‘That Miss Appleby’s. She gave us nowt.’
‘Not the bull roar, not when she lives by herself. She’ll be too scared,’ Norah pointed out.
‘Oh, no, summat better than that for her.’ Trevor ran round the corner by the lavatories and came back with an old, dead rabbit. Norah backed away. ‘Don’t bring that thing near me,’ she whispered.
‘No, Daisy can do this, she’s the littlest.’ Daisy looked terrified. ‘But I don’t like dead animals,’ she said.
‘Well, you’ve only to ’old it by the ears, open the door, throw it in and run away. Being the littlest, she won’t notice you.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Norah looked scared. ‘Because she’s only little, our Daisy won’t be able to run away in time.’
‘That’s okay, that owd woman won’t even notice her, she’ll be too shocked. Go on, Daisy.’ Trevor held out the flea-ridden carcass. ‘Just run and open the door and throw it in. Then off, as fast as yer can. We’ll wait for yer.’
Daisy was trembling with fear: fear of the thing in her hand, and fear of Miss Appleby. She had heard her mam saying what an awful woman she was, but the little girl was even more scared of being excluded from the gang, so she did what she was told.
Holding the rabbit at arm’s length, she tiptoed to Miss Appleby’s back door, opened it and threw the creature into the kitchen. The scream the woman let out could be heard from one end of Potters Row to the other.
Daisy made off in the direction of the gap in the wall but the rest of them were nowhere to be seen. The only one left was Daisy Butler, who sank down into the long grass and began to cry.
‘What the hell’s going on?’
Jim saw the open door and dashed into Ida Appleby’s, the first time he had ever set foot in the place.
Mr Firth followed close behind. ‘What’s up, Ida?’
But by this time both men could see and smell the furry corpse on the pegged rug in front of the fire.
The shock had rendered Miss Appleby speechless. Just then Alfie Ramsgate tottered in, wearing only a mucky white shirt, fortunately a long one, his thin bare legs sticking out beneath it. Alfie was still drunk from his drinking session at dinnertime.
‘I thought bloody ’ouse was on fire,’ he grumbled. ‘I’d just managed to get our Kitty to come to bed for an hour – and then you ’ad to go and disturb us. Yer daft owd bat, making a racket like that!’ He glared at Ida from beneath shaggy eyebrows.
‘Go back to bed, Alf, your Kitty’ll still be waiting for yer. There’s nowt to get alarmed about,’ Jim assured him. ‘Who did it?’ he asked the trembling woman.
‘Y-Your little l-lass,’ Ida stammered.
‘What?’ He couldn’t believe it.
‘Never!’ Mr Firth thought the world of little Daisy.
‘She did, she threw it at me. I saw her.’
‘If she did,’ Jim said, as though the woman might be lying, ‘I’ll tan her arse, I promise you. And she can clean it up.’ He stormed out of the house. By this time Enid and Sally were out and about too.
‘Daisy!’ Jim’s voice echoed along the row. The field was empty. The Dawsons had skedaddled. Stanley had gone home and sneaked off to bed without being told. Norah was sitting quietly, white-faced, her head hidden in a book. Only Daisy was still cowering behind the wall.
‘Daisy, wherever you are, yer might as well come out.’
She came slowly through the gap in the wall, her face a ghostly white in the darkness. She had never seen her dad so angry.
‘Did you do this?’
Daisy nodded and wished she could make herself invisible.
‘Go and get a shovel.’
She ran home to fetch the coal shovel, then ran back. She was crying harder now. She knew she had done something really dreadful.
‘Get rid of this,’ ordered Jim, glaring at her. Daisy shovelled up the stinking mess which immediately fell off again, on to a different and clean bit of rug, making another wet, dirty patch which was further embellished by the muck on the coal shovel. Miss Appleby screamed again at the sight.
‘Tell Miss Appleby you’re sorry,’ Jim ordered.
‘I’m s-sorry, Miss Appleby,’ Daisy sobbed.
‘Now,’ Jim took the shovel from his daughter, ‘get home and wait for me there.’
Miss Appleby looked a little calmer by now. Mr Firth had filled the kettle and placed it on the gas ring. ‘I’ll mek yer a cup of tea, Ida,’ he said.
