‘Jim, you shouldn’t have done that!’ Sally was trembling with shock.
‘Oh, I think I should. In fact, somebody should’ve done it long ago. You dirty, filthy bugger!’
Sally felt sorry for Carol’s mum. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I need to tell you something. I think you should sit down.’
The other woman looked bewildered but let Sally lead her through to the room where a light was glowing.
‘Carol told me tonight that her father has been using her for sex, any time he got the chance but mostly on Mondays when you are often out.’
‘What?’ Her face turned ghostly white and she looked as though she might faint. ‘Has he …?’
‘No,’ Sally interrupted, knowing what the poor woman was thinking. ‘He hasn’t had full intercourse, told her he was saving that for a treat, but by the sound of it, he’s done everything else.’
The other woman jumped up from her chair. Screeching like a banshee, she flew at her husband, still huddled on the stairs, scraping her long, painted nails down his already bleeding face. ‘I’ll kill you for this!’ she hissed.
‘Well, you weren’t there! You and your first-aid class … You were with Harry, weren’t you?’
‘Of course I was with Harry. He’s a real man, that’s why. How often have you made love to me in all the years we’ve been married? Twice! And now I know why you forced yourself to rise to those two occasions … because you wanted children. Wanted little girls.’
There was a vase set on the turn of the stairs, about two feet tall and filled with pampas grass. If Jim hadn’t caught her hand in time she would have brought it crashing down on her husband’s head.
‘Look,’ he intervened, ‘we’re not interested in your marital problems. We just want to know that things are going to change, because there’s one thing for sure – Carol’s not coming back here until summat does.’
‘Oh, something will change all right. He can pack his bags and get out of here.’ She turned on her husband. ‘I’ll give you one hour, then I shall call the police.’
‘You wouldn’t?’ His face was deathly white beneath the blood.
‘Wouldn’t I? Just try me! You’ve had five minutes already.’
The man staggered up the stairs, saying as he went, ‘You’ll miss my money, you’ll never manage.’
‘I’d rather scrub floors than live with a man who even thinks about touching his own daughter. And this house is mine, don’t forget. My father saw to that. He never trusted you, did he? Now we know he was right. And don’t go near my other daughter or I’ll kill you!’
Sally thought she meant it, too.
‘Well,’ she said, looking at her visitors, ‘now that’s settled, I won’t keep you any longer.’
‘No,’ Jim said. ‘He hasn’t gone yet. We’ll wait until he has. He might change his mind.’
‘Thanks, yes, best be on the safe side. I’d appreciate that.’
‘Do you think he’ll cause any problems?’ Sally asked her.
‘No. He’s too much to lose. He’s in a job where they won’t tolerate any scandal, and I expect my friend Harry’ll be here to watch over us. The truth is, I ought to have thrown him out years ago. It never was a proper marriage.’ She looked embarrassed. ‘You heard the whole sordid story, didn’t you? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have inflicted it on you. Still, at least I know now why he didn’t want me. Not that it’s much consolation … my poor little Carol! Perhaps I should inform the police, to protect other children?’
‘It’s up to you. You’ve got to weigh up the harm it could do to Carol, if all the sordid details become common knowledge.’
‘I know. Maybe I should protect her from that.’
They heard a couple of cases being trundled downstairs then and Carol’s father stood, shamefaced, in the hall. He had cleaned himself up but it was obvious he would have a couple of black eyes for the next few weeks.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to be like I am … I need help.’
‘You bloody well do,’ Jim muttered.
‘And I’m going to get it, I promise. I won’t bother you again.’ He turned at the door. ‘And I’ll send money for the girls …’
‘No, I don’t want anything! I’ll manage. I shall be putting in for a divorce, then I shall marry Harry. He’ll be a proper father to my girls.’
‘I’ll give you grounds then, I shan’t fight it.’
‘Thanks for that at least. Now, I’d like you to leave.’
‘Are you all right?’ Sally asked after they’d heard a car drive away.
