The noise from indoors grew even louder and I knew I’d have to sort the kids and the spuds out before Mum came home. I could’ve cried.
I turned away from him, hurriedly pegged out the rest of the washing, grabbed the basket and ran back towards the kitchen with his call of ‘I love girls with long blonde hair,’ ringing in my ears.
Renza’s Diary
May 27th 1968 – Spring Bank Holiday
‘You talk funny.’ My three-year-old sister Lucy was staring hard at the man in the dirty white overalls bending over the once white sheets, covering the carpet around our hearth.
Mr Fowler, the chimney-sweep and our other next door neighbour, glanced up and gave her a toothless grin. His craggy, soot-lined face was kindly, but sadly marred by his hare-lip. He nodded at Lucy and carried on shoving his brushes up our chimney. I was filled with dread in case she started to copy the way he spoke. He was barely intelligible because he didn’t have a roof to his mouth and Mum had drilled me about watching Lucy and her talent for mimicry, during his previous visits.
‘What you doing?’ she asked, shuffling closer and stepping on to the sheet. She glanced around, knowing she had been told not to go near him whilst he worked.
I kept an eye on her from the kitchen where I was making Mr Fowler a cup of tea and hoping he wouldn’t make too much mess because I would need to clean it up before Mum got in from work.
‘Chimney,’ said Mr Fowler without looking round.
Soot fell in a great black cloud, covering him and the sheets. My sister squealed and ran behind the sofa.
‘Lucy, leave Mr Fowler alone and go out to play with the others,’ I shouted as I placed the cup of tea and Rich Tea biscuits on the soot covered coffee table.
The back door flew open and five-year-old Jasper raced into the room, nearly landing in the hearth. Mr Fowler jumped up, bumping his head on the mantelpiece, causing Lucy to scream from behind the sofa.
When would Jasper ever learn to walk inside the house? He was panting and red in the face. Both knees were covered in grass stains and his backside was hanging out of his shorts. He was for it. After staring at Mr Fowler hard, he shrugged and turned to me.
‘Been playing football with the band,’ he panted, pointing in the direction of the shops, ‘scored millions of goals.’
‘What band, played football where?’ I asked as I grabbed his arm and moved him away from the clouds of soot falling from the chimney.
‘You know. The band. Your boyfriend’s band.’ He giggled as he shouted it out because he knew it would embarrass me.
Mr Fowler looked up and winked at me.
‘You know full well I don’t have a boyfriend. I’ve no idea what you’re on about, but if Mum finds you’ve been playing with those boys of Barker, you’ll be for it.’
The boys of Barker were local seven-year-old delinquents, and, for some reason Jasper was strangely attracted to them, much to my parent’s bewilderment.
Jasper could never keep their exploits secret and would come back with tales of what they’d been up to, causing Mum to nearly faint with fear that Jasper would get sucked into their crimes, bringing the full force of the Law up the garden path, in full view of the whole village. Perish the thought.
‘Yes you do have a boyfriend, so. And you kiss all the time,’ persisted Jasper, causing Lucy and Mr Fowler to watch me carefully as I began blushing to the roots of my blonde hair.
Lucy shot past me on her way to the garden, shouting at the top of her voice ‘Renza kisses her boyfriend. Renza kisses her boyfriend.’
Oh my God! If Mrs Digby got wind of this I was totally, totally and absolutely dead.
I don’t have a boyfriend, Mum won’t allow it, and besides, as I hardly ever go out, how the heck I am supposed to get one I have no idea. The girls at school have boyfriends and go to discos and Youth Club, but I’m rarely allowed. I’ve only managed to go to the Top Rank twice recently because Mum’s friend, the Honourable Charlotte Shand, allowed her daughter to go regularly and since she’s not been raped, sold into white slavery or forced into a life of immorality and drug-taking, Mum reluctantly agreed to let me go with my school friends – not wanting to lose face in front of the Honourable Charlotte.
However, missing the last bus and getting back late on Friday led to World War Three and all sorts of threats when she finally decided to have a go at me.. I’m keeping a low profile, being a good girl looking after the kids – unpaid flipping nanny more like – and doing the chores like the resident char lady. Anything for a quiet life.