‘You … er … you won’t smack her, will yer?’ Ida asked Jim.
‘Aye, I will. She’s got to be punished. It’ll hurt me more than it does her, but she can’t get away with summat like this.’
‘But … I mean, she’s only a little lass. I daresay it were the big ones who put her up to it. So I’d prefer yer not to hit her.’
Jim looked at her. He’d never really taken to this woman but maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. Even so, Daisy couldn’t go unpunished; she needed to learn right from wrong.
Bernard Cartwright had come to see if there was anything to be done. ‘Our Norah’s as bad as her if she was with her at the time, which I suppose she was. She’ll have to be punished as well.’
‘Nay, it were our Daisy who did it.’
‘But I imagine our Norah stood by and watched her. She should have set an example, her being the eldest.’
‘No, don’t smack either of them.’ Miss Appleby seemed upset by the thought of the children being hurt.
‘I’ll see,’ Jim said, as he made his way out with the shovelful of stinking fur. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what got into her.’ He pointed at the rug. ‘I expect Sally’ll be able to clean that when she comes next time.’
‘Aye, I expect she will. She’s a good cleaner, I’ll say that for her.’
‘I’ll say good night then.’ Jim wished he was miles away. Any other night he would probably have been at work and Sally could have dealt with the problem. No, that was a cowardly way of thinking. What the hell was he to do, though?
At home he was met by the sound of Daisy crying and Sally shouting at her, ‘If you don’t shut up, you’ll get another one.’ Daisy’s cries turned into strangled sobs. She was rubbing her leg where Sally had slapped her. Thank God it was over and done with.
‘Get undressed and up them stairs,’ Jim snapped. Daisy took off her jumper and skirt, still sobbing as she stood there in her knickers and Liberty bodice. She took off her stockings and Jim noticed that her leg was unmarked. Sally took a nighty off the fireguard and slid it over her daughter’s head.
‘Now, to bed,’ Jim said. ‘We’ll say no more about tonight, but just remember never to do anything so cruel again.’
The sobbing increased as Daisy told them, ‘They t-told me to do it … I d-didn’t want to.’
‘Then you should have ignored them. Don’t blame anybody else, it was you who did it. Now, upstairs!’
‘But I haven’t had me supper.’
‘Upstairs.’
Daisy disappeared without another word. Her mother didn’t often smack her but she realised she’d deserved it this time. Besides, it would have hurt a lot more if her dad had hit her. She didn’t take much notice of her mam, but punishment from her dad really upset her. The worst punishment of all was having no supper … that and the look on poor Miss Appleby’s face. She would never do anything so bad again, ever.
‘Poor Miss Appleby,’ Sally sighed after Daisy was fast asleep.
‘Aye, and poor Kitty Ramsgate.’ Jim grinned.
‘What?’
‘Being deprived of a good seeing to from owd Alf.’ The sight of him in his nightshirt, and the thought of Kitty lying there waiting, was worth all tonight’s upset. Alfie would never hear the last of it when the tale was told in the Rising Sun.
Chapter Five
AT LAST ERNEST Denman was back in action, just in time to help defend London from a night attack on 15 September. It had been anticipated that the German invasion would take the form of an attem
pt to destroy the RAF. Instead the capital and other major English cities were to be targeted in a series of raids by the enemy. On the first night Ernest was back with his squadron the Luftwaffe lost fifty-six of its planes.
One of the Messerschmitts shot down over the south of England was brought to Sheffield a few days later and put on display at Barker’s Pool. Jim took Daisy, Stanley and Norah to see the plane. Within a week 40,000 people had paid to view it. This helped to raise £1,000 for the Sheffield Newspapers’ War Fund. The sight of it made Jim realise just how vulnerable Ernest must be to attacks from these precision-made enemy fighters. He was relieved that Sally had been too busy to come with them.
The three children were thrilled by the trip, especially Stanley, who was allowed to be lifted aboard. Thank God the children were unaware of the blood, sweat and tears the courageous young RAF men expended on their behalf. Jim said a silent prayer that the war would soon be at an end and all the brave fighting men home safe and sound.
It was not to be. In November 1940, in the city of Coventry, hundreds of civilians were killed in the worst air raid of the war so far.