‘Yes, I’m fine. Apart from worrying about how to deal with Carol …’
‘I should just leave it. She’ll get over it sooner if it isn’t mentioned. I’ll tell her you know, and that if she wants to talk about it, you’ll be there for her. Do you think that’ll be best?’
‘Yes, thank you. But why didn’t she tell me what was happening? I would have dealt with it immediately.’
‘I don’t think any of our girls confide in their mothers. It was Daisy who persuaded her to speak up in the end.’
‘I’ll try and be a bit more approachable in future.’
‘I think we all need to be that.’
And Sally would tell Daisy about the baby tomorrow, she vowed. If they didn’t want their children to keep secrets, then parents shouldn’t have them either.
On 14 February 1945 the RAF descended on Dresden, pulverising the city and leaving 130,000 believed dead. Ernest Butler flew back to base jubilant that the raid had been a success, but grieving for some of his comrades who were destined never to return. Six weeks later Allied troops crossed the Rhine to capture Cologne, and on 12 April the concentration camp at Bergen-Belsen was liberated. By 7 May the war in Europe was at an end.
The next day Victory in Europe was celebrated throughout Britain. The children at Millington School were given a holiday, and everyone on the three rows joined together in the largest celebration any of the residents could remember. The men found enough wood and rubbish to build a bonfire on the field between Potters and Barkers Rows, while the ladies set to work preparing a street party. Even Ida and the Broomsgroves joined in the preparations. The Dawson lads found a Union Jack and some old red, white and blue rags to cut up for bunting, which they hung from the bedroom windows across to the clothes posts and the sycamore tree. It wasn’t until the tables were set out and everyone ready to feast themselves that anyone had time to notice that in amongst all the flags and finery, hoisted on the end of the guttering on Potters Row, was another large, pink satin embellishment: Kitty Ramsgate’s famous brassiere.
Amy Butler invited Danny to join the celebrations, and Tom, Jim and Bernard almost did themselves an injury trundling the iron-framed piano from Taylors Row across to the field.
Betty Hayes secretly felt like crying at the thought of all the lives sacrificed by brave men like Clarence so that today’s celebration could take place. Nevertheless, she dressed little Ernie in his best clothes, put on her fanciest frock and a huge smile, and went to join the party. Even Pat stayed home to be with her family on such an important day, and as usual took charge of the entertainment. Grand-dad Denman had been invited ’specially to play the piano and the singing could be heard halfway down St George’s Road. Danny Powell surprised everyone, and embarrassed Amy Butler, when he sang ‘Amy, Wonderful Amy’.
‘I think we’ve got a romance on our hands,’ Betty confided in Jim.
‘Well, by the looks of her it isn’t doing her any harm.’ Amy definitely looked better than she had in years.
‘He’s a good man, Jim.’
‘Aye, so Sally tells me. It seems they’ve been ’aving cosy nights in, listening to records.’
‘Well, it’s as good an excuse as any, I suppose,’ Betty giggled. Little Ernie came running towards them then, a hot potato in his hand.
‘I like bonfires, mam! Can we have one every day?’
‘No, son. Only on special occasions.’
‘What�
��s an occasion?’
‘Oh, Ernie, go and find our Daisy, she’ll tell you.’ And Ernie ran off, stuffing the potato into his mouth.
‘He’s as bad as our Daisy for asking questions.’
‘He’s a grand little lad, Betty. Clarence would have been proud of him.’
‘Yes, he would. I don’t really know why we’re celebrating, Jim. The city’s almost destroyed; sons, fathers and husbands either dead or half-dead. And it’s not really finished yet, is it? There’s still Japan.’
‘Aye, love, but the worst is over, I reckon.’
‘Well, let’s hope so, and that there won’t be another war in a hurry. Not in my son’s lifetime anyway. I’ve lost my husband. I couldn’t bear it if I lost my son.’
‘Good Lord, Betty, let’s hope it never comes to that! Come and get a drink, this is no night to be miserable.’
‘No, I’m going to join the conga.’ And Betty joined the long line dancing its way down towards the Donkey Path. ‘Come on, Ernie!’
The little boy giggled as he tried to follow the footwork of the merrymakers in front of him.