I’m going to be in so much trouble if they blab to Mum about me kissing boys and such rot. She’d happily believe it.
Hopping from one foot to the other Jasper stuck his tongue out at me. I wanted to strangle him. ‘For goodness sakes go to the loo and stop hopping around like an idiot.’ I snapped going into the kitchen.
My heart sank when I looked out the window and saw Lucy and the other kids talking to Mrs Fowler over the fence. Goodness knows what they were telling her, not that she’d gossip, but even so…
Her house was set back a bit from ours and there was only a wire fence separating us. The Fowlers’ house was Victorian, whereas ours was newly built when we moved in just under eight years ago.
Mrs Fowler often gave the kids sweets and pop if they were outside when she was gardening. The Fowlers were Jehovah’s Witnesses, although originally Mrs Fowler had been Jewish. She once told me she’d found Jehovah when she was having a stout at the ‘Cow and Gate,’ where she used to play the piano on Saturday nights. According to Mum the Fowlers had never been the same again.
Apparently Mrs Fowler, who has known Mum all her life, told Mum all marital relations had ceased from then on.
They’d had the one daughter, so Mrs Fowler had fulfilled her marital obligations. Mum went ballistic when I repeated this conversation one day when we were all having tea with Grandad Rossi. It didn’t go down too well for some reason.
‘Got a message for you from your lover,’ Jasper sniggered, watching Mr Fowler as he waited for my reaction. ‘He wants to go out with you and give you millions of kisses,’ he persisted. I debated chopping his head off instead of chopping the veg for dinner.
‘Oh shut up you little squirt.’ I was getting irritable, what with the soot and the cleaning I was going to have to do, not to mention all the cooking and looking after the brats. ‘I can’t wait to go back to school and get some peace.’
‘I bet you can’t wait to kiss and kiss and kiss.’ Jasper danced around the kitchen.
I waved the knife at him, sorely tempted. ‘I’m warning you!’
‘If you want to go out with Scott, then tell me coz I’ve got to be a secret ‘messager’ and let him know.’ Jasper started fiddling with the carrots I’d chopped.
I smacked his hand away and got a lot of pleasure from the sound of the slap.
‘Stop being such a horrid little boy and go away.’
‘OK then, I’m gonna tell Scott that you love him and want to marry him and kiss him all the time,’ shouted Jasper as he crashed through the back door.
‘Scott who?’ I shouted after him, but he was gone.
Mr Fowler came through the kitchen with his brushes and sheets and a large box of soot, well, what wasn’t covering all the furniture and carpets that is. He said something which sounded like ‘Catch your Mother later,’ but really, I never could understand him. Such a nice man and such a shame, I thought as I resigned myself to the mess waiting for me. I smiled, nodded, and closed the door behind him.
I began wondering about the band Jasper mentioned, who they were and where they came from, and how they knew Jasper. Were they the boys living over Shirley’s? Was that where Jasper kept disappearing to?
Through the kitchen window I could see them sitting on the wall again: the blond God and the sexy black haired one. Imagine if he was this Scott, Jasper was on about… nope, get a grip, he’s far too gorgeous to be interested in me. But then he did shout at me twice�
�
Watching them both sunbathing on the wall, I wondered if they were famous, but they didn’t look familiar. Never mind that, I can’t wait to get back to class and tell Yvette and Selina about the boys living over ‘Shirley’s.’ They’ll be so eaten up and for once they’ll envy me.
I put the transistor on whilst I got on with my chores, singing along with Brenton Wood and ‘Give Me Some Kinda Sign.’
Trust my life to start getting exciting just as we’re leaving England.
Renza’s Diary
May 30th 1968
Everyone at school wanted to know about the band living over Shirley’s. Word soon got around, and suddenly I was really, really popular for once. Well, being so ‘cool’ all of a sudden might be all right for some, but being the centre of attention isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m not sure I like it. It’s embarrassing. Everyone crowding round me all the time, asking questions – as if I know anything – wanting to come round to the house. Mum would just love even more girls strutting around the back garden, much to the delight of Mrs Digby – I don’t think so.
