A Cuckoo in Candle Lane

by Kitty Neale

  ‘Sally, do you remember when not long after I came to live with you, we had our little talk about Harry?’ her aunt asked now, breaking into her thoughts.

  ‘Yes, of course I do. It was when you told me he was a paedophile,’ Sally answered.

  ‘I noticed the way you looked at him yesterday, and there was so much hatred in your eyes. No, don’t interrupt me, my dear, let me finish,’ she urged. ‘I don’t blame you for hating him, I do too. But I’m still worried about how his abuse may have affected you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m all right,’ Sally assured her. ‘It only happened once, don’t forget. I didn’t suffer over a period of time like Linda.’

  ‘I know, my dear. Oh, that poor child, how will she ever get over it?’

  ‘I don’t know, Auntie. Perhaps Sheila will get her some professional help.’

  They both fell silent then, Sally still thinking about Linda, and hoping the child’s life wouldn’t be ruined as they feared. Her thoughts then turned to herself, and for the first time she faced up to her own abuse and how it had affected her. Yes, it had made her frightened of men, but they weren’t all like Harry, she realised that now. Take John for instance, he was so gentle and kind, and for the first time she didn’t flinch at the thought of what would happen when they were married. It would be all right, she was sure. John was wonderful, so caring, and she was sure that with his help, she would be able to overcome her fears.

  As the train swayed, Sally glanced at her aunt and saw that she had fallen asleep. Her own eyes grew heavy, and behind closed lids she once again found herself thinking about her uncle. He’s got away with it again, she thought. Yes, he would get a prison sentence for bigamy – but what about when he got out?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sally was standing on a chair, stretching out to remove the paper-chains that festooned the ceiling. Her mother was busily sweeping up pine needles that had fallen from the Christmas tree, complaining as she did every year that they were lodged into every nook and cranny.

  Climbing down, Sally gazed around the room, finding it bare now that it had been stripped of decorations. The house felt empty too since her aunt had returned to her own home in Tooting. Still not totally recovered from her depression, but without an income from Harry, she had gone back to work, finding a job as a receptionist in a doctor’s surgery.

  It had been a dreadful few months and they still couldn’t believe that Harry had only been sentenced to eighteen months in prison.

  He had a good lawyer who had enlisted the sympathy of the judge when her aunt had given evidence. In the witness box she appeared cold and hard, and under cross-examination had been forced to admit that the marriage had never been properly consummated. Only those who were close to her knew how much Mary was suffering, her demeanour just a front, hiding her real feelings.

  Both her aunt’s and Sheila’s humiliation had increased when the national newspapers got hold of the story. The women had been besieged by reporters, the Blackpool bigamist making the front pages. Yet they had united in their shared adversity, becoming close friends. Now, for a few more weeks, Sheila and the children were in London, staying at Mary’s house, and Sally hoped that 1960 would be a better year for all of them.

  She glanced at the clock. John was due soon, and they were going to visit his aunt in hospital. ‘Can you manage now, Mum? I had better get myself tidied up.’

  ‘It’s all done now, love, you go and get ready.’ Ruth grinned, nodding her head towards Sadie, asleep in a chair by the fire. ‘Look at the state of that – she’d sleep through a hurricane, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Oi, I heard that, you cheeky mare. I was only having forty winks. Now then,’ Sadie added, smacking her lips hopefully, ‘a cup of tea would go down a treat.’

  ‘Bleedin’ hell, Mum. Don’t you know that slavery’s been abolished?’ Ruth admonished, yet unable to hide her smile.

  ‘Of course I do, but don’t forget I’m a poor old lady who needs looking after,’ she replied, with a sly wink at Sally.

  ‘Old lady, my foot,’ Ruth retorted. ‘You’re still a spring chicken, Mum.’

  ‘More like an old broiler,’ Sadie chuckled. ‘Now come on, how about that cup of tea.’

  Laughing, Sally left the room. What a pair, she thought fondly, as she mounted the stairs.