‘Where are we going, Mam?’
‘Down to the works yard. There’s a concert starting down there.’
‘What’s a concert?’
‘Like a party, with people singing and dancing.’
Jim, Tom and Bernard had retired to a table in the corner along with Alfie Ramsgate, who bagged the seat nearest the beer. They were all rather inebriated. Then Jim said to Alfie, ‘Who do yer reckon that parachute up on’t roof belongs to, Alfie?’
‘It belongs to our Kitty.’
‘Who’s responsible for it being up there then?’
‘I reckon it was one of the Dawson lads,’ Bernard said. ‘They’re always up to summat.’
‘It wor me.’ Alfie looked sheepish.
‘You? Why?’
‘Well, I’m fed up of the bloody thing. I reckon she’s got another bloke since I bought ’er that brassiere.’
The other three men couldn’t keep straight faces as they wondered what type of man could face a session with Kitty Ramsgate.
‘What meks yer think that?’ Tom enquired, trying to appear serious.
‘Well, she started wearing fancy knickers to match the bloody brassiere. Pink french ones wi’ lace on ’em.’
‘Well, let’s face it, Alfie, they’d ’ave to be french ones to fit round your Kitty’s thighs.’
‘Aye, well, it’s costing me a bloody fortune. Besides, she goes flaunting ’erself to all and sundry now. I wish I’d never bought the bloody thing.’
‘I thought you’d ’ave been proud of a pair like your Kitty’s. There’s not many like them.’
‘Aye, well, that’s not the problem really. No, it’s more that she puts on them fancy undies, and they mek her feel all sexy, and I’m not getting any younger … I can’t always get it up! And I’m thinking, if I can’t do owt for ’er, somebody else might. Anyway, wi’ a bit of luck the bloody thing might blow away, then we can get back to normal.’ Alfie grinned. ‘Don’t tell our Kitty it were me who hung it up theer, will yer?’
‘Oh, we won’t, Alfie. We’ll spread the rumour it were one of the Dawson lads. She’s always the first to get hold of a bit of gossip, is your Kitty. Where is she, by the way?’
‘Gone to ’er mother’s, or so she says. And that’s another thing – all the stuff she brings back wi’ her when she reckons to ’ave been to ’er mother’s: nylon stockings, two-pound bags of sugar, tins of bloody jam! She’s not getting them from ’er mother’s, is she?’
‘So she ’asn’t seen that up there yet then?’
‘Not yet.’
Bernard looked puzzled. ‘So if your Kitty’s brassiere’s up theer on the guttering, what’s she wearing today?’
‘She’s only been and bought another one! Black this time. That’s why I think she’s got another man. That and all the presents.’
‘Well, I’m sorry it’s upsetting you, you being jealous.’
‘Oh, it’s not upsetting me, her ’aving another man. In fact, I wish she’d bugger off wi’ one! It’s the bloody price of all them fancy brassieres and things I’m upset about.’
The party ended with all the old folk singing the songs of their youth round the dying embers of the fire. The younger ones had taken off to the works yard where people from all over Millington had gathered. By the time the strains of ‘God Save The King’ had died away most folk had shed a tear or two, either for loved ones lost or others hopefully on their way home.
* * *
It was while the men from the rows were trying to sleep off their hangovers the next morning that Kitty went out to empty the ashes. It was there, right above her head, her precious brassiere. The wind had filled out the cups so that it floated, splendid and proud as the figurehead on a sailing ship.
Kitty didn’t stay to gather gossip as she usually did but ran screaming up the stairs. She took off one of her dirty old slippers and gave poor Alfie’s bare backside a beating he would remember long after the brassiere had blown away. Peace might reign over Europe but it hadn’t yet been declared at the Ramsgates’ on Potters Row!
On 19 August the celebrations were repeated and this time the war really was over. Victory over Japan had been declared.
Daisy hadn’t wanted to go to grammar school, not after she had heard Pat talking about all the games such as tennis and hockey that had to be endured. She had the sense, though, to realise that a writer needed the best education possible. So she and Carol passed their exams and settled happily at their new school.
