The Ever Open Door

by Glenice Crossland

  He wouldn’t have minded if his wife had shown a little appreciation but all she had done was complain. The jewellery in the trinket box was just useless trash. The pictures were the wrong ones, and he must have done something to one of the clocks as the bloody thing kept chiming even though nobody had wound it for days.

  ‘How am I supposed to sleep through that racket?’ Charlotte complained. ‘On the hour, every hour, from one o’clock onwards. It’s driving me mad.’

  ‘You’re imagining things,’ Mark said. ‘I’ve never heard it.’

  ‘Well then, you’re going deaf. Besides you’re not in my bedroom any more, though I don’t know why.’

  ‘Don’t you? Use your imagination, woman. You’re turning into a miserable old nag. Nothing I do pleases you.’

  Charlotte sat looking shame-faced. ‘Well, yes, I admit I lost my temper a bit. I’m sorry. Come back to my bed, I miss you.’ She hitched her skirt up over her thighs, knowing her legs were now her best feature and hoping to entice him back to the intimacy they had previously enjoyed. Mark looked at her with disdain.

  ‘I’m going out for a breath of air,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you sometime.’ He knew he never wanted to sleep with her again. Charlotte was, in his opinion, long past the age at which she should consider herself desirable.

  When Sally woke Jim was feeling amorous. ‘Come ’ere,’ he said, gently pulling her towards him.

  ‘For five minutes, then I’ll have to get up.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s my first day at Miss Appleby’s.’

  ‘Well, if you’re a bit late you can make up the time later.’

  Jim ran his hand up beneath the silky nightdress and stroked Sally’s thigh, climbing his fingers upwards until they reached their goal. They were like a pair of spoons, she with her back to him, as he slid himself inside her, continuing to massage the firm globes of her breasts. Sally’s intention to stay no more than five minutes went completely out of her mind and it was twenty-five minutes later when she finally separated herself from her husband. Even then, she was still in a daze as she went down to the kitchen to wash and came back upstairs to dress.

  ‘My first day and I’m going to be late.’

  Jim turned on to his back and watched her. He could lie in until Daisy woke. The afternoon shift was the one on which the shift workers caught up on their sleep. ‘Just tell her you were unavoidably detained. Or, better still, give her a graphic account of what you were detained by.’

  Sally giggled. ‘I’ll bet she’s never seen one. I’ll bet she’s the only virgin in Millington over the age of twenty-one.’

  ‘Oh, I’d make that eighteen if I were you.’

  ‘See you later.’ Sally hurried away. She would have to forgo breakfast, but who cared about that after what had just taken place?

  She was only five minutes late and didn’t apologise even though Miss Appleby looked pointedly at the clock.

  ‘Oh, you ’aven’t brought your little girl then?’ Sally thought she sounded relieved.

  ‘No, her dad’s looking after her, he’s on afters this week. Right, where shall I start?’

  ‘Well! Seeing as I ’aven’t changed me bed for two weeks, I thought yer could do that and get it ready for’t laundry.’ Sally made for the stairs. ‘Yer’ll find clean sheets in’t cupboard in’t back bedroom.’ Once that was done Sally swept the carpet square and carried the pegged rug outside to give it a shake. A cloud of dust spread around her and she guessed it hadn’t been shaken for some time.

  ‘Have you a mop and bucket?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye, it’s on’t cellar steps.’ The mop was dry and stiff, and when Sally dipped it in water and wrung it out she found it so thin she felt she was scraping the bottom of the handle on the lino. ‘We shall need another mop head,’ she told the older woman who was watching every move she made.

  ‘Well! I don’t know … I ’aven’t had that one very long.’

  ‘There’s nothing left of it.’ Sally thought it must have been on the cellar steps since before the last war, never mind this one. ‘I can’t clean if I’ve nothing to clean with.’

  ‘I used to ’ave to get down on me knees when I was a housekeeper.’

  ‘Really?’ Sally had no intention of rising to the bait. She remembered Emily’s advice to start as she meant to go on: ‘Otherwise the woman’ll make yer life purgatory.’ Emily had known Ida Appleby from school days, and though she rarely spoke ill of anybody – except Charlotte Kaye – she had given Sally a warning of what Ida would try to get away with given half a chance.

