The Girl From Barefoot House (4 page)

All this did nothing to make Josie love her mother less. In fact, she only loved her more.

There was a raid on the fourth night that Mam stayed in. The siren went early, just after seven o’clock. The hairs prickled on Josie’s neck. She crawled on to her mother’s knee, and they listened to the far-away hum of
enemy planes. Fifteen minutes later the welcome sound of the all clear split the still, evening air.

‘I think I’ll nip out for a little while,’ Mam said when it finished.

‘
No!
’ Josie seized her arm. She never wanted to stay in the room alone again. The aeroplanes might come back, the siren might go again, bombs might fall.

‘I can’t stay in for ever, luv.’ Mam blushed and twisted her thumbs together on her knee, as if for the first time she felt uncomfortable with her daughter about whatever it was she did. ‘I’ve got a living to make.’

‘Then take me with you.
Please
, Mam.’

Her mother looked at her for a minute, frowning. ‘I suppose I could,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s still broad daylight. You could sit on the steps outside. Lots of kids do.’

The Prince Albert public house was on the corner of two short streets behind the Rialto ballroom. It was small, but impressive. The bottom half was shiny dark green tiles, separated from the plain brick upstairs by a wide band of masonry on which a row of diamond shapes had been carved and painted gold. The corner entrance was particularly grand. Five curved stone steps led to a pair of giant swing doors with fancy brass handles. Across one street, there was a small chandler’s, the window a jumble of buckets and mops and tins of paint, a fish shop with an empty marble slab behind the glass, and a sweet and tobacconist’s, still open. An elderly woman was sitting on a chair by the door, taking advantage of the evening sun.

When Josie and her mother arrived, a boy about her own age and a little girl who looked no more than two were sitting on the steps outside.

‘I promise I won’t be long, luv,’ Mam said as she went
through the swing doors – the glass in the doors and all the windows had been painted over for the blackout. A thick curtain hung over the entrance for when it grew dark, so that not even the slightest chink of light would show when people went in and out.

The boy on the steps was chirpy, with a monkey-like face and a shaven head full of sores. His left arm was withered. He introduced himself as Tommy. The little girl was his sister, and he was looking after her, otherwise he would be playing with his mates, which he would have much preferred. His sister’s name was Nora. She couldn’t talk yet, and was a pain in the bloody arse.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a ciggie on you?’ he asked casually.

‘’Course not. I’m only six.’

She was amazed to learn that Tommy was ten. ‘I’ll be eleven at Chrimbo,’ he boasted. ‘I’ve been smoking for years.’

‘Does your mam and dad know?’

‘Well, no,’ he conceded. ‘Me dad’d batter me soft if he did.’

‘It would be no more than you deserved,’ Josie said primly. ‘By the way, your sister wants her nose wiping.’

‘Wipe your effin’ nose, our Nora,’ Tommy commanded, and Nora drew her arm across her face, spreading the offending green stuff over her cheek.

They played together amiably on the stone steps. Tommy was impressed when Josie jumped down from the fourth. ‘Not bad for a girl,’ he grudgingly conceded. Naturally, he could jump all five, landing lightly on his tiny feet, much smaller than hers.

Then Nora had a go, and screamed blue murder when she fell on all fours and grazed her hands and knees.
Tommy opened the pub door and yelled, ‘Mam, our Nora’s hurt herself.’

In view of the racket going on inside the Prince Albert – the blasts of laughter, the occasional sing-song, the thud of glasses on the tables – Josie wasn’t surprised when no one came. She comforted Nora as best she could when it seemed that Tommy couldn’t care less. Then her own mam appeared with a glass of lemonade and a packet of crisps, which she felt obliged to share with her new friends. Nora stopped crying, but started again as soon as the crisps had gone. Josie stamped her foot and ordered her to stop. To her surprise, Nora did.

A woman arrived carrying a baby, a scantily clad little girl trailing wearily behind holding her skirt. She plonked the baby in the girl’s arms, warning, ‘Drop her, and you’ll be in dead trouble.’

‘Hello, Shirl,’ said Tommy. Shirl nodded, sat on the step with the baby and promptly fell asleep.

‘She mustn’t half be tired,’ Josie whispered.

‘Yeah.’ Tommy seemed oblivious to everything except exhibiting his own athletic prowess. Despite his withered arm, he swiftly shinned up a lamp-post and swung from the top. ‘Look at me, Jose,’ he called.

‘You’re nothing but a show-off,’ Josie sniffed.

Tommy dropped to the ground. He seemed determined to impress her. ‘Would you like to see me cock?’ he offered.

‘Your what?’