Una Bacon had no interest whatsoever in being educated. All she wanted was to go on the stage. Nevertheless, she was a bright girl and worked hard in the seniors at Millington School.
Jean knew that even if she had passed the eleven plus it would have been a waste of time; she would be expected to leave school at fifteen to start work and help keep her many brothers and sisters.
The four girls still remained friends out of school hours, though, and continued to meet most nights.
Kenneth Butler was born in October, a placid, beautiful baby whom Daisy adored from the first moment she set eyes on him. She helped bathe, dress and feed him, and if he cried in his cot she would lift him out and cuddle him till he fell asleep. She wrote a poem about an old wicker cradle, especially for her brother.
On Sunday afternoons, after Sunday school, the four girls would trundle prams containing brothers, sisters and cousins on walks to the common or to the west of Millington. They would giggle and start to show off if they should happen to meet any boys on the way. It wasn’t long before gangs of youths would congregate in some beauty spot or other where the four lasses might happen to stroll. The truth was that the four friends were growing up to be beautiful, desirable girls.
Jim was delighted that Daisy took Kenneth off their hands. It gave Sally and him time to catch up on their lovemaking. He even considered locking the door to keep out any visitors, but his wife wouldn’t hear of it.
‘What will anybody think, if they find the door locked in the middle of the day?’
‘They’ll either think we’re out or that we’re lying naked on the bed, making mad, passionate love. What the hell does it matter what anybody thinks?’ he answered.
‘And what if our Daisy comes back and she’s locked out?’
So the door remained unlocked and ever open to visitors, as usual.
Chapter Ten
‘DID YER EVER make any enquiries about them new-fangled washers?’ Danny asked Sally one day.
‘No, but I will. I’ll ask Mr Brubeck on Friday.’
He was a salesman who travelled to three or four South Yorkshire towns, selling everything under the sun. If Mr Brubeck couldn’t get it, he knew somebody who could. He lived in Cottenly and called every Friday after tea at Amy Butler’s. If anyone on the rows needed anything, from prams to coal buckets, Mr Brubeck usually managed to locate it, even in wartime. His customers would pay hi
m a fixed sum each week, so that by the time anything was needed there would be enough on the card to cover it and prevent anyone from finding themself in debt. In times of need, Mr Brubeck would bend the rules and allow the item to be paid for after the purchase, but none of the Butlers had ever found themselves in that situation. Danny knew about the payment system but was adamant that the new machine would be paid for, in full, on delivery.
All Potters Row looked forward to Mr Brubeck’s visits and the neighbours would congregate in Amy’s kitchen to see what new delights he had to offer. Sometimes it would be a lady’s blouse or stockings, a man’s working shirt or a fine linen tablecloth. Mr Brubeck never asked for coupons so nobody ever questioned where the goods had come from. On this occasion he had brought a little blue linen coat which would fit Kenneth in a few months’ time. Sally was delighted that she had made enough payments to cover its cost. She then enquired about the washing machine for Danny and Mr Brubeck said he would see what he could do.
True to his word, a few weeks later he had found a washer. The contraption was a large, green metal container on four legs. A handle rotated a paddle inside the drum, and Mr Brubeck said the washing came out just as clean as if it had been scrubbed by hand. All the neighbours came in to admire the wonderful invention.
Kitty Ramsgate spread the rumour in Mr Baraclough’s the next day that Amy Butler had turned all posh and got herself a new-fangled washer: ‘She’ll not want to talk to the likes of us now!’
She had to eat her words the next morning when she saw Jim Butler and Tom Porter carrying it away again, so she spread a further bit of gossip that Amy had bitten off more than she could chew and found she couldn’t afford it after all. Meanwhile Danny was trying out his washing machine and finding it a marvellous, labour-saving invention.
* * *
Lizzie Denman was hanging out the washing when her son came into view. He had lost so much weight she had to look twice to make sure it was Ernest, then she dropped a handful of gipsy pegs on the ground and ran to meet him with open arms.
Where the Heart Is Page 26