  ‘You can make us some elevenses if you’ve a mind to,’ Miss Appleby said, even though it was only ten o’clock. ‘Yer’ll need a break after working so hard.’

  Sally put the kettle on and made up her mind to give it a good scouring when she’d been here a bit. Anyway it was praise indeed if the woman thought she was a good worker. Sally relaxed a bit.

  ‘Don’t use more than one spoonful of tea between us.’

  Sally cringed. It would be like drinking coloured water. Nevertheless she did as she was told, adding a bit more between her fingers.

  Then Miss Appleby started on about the rationing. ‘It was bad enough before but now they’ve gone and rationed our tea! Then there’s the marge and cooking fat … I don’t know what’ll happen next, I’m sure.’

  ‘No, it is a nuisance, but I don’t suppose the war’ll last much longer.’

  ‘I expect I shall be dead by the time this war’s over, what wi’ my legs.’

  Sally hurriedly finished her tea – if you could call it tea – found a duster box under the sink and began polishing the furniture. Everything was of good quality, old, but the type that polished up until it looked like new. Sally wondered how Miss Appleby managed financially if she’d never had a husband. Maybe she’d been a well-paid housekeeper during her working years, that would account for it.

  Sally was relieved the first day was over. It wouldn’t be too bad once she got organised. One thing she would insist on, though, before she did any more floor-washing, was a new mop.

  Sally agreed to Miss Appleby’s suggestion that she should come again on Thursday for another two hours, when she would go to the shops and clean the windows, lavatory and the doorsteps. She hoped there wouldn’t be any queues at the shops or the steps would have to wait. It wasn’t until she got home that she realised she had been at Miss Appleby’s for an extra fifteen minutes. So much for a five-minute tea break, and it wasn’t even tea!

  Jim and Tom Porter went off to work and Daisy went out to play. Mary brought out two chairs and coaxed Sally into sitting outside after her first morning as a working wife.

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ Mary said, ‘we’ll go to the pictures on Saturday. I can’t remember the last time we went out.’

  ‘I ought to be getting something done at the Jessops’,’ Sally said.

  Mary laughed. ‘It isn’t the Jessops’, it’s yours.’

  ‘I know, but I keep imagining something going wrong so that it isn’t ours. I suppose it’s because of the break-in.’ Sally smiled. ‘Actually it wasn’t a break-in … whoever it was just unlocked the door and locked it again behind them, proof enough who was responsible.’ She sighed. ‘Well! They won’t get in again, Jim’s changed the locks. Oh, Mary, are we doing the right thing? Moving, I mean.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want you to go. It won’t be the same without you next-door. But, yes, of course you are. It’s a better house altogether. Nice garden, extra bedroom … you’d be crazy not to move.’

  ‘You’re right, I know you are, but in all the years we’ve lived here we’ve never had to lock the door, and if we’ve gone off for the day the key’s been there for any visitors. I can trust everybody on Potters Row.’

  ‘Well, you can trust the Dawsons and Emily. Taylors Row is a lovely place to live.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right, and you won’t be far away.’

  ‘What’s your Daisy doing?’ Mary shielded
her eyes from the sun to peer at her.

  ‘She’s supposed to be dancing. They’re going to have a concert. She’s been practising all week. She wants to dance like Marjory Bacon’s little girl. Apparently she’s quite a little performer, I doubt if our Daisy will ever make a dancer but at least she’s enjoying herself. Oh! And our Daisy wants pink knickers because Una Bacon wears them, and she knows they’re pink because your Stanley’s seen them.’

  The two friends giggled like schoolgirls as they soaked up the sun. It was good that Mary was content again. Life was lovely at the moment even with the war, and it might never reach Millington. Sally watched the crowd of children from the three rows. Oh, yes, it was a good place in which to live. Please God, keep it that way.

  When Sally invited Betty to accompany them to the cinema she refused, saying she couldn’t possibly as her skirt was held together with a safety pin and she wouldn’t be seen dead out in public in a maternity smock. She did, however, suggest she sit with Daisy and Stanley so that Jim and Tom could go too. ‘It’s no good us all sitting here miserable,’ Betty said.