Betty Hayes had been unsettled by Florence’s home visit. Amy had looked after her grandson so that Betty and her friend could enjoy some time together. They had gone to the Palace to see a film, and bought a bag of fish and chips afterwards, to eat sitting on a seat in the Memorial Gardens. Betty hadn’t had much to talk about; in fact, nothing really except for little Ernie. It had brought home to her just how a monotonous a life she was leading.
Florence, by comparison, was in touch with all kinds of people, doing a worthwhile and interesting job, and going out dancing most nights she was off duty. Betty kept reminding herself that her son was more important to her than anything or anyone in the whole world, but it didn’t take away her desire to be doing something other than just being a mother.
Amy recognised the new dissatisfaction within her daughter and wished she could give the girl a bit more leisure time, but the pain in her leg and the rheumatism in her hands and arms meant she was almost incapable of handling Ernie safely. When Sally heard about Betty’s night out, she said she should do it more often, even offered to care for little Ernie the following Saturday, to give her sister-in-law a break.
Betty wondered where she could go. Florence had been her only friend apart from the girls at work. There was always Doreen, she supposed, who was in the same position as herself. Her husband was in the Navy and she was the mother of a little girl. Betty and Doreen had worked together since leaving school. Maybe she would like to meet up again. Of course, there was the baby-sitting problem but Betty would pay her a visit anyway.
Doreen was thrilled to see her. ‘Come in, it’s been ages.’ She peered at Ernie in his pram. ‘Oh, Betty, he’s gorgeous. I’ll put the kettle on.’ Doreen’s mother worked in the forces canteen in Sheffield. Doreen herself was quite content at home with little Alice to keep her company. Betty played with Alice while Doreen made the tea.
‘She’s going to break a few hearts, just look at those eyes.’ It was true, Doreen’s little girl was beautiful.
‘What are you doing with yerself these days?’ Betty asked her friend.
‘Not a lot.’ Doreen pulled a face. ‘Get up, eat breakfast, clean up, eat dinner, take her for a walk, eat tea. Then I listen to the radio until bedtime. I know I should feel like running away, but actually I’m quite content as long as I’ve got my baby.’
Betty laughed. ‘Just like me. Except, I must admit, sometimes I could scream.’ She rocked Ernie’s pram as he began to stir. ‘It’s just, I feel so useless.’
‘We could go out one night. Me mam’d mind our Alice.’
Betty frowned. ‘I’d love to, but my mam isn’t so well. She’s not as young as yours. Though my sister-in-law did offer … Anyway, where would we go?’
‘Well, there’s the dance at Victoria Hall.’
‘Really! I didn’t think they’d still have them, with all the men away.’
‘Oh, you’d be surprised. The soldiers stationed in Sheffield come out here. Then there are the poor things convalescing at the Wharncliffe after Dunkirk, they’re encouraged to go out, not that many of them are up to dancing. Then there are the miners and steelworkers … they still need cheering up. Anyway, we could always dance together.’ Doreen laughed. ‘Even dancing wi’ you’d be better than sitting here every night!’
‘You’re not kidding. If I don’t get a social life soon, I shall end up like a cabbage.’
‘Well, you always were a bit green,’ Doreen teased. ‘Look, do try and get a night out, it’ll be a laugh. Here, ’ave a biscuit.’
Betty nibbled at a Marie biscuit and pulled a face.
‘Hmm, I know, they are a bit soggy. Me mam brought them home from the canteen, they were supposed to chuck them away.’
Betty dunked it in her tea and giggled. ‘Won’t know the difference now. Oh, I am glad I came.’
‘So am I. I can’t wait to get dolled up and shake a leg.’ Doreen grinned. ‘I might even get some of that leg paint and colour them.’
‘Yes, we both will. We’ll paint ’em. Just wishful thinking, though; I can’t leave Ernie. Still, nice talking to you. Maybe we could take them for a walk one afternoon?’
‘Yes, we’ll go up the moor towards Longfield, take a picnic. It might be a bit cold but it’ll blow the cobwebs off us.’
‘Great. Well, I’d better be going. He’ll want a feed as soon as he opens his eyes.’ Betty kissed Alice and waved goodbye to her.
‘Call for me on Sunday, then.’
‘Yes, I will. Oh, and by the way, we won’t bother with the biscuits.’
