by Kitty Neale
‘NO … NO … NO.’ Dorothy could hear a woman shouting above the melody of ‘The Lord Is My Shepherd’.
She was barely conscious of Adrian’s arm around her, or Nelly’s voice as she held her hand and said softly, ‘Oh, sugar, I know it hurts but it’ll be OK, hush yourself.’
Engulfed as she was in a world of grief, everything felt distant, and she wasn’t aware that the singing had faded as people listened to the screams in stunned silence. Dorothy felt Nelly’s plump hands cup her cheeks, a stern look on her face as she ordered, ‘Dorothy Butler, pull yourself together.’
As though dashed with cold water, Dorothy gasped, coming to her senses and realising with horror that she had been the hysterical woman. Mortified, she swung around and darted her eyes across the sea of faces staring at her. Some of them looked accusing but others appeared sympathetic.
Her grief turned to an inexplicable anger and she rose to her feet. You can look as much as you like, she thought, but she was my mother. She clenched her fists. She wanted to shout at them all, tell them to go away. How could any of them understand the pain she was going through?
‘Sit down, Dottie,’ Adrian said quietly, ‘I know this is difficult for you, but let’s get through this together and give your mother the proper send-off she deserves.’
Dorothy peered into Adrian’s dark eyes. She hadn’t noticed before, but they looked so kind. What on earth was she doing, making a spectacle of herself at her mother’s funeral? Suddenly embarrassed, she nodded at Adrian and took her seat. She wasn’t sure what had come over her and instantly regretted behaving so badly. It was all so unfair. She had only just lost her baby and now she was contemplating how she was going to live without her mum, the woman she considered her best friend in the world.
The service finally ended and everyone made their way to the graveside, but Dorothy’s legs felt weak and she thought they might give way. She leaned heavily on Adrian, thankful he was there to support her. She was dreading this part of the funeral more than the church service, but for her mother’s sake she mustered all the inner strength she could find.
With her head held high in the most dignified manner she could manage, Dorothy set her eyes on a tree in front of her. She focused on the branches and began to count each one. It seemed a crazy thing to do but she needed something to distract her from the horror of looking at the coffin being lowered into the muddy ground. One, two, three … fifteen …
At last it was over and Dorothy felt Adrian gently take her arm to lead her towards his car. A few neighbours stopped her on the way to offer their condolences and she managed to nod politely, yet scarcely absorbed their sympathies. She was vaguely aware of Nelly answering on her behalf.
Three women had collected in the road in front of Adrian’s car. Their faces were familiar to Dorothy but she wasn’t sure who they were, and in truth she didn’t care. She just wanted to get back to the sanctuary of home.
‘The vicar’s coming this way and we should thank him for conducting the service,’ Adrian said.
‘I can’t, not now, maybe another day. I just want to go home,’ she begged, aware of tears forming again.
‘All right, get yourself in the car. Nelly and I will talk to him and we’ll be as quick as we can,’ he said, and they both hurried off.
Dorothy reached out to open the car door, then paused when she heard her name mentioned.
‘Yeah, that’s her, Dorothy, the wayward daughter,’ said one woman to another.
Dorothy recognised her from the bakery, but she kept her head down and didn’t let on that she could hear their conversation.
‘Poor Alice,’ the woman continued. ‘No wonder her heart gave in. I mean, fancy having all that worry of her only daughter up the spout without a husband. She’s wicked, she is, sending her mother to an early grave like that. And who was the father, eh?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ said the other woman. ‘It could have been either one of them Ferguson brothers, or who’s to say it weren’t old Epstein’s? From what you’ve told me, he was always a bit generous to her with his cakes and biscuits, especially his ginger nuts!’
Dorothy heard the women laughing as she dived into the car. She sat on the back seat, shocked, and wondered if that was what everyone thought. Was it her fault her mother had died? It was awful enough that she was gone and Dorothy didn’t know how she would cope with her death, but it had never crossed her mind that she had caused it.