  Sally was thrilled that Betty seemed to be becoming less selfish. Jim was more suspicious. ‘She’ll be looking to the future when she needs a baby-sitter herself,’ he said.

  Rather than waste an evening at the cinema it was decided they would all go to the Empire Theatre in Sheffield.

  ‘I hope Elsie and Doris Waters are on,’ Mary said, ‘I’ve heard they’re a right laugh.’

  Sally didn’t mind who was on as long as it was an excuse to get dressed up for a change. After they’d gone Betty settled down with her Family Star. With Daisy tucked up in bed and Stanley occupied with Jim’s Meccano set, she was prepared for a quiet night with her feet up. Stanley had just moved to the sofa and fallen asleep when Ernest Denman walked in.

  ‘Oh, Betty, long time no see.’

  ‘Well, you can certainly see me now,’ She laughed, and patted her lump. ‘You’d have a job to miss me.’

  Ernest grinned. ‘Well, I must say, you look well.’ It was true. He was astounded at how much Betty had changed. Gone was the heavy make up she had been wearing the last time he had seen her. The perm had grown out of her hair, which now waved loosely round her face. ‘In fact, I’d say you were blooming.’

  ‘Oh, I’m blooming all right, big as a blooming elephant!’

  Ernest looked round. ‘Where are they all?’

  ‘Our Daisy’s in dreamland, just like Stanley here. The others have gone gadding off to the Empire.’

  Ernest opened a carrier bag and brought out a couple of bottles of stout. ‘I’m not carrying these back home, so how about joining me?’

  ‘Well, I’m not drinking at the moment, but I’m sure half a glass won’t do any harm.’ Ernest struggled with the opener on his pocket knife.

  Betty took the bottle from him. ‘Here, let me. How is your shoulder by the way?’

  ‘Not bad, it’s just that I don’t seem to have much control over my hand.’ Ernest frowned. He was more worried than he would admit about how he would cope back at base. ‘I’m joining my unit on Monday,’ he told Betty when they were seated one at either side of the kitchen table.

  ‘Oh! Are you well enough?’

  ‘I’ve to see a doctor, I’ll know more then.’ He paused then asked, ‘How’s Clarence?’

  ‘Gone.’

  ‘Oh, he’ll be back, don’t you fret.’

  ‘No, he won’t. He’s not just left the pit, he’s left me too.’ Betty looked close to tears. ‘Everybody always leaves me.’ She gave a nervous little laugh.

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Ernest was concerned for her.

  ‘Oh, but it is. The story of my life.’

  Ernest thought she must be feeling vulnerable because of the baby. He didn’t know what to say and Betty continued talking.

  ‘Even when I was a little girl, like our Daisy.’

  ‘Who? Who left you?’

  ‘The babies, one after the other, two brothers and a sister. I’d just get used to them being there when they’d die.’

  ‘I didn’t know that. But they didn’t leave you … I mean, they died, they didn’t have any option.’

  ‘One tiny coffin after the other, taken to the graveyard.’ Ernest reached across the table and placed a hand over Betty’s.

  ‘Then the next ones were twins, a boy and a girl. Fine, healthy babies this time, according to the midwife. Not like the other poor wee things. By that time I was eight. I doted on them, nursed them when they cried, helped to bathe and change them.’ Tears were streaming down Betty’s face by this time.

  ‘So, what happened?’

  ‘One day I came home from school and they were being taken away, wrapped in blankets. Red blankets, the colour of blood. I’ve hated anything red since then. They had diphtheria. They were taken to the fever hospital … you know, the one on the edge of the moor? I was taken to see them one day. A nurse stood at an upstairs window with a baby in each arm. All I could see were two little faces, pale against the blankets. I never saw them again.’

  ‘Oh, Betty!’ Ernest came round the table to comfort her. She held up her hand to prevent him.

  ‘Please, Ernest, let me finish. My mother seemed to shut me out after that.’

  ‘But it must have been worse for her. Your mother, I mean.’

  ‘Yes, I see that now, but I didn’t then. She didn’t even let me go to the funeral. Said it was no place for a child.’

  ‘She was just protecting you.’

  ‘But I needed to talk about them, take flowers to the grave, and I wasn’t allowed even to mention their names.’

  ‘What about your dad?’

