The jewellery next, the main thing he was to look for, where was it likely to be? Upstairs, that was the usual place, on a dressing table. He made his way back up. It was easier now as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. The dressing table was bare except for a cardboard box containing a glass trinket set and, miraculously, a small wooden box. He lifted the lid and the tune ‘Greensleeves’ rang out. He closed it hurriedly and took the box downstairs with him.
Then he remembered the books. Charlotte had specifically mentioned those, leather-bound ones she had told him. He flicked the lighter. Now where would books be kept? There were boxes and sheet-wrapped objects everywhere. Suddenly his eye caught a bookcase in the corner. He could make out books behind its glass doors. He found at least a dozen leather-bound volumes, emptied a box on to the floor and dropped the books inside.
That was everything. If Charlotte thought of anything else, she could damned well fetch them herself. He carried the books outside, tripped over a picture and stumbled his whole length on to the stone flags outside the door. The pain as he hit his nose caused him to black out for a few seconds. Blood poured from his nostrils as he rose shakily to his feet. Bloody Charlotte! He found the box and the pictures and went back for the rest of his haul. Still agonised and drenched in sweat and blood, he locked the door of the house and drove home, cursing his wife for being the cause of his broken nose.
‘Have you got everything?’ Charlotte asked, not in the least concerned at the sight of her husband’s wounds.
‘If I haven’t, you can get it yourself. Where’s the first-aid box?’
‘The bathroom cabinet.’ Her eyes gleamed at the sight of the masonic clock. She went from one thing to another like a child on Christmas morning. Then she opened the wooden jewellery box. ‘What the …?’ Her fingers plucked out a cheap silver-plated chain. She remembered buying it once from a gift shop in Barnsley for Aunt Clara’s birthday, considering her aunt too ignorant to be able to tell the difference. A string of yellow beads and a couple of brooches made up the rest of the contents.
‘You stupid, stupid man!’ she raged. ‘Can’t you ever do anything right?’
Mark had managed to stem the bleeding but felt as if he’d just done twenty rounds with Charlie Parkin. He managed to reach the lavatory before vomiting, dropping to his knees in his weakness. He could hear Charlotte still ranting on. Apparently he had brought the wrong pictures, the cheap prints, the ones of the dogs, and left the ones of value. He rose to his feet and made it well into the lounge just as she was accusing him of being a bastard and an idiot, along with a string of other obscenities.
‘Shut up!’ His voice was hoarse. ‘One more word out of you and you’ll pay for this night’s work.’
Charlotte didn’t seem to hear, but kept raging at the injured man. Suddenly Mark’s hand lashed out and slapped her so hard she was sent reeling. As the shocked woman flopped backwards on to the sofa, Mark looked down at his wife, the woman he realised for the first time he actually hated, then he left the room, slamming the door behind him, and went to sleep in the spare room.
Daisy put Baby Doll to bed for her afternoon nap. Sometimes she lay beside her with her picture books and told stories about Red Riding Hood or Goldilocks until she herself fell asleep. Today she told Baby Doll about the Three Little Pigs and then went out to play. Stanley was hanging about in the field so she went to join him. ‘Shall we play school?’ Daisy said.
‘All right, if yer like.’
‘I’ll be teacher.’
‘No, you can’t, you don’t know what teachers do,’ Stanley said, but Daisy looked so miserable that he gave in. ‘Oh, go on then.’ Stanley began to say the alphabet. ‘A for apple, B for ball …’
‘C for cat.’ Daisy knew all her letters. ‘D for dog,’ she said.
‘Please may I leave the room?’ Stanley put up his hand. Daisy was confused.
‘We’re not in a room,’ she said.
‘No, but that is what you have to say when you want to wee.’
‘All right,’ Daisy said.
Stanley walked over to the long grass and began to urinate.
‘What’s that?’ Daisy said, pointing at his little private parts.
‘That’s my willy.’ Stanley buttoned up his trousers. ‘Now you’ve seen mine, you’ve got to show me yours.’
‘I haven’t got one of them.’
‘All right then, you can show me yer knickers.’
Daisy lifted up her dress and Stanley had a peep. ‘Una Bacon wears pink knickers,’ he informed her.