‘Me cock, me tool, me thingummyjig. Have you never seen one before?’

‘No.’

The boy undid the tweed trousers that ended just above his crab-apple knees, and proudly produced a
wormlike piece of flesh. ‘I’ll give you a baby, if you like. I’ve had it off with girls before.’

Josie regarded the worm scornfully. ‘Put it away. I don’t want a baby, thanks all the same.’ She didn’t know where babies came from, only that Tommy was talking through the back of his neck.

‘You’re a proper ould bossy boots, Jose,’ Tommy said as he fastened his trousers.

‘Can I go again tomorrow?’ Josie asked when they were on their way back to Huskisson Street.

Mam, flushed and bleary-eyed, was linking her arm with that of a sailor in a dead funny uniform. ‘Of course, luv. Did you enjoy yourself?’

‘Oh, yes, Mam. It was the gear. Tommy goes to Our Lady of Mount Carmel, same as me. I’ve never seen him before ’cos he’s in the Juniors.’

‘I’m glad. It means we’ve solved the problem of the air raids for now. But we can’t have you hanging round once the nights grow dark. Still, we’ll sort that problem out when we come to it. By the way, Petal, this is Pascal. Isn’t that a lovely name? He’s French, and can hardly speak a word of English.’

Pascal smiled at the sound of his name. He nuzzled Mam’s cheek and said huskily, ‘
Je t’adore, Mabel
.’

Tommy had found a dog-end in the gutter. He cadged a match off a man who had paused outside the pub to light a foul-smelling pipe, and struck it between the tiles. He puffed the dog-end furiously until the end glowed red. ‘That’s good,’ he breathed, before exhaling the smoke
with the air of an expert. Nora snuffled noisily on the step beside him.

‘You’re showing off again,’ Josie said mildly. ‘Nora, wipe your nose.’ She looked away when Nora wiped her nose in the usual fashion.

It was a week since she’d first come to the Prince Albert, and she had grown fond of Tommy and Nora. She felt quite touched when Nora ran to meet her and took her hand. Their father was in the army, a sergeant. Tommy said Josie was his girlfriend and had kissed her twice. Josie had told Mam, missing out the kisses. Mam laughed. ‘When you’re old enough for boyfriends, let’s hope you can do better than
that
, Petal.’

Josie felt hurt. She was looking forward to going back to school next week and having a boyfriend in the Juniors. She watched him affectionately. He got three puffs from the dog-end, and began to look for more in the gutter. She liked him almost as much as she did Maude, and felt a motherly concern for Nora.

A small, jaunty man with a cheerful face came out of the pub. His name was Bert, and he usually exchanged a few words with the children. Tonight, he went over to the sweetshop and returned with three Mars bars. ‘Here you are, kids. It’s Friday, payday, so I’m flush. Don’t eat it all in one bite, now.’ He winked at Josie. ‘Reckon you’ll be carrying your mam home tonight, luv. She’s in there downing gin and tonics like nobody’s business.’

Josie opened one of the swing doors as far as she dared without invoking the wrath of the landlord who didn’t want children on his premises for fear he’d lose his licence. She searched with worried eyes for her mother, and saw her sitting with two khaki-clad young men in one of the wooden compartments with seats each side. All three were laughing hilariously. Mam’s hat was all
crooked, and when she picked up her glass, liquid spilled down the front of her frock. They all laughed again. One of the men grinned, undid the buttons and dabbed her breasts with a hankie.

‘They’re officers, them,’ a voice said in her ear. ‘You can tell by the uniform. Your mam’s a tart, isn’t she? She goes with men for money.’

Tommy was standing behind her. Josie let the door swing shut, conscious of the Mars bar melting in her hand. She was too sick to eat it. She nodded miserably, and felt tears rush to her eyes. Then Tommy’s shrivelled arm slid around her waist. ‘Don’t worry, kid. I won’t tell anyone at school. And when we’re grown up, you’ll have me to look after you, so you won’t end up like your mam.’

‘Ta, Tommy,’ she whispered gratefully.

The sky darkened early and it started to rain, only lightly. Nora cried when she finished her Mars bar, so Josie gave her hers. She ate it greedily, and cried again after she’d licked the paper clean.

They sat in a row on the top step, four children and a baby – Shirl had just arrived, and was already fast asleep with her sister on her lap. Nora whinged. Josie couldn’t stop thinking about Mam and wasn’t in the mood to play. Even Tommy seemed subdued by the rain. They watched the old lady lock up the sweetshop and walk away beneath an umbrella.