Had she killed her own beloved mother?
After the funeral they dropped Nelly off, but the rest of the journey home passed in a blur. When Adrian took the key from her shaking hand to open the front door, Dorothy scurried in. She was so grateful to be in the safety of her own home and could understand why her mother had never wanted to leave it.
She went through to the front room to see her father sleeping in his armchair, oblivious that his wife had just been buried. Dorothy managed to thank the woman from across the road for sitting with him, and she saw Adrian slip her a little something before she left. She felt guilty; it should be her paying the woman, not Adrian. Dorothy flopped onto the sofa, unaware that she was wringing her hands with worry. With only her dad’s small pension coming in, she would have to find a job, but as he couldn’t be left alone, the situation seemed impossible.
‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’ Adrian interrupted her thoughts.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. It should me be offering to make you a drink.’
‘No, you’ve had a tough day. You just sit there and relax while I put the kettle on,’ Adrian replied.
Dorothy didn’t protest. Adrian was right, it had been a tough day and she was relieved it was over. She didn’t think she’d have coped without his help. Her mother had been paying a penny a week to the Prudential for funeral costs but the payout hadn’t been sufficient to cover all the expenses. Adrian had insisted on covering the shortfall, and had helped to make all the arrangements.
When he came back from the kitchen, she said, ‘Adrian, I don’t think I’ve thanked you for everything you’ve done for me. Today would have been impossible without your help.’
‘No need for thanks. Your mother was a good woman. I just wish I’d known her for longer.’
‘Yes, she was. My mum worked so hard to bring me up, yet look what I did to her,’ Dorothy said sadly, the words of the women at the funeral still heavy on her mind. The grief and shame she felt were like a physical pain that tore at her heart, and, unable to control herself any longer, she ran from the room in floods of tears.
Adrian caught up with her in the kitchen where she was standing in front of the sink, her body heaving with emotion. As he placed his arms around her shoulders, she gasped, ‘Oh, Adrian … it’s all my fault.’
‘What’s your fault, Dottie?’
‘My mum … I … I … killed her!’
Adrian turned her to face him and gently lifted her chin. ‘Of course you didn’t. You had nothing to do with your mother’s death. She loved you dearly, and, baby or no baby, she was very proud of you. Wherever did you get such a silly idea?’
‘At the funeral. I heard people talking. They said she died because of me; that I caused her so much worry and her heart couldn’t take it.’
‘That’s rubbish. You heard what the doctor said. Your mother had a weak heart, and it wasn’t worry that caused the attack.’
Dorothy sobbed and put her arms around Adrian’s rotund waist. He pulled her to him and held her as she cried, gently stroking her hair. His strong embrace felt comforting and she cried out her pent-up emotions, the anguish of losing the baby and, even worse, the loss of her mother.
Chapter 18
In Portsmouth, Christmas and the New Year had passed uneventfully, and now spring was in the air. Robbie marched through the docks like a man on a mission. He pulled his collar up and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets against the cold March winds as he stomped along the wet quayside. Anger burned inside him. He was sick and tired of trawling t
he area looking for Gladys and dragging her back to his place.
Then he spotted her. She was leaning against a wall outside a small hut. She’s frigging well at it again, thought Robbie, fuming. He knew the hut was a café which was only frequented by dockers and sailors. There was only one reason any woman would be hanging about outside and no decent woman would be.
‘Gladys, what’s your game, eh?’ Robbie asked. He was attempting to keep his temper under control, especially in front of the men who were in and out of the café. There was no doubt in his mind that some of them would be familiar with Gladys and he didn’t want to rile any of them.
‘Bugger off, Robbie. I’ve told you before, I’m not your girlfriend any more so I can go where I like and do what I want.’
Robbie stood close to Gladys and, grabbing her arm, he growled, ‘Get your fucking arse back to my place – NOW!’
Gladys looked like she was going to protest so Robbie squeezed tighter on her thin arm. ‘Don’t defy me, woman,’ he said. ‘You know what will happen if you do.’