‘How do you know?’
‘I saw ’em when she was doing handstands.’
‘Yes, but did you show her your willy?’
‘No, she didn’t want me to. She said she’d already seen one when they went paddling in the river. She said willies were boring.’
‘Yes, they are,’ Daisy said. ‘E for egg. F for fish.’
‘I’m fed up of this game,’ Stanley said. ‘Let’s play Cowboys and Indians.’
‘Another day. It’s time for Baby Doll to get up.’ Daisy ran home and up the stairs to her bedroom. Then she screamed. Sally took the stairs two at a time to reach her distraught daughter. There on the bed was Daisy’s beloved celluloid doll, its face completely chewed away so that it stared grotesquely out of one blue eye, the only part of it still recognisable. Sally covered the doll with the quilt and picked up her little girl.
‘It’s all right,’ She tried to console Daisy, but it was impossible. The sobs were continuing deep within her.
‘I don’t want her to go to heaven like baby Celia!’ she cried.
‘No! We’ll take her to the dolls’ hospital and see if they can make her better.’ Sally hoped to God they could find a replica of the doll that had been just as loved as a real baby.
Jim wondered what the hell had got into Dippy. The dog had never done anything like this before. Dippy lay on his mat in the corner, his nose on the floor. He knew he had done wrong but it was worth it to be rid of Baby Doll. Daisy came and sat on the pegged rug and he slithered over to her and rested his head on her lap.
Daisy cuddled him. She didn’t know it was Dippy who had hurt her baby. Otherwise, like a mother, she would never have forgiven him.
Chapter Three
THE VIEW FROM Miss Appleby’s house was of the field, the air-raid shelter, and a pair of semi-detached houses on St George’s Road. She spent most of her day watching the comings and goings at those two houses. Ida Appleby was a miserable, bored and utterly selfish woman. Nobody had ever known her join in any of the neighbourhood activities and until recently her house had been kept immaculate. Now she had decided she needed some help to keep it in that condition. When Sally Butler had brought her the flowers as a peace offering, she had wondered if the young woman would take on the task of cleaning for her, especially now she wasn’t doing for Mr Jessops any more. When she saw the eldest Cartwright girl coming home from school she had a letter waiting for the girl to deliver to her aunt. Now all she could do was wait and see.
Sally and Jim were making love for the first time in weeks, what with Jim’s shift work and Betty moving herself in, then the death of old Walter and the weekend at Springvale with Daisy sharing their bed. Now at last Jim had his wife in his arms and her body was responsive and eager for love. He slid the Celanese nighty over her head and stroked the smooth, firm silkiness of her breasts until her nipples stood erect. He had just penetrated her moist inviting body when the sound of somebody downstairs completely deflated his ardour. ‘What the hell was that?’
‘Nothing.’ Sally was too aroused to care what was happening anywhere else, but Jim was already out of bed and climbing into his trousers. He moved silently downstairs and opened the door of the living-room.
‘Ernest! Bloody ’ell, man, you didn’t ’alf give me a fright. Oh, but it is good to see you!’
‘Aye, you too. Sorry to drop in like this, I didn’t intend to wake yer, I was going to kip down on the sofa. I
didn’t want to knock the old folks up at this time of night, and I knew where your key would be.’
‘Oh, aye, ever open door ours is.’ He suddenly noticed Ernest’s arm bound up in a sling. ‘What’s up with yer arm, lad?’
‘Pulled me shoulder out’t socket. Bloody painful, but worth it to get leave.’ Ernest grinned and Jim could see why all the lasses fancied his brother-in-law. The door opened then and Sally came running in and gathered her brother into her arms.
‘Ouch!’ Ernest moaned. ‘Watch me arm.’
Sally looked concerned. ‘Sorry, what have you been doing?’
‘Dislocation. Took two men to get it back in again.’
She pulled a face. ‘How long are you home for?’
‘All depends on when I can use it again, but at least a fortnight.’
‘Oh, well, it’s good to see you. Are you hungry?’
‘No, I had fish and chips. Stood at the counter and ate ’em. Couldn’t carry ’em wi’ me arm and eat at the same time.’
