When he walked into the scullery he stopped in amazement. His mother was ironing a massive pile of clothes, and holding on to the table in an effort to stay on her feet. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ He took the flat iron from her hand and made her sit down. ‘Where did all this come from?’
‘I’m taking in some washing. It’s the only work I could get, Bob.’ She pushed him away from the table. ‘Don’t get coal dust over everything. I’ll have to wash it all over again if you do.’
Bob was so incensed he could hardly speak, but he managed it through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll finish this when I’ve cleaned up, then deliver it and tell the people you won’t be doing it again.’
‘Don’t you dare!’ She was on her feet again, taking a fresh iron from the stove. ‘The rent man’s due tomorrow and I’m getting behind with the payments. He won’t wait much longer for his money.’ She gave her son an imploring look. ‘Please don’t try to stop me, Bob. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep a roof over our heads.’
He felt his eyes filling with moisture, but quickly wiped it away. Their situation was obviously desperate now. ‘But you’re not strong enough, Mum. All this worry is making you ill again. I got paid today and will see to the overdue rent.’
Helen Hunter hugged her son gratefully. ‘You mustn’t worry about me all the time. I know I can do this. You work so hard, and I hate taking all your money, but I don’t have a choice. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘Where is he?’ he asked, changing the subject before his despair for her spilled over.
‘Asleep, at the moment. He can’t seem to rest at night.’ She gave Bob a weary smile. ‘Go and clean up and I’ll get us something to eat.’
When he returned he found his father alone in the scullery and going through his mother’s bag. ‘What are you doing?’
The bleary-eyed man glared at him. ‘I need some money for tonight.’
‘Well, you are wasting your time. She hasn’t got any. You’ve used it all to drink yourself senseless every day, and you’re not getting another farthing out of us!’
‘Don’t you use that tone with me, lad. I’m your father.’
‘Not any more, you’re not! You’re a pathetic drunk who can’t look after his family properly. Mum’s been reduced to taking in washing now, and she isn’t strong enough. Don’t you care?’
‘Bob!’ His mother came into the room. ‘Alf’s had a bad time, but he’ll pull himself together eventually.’
‘When? We’ll be in the workhouse by the time he does that. We’ve made excuses for him long enough, but no more, Mum. Lots of men have suffered, but most of them are back and working again. Dad’s all in one piece – not like some other poor devils—’
‘Shut up!’ his dad shouted. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. I need a drink to stop the bloody nightmares, so hand over the money you’ve got.’
‘No! You’ll have to go without your booze. I’m going to pay the rent so we don’t get thrown out on the street! You might be happy to sleep in the gutter, but we’re not!’
‘Oh, Bob,’ his mother gasped.
‘Think you’re tough, do you?’ Alfred Hunter stood in front of his son. ‘Come on then, show me.’
Bob’s laugh was without humour. ‘Don’t tempt me. Haven’t you noticed that I’m as tall as you now – and stronger?’
‘Stop this at once!’ Helen came between them, pushing so they had to step away from each other. Taking a coin out of her apron pocket she held it out to her husband. ‘That’s all I’ve got, Alf. Bob’s right, the rent must be paid this week or we’ll really be in trouble.’
He took the coin, kissed his wife briefly on the cheek, and then turned and walked out of the house.
‘You shouldn’t give him any money,’ Bob told her gently, his anger draining away.
‘I’m sorry, Bob. I know just how it must grieve you to see the money wasted in this way, but he needs the drink.’
‘It isn’t his drinking that worries me so much, Mum. If he wants to ruin his life like that it’s up to him, but I can see how his behaviour is making you ill again.’
‘You mustn’t be concerned for me,’ she told him. ‘I’ve got to do what I feel is right, and that’s all any of us can do. It’s hard, I know, but he needs our support. Try to understand, Bob. He’s sick.’
‘So are you, Mum. Let me take you to a doctor.’
‘There’s nothing they can do. I’m just tired, that’s all.’ She looked up at her son and managed a smile. ‘We’ll get through this bad patch eventually.’