Gladys’s body slumped and she relented under Robbie’s pressure and allowed him to lead her away. They walked the streets in silence but Robbie’s anger didn’t subside. Once inside his room he slammed the door and grabbed Gladys’s face, digging his thumb into one cheek and his fingers into the other.
‘You ungrateful fucking bitch! After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you treat me,’ he spat, shoving her away from him. She landed on his bed and Robbie saw his fingers had left white imprints on her skin. He hoped he hadn’t bruised her. It didn’t matter if she had marks on her body, but he sold her easier when her face was clean.
‘What you’ve done for me … and what exactly is that, Robbie?’ Gladys shouted.
‘If it wasn’t for me, you and your sisters would all be sleeping on the streets now, with hungry bellies and no protection. You’ve got a short fucking memory, you have.’
‘I don’t need you, Robbie. I can look after myself and my sisters without you. Why should I get a pittance of the money they pay when it’s me who does all the work?’
‘All you have to do is open your fucking legs. I get the business in and make sure you don’t get roughed up. You’ve no idea what sort of weirdos are on those streets, or what they could do to you, have you? No, of course not, and do you know why? It’s because I look after you,’ Robbie yelled. ‘Christ, woman, I’m not going through this again with you. Just stay away from the docks and do what I tell you to do.’
‘Or what? Are you going to beat me up again? Punch me in the stomach or kick my legs? Well, go on then, do your worst. I’m not scared of you, Robbie, and I’m not letting you sell me any more.’
Gladys got up and began to walk to the door, but Robbie wasn’t going to stand for that. His meal ticket was about to leave, but he wouldn’t let her go. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her towards him. ‘You’re not leaving, do you hear me? I’ve got three punters lined up for later and you’re going to be here to make sure they get exactly what they want.’
‘You can’t do this to me, Robbie,’ Gladys cried. Thick black blobs of make-up were streaking down her face and Robbie thought she looked like a clown gone wrong.
‘Shut your mouth and stop your crying or else I’ll give you something to cry about. Now, get yourself in that bathroom and get cleaned up.’
‘I’ll have you for this, I swear I will,’ Gladys said scathingly through gritted teeth.
Robbie let go of her hair and pushed her towards the bathroom. ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ he said but there was something in her defiance that he hadn’t seen before and he worried that he might be losing control of her.
When they’d first met he’d been able to manipulate her by using his charms, but that had soon worn off and she’d seen through him. Now he had to resort to violence and intimidation, but, despite what Gladys had said, he’d never really given her a good pasting, just the odd punch or kick here and there to ensure her compliance. Despite that, it seemed Gladys was on the turn, gaining strength from somewhere and daring to confront him. He could probably slap her back into place, but really Robbie wasn’t keen on knocking women about, and was reluctant to give her a good hiding. At the same time, he didn’t want to let go of the easy money she brought in.
Gladys returned from the bathroom with her face clean and fresh make-up on. He wrapped his arms around her and hoped that a charm offensive might do its old trick again. ‘That’s better. You look a million dollars and I’m sorry, love. You drive me crazy though. I’m only trying to look out for you but you make it so difficult for me.’
‘Look, Robbie,’ she said, pulling away from him. ‘Me and you, well, I know it hasn’t been long, not yet three months, but it’s run its course. It’s time for me to move on. I appreciate you helping me get straight with money and that, but let’s face it … we aren’t exactly a match made in heaven. To be honest, I can earn a lot more money without you.’
He tried to keep his temper, forcing himself to sound reasonable. ‘I know you can make more money if you go it alone, Gladys, but you’ll also be in a lot more danger.’
‘I’m willing to take my chances on that. I’ll see to the fellas you’ve lined up, but this is the last time. You can’t keep me prisoner or make me do things I don’t want to do. Yes, you could knock me from here to kingdom come if you like, but at the end of the day I’ll still leave, and if I have to I’ll get the police on to you.’
