The Girl From Number 22

by Joan Jonker

  ‘I couldn’t tell yer if they hear everything that goes on, ’cos yer know both families keep to themselves. But just after the Phillipses moved in, Edith did say she’d heard the father shouting and bawling. She said his language was terrible. Since then, though, she’s never mentioned them. At the time, we put it down to the unheaval of moving house, and everything being at sixes and sevens.’

  ‘It might be a good idea to put them wise, love, so they know what sort of man they’re dealing with.’

  Ada was shaking her head. ‘Oh, I couldn’t betray a confidence, sunshine, I’d never sleep at night if I did that. Annie would be mortified if she knew I’d been broadcasting her business. And she wouldn’t think much of me as a friend.’

  ‘Mam, I think me dad is right,’ Danny said. ‘If Mr Phillips is a heavy drinker, the time might come when he goes too far and really does Mrs Phillips an injury. Or even one of the children if they go to help their mam. If that happened, they’d be in need of help. And Gordon Bowers and Joe Benson are the kind of men who would want to help. They’re the salt of the earth, both of them.’

  Ada chuckled. ‘I know this isn’t the time for laughter, but I can’t help it. In me mind, there’s a picture of Tom Phillips’s face when Gordon and Joe barge in. Especially Gordon, with him being six feet five inches in his stockinged feet. He’d put the fear of God into Annie’s husband. And wouldn’t I just love to be there to see that.’

  ‘Ada,’ Jimmy said, ‘Gordon isn’t a fighter.’

  ‘I know that, sunshine, and you know that. But the brave Tom Phillips doesn’t. And, oh, wouldn’t I just love to be a fly on the wall when he’s shaking in his shoes as his eyes travel the height of Gordon. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to watch buggerlugs getting his comeuppance.’ Ada tapped her fingers on the table. ‘I won’t mention anything to Jean or Edith until I’ve talked it over with Annie. I agree with yer that it would be wise to warn them in case of emergency, but it’s not my place to say anything until I’ve had a good talk to Annie. Me and Hetty are the only friends she’s got in the street, and I don’t want to turn her against us. I’ll just take it slowly, and mention it in the course of conversation. I won’t make a big deal out of it, ’cos I don’t want to frighten her off.’

  She looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s too late for yer to go dancing now, sunshine, so how about having a game of cards with me and yer dad? It’s not often we have the pleasure of yer company in the evenings, so it will make a nice change. We’d get a game in before Monica and Paul come home.’ She grinned across at her son. ‘I’d ask yer to have a dance with me, Danny, so yer didn’t have withdrawal symptoms. But I don’t think I’m up to your standard. Besides, the room isn’t big enough for the twirls yer keep telling me about.’

  As Danny was getting the cards out of a drawer in the sideboard, he bent to kiss Ada’s cheek. ‘It would be my pleasure, Mam, to dance with the prettiest woman in the dance hall.’

  ‘Flattery will get yer everywhere.’ Ada smiled at him. ‘Yer dad is very mean with his compliments. He never tells me I’m pretty.’

  ‘I don’t need to, love, the mirror will tell yer that. That’s why I don’t say much. If me and the mirror both paid yer compliments, yer’d end up big-headed. And yer don’t want that to happen, do yer? So really, I’m doing yer a favour.’

  ‘Oh, that’s it, is it, sunshine? Well, I’ll be eternally grateful for yer thoughtfulness.’

  Danny sat down with the pack of cards in his hand. ‘Is it rummy we’re playing?’

  ‘It’s the only game I know,’ Ada told him. ‘And I’m not very good at that.’

  ‘Are we playing for money?’

  ‘Ay, what d’yer think I am?’ Ada asked. ‘I’m not made of money, and if I lost some, there’d be nowt for yer dinners tomorrow.’

  Danny raised his brows. ‘A penny a game, Mam? That won’t skint yer, surely?’

  ‘Oh, okay, I don’t suppose that will skint me. But if I win, don’t expect me to spend me winnings on cream cakes for yer.’

  There was much laughter round the table as Danny tried to pass a card to his mother under the cover of the chenille cloth. Then Jimmy tried to cheat by picking two cards from the pack instead of one. Ada was the biggest cheat, though, because she pretended to be a novice at the game, when in fact she was just the opposite, since she and Hetty often had a game in the afternoon if it was raining and not fit to walk round the shops.

  ‘Hurry up, love,’ Jimmy said. ‘Throw one of the cards away.’

  Ada took a few seconds to take stock of the cards in her hand. Then, keeping her face straight, she threw one of the cards on the table before laying down her full hand. ‘I think I’ve won. Will yer check for me to make sure, before yer hand me winnings over?’

  The two men gaped in surprise. ‘I thought yer didn’t know how to play the game, Mam!’ Danny said. ‘How come yer won?’

  ‘I never said I couldn’t play the game, sunshine, did I? I could have put me cards down ages ago, but I was watching you and yer dad. Both of yer cheated, but I couldn’t quite make out who was the best at sleight of hand. And yer dad won by a mile. He’s so quick, yer can hardly see his hand move.’

  Jimmy put on a hurt expression. ‘Ah, that’s not fair, love. And it’s not true, either. For if I’m as quick as yer say I am, how come you won the game?’

  ‘Through practice, sunshine. I’ll let yer into a secret, but yer must never tell Arthur, ’cos I don’t want to get Hetty into trouble. Yer see, there’s a woman lives in the next street what runs a card school. And me and Hetty go there three times a week.’ Ada was making it up as she went along. ‘And I never come away without a few extra coppers in me purse. Hetty’s getting good at it, too. She won twice last week.’

  Jimmy and Danny stared, disbelief written on their faces. They were still drinking it in when Ada asked, ‘D’yer know the funniest part about it? Well, it’s looking at your two faces now. Yer both fell for it, hook, line and sinker.’

  Jimmy was the first to recover. ‘I wasn’t taken in for a minute, love. I knew yer were