A woman clattered smartly up the steps in very high heels. ‘Just look at them poor kids,’ she said to the man with her. ‘Some parents are totally irresponsible. They don’t deserve to have children.’

‘Fuck off,’ Tommy snarled.

The man threatened to give him a good hiding, and
Tommy said if he laid a finger on him, he’d call his dad who was a heavyweight boxer.

‘Oh, yeah!’ sneered the man. ‘And I’m Clark Gable.’

‘Oh, leave them, Geoff. Poor things, they don’t know any better. Let’s find a different pub. I don’t like the look of this place.’

‘What happens if the air-raid siren goes?’ Josie asked as the sky became darker. She seemed to have lost track of time.

‘There’s a shelter just down the street,’ Tommy assured her. ‘Don’t worry, Jose. I’ll show you where.’

‘But I can’t go without Mam!’ The whole point of coming to the Prince Albert was so that she and Mam wouldn’t be parted. A lump of fear rose in her throat at the thought of waiting outside, alone, while the bombs fell.

To her relief, the pub doors opened and Mam staggered out with the two soldiers. They wore peaked caps and neat, well-fitting uniforms.

‘I told you they were officers,’ Tommy murmured.

Josie’s relief was followed by a feeling of horror, because it quickly became obvious that
Mam had forgotten she was there
! She shrieked with laughter when the men linked arms with her and rushed her across the street so that her feet scarcely touched the ground. They had turned the corner before Josie started to follow. Her legs felt numb, and she forgot to say tara to Tommy.

Halfway along Upper Parliament Street one of the soldiers said in a loud, posh voice, ‘We seem to have acquired a shadow, an extremely pretty little shadow,’ and they all turned round.

‘Josie! Oh, luv. I’d forgotten all about you.’ Mam’s eyes were glazed, she could hardly see. She broke away from the men’s supporting arms. One just managed to
catch her before she fell. Two women who were passing looked at her in disgust.

Mam hiccuped loudly. ‘It’s our Josie. It’s me little girl.’

For the second time that night, Josie’s eyes filled with tears. She’d never seen Mam so drunk before – legless, Maude called it. ‘This chap was legless,’ she said once. ‘He gave me a pound note in mistake for ten bob.’

If only she were bigger, Josie thought fiercely, bigger and stronger and older. She’d chase the men away, drag Mam home and forbid her to touch another drop of drink again.

‘Come on, Josie. I’ll give you a piggy-back.’ Suddenly, she was lifted in the air and found herself clutching the soldier’s neck. To her surprise, he smelled of scent. His hair was very fair and bristly. As they walked towards Huskisson Street, he told her his name was Roger, and he had a sister, Abigail, who wasn’t much older than she was. His friend was Thomas – not Tommy or Tom, but Thomas. Thomas’s hair was dark, and he had a small moustache, like a hyphen in a book. They were both quite good-looking, good-humoured and, she had to concede, boyishly nice. They were completely different to the visitors Mam usually had, and she wondered if they were just seeing her safely home.

When they reached Huskisson Street Roger put Josie down, and helped his friend half drag, half carry her mother upstairs. Mam was giggling helplessly, and by the time they got to the second floor Josie sensed the men were getting angry. They were no longer boyish, and not the least bit nice, and said horrible words like ‘bitch’ and ‘whore’.

‘This had better be fucking worth it,’ Thomas swore.

They reached the attic room. Mam was roughly pushed inside and the door slammed.

Josie sat at the top of the stairs and waited. Her clothes were wet from the rain, and little needles of fear pulsed through her body. The house was very quiet for a change. She went down and knocked on Maude’s door, but there was no answer. Upstairs again, she wished Teddy were there as she watched the stars, pale and unblinking, appear through the skylight. Grey clouds scudded past, concealing then revealing the tiny pricks of light.

The attic door opened. Roger emerged in his shirtsleeves and took her arm. His grip was painful. ‘You’ll do for a shag till Thomas has done,’ he muttered.

She didn’t understand. He pulled her into the room, and she went willingly because she wanted to be with her mother, make sure she was safe. She no longer trusted the men she’d thought so nice.

Through the high window, the final remains of daylight offered enough illumination to see the naked figure of her mother lying face down on the bed, moaning softly. Thomas, half-dressed, was riding her like a horse, almost galloping. Josie felt a sickly throbbing in her stomach. Still unsure what was happening, she was roughly flung on the bed and Roger crawled on top of her. She felt his hand reach underneath her frock, but she ignored it, concerned only for Mam, whose face was turned towards hers, only inches away, her eyes screwed close. Was Thomas hurting her? Josie wriggled away from Roger’s groping hands and touched her mother’s cheek.