‘Ah, poor you! Anyway, we’ll have some tea and then you must get some sleep.’
Ernest looked tired out and seemed to have lost a couple of stone in weight. Sally supposed it was due to the pain from his injury. Little did she know the conditions he and his RAF comrades were about to be subjected to. Ernest knew, and realised it would be no picnic, but he was trained for the job and couldn’t wait to get on with it. In fact, his injury was not just a pain in the shoulder but a pain in the arse to him. And though the leave was welcome, he couldn’t wait to be back to the job of winning the war.
When Sally was given the letter asking her to visit Miss Appleby at her convenience, the first thought in her head was to wonder what Daisy had done now. However, her brother’s arrival meant the visit to their neighbours was put off until another day. Ernest set off for their parents’ home early in the morning, and because Daisy couldn’t bear to be parted from her uncle, he took her with him. Jim volunteered to pick up his kit bag from the station.
Lizzie Denman burst into tears at the sight of her son’s injury, but the tears were really of relief that her cherished boy was safe home again.
Joe Denman was a man of few words but Ernest knew how his father felt. Words were unnecessary between them. The two men merely set off to the allotment, where any man on the night shift would usually escape while the women completed their daily chores. Today, Ernest was the centre of attraction. Although the older men questioned the airman all about his injury, Ernest made light of it, unwilling to cause anxiety to his father and the other men who all had sons serving their country. Instead he led the conversation to the fact that Chamberlain had resigned.
‘Aah, it’ll all be over in no time now Churchill’s in charge,’ Ben Hoyle predicted. ‘Our lads’ll be ’ome before we can say Charlie Chaplin.’
Joe Denman wasn’t too sure. He began talking about knurr and spell, on which Mr Hoyle was quite an authority, being a champion player of the game.
In Ernest’s kit bag were three pairs of tiny wooden Dutch clogs for his three nieces. Daisy’s were yellow with floral decorations and she thought they were the prettiest things. They even succeeded in taking her mind off Baby Doll for a while. Ernest had also brought her a small fur-lined helmet, similarly shaped to the ones pilots wore. Despite the fact that it was July and quite warm, she insisted on wearing it to go home in.
‘That’ll keep you warm on the way to school in winter,’ Grandma Denman told her. When Stanley saw the helmet, Daisy was pestered with requests to let him try it on. Then the Dawson boys came over to look at the treasured garment. By the time she had given them all a turn at wearing it, she was the most popular child in the whole of Millington and the helmet, because a real airman had brought it home, was the envy of all.
Sally was itching to start work on the cleaning and decorating of Mr Jessops’ house but was not permitted to do so until the letter from the solicitor arrived, confirming her inheritance. Betty, on the other hand, was becoming more and more impatient, having decided to apply for Jim’s house as soon as it became vacant. Sally had promised not to tell anyone else so that she and Clarence had the first chance.
Clarence didn’t want the house, he didn’t want the responsibility. Nor did he want Betty because he didn’t want to be married at all. And, most of all, he didn’t want a baby, especially one he wasn’t even certain he had fathered. He didn’t tell Betty any of this because Clarence didn’t like confrontations, all he wanted was a quiet life to do as he pleased. Clarence Hayes was a weak, easygoing man so he went along with Betty’s plans while all the time he was making plans of his own.
Ida Appleby was sitting in her usual place by the window when Sally came on the row. Ida went to put the kettle on; she must be sure to be on her best behaviour. If she wanted Sally Butler’s services, she must make a good impression. She even managed a smile of sorts as she answered the door. ‘Come in, come in,’ she enthused. ‘Thank you for coming so soon.’
Sally would have liked to tell the woman to get on with whatever it was she wanted, but Miss Appleby rambled on about the shortages.
‘I don’t mind the sugar so much, but why they had to ration our butter and bacon I’ll never know.’ Anyone would think she was the only one affected by the rationing. ‘And how are we expected to manage on five ounces of meat a week? We can’t keep healthy on that.’
‘Well, not just five ounces, we are entitled to three-quarters of a pound of imported meat as well,’ Sally volunteered.
‘Oh, foreign muck! They won’t catch me eating that, we don’t know who’s been handling it. I’ll go without first.’
