’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

Hildy continued, ‘I’ll arrange for you to have daily help and in between I’ll call and prepare meals for you. They will only need to be heated in the oven; we’ll need to build up your strength until you’re well enough to look after yourself.’

This wasn’t at all what Olive was expecting. ‘You won’t be moving in to look after me?’ she demanded.

‘No, Mum. It won’t be necessary. You’ll be well cared for at all times, so I don’t want you to worry.’

The woman was speechless. Her carefully laid plans were being dismissed. She was convinced that Hildy would have had to move back and once again she’d be in control. She was outraged. Her cheeks flushed with anger.

‘Well, I’ve never heard of anything so heartless!’ she snapped.

But Hildy was ready for her. ‘Not at all. You will have someone to clean your house, make you comfortable, wash you, help you to take a bath, make sure you eat well, and I’ll pop in and check up on you and do my bit too. But I don’t see the need to move in. After all, I have my own place now.’

Olive glared at her. ‘I really don’t know you anymore. Ever since you moved out, you’ve become hard. I suppose that’s due to that man you’ve married.’

Hildy met her mother’s angry gaze. ‘That man has a name, he’s called Milt and I’ve not become hard as you put it, but I now have a life of my own and I’m really happy for the first time in my adult life. You must accept the fact that you no longer rule me. The sooner you do, the better we’ll get along.’

Olive leant back against her pillows and with a sneer she said, ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you? You think you know everything now you’re a married woman.’

Knowing her mother so well, Hildy knew that Olive was about to give vent to her feelings and an argument was forthcoming. She stood up, put the chair back in its place and said, ‘I have to go now, but I’ll have a word with the nurse first. I’ll be back tomorrow.’

‘Are you sure you can spare the time?’

Hildy ignored the barb. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said and walked away, stopping at the desk to check with the nurse on her mother’s condition.

‘Your mother will be here for about three weeks,’ she was told. ‘The operation went well and once the stitches are out next week, she’ll be much better.’

‘Then once she’s allowed home, what then?’

‘Obviously she’ll be weak, but after a couple or three weeks’ care she should be back on her feet.’

Hildy thanked her and left. She gave a wry smile as she left the hospital. Her mother was so predictable. But her plans for getting Hildy back under her thumb had been well and truly scuppered.
Well mother
, she thought,
you no longer run my life
. Those days were well and truly over and once Olive was at home, with someone else to look after her, perhaps at last her mother would finally get the message.

Whilst Hildy was sorting out her problems in London, Cora was enjoying life. She was working still in the same dress shop and earning good money. The bonuses she’d earned boosted her weekly wage. She and the manageress were getting along very well; she was making friends and slowly building a social life. But most important of all, Joe Keating had stopped calling at her flat.

Cora had become friendly with Simon Pritchard, the young man who lived on the same floor as she did. He was tall, athletic and good-looking. They used to meet coming in and out of the apartment building and eventually started going out together. He’d not been called up to fight due to a perforated eardrum, an injury he’d sustained playing rugby at school. Instead, he joined the Metropolitan Police Service as a constable. He was charming, great fun to be with and their friendship blossomed. Sometimes he’d meet her after work and Cora would be teased by her boss.

‘Your police escort is waiting for you, Cora,’ Linda would say. ‘Just be sure he doesn’t have a Black Maria round the corner!’

Cora just laughed, thinking of the time in Southampton when she and Belle were arrested for soliciting and been driven off in one of them. But she was also aware that she did have a police record for that one occasion. Something she pushed to the back of her mind when she was with her boyfriend.

She was enjoying being courted by this upstanding young man. He treated her affectionately, but with respect and although his kisses were full of passion, he never let his physical longings get out of hand. Cora loved that. For so long she’d been paid to pleasure such longings, now she was being cosseted for a change. But as the weeks passed, she longed for more. She wanted to be held in Simon’s arms, to be made love to and it was driving her crazy because she didn’t want to spoil the image he had of her. Then one evening, she told him how she felt.

They had been to the cinema to see
Brief Encounter
with Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard. A tale of unrequited love between a married woman and another man. It was a poignant story and Simon teased Cora as they left the cinema with her mopping away tears.

They returned to their building and went to her flat for a nightcap. As she poured them a drink, they discussed the film.

‘I think it was a shame that they had to part,’ Cora remarked.

Simon looked shocked. ‘But she was a married woman!’

‘I know and you’re right, of course, but sometimes when you can’t have what you long for, it can be hard to live with.’ She sat beside him on the settee, putting their drinks down on a table.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. ‘Now what on earth could you want and not have that would make you feel that bad?’

There was a benevolence in his tone as if he were talking to a child and she didn’t feel anything like a child. She was very much a woman. A woman with needs. She gazed up at him and caressed his face, wondering what his reaction would be if she told him. Then taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I want you. I want you to take me into your arms and make love to me.’