After they’d finished their meal, Bob made his mother go to bed and he set about finishing the ironing. It wasn’t expertly done, but it was clean, and gathering up the piles of washing he went out into the cold again. The meagre amount of money he collected he kept in his pocket to buy food.
On his return he checked that his mother was all right – she was fast asleep – and then he jumped over the fence to see Ruth. His emotions were chaotic, a mixture of anger and despair. He had pinned all of his hopes on his dad’s return, believing that would be the end of their troubles, but the man living in their house bore no resemblance to the father he remembered. This stranger had brought back nothing but heartache. He needed to talk to Ruth because she understood people. She seemed to be able to see right inside them and find some good in everyone, but he couldn’t fathom people at all.
She greeted him with a smile, but as soon as she saw his face, she frowned. ‘You’re angry.’
‘Bloody furious!’ He sat down and told her what had happened. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘This can’t go on, Ruthie, but I don’t know what I can do. We nearly came to blows tonight, and that upsets Mum even more.’
‘Fighting with him isn’t going to help any of you. I know it’s hard, Bob, but you must control your temper.’
He grimaced. ‘I know I can erupt easily, and I really am trying, but I don’t know which way to turn at the moment.’
She nodded. ‘You like to be in control of your emotions, and I can see you’re finding that impossible at the moment, but you’re doing well in a terrible situation, Bob. Just carry on the way you are, and I’ll keep an eye on your mum while you’re working.’
‘Oh, thanks, Ruthie.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘It always helps to have a talk with you.’
‘That’s what friends are for.’
Spring came, then it was June, but nothing had changed. Bob still had his job at the coal depot, and although he hated it, he couldn’t leave. They desperately needed the money he was bringing in. He never handed his wages over to his mother now, but made sure he paid the rent personally, and even did the food shopping on his way home from work. That way he knew he could keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. His mother was still taking in washing, and insisting that she was all right. Ruth was helping her through the day, and he spent his evenings ironing and delivering the fresh laundry. The money went into his mother’s pocket, but he knew it didn’t stay there for long. It ended up at the pub down the road.
It was a wretched way to live and Bob never bothered to speak to the old man now. He had pleaded and begged him to stop drinking, but it had been a wasted effort. The situation was hopeless. His dad was too far gone for help.
Tired and dirty, Bob walked into the scullery and plonked the shopping on the table. Then all the breath left his lungs and he fell to his knees in front of the old armchair that was tucked in beside the stove.
‘Mum!’ He cradled her head in his large hands, but he knew – he just knew. She was dead.
Lifting her off the chair he carried her upstairs and laid her on the bed. Then, consumed with grief and anger he hurtled down the stairs, bursting into the front room where the old man was sitting senseless, as usual.
Bob dragged him out of the armchair and shook him until he opened his eyes. ‘You bastard! She’s dead, and it’s your fault! You don’t care, do you? You’ve been too bloody drunk to notice how she’s been suffering. All yo
u’ve been worried about is yourself?! You’re beneath contempt.’
He threw him back on to the armchair and glared at him in disgust. ‘I ought to beat some sense into you, but you’re not worth it.’
His father reached out a hand to him, but Bob turned away, left the room and somehow made his way next door.
As soon as he walked into the Coopers’ scullery, Daisy grabbed his arm. ‘What’s happened, Bob?’
He stood there swaying with shock, unable to speak.
‘Steve! Ruth!’ Daisy called, still holding on to Bob. ‘Come here, quick!’
The room was immediately full of people, but it seemed to Bob as if everything was happening through a thick fog.
‘Sit down, lad.’ Firm hands held him upright in a chair. ‘Tell us what’s happened?’
He gulped. ‘Mum . . .’
Daisy caught hold of his hands and said to her husband, ‘Go and see, Steve. Ruth, you make some strong tea, and put plenty of sugar in it.’
Bob was on his second cup when Steve returned and spoke quietly to his wife.