Sally took the cup of tea she’d been offered, which was barely coloured, and sat down at the table opposite Miss Appleby.
‘Right, what I wanted to ask you was if you’d come and help me out wi’ a bit of cleaning and shopping and such?’
Sally was stunned and didn’t know what to say.
‘I’ll pay yer well, if that’s what yer wondering.’
‘No, I wasn’t … I just wondered, why me?’
‘Well, I know yer did well for Mr Jessops, and now he’s gone I thought you might consider giving me a few hours.’
‘Well, I don’t know. I’ve got our Daisy, and until she starts school I can’t leave her with just anybody.’
‘Oh, no, I wouldn’t expect yer to. Yer could bring her with yer if yer were stuck fast.’ Ida put on a pained expression. ‘It’s me poor legs, yer see, the rheumatics.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, when would you want me?’
‘There won’t be any washing, it goes to’t laundry. All except me private bits and pieces, which I like to do meself.’ Ida lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Knickers,’ she said primly. Sally almost giggled.
‘But there will be some ironing. Then there’s the bed to change and the floor to mop and me furniture to polish … that’s all really. Oh, and me shopping.’ She looked expectantly at Sally. ‘And there’ll be’t lavatory to put Izal down.’
‘Well, I don’t know how many hours that’d need … and I’d have to see what Jim says. He doesn’t like women working, not with children involved.’
‘Oh, I quite agree, but that’s in peacetime. Women have to sally forth during the war.’
She wondered how doing Miss Appleby’s ironing would benefit the war effort but kept her thoughts to herself. Besides, the money would no doubt come in handy with all the decorating they’d to do. Then they would need some new carpet squares … it would all need paying for. They might even afford new curtains with a bit of extra money coming in. She thought about the valuable things in the Jessops’ house but knew she could never bring herself to part with them. They were all she had left of the old couple. Sally finished her tea.
‘Right then, I’ll let you know.’ She stood up to go.
‘How much an hour would you expect?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, what do you think?’ Sally felt embarrassed at being asked about wages.
&nb
sp; ‘We’ll see.’ Miss Appleby followed her to the door. ‘Yer’ll let me know then?’
‘Yes, I’ll let you know before the weekend.’
It wasn’t until Sally was opening her own front door that she wondered why she was even considering taking the job. She didn’t think she liked Miss Appleby very much, though she did feel sorry for her. The fact was, Sally Butler’s was a soft heart, just waiting for anybody to take advantage of it.
Joe Denman heard the news that Anthony Eden had decided the Local Defence Volunteers were from now on to be known as the Home Guard. It had irked him that he hadn’t done his bit towards the war, even though he was knocking on a bit and his job as a miner wasn’t an easy one. Anyway, now they had stopped buggering about with fancy names, he decided he’d join. When he was on the right shift, of course. Knowing his son was injured had made Joe’s blood boil. The lad wouldn’t let on how it had happened but it was obviously summat to do with the war.
Joe knew he was too old to go to war himself but he would show willing here in Millington. There were the pit, the steelworks, the reservoirs, and most important of all his own family to guard.
He knew Ben and John Thomas would join the Home Guard too now they had called it summat sensible. Like Ben had said, it would be an excuse to pop into’t club after practice. Ben’s wife was a right owd battleaxe who timed him to the minute when he went to slaken the dust with a pint. Joe grinned. The Home Guard would put paid to that. Owd Ben’d be let loose at last.
He sauntered on to the allotment, where he could sit and enjoy a Woodbine without Lizzie complaining about the smoke. It was nice here, with the chapel on one side and the stream on the other. He never noticed the noise from the steelworks or the coke ovens; Joe had been born here and had become immune to the clanging and screeching over the years. All he was aware of was the trickling stream and the bird song in the trees above the graveyard.
He gazed with satisfaction at the beans climbing up their sticks. They hung, green and tender, waiting to be gathered. Peas were filling out nicely, too, Lizzie would enjoy those. He grinned. That was, if his grand-daughters didn’t get to them first. Eeh, but the joy those three lasses gave to Joe Denman was worth all the peas in Millington, especially little Daisy. Just the thought of her made him smile.
Where the Heart Is Page 7