Even Yvette’s talking to me again after ignoring me because Mum wouldn’t let her and Selina keep coming over… now I get what the attraction was. Not me – they didn’t want to see me. By conning their way into the back garden, they thought they’d get near the band so they could flirt with them – well thanks for nothing – someone could’ve told me they were there. Trust me to be the last to know.
Jasper has spent the last few days ferrying messages to me from the dark haired boy, who it turns out is Scott, he’s a guitarist and the band is called Narnia’s Children. I’ve never heard of them but according to Jasper – the expert on all things band-related – they’re from an island somewhere – he’s forgotten where – and are in England to tour and make records. They don’t look foreign to me.
Anyway, Scott keeps sending me messages asking me out and I keep ignoring them. Every time I walk past the flat he’s sitting at the window shouting out things like, ‘I love girls with long blonde hair,’ and ‘I think I love you,’ and ‘Your legs look great in that uniform,’ and all sorts of nonsense, which is really getting me into trouble with Mum.
Mrs Digby has cottoned on and I saw her grab Mum as she went to the post box yesterday. I got it in the neck as soon as I got home from school. The usual stuff about showing myself up, not acting like a lady and – the best one – ‘wait until I tell your father how you’ve been carrying on.’
Apparently I’d managed to ruin her and Lucy’s birthdays earlier in the week because of the worry and the embarrassment my behaviour is causing.
It’s driving me mad! I’ve done nothing. Nothing!
I can’t help it if some boy sends me messages and calls out to me every time I set foot in the garden or go outside to the shops or to school. How is that my fault? Jasper says he told Scott to lay off like I asked, but either he is fibbing or Scott couldn’t care less that I am in such trouble.
Hopefully next week will be better. It will be my last week at school, I’m leaving before the school term ends so I can help Mum prepare for the move. I can’t help it if Scott sees me hanging washing out, but Mum will be at work, so at least if he does yell at me, she won’t be around to hear it.
I caught a glimpse of him, Scott, coming down the stairs from his flat with another older-looking boy this morning as I waited for the bus to school. They went round the back to the car park and soon after they drove past me in a yellow Bedford van. I nearly dropped dead because, as they passed me, the van made a funny noise like a gun shot, they waved and tooted the horn. Everyone at the bus stop stared at me. I just wanted the ground to open up – but I still can’t help thinking it’s so cool. A boy in a band likes me. A strange tingle sparks the length of my body every time I think about him.
Of course Mum says he is one of the great unwashed and a long-haired layabout, and she’s seen lots of girls going up the stairs to the flat carrying overnight cases, and according to her, they’re up there for days.
For someone who says she’s not interested in them, she certainly keeps an eye on everything they do.
‘Stop encouraging them,’ she keeps telling me. Encouraging them? She’s telling me to stop encouraging them. As if. ‘I’m warning you!’
I shook my head at the unfairness of it all and went and sat in front of the television. Top of the Pops was on and Pan’s People were dancing to Elvis and ‘US Male’. I love Elvis but I’m not keen on Priscilla. Their baby Lisa Marie looks very sweet though. There’ve been loads of photos of them in the papers since she was born in February.
Ok, it sounds daft, but I was getting all excited in case Narnia’s Children was on next. I couldn’t tear myself away – just in case – which really annoyed Mum as she needed the kids’ shoes polishing. I kept telling her I’d do it after Top of the Pops ended, but she was losing her patience. I hoped she wouldn’t turn the TV off before I got to see who was Number One this week.
I’m not sure how famous Scott’s band is, but I’d be so thrilled if they were actually on TV. Imagine that. I sat there with my fingers crossed, but they weren’t on. Stupid of me to think they would be really, but The Equals were still in the charts which was fab and cheered me up a bit.
I love their new song ‘Baby, Come Back’. They’d played it at the Top Rank on Friday and it was amazing. We’d danced all evening and it was the best fun ever. Not counting going to the Empire Pool Wembley, that is, when I’d been allowed to go as a special treat. That was really far out – all those bands on a Sunday afternoon and all that screaming.