She nodded and sat next to the traumatized boy. ‘You leave everything to us, Bob, and you can stay here tonight.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Cooper.’ His mind was beginning to clear, but the pain of loss was awful. ‘Sorry I’m so dirty. It’s the coal dust . . .’
‘Don’t you worry about that, lad.’ Steve squeezed his shoulder, then said to his wife, ‘What are we going to do about Alf, Daisy? He’s in a bad way.’
‘Does he know what’s happened?’
‘I think so—’
Bob surged to his feet. ‘Don’t you bring him near me! I don’t know how I stopped myself from giving him a good beating. He was in a drunken stupor while Mum was slumped in the scullery chair – dead! How could he leave her like that? The swine! I’ll kill him if I see him again . . . I will!’
‘Shush now.’ Daisy and Ruth were both trying to make him sit down again, but in a fury he was too big to handle.
Steve finally managed it. ‘Your mum was sick, and has been for some time. Even before Alf came back.’
‘I know, but that useless man made her worse. She would still be alive today if he’d looked after her like he should. She’d still be alive . . .’
For the first time in her life, Ruth was at a loss. She hated to see her friend suffering like this, and she wanted to help ease his pain. But how could anyone do that? Steve had brought his fresh clothes from the house and Bob was now clean. But he said nothing, and that worried Ruth – and her mother.
The two young boys peeped in the open doorway and whispered, ‘Can we come in, Mum?’
‘Of course.’ Daisy smiled at her sons as they slipped quietly into the room. Steve had explained the situation to them, and they had obviously understood. ‘Where’s Sally?’
‘She’s asleep,’ they told her.
The youngest, John, was clutching his favourite dog-eared storybook, and he went straight over to Bob, holding it out to him. ‘Would you read the story of the dragons for me, please? There’s lots of words I don’t understand, but I always know them after you’ve told me.’
Ruth was alarmed and started to get up, but Daisy caught her arm, shaking her head. She sat down again and watched. John loved Bob to read to him, but she didn’t think this was the right time.
Taking the proffered book, Bob gazed at it for a moment, then reached out and pulled John on to his lap. ‘Lots of new words, are there? Have you got the little dictionary I gave you?’
After fishing about in his pocket, John produced an equally tatty little book. ‘I’ve always got it with me.’
‘Good boy. Now, do you know what page the story begins on?’
‘It’s the last story in the book.’ John settled down, a look of expectant pleasure on his face.
Eddie grinned at his mum and sister, then went and sat on the floor next to Bob’s chair so he could listen as well.
‘They’re good boys,’ Daisy said, quietly.
At first Bob’s voice was husky and hesitant, but soon he was speaking normally. Ruth never got tired of listening to him; he spoke well and had a lovely tone to his voice. She often wondered if he could sing, but she had never heard him do so.
Daisy tapped her daughter on the arm, and indicated that they should leave the room now.
‘He’ll be all right,’ she said once they were in the scullery. ‘The boys will take his mind off things for a while. I’ll wash his clothes out while you make us all some cheese sandwiches, Ruth. I don’t suppose any of us feel like eating, but we must have something.’
‘He ought to be a teacher, Mum. Although he’s in shock after finding his mum like that, he’s still got time for the boys and their reading.’
Daisy nodded. ‘I doubt he’s ever going to get the chance to become a teacher now though.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because we are considered the poor, Ruth, and people in our station don’t get many chances in life to improve ourselves.’
Ruth snorted in disgust. ‘I thought the war was supposed to change all that! Isn’t this now a land fit for heroes, like they promised? It’s not our fault we’re so poor. We’re not daft, and should all be judged on our abilities, not on where we live, or how poor we are.’
‘Ah, that sounds like Bob talking. What a world that would be.’ Daisy smiled at her daughter, then turned her attention to her husband as he walked into the scullery. ‘How’s Alf? Does he know what’s happened to Helen?’
‘He’s a mess, but he knows she’s dead. He was just too drunk to do anything about it. He’s crying with shame.’ Steve sat down and wiped a hand over his eyes. ‘Lord knows what’s going to happen to both of them now. As sick as she was, Helen held that family together.’