Laughing, together, the two girls felt happier than they had for ages, like carefree young women instead of housebound mums. Betty thought she might take advantage of Sally’s offer, just the once.
Amy Butler didn’t look very pleased when she saw Betty colouring her legs. ‘I ’ope yer not turning all common again,’ she said.
Betty looked indignant. ‘Well! I’ve been called some things in my time, but never common. I’ve been called Sexy, Flirty, and once at school I was even called Sugar Tits. But I’m not common, Mam.
‘I’m not going to misbehave. Not tonight, not ever again. I won’t do anything to make my son or you ashamed of me.’
Amy believed her. Betty had shaped up nicely since Ernie had come on the scene; she was a good mother and doted on the little fellow. Even so, she hadn’t exactly been anywhere where she could be tempted. The Victoria Hall dance would definitely be a temptation, Besides, there was no reason to be dyeing her legs. Who’d be looking at them anyway? Still, the lass deserved a night out. After all, you were only young once. All the same, Amy couldn’t help feeling uneasy and wished the lasses were going to the pictures instead. A dance hall was no place for a married woman, in her opinion, but there again she was old-fashioned, or so their Betty said.
Sally was looking forward to minding Ernie. He was a placid little thing and usually as good as gold. Jim whistled at Betty when she wheeled in the pram.
‘Wow, you look stunning!’ Sally said. She was right. Betty was a good-looking girl even on her worst days. Tonight she looked absolutely scintillating with her sparkling blonde hair, blue eyes, and figure to die for. Yes, scintillating was a good description.
‘Are you sure he’ll be all right?’ Betty sounded unsure. ‘He’s had his bath and his feed. He usually sleeps through now, so he shouldn’t be any trouble.’
‘Go on, stop worrying, and have a good time. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
‘I won’t.’ Betty took a last look at her sleeping son and hurried out.
‘She’ll be up to no good now she’s been let loose.’ Jim hadn’t agreed with Sally minding the baby while his sister gadded about.
‘She’ll be fine.’
‘Well, on your head be it if she doesn’t behave. Besides, now you’ve done it once, she’ll take advantage. I know my sister of old.�
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‘Of old maybe, but she’s changed, Jim. Besides, everyone needs a break occasionally.’
‘Okay, you’ve been warned.’ He had only just got the words out when Ernie woke up. He looked around for his mother, saw the strange surroundings and let out a wail. Sally nudged the pram but he wouldn’t drop off. Jim turned up the wireless so he could hear it over the cries and Sally lifted the baby out and began to rock him. Nothing worked. Daisy came downstairs and tried to amuse him, but he just cried louder. Then Dippy began to howl in sympathy. Jim could stand it no longer. He combed some Brylcreem into his hair, put on his tie and jacket and went to the Sun.
‘He’ll settle down,’ Sally promised as her husband went out.
‘Probably,’ Jim moaned, ‘but until he does, I can think of a better way of spending Saturday night.’
Ernie did settle eventually, but by that time Sally was left on her own, apart from a sleeping baby and a little girl who wanted a story, then a drink of water, and then had a coughing spasm and needed Veno’s. Sally could think of a lot better ways of spending Saturday night herself, but unlike Jim, she was here and must make the best of it.
The reason Daisy couldn’t settle was because her dad was out. If Sally and Jim ever argued – which wasn’t very often – Daisy knew it was usually on a Saturday night. Sally didn’t mind Jim going off for a few pints with Bernard and Tom, to slaken the dust. Jim would grin as he kissed her and went off to the Rising Sun. If she was in a reasonable frame of mind, all would still be well. Jim would come home, switch the wireless over to Saturday Night at the Palais, and they would dance round the living-room, ending up in a passionate embrace before they went to bed for the lovemaking his shift work played havoc with during the week. But on other occasions Sally would berate him for staying out too late, and for spending too much on his beer.
It never occurred to Jim that Sally might have good reason to be annoyed, for once he got a few pints inside him he was generous to a fault. Any of the lame – which Sally didn’t mind – and the lazy – which she did – knew he would give away his last penny once he had had a few drinks. Jim had never been known to turn nasty in drink, indeed it seemed to enhance his generous side, which some of his fellow drinkers never failed to take advantage of.
The Ever Open Door Page 12