  Sally’s heels tapped on the pristine floor as she and John entered the ward, making their way to Lottie’s bedside. She was lying on stiff white pillows, her face, devoid of make-up, looking pale and drawn.

  ‘Hello, children,’ she whispered.

  ‘How are you, Auntie?’ John asked, placing a bunch of yellow chrysanthemums on the bed.

  ‘Not too bad, darling. Thank you for the flowers, they’re lovely but we’d better move them in case Matron comes round. Honestly, the woman’s an absolute dragon and she keeps everyone on their toes.’ Picking up the flowers she turned to Sally. ‘Would you mind asking the nurse to put them in water for me?’

  Sally nodded her assent and approached a nurse sitting at her desk in the middle of the ward, handing her the chrysanthemums. Her uniform – blue dress, crisp white linen apron, drawn in at her trim waist by an elastic belt and fastened with a gleaming silver buckle – made Sally smile in admiration. She loved her white linen hat too; resplendent with crisply starched pleats fanned around the edge.

  The ward was quiet with only the gentle hum of voices as Sally made her way back to Lottie. ‘Mission accomplished,’ she said. ‘When are you having your operation?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning, I think.’

  Sally couldn’t resist looking at her aura, frowning when she saw that the dark area had increased in size. Glancing up she saw John’s eyes on her, one eyebrow raised quizzically. She reddened, quickly engaging Lottie in conversation, relieved when the bell rang, signalling that visiting time was over.

  Sally was glad to get home; a thumping headache drove her to bed early and a full moon cast a luminous glow across her face as she lay snuggled under the blankets, her thoughts on Lottie and the operation she was having tomorrow. She closed her eyes, offering up a prayer.

  At work the next morning the time seemed to drag by. Stocktaking was in progress and writing the endless lists made Sally’s eyes ache. Now, pleased to see that it was lunchtime, she hurried to the canteen and joined John at their usual table, happy to find that they had it all to themselves.

  ‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked, noticing that he seemed distracted.

  ‘What? Oh sorry, Sally, I was miles away. I can’t help worrying about Lottie. She must have been down for her operation by now and the thought of it keeps going round and round in my mind.’

  ‘You don’t have to apologise, John. Of course you’re worried. I am too, but I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ she said, trying to reassure him.

  ‘God, I hope you’re right,’ he answered, his lunch still untouched on his plate.

  For once his appearance was less than immaculate. A slight stubble was evident on his chin, and there were dark shadows below his eyes. Reaching out, Sally touched the back of his hand. ‘Try to eat something,’ she urged.

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ he said, hands trembling as he picked up his cup of tea.

  Sally found herself unable to eat her lunch either, and as John was obviously not in the mood for talking, they sat quietly for the rest of their break.

  His eyes were still clouded when they had to return to their departments, and Sally was reluctant to let go of his hand. ‘I’ll see you later, darling,’ she whispered as they parted on the stairs, watching as he walked away, his head bent.

  Now, she glanced across at Ann as they strolled home from work, neither saying much, each busy with their own thoughts. ‘What’s wrong?’ Sally asked finally, sensing that her friend had something on her mind.

  ‘Arthur passed his medical and it won’t be long now before they get their departure date. I’m worried about Mum. She still hasn’t accepted that he’s going and is refusing to
talk about it.’

  ‘He may still change his mind,’ Sally said hopefully.

  ‘No, we’ve got to face it. He’s determined to go.’

  Sally felt a pang of sorrow. Arthur had lived next door since she was ten years old. She remembered how he had looked then, a scruffy and naughty schoolboy, who took great delight in tormenting his sister. Smiling ruefully she recalled how he looked now – tall and ruggedly handsome, yet with a gentle smile. Jenny was a lucky girl, she thought.

  Noticing that Ann’s eyes were brimming with tears as they stood outside her front door, she said, ‘I’ve got to go to the hospital with John later, but if I can get back early, would you like me to come round?’

  Ann dashed the tears from her eyes, nodded, and with a tremulous smile, hurried indoors.