He was so surprised the smile disappeared. He looked at her with a puzzled expression as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Cora watched him. She saw the consternation on his face as he eventually understood her meaning and was trying to deal with this unexpected request. He didn’t know what to say.

Disappointed, more than a little embarrassed and having to cope with rejection, Cora rose from her seat and, heading towards the door, said, ‘I think maybe you should leave, Simon.’

He got up slowly, staring at her as he walked towards her. Cora opened the door wide and stood back. ‘Goodnight,’ she said.

He hesitated, then he walked out of her flat. She shut the door behind him, wandered over to the table and drank her gin and tonic with one gulp, before going into her bedroom and getting undressed. Then she came back into the living room, lit a cigarette and drank Simon’s gin and tonic.

Well, that’s that
, she thought.
I’ve really buggered up that relationship!
She was sad. She liked Simon so much
and had hoped that in time, they may well have had a future together, but not any more. With a sigh, she went into the bedroom, turned back the bed covers and was just about to get into bed when there was a frantic banging on the door. Cora rushed out of the bedroom wondering what on earth was wrong, was the building on fire? She opened the door.

Simon stepped inside, slammed the door with his foot as he picked her up in his arms and marched into the bedroom, putting her down on the bed.

Leaning over her, he said, ‘I can’t possibly have you feeling as devastated as Celia Johnson because you can’t have what you really want, can I?’

A broad grin crept across Cora’s face as she gazed back at him. ‘Absolutely not!’

Ever since their drunken evening together celebrating, Belle and Hildy had kept in touch after Belle moved to the Isle of Wight. Belle was aware of the relationship between Hildy and her mother so understood the difficult position her friend was in when Olive was rushed to hospital; now she was at home being cared for by private nurses and Hildy herself. Belle had called on her at Olive’s home one day when she’d had to go to Southampton and had seen for herself how manipulative Olive was.

Hildy had confided in Belle. ‘She’s been home almost a month now and I know she’s so much better than she lets on,’ said Hildy. ‘She just won’t let me go.’

Belle had an idea. ‘I’ll get a room ready for her,’ she said, ‘and next week I want you to pack a case for your mother. I’ll come over on Tuesday and take her back with me for
a week, then when she returns, you can tell her that she’s now well enough to cope.’

Hildy didn’t want to put Belle to so much trouble, but Belle was adamant. ‘It’s the only way you’ll be free,’ she insisted.

The next Tuesday, Belle arrived by taxi at Olive’s front door. When she knocked, it was Hildy who opened it. She looked at Belle with a worried frown. But Belle just squeezed her hand and walked into the kitchen.

Olive was sitting by the range. She looked up and barely acknowledged the visitor and when Hildy picked up her overcoat and told her to put it on, Olive glared at her.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she snapped.

‘Yes, Mrs Dickson, you are,’ said Belle, heaving her out of the chair, taking the coat and forcing the older woman into it, leading her to the door. ‘You are coming to stay with me for a week. Get some good sea air into your lungs, make you feel better. Come along!’

Before she was aware of what was happening, Olive was bundled into the waiting taxi, a suitcase in the front seat and the car on the move.

Belle chattered on, not letting Olive get a word in. ‘You’ll have a lovely time,’ she said, ‘my house is all ready now for next season and you’ll be my first visitor to stay, but as my personal guest so you won’t have to pay for anything.’ The car pulled up by the ferry. ‘Here we are,’ said Belle and helped her out of the car and up the gangway.

‘Come on, Mrs Dickson, we’ll go straight to the bar and have a drink.’

Still in a confused state from the unexpected
happening, Olive followed her and sat down at a table.

‘What’s your poison, love?’ asked Belle.

‘I’ll have a gin and tonic,’ said Olive, thinking to herself,
well, I might at least have something I want
. By now she began to realise how she’d been duped, but she was once again in charge of her faculties and she began to plot. She’d pretend to be more frail than she was. These two thought they had her beaten, but they were wrong. She’d show them!

But Belle was ready for her. After their drink, she took Olive up on the deck and found a sheltered spot for the two of them. Despite herself, Olive enjoyed the trip to Shanklin. The autumn day was reasonably warm and the sun was shining on the part of the ferry where they were seated and after a while, she closed her eyes and dozed off.

Belle looked at the sleeping figure beside her. Even in repose, the lips were tight and belligerent and she knew she’d have her work cut out for her during the following seven days, but she was determined to get Hildy out of her hole. The girl had done her duty as a daughter and was due a life of her own.

The ferry docked in Shanklin and Belle woke Olive gently. As they walked down the jetty to the taxi rank, Olive looked about her. She’d never been to Shanklin and was surprised at how pretty it was and she began to relax as they travelled to Belle’s house. When the car stopped in front of the building, she was very impressed, although she didn’t say so.

Belle paid the taxi driver, picked up Olive’s case and walked to the front door. Opening it, she turned to Olive. ‘Welcome to my home, Mrs Dickson.’