Robbie’s blood boiled. How dare she threaten him! The audacity of the woman. But she’d hit a nerve as the police were the last people he wanted knocking on his door.
‘All right, Gladys, you win. You keep your side of the bargain and sort the customers out tonight and then I’ll leave to your own devices. God help you out there all by yourself though, but if that’s what you want, then I won’t try and stop you.’
‘It is, Robbie, and don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.’
‘Sweetheart, don’t flatter yourself,’ he said scathingly. ‘I’m not worried about you. You’re nothing but a filthy whore.’
‘Yeah, but one who could still refuse to sort out your customers.’
‘Point taken,’ Robbie said, still inwardly fuming. Bloody women, some of them had ideas well above their station.
Still, not to worry, he thought, there’d be plenty more like Gladys. He would just have to set himself to finding another one to work for him.
Adrian tidied his desk and sat back in his chair, deep in thought. Robbie had left six months ago and there had been no news of him. He wasn’t worried about his brother; after all, as the saying went, no news was good news. Adrian bit his bottom lip, acknowledging the truth if only to himself. He had fallen in love with Dorothy and didn’t want Robbie to come home.
He had been to see her many times since her mother’s funeral in January, and it was awful to see how she was struggling to stay afloat. Though still beautiful, Dottie now looked worn and weary, her life one of drudgery. He wanted to take her away from it all, to give her the life she deserved, but there was no way Dottie would ever think of him as anything other than a friend.
There was a tap on his office door and one of his drivers walked in, saying, ‘My lorry needs looking at. The brakes are a bit spongy.’
‘All right, Joe, leave it with me,’ Adrian said, then smiled. ‘I hear congratulations are in order. When is the wedding?’
‘In two months.’
‘No doubt you want to book some time off.’
‘Already done, boss.’
Adrian frowned. He must have forgotten, but nowadays, with his mind filled with thoughts of Dorothy, there were a few other things that had slipped past him.
‘Night, boss.’
‘Yes, goodnight,’ Adrian acknowledged as he looked up at the man. Joe couldn’t be described as good-looking, and he too was overweight, yet it hadn’t stopped him finding someone to love and marry him.
As the office door closed behind the driver Adr
ian rose to his feet, filled with a new-found determination. If he didn’t do it now, he never would, and this was as good a time as any.
Dorothy hardly had time to think about Robbie now. She was exhausted, and ran a hand across her brow. Unable to leave her father, she now took in washing, just as her mother had, and her heart ached at what Alice had endured for so many years. It was hard, back-breaking work that paid little, and, without the money she had once brought in from the bakery, they were now deeply in arrears with the rent and being threatened with eviction.
With the day’s washing finally done, she sat down, knowing that the rest would be a short one as her father would be hungry and wanting his dinner. It was vegetable stew again, meat a rare commodity nowadays, but he just ate what was put in front of him and thankfully never complained.
Tiredly she got to her feet, but as she stirred the stew there was a knock on the door. It was a bit early for Nelly, who often popped round for an hour or two in the evenings, and as she rarely saw anyone all day, Dottie felt her friend’s cheery conversation saved her sanity.
It wasn’t Nelly at the door but Adrian. Though he had been to see her quite a few times, he didn’t usually call this late.
‘Hello, come on in,’ she said.
‘Thank you, Dorothy,’ he said, removing his trilby hat as he came through the door. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ she lied. ‘I’ve got something heating on the stove, so do you mind coming through to the kitchen?’
‘Of course not,’ he said. He followed her in and his eyes scanned the room before settling on a pile of freshly washed and ironed sheets. He turned to look at her, his expression concerned. ‘I know you said you’re fine, but you look tired.’
With all the worry about the rent and finding enough money to feed them, Dorothy was close to breaking point and Adrian’s sympathy brought tears to her eyes. She blinked rapidly as she flopped onto a kitchen chair and croaked, ‘Sit down, Adrian. Yes, I am tired, but I’ll be all right after a good night’s sleep.’