  Pausing for a moment before going inside, Sally wished there were something she could do to comfort both Ann and John. She felt powerless. John’s aunt was in the hands of a surgeon, and now it seemed obvious that nothing was going to stop Arthur from emigrating.

  That evening, Sally and John stood by Lottie’s bed, staring worriedly at her ashen face. Her eyes were closed and she groaned softly, turning her head on the pillow.

  A nurse came to stand beside them, and seeing their expressions, said, ‘I’m afraid she was late going down for her operation and is still under the effects of the anaesthetic.’

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’ John asked anxiously.

  The nurse removed Lottie’s notes from a clip at the foot of the bed, scanning the pages. ‘The operation went well, but other than that there isn’t much more I can tell you.’ She smiled reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, she’ll look a lot better when you see her tomorrow.’ Then, replacing the notes, she moved on to the next bed.

  Seeing how desolate he looked, Sally pulled out a chair, urging John to sit down. He took Lottie’s hand, a tear running down his cheek. ‘Oh Sally,’ he choked, ‘she looks awful.’

  She took his other hand. ‘I know, darling, but I’m sure she’ll look a lot better once she comes round.’

  They sat quietly beside the sick woman for about another half an hour, and even when the nurse came to take her blood pressure, there were no further signs of her regaining consciousness. John stood up, and with a small sigh, said, ‘Come on, we might as well go home.’

  Whilst sitting beside Lottie, Sally had looked at her aura and couldn’t wait to tell John what she’d seen. Once they were outside the hospital, although slightly worried about his response, she said hesitantly, ‘Listen, darling, there’s no need to worry about Lottie. She’s going to be all right.’

  ‘Oh, I do hope so, Sally.’

  ‘John, I looked at her aura and there’s no sign of any illness now. She really is going to be fine.’

  ‘Really! Are you sure, Sally?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

  He shook his head, running his hands through his hair. ‘I feel like a hypocrite. I know I should be annoyed with you for using your psychic powers, yet I can’t help feeling relieved. You were right about her illness, so I’m going to dare hope that you’re right now.’

  They walked hand in hand to the bus stop and Sally was relieved to see that John’s face looked a little lighter. He yawned, saying apologetically, ‘Do you mind if I go straight home, darling? I hardly slept last night and I’m absolutely exhausted.’

  ‘No, of course not. Anyway, Ann was a bit upset today and I’d like to spend some time with her.’

  Sally knocked on Ann’s door, her face flushing when Arthur opened it. Their eyes locked and they stood gazing at each other. It was Sally who broke the spell. ‘Is Ann in?’ she asked.

  He stood back, gesturing her inside. ‘Yes, come on in.’

  As she passed him in the narrow hallway, their bodies brushed together and she heard his quick intake of breath. She too felt strange and, walking into the kitchen, was once again wondering why Arthur always had this effect on her.

  Elsie was sitting at the table, the Tarot cards spread out in front of her, obviously giving a reading for Nelly Cox who was perched opposite.

  ‘Hello, Sally,’ Nelly smiled, her top dentures falling. ‘Bloody things,’ she complained, pushing them up with her tongue. ‘Elsie’s reading the cards for me.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that,’ Sally told her.

  ‘Ann’s having a bath, dear, but she won’t be long. Sit yourself down,’ Elsie urged.

  Sally sat by the fire, glad of its warmth and unable to hide a smile when Arthur popped his head around the door, giving her a cheeky wink. ‘I’ve told Ann you’re here,’ he said, before turning to his mum. ‘Right, I’m off out now, see you later.’

  ‘Cheerio, son. Don’t be late.’

  ‘Mum, I’m a big boy now. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped telling me that?’ he joked as he went out.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nelly, I just can’t seem to concentrate,’ Elsie said, as the door closed behind him. ‘The thought of never seeing my Arthur again seems to be blocking all my powers,’ she added sadly.

  ‘That’s all right, Elsie. Nothing is likely to happen in my life anyway so I don’t suppose the cards could ’ave come up with much.’ Nelly then levered herself to her feet. ‘Well, I’ll be off now. Are you popping in to see me soon, Sally?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be round after work tomorrow,’ she assured her.