  ‘Oh, he understood, we talked when we were able. My dad gave me the affection I was seeking, but then he left me too. My dad died as well.’

  ‘Oh, Betty, look … you’re upsetting yourself too much. It can’t be good for the baby, or for you.’

  ‘It is. You don’t know how long I’ve needed to talk about it.

  ‘Well, after Dad died I started going out more, hanging about round by the clock, the life and soul of the gang. Or so they imagined. I got the reputation for being easy when all I was craving was affection. I thought I could buy it by giving them sex. I thought Clarence was different. I thought he respected me. Now he’s left me too. Oh, I don’t blame him, it was all wrong from the start, we should never have married without love.’

  ‘You’ll still have your baby,’ Ernest said. ‘You’ll have someone to love you then.’

  Betty frowned. ‘Yes, but I’m scared about that. I’m scared to love anyone now. In case they leave me too.’ She made an effort to smile. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘What a way to spend Saturday night, listening to sob stories! Why aren’t you at the Sun?’

  ‘I don’t know. I seem to be out of touch with the lads who are still here. All my mates from school have enlisted. Besides, I’m used to some right old booze-ups when we’re off duty. Though that’ll have to end soon, it’ll be lemonade only once we start …’ Ernest daren’t say any more, in fact he’d said too much already. In any case, Betty suddenly let out a groan and clutched her stomach.

  ‘What’s up? Is it the baby?’

  ‘No, it isn’t due for another week.’

  ‘All the same, perhaps I should fetch somebody?’

  ‘No, I’m okay now, probably wind. So are there none of your mates left at the Sun?’ Betty was embarrassed now to be alone with Ernest, not counting little Stanley who was fast asleep.

  ‘One or two, but like I said, I’m not on the same wavelength, I don’t know anything about mining.’

  ‘You always were a cut above the rest of us, Ernest.’

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘How do yer mean?’

  ‘After you went to grammar school. Well, you have to admit, it was unusual for any of us from the old church school to pass for the grammar.’

  ‘I can thank me dad for that. He used to say, “Always mek most of thy sen, Ernest lad
. If tha doesn’t, no bugger else’ll bother.”’ Ernest was a good mimic.

  ‘Good for him.’ Then Betty unexpectedly let out another groan. ‘Oh! That really hurt.’

  Ernest was out of the door and on his way to fetch her mother before she could stop him.

  ‘What’s up? Is the house on fire, lad?’ Mrs Firth was standing at her door, getting a breath of air.

  ‘No! It’s Betty, Mrs Firth. I think the baby’s on the way.’

  ‘I’ll come, lad. I shouldn’t get ’er mother up, she’s bound to be asleep at this time.’ Mrs Firth was on her way before Ernest could argue. ‘We’d best get yer to bed, love,’ she said, seeing the stage she was at. Betty was bending over the table, moaning. She sank to her knees as she went towards the stairs. Ernest went to help her up but made the mistake of trying to lift her and found it impossible with his injury.

  ‘Bloody shoulder,’ he muttered.

  ‘Now then, don’t you be so daft or yer’ll cause yerself no end of damage. Let’s get ’er on’t sofa, if yer can just shift young Stanley,’ ordered Mrs Firth.

  Ernest couldn’t lift Betty but he scooped the boy, still miraculously asleep, in his good arm and deposited him upstairs on Jim and Sally’s bed.

  ‘Can yer make sure we’ve got some hot watter, Ernest lad? And do yer think yer can find some towels to protect the sofa with?’

  Ernest wasn’t one to panic. He went calmly through the cupboards until he found whatever was needed.

  ‘She’ll not be long now. Eeh! It saddens me that all the fathers are away at times like these.’ Mrs Firth began examining Betty then and Ernest made himself scarce to the kitchen. He could hear Betty crying out, and Mrs Firth talking soothingly to her the whole time. He had to laugh as he heard the woman telling Betty about the lovely calf she had recently delivered, and how it had come out the wrong way round: ‘But this little mite’s the right road round, no doubt about that. Now, let’s ’ave a good strong push when yer feel as if yer need to.’

  Betty must have felt it was needed because Mrs Firth said, ‘That’s a good girl … and now another. There it is! I can see the head. Come on now, just one more. That’s it, easy as shelling peas.’