‘She knew she was dying,’ Daisy told her husband, ‘but she so wanted to live long enough to see Alf through his problems. She just didn’t have enough strength to hang on any longer.’
‘But Bob did everything he could for her, didn’t he?’ Ruth said.
‘He did, darling.’ Steve smiled wearily at his caring daughter. ‘He’s a good lad, but I fear for him now. Unless he can learn to forgive, that anger he’s carrying around will drag him down, if he isn’t careful.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’ Ruth’s expression was grim as she piled sandwiches on a plate. ‘He’s my friend, and I’ll help him.’
‘I know you will, and we’ll have to watch out for Alf, Daisy.’ Steve pinched a sandwich from the plate, and then stood up. ‘We’ll have to arrange everything, and I’d better start immediately. We can’t leave Helen in the house. Did she have any funeral insurance?’
‘Yes, she told me her mother had taken out a penny one when she’d been born, and she’d kept it up. The policy’s in a biscuit tin at the back of her wardrobe.’
‘That’s a relief. At least we’ll be able to arrange a proper funeral.’ He hauled himself up, and left, eating as he went.
Three
The next day Bob went to work as usual, saying nothing about his mother’s death. It was too painful to talk about, and the last thing he wanted, or needed, was sympathy. He couldn’t handle that at the moment. The Coopers were seeing to all the distressing details, and he was enormously grateful to them. They had always been like a second family to him, but now they were all he had.
Somehow he got through the day, and when he reached home, Ruth was waiting for him.
‘The undertakers have been, Bob, and you can stay with us again if you don’t want to go into your own house at the moment.’
‘Thanks.’ He laid a large hand on her shoulder and shook his head. ‘You’ve all been very kind, Ruthie, but I’ve got to face up to everything. As much as I hate the old man, he’s got to get through the funeral. I’ll have to sober him up enough to stand at the graveside with some kind of dignity. Mum deserves that.’
‘He’s very upset,’ Ruth told him.
Bob’s expression darkened. ‘So he should be! I suppos
e it’s asking too much to expect him to have stayed sober today?’
When Ruth just shook her head, he turned away and swore under his breath, then spun back to face her. ‘Is he down the pub already?’
‘He went as soon as they opened. I’m sorry. We did try to stop him.’
‘Dear Lord, Ruthie, you don’t have to apologize. There’s only one person who can help that man, and that’s himself. Until he recognizes what he’s doing to himself and those around him, he’s never going to change. I did hope that the shock of Mum’s death might have brought him to his senses, but it seems not.’
‘I know you’re right.’ Tears shone in her clear blue eyes. ‘I do so wish we could help him.’
He looked at his little friend with affection. ‘You’d save the whole world if you could, but some people are beyond help. Don’t you worry; I’ll get him through the funeral. Tell your mum and dad I’ll be in to see them later to discuss the arrangements with them.’
‘All right. Have you got any food in the house? Mum said you could eat with us if you haven’t, and she’ll take a dinner in for your dad.’
‘Don’t worry about that. I did the shopping yesterday and there’s plenty there.’ His voice broke slightly, and he turned away, hiding his emotions. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Ruth watched her friend walk into his house, and sadness for him made her shoulders droop. He had taken on the responsibility of the man of the house all through the war, doing any dirty job he could find just to earn some money, and never once had she heard him complain. To have it end this way must be devastating for him.
Bob waited for the old man to come home from the pub, and pushed a strong cup of tea towards him as he slumped at the scullery table.
‘Drink that,’ he ordered, standing over him with the teapot in his hand. As soon as the cup was empty he refilled it, again and again.
When the pot was empty, Bob put it down and towered over his father, hands on hips. ‘The funeral is in six days’ time, and this is what we’re going to do. I don’t care how much you drink for the next five days, but on the day of the funeral you are going to remain sober. I will not have you disgrace Mum by falling down drunk as we lay her to rest. Do you understand?’
Battles Lost and Won Page 2