  As Nelly went out of the room she left a strong smell of urine in her wake which made them both wrinkle their noses. ‘She’s getting worse, isn’t she? I thought it was only her house at first, but she’s let herself go too,’ Sally said worriedly.

  ‘She’s an old lady, love, and lost without George.’ Elsie’s face fell. ‘I know how she feels. I’m going to be lost too when Arthur goes to Australia.’

  Before she could answer, Ann shouted that she was out of the bath, and as Sally left the room to go upstairs, she smiled at Elsie, wishing there was something she could say to comfort her. Yet what could she say? All Elsie wanted to hear was that Arthur was staying in England.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sally was thrilled with her seventeenth birthday present from John; she held out her arm, admiring the pretty charm bracelet on her wrist, surprised when he dropped another present into her lap. She grinned up at him before opening the small box, puzzled as she lifted out a key.

  ‘A flat has come up in the house next to ours,’ John told her, his face alight with excitement. ‘They rarely come up for rent so I grabbed at the chance. It’s perfect for us, darling.’

  ‘But, John, we aren’t getting married until I’m eighteen. That means we’ll be paying rent on it for a whole year. How on earth will we be able to save up for furniture and things?’

  ‘That’s just it, Sally. We could bring the wedding forward. Now that I’ve been promoted we can easily afford the rent and Lottie has offered to help us out with some furniture. She’s giving us a double bed and the wardrobe and dressing-table from my bedroom.’ He crouched down by the side of her chair, an earnest expression on his face. ‘I’ve had a look inside the flat and the last tenants have left carpets and curtains. There’s even a cooker. It’s old, but in good working condition.’

  ‘We’ll need more than that, John,’ Sally told him, doubt evident in her voice.

  ‘Darling, anything else we need we can get on hire purchase. Please say yes, Sally,’ he urged.

  Sally nipped her lower lip with her teeth, wondering if her mum would agree to them bringing the wedding forward. ‘When do you want us to get married, John?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, it’s February now, so how about in May? That’ll give us three months to get the flat ready. It needs a lick of paint in some of the rooms, but that shouldn’t take long to do. Come on, Sally!’ he cried, jumping up. ‘Get your coat on and I’ll take you to see it. You’ll love it, I know you will.’

  Sally gazed around the light and spacious sitting room and had to agree that the flat was lovely. The kitchen, though small, was adequate and th
e double bedroom and bathroom would look fine once they had been freshly painted.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ John asked.

  ‘You’re right, darling. It’s perfect for us,’ she told him.

  ‘Then can we bring the wedding forward?’ he asked hopefully.

  She threw herself into his arms. ‘Yes, John, let’s do it. Let’s get married in May.’

  He pushed her gently away and stepped back. ‘We had better go and tell Lottie. I know she’s waiting anxiously to see if you’d agree. Then after that we’ll have to tell your mother, and she’ll probably hit the roof.’

  Hurt that John had rebuffed her again, Sally hung her head. He reached out and lifted her chin with his forefinger, looking at her with the crooked smile on his handsome face that she always found irresistible. She opened her mouth to speak, but he grabbed her hand.

  ‘Come on, darling,’ he urged, laughing as he pulled her out of the flat. ‘Let’s go.’

  Unable to resist his enthusiasm, she pushed the doubts to the back of her mind. It’ll be different when we’re married, she thought, as she tripped along in his wake.

  Lottie smiled at them with delight when they told her the news. Of course she and John had discussed it, so it was no surprise really. Her only worry had been that Sally might refuse to get married so early. Yet one look at the adoration on her face as she gazed at John, made her realise that her fears had been groundless.

  Sometimes she felt a twinge of guilt at using the girl. But John was such a lovely young man, and despite everything, would make Sally a wonderful husband.

  She had become very fond of Sally since she and John had been courting, pleased with the way she had progressed; her diction was good now and in some ways it felt as if she was gaining a daughter.