The tiles on the floor in the hallway shone and the house smelt of polish. The sitting room where Belle took her was cosy, well furnished and sunny. There was a vase of flowers on a table in the window and a fire laid in the hearth. For once, she was speechless.

‘Come along,’ said Belle, ‘I’ll give you a tour of the house.’

Now Olive was intrigued and willingly followed her. She loved the size of the house; it was bigger than any she’d ever been in before. The dining room looked posh to her eyes. The kitchen was large and upstairs the bedrooms were much bigger than any of hers. When she was taken into the one that was to be hers for the week, she was a happy woman. She suddenly thought she’d enjoy her stay here, but she wouldn’t let on to her hostess.

But Belle wasn’t fooled for a moment. She saw the look of avarice in Olive’s eyes and immediately saw a way to handle this difficult woman.

‘We can unpack your case later,’ said Belle. ‘Let’s go downstairs and have some lunch.’

She prepared cold salmon she’d bought the previous day and made a salad to go with it, plus a glass of wine. Olive thought she was in heaven. Belle made a cup of coffee and then after said, ‘Right, put your coat on and we’ll walk along the seafront. We’ll stop and have an ice cream before we come home.’

This time there was no argument from her visitor and Belle hid a smile.

They sat in deckchairs on the front and ate ice cream cones like a couple of children. Olive was quite chatty.

‘I’ve only ever been to Cowes,’ she told Belle, ‘and that
was years ago. I had no idea that Shanklin was so pretty.’

Belle told her how when she’d taken a bus there she’d fallen in love with the place. ‘I’m hoping to have lots of tourists stay next summer. I shall advertise, of course.’

‘Your house is lovely,’ Olive said. ‘I would think you’d do well.’

Belle was surprised at such a compliment. ‘Well, thank you, Mrs Dickson. It means a lot to hear you say that. We’ll go back when we’ve had this. You can put your feet up until dinner and then we’ll sit and listen to the wireless. Tomorrow we’ll get a bus and I’ll show you some more of the island.’

‘Oh I don’t know if I can manage that,’ Olive said. ‘After all, I’m still recovering from my operation, you know, and today has been a busy one for me. I’m tired now.’

‘Of course you are. But you see, after a good night’s sleep you’ll be fine. A bus trip isn’t tiring, is it?’

Olive, now anxious to see more of the island, slowly agreed. ‘No, I suppose not.’

‘We’ll stop off somewhere and have lunch, you’ll like that,’ added Belle as another incentive. Olive obviously enjoyed the good life and she wouldn’t turn down an offer that included an outing to the fleshpots of the Isle of Wight, especially if she wasn’t paying.

For the next few days, Belle took her guest all over the island, travelling by bus to see the sights. They stopped at the odd pub for lunch and occasionally at a hotel, sitting in deckchairs on the beach with a picnic, which delighted Olive. Belle was good company and eventually Olive forgot about being frail and indeed once or twice found herself laughing.

In the evenings before dinner, it was their habit to walk along the seafront and as the days progressed, Olive lost the post-operation pallor. Her cheeks filled out and the sun and sea breeze coloured her skin. She looked a picture of health and was walking spritely.

On the final evening, Belle took her to a local hotel for dinner and made sure that Olive had a couple of glasses of wine to put her in a mellow mood.

Belle held her up her glass. ‘Cheers, Mrs Dickson,’ she said. ‘Thank you for coming to stay; I’ve really enjoyed your company. You know you really are a good-looking woman. I can’t see you living alone for the rest of your life.’

With a frown, Olive asked, ‘What do you mean?’

‘You should get out and about when you go home, meet people. You could meet a nice man. Someone to share your life with.’

Olive stiffened. ‘No, thanks! I did that once – never again.’

‘Not every man is the same, you know. I was married once, but I’m not against meeting another man and getting married again. Living alone can be lonely. You should think about it.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Olive muttered and Belle left the matter there.

The following day, Belle took Olive to the ferry and travelled with her to her house. She’d packed a bag with food she’d cooked and started to unpack it.

‘Here you are, Mrs D. I made a couple of pies for you and there is some vegetables too to keep you going until you get to the shops yourself.’

‘Hildy does my shopping or one of the nurses.’

‘But you won’t need them now, look at you. You’re as fit as a fiddle! The sea air and stay on the island was just what you needed. Come on, let’s have a cup of tea, I’ve brought some milk, then I’ll be off.’

Belle let Olive make the tea and produced a couple of cakes. ‘Here, just to finish off the holiday.’

At that moment, Hildy knocked on the door and Belle let her in.

‘My goodness, Mum, you look so much better. You’ve got colour in your cheeks. The break has done you a world of good.’

Olive was just about to argue the point when Belle interrupted. ‘Your mother is fine now, Hildy. You should see her walking along the seafront every evening and she’s got her appetite back, haven’t you?’ She turned to Olive who couldn’t argue after all the food she’d consumed at Belle’s expense.