At least people hadn’t screamed too much when The Equals were on stage at the Top Rank. I wondered if people screamed at Narnia’s Children.
I’d seen the band earlier in the evening, coming down the stairs carrying guitars and duffle bags. For one horrid moment I’d thought they were moving out, but then I recalled what Jasper said about them going away for a couple of days to play gigs in lots of different places. He’d said that Scott had told him to tell me he would be back soon and would be thinking of me and that I had to be a good girl whilst he was gone.
The flipping nerve! If only he knew – chance would be a fine thing!
I’d been upstairs and the kids’ bedroom window was open as I was fixing Simon’s latest air-fix model to the ceiling with drawing pins when I glanced out of the window and saw them together for the first time.
I’d nearly fallen off the top bunk. Yvette was right, they’re all gorgeous. I can’t understand how I’d missed seeing them all when everyone else seemed to know they’ve been here since April.
I’d just put the last pin into the Lancaster Bomber, placed between the Halifax Bomber and the Spitfire, when I’d heard their voices, and from where I was I’d a great view as they filed down the stairs and out to their van. Jasper, who knows everything, said the van was called Bessie Bedford.
Talk about dreamy. They all wore tight brightly coloured hipsters and shirts, except Scott who had on really snazzy purple cords and a tight black short sleeved sweater, which only came to his mid-riff. He was so tanned and had such a cute behind. I wobbled straining to watch, and nearly ended up in the toy box.
I wondered what songs Narnia’s Children played and if they’d been on Radio One.
I love Radio One, Tony Blackburn is my favourite DJ. I was so happy when it started last year. I mean, I still love Radio Luxembourg, and the pirate stations, Caroline and London, are really far out, but Radio One is on all day and when Mum is out I put the wireless on in the sitting room and dance and sing myself silly.
What if German TV doesn’t have Top of the Pops and other English shows? What will I do? Lately I can’t stop thinking about Germany and leaving Nan and England and, dare I think it, now – Scott.
I told Nan I didn’t want to leave school or go to Germany. I explained I needed to do my A Levels so I could eventually take up the offer of a job as an apprentice journalist – made by a friend’s father,
Mr Hardy, who was an editor on The Sunday Times – with day release for college. My dream, if only Mum and Dad would agree. Nan said I could stay with her and I didn’t need to leave school, I’d be company for her too. But Mum and Dad wouldn’t hear of it.
Mum needed me in Germany to help with the kids and made it clear there wasn’t a senior school near enough for me to go daily and so I’d need to board, and they wouldn’t allow that, either. So my chance at The Sunday Times, staying with Nan and being able to study, and possibly go to college was growing dimmer by the day.
It’s so unfair. I feel like running away. Mum and Dad just want me to be a skivvy in Germany. It doesn’t matter that I’ve got hopes and dreams.
What did anyone want six kids for anyway? Don’t get me wrong, I love them all. We get on fine, but they think I’m their ‘other’ Mum. Because I’m older than they are, it falls upon me to keep an eye on them, take care of them and generally be responsible for them. Simon thinks he can blackmail me when it suits him – he’s Mum and Dad’s favourite who can do no wrong, and boy, does he play on it. Sophia is the entertainer in the family, always good for a laugh, messes around playing the clown, and everyone loves her for it – she’s Mum’s other favourite.. The others follow her as if she were the Pied Piper. Jasper is a lovely kid, always smiling, always seeing the good in everyone – hence his relationship with the delinquents of the village. Anything for a laugh, accident prone – with hilarious consequences – and the one who gets a clout if Mum hears a rumpus, regardless of who’s to blame, Jasper gets it. Crispin is a lovely soul, gentle, sweet natured and a bit of a practical joker, even at such a young age. Little Lucy, such a sweetheart, loves her dolls and her pillow, which she cuddles for comfort, follows me around everywhere, possibly because I looked after her when she was a baby. They’re great kids, but would I want six kids? Nope. I feel as if I’ve had mine already.
I counted my paper-round earnings and the money I got for working in the dry cleaners on Saturdays and school holidays..
Only One Woman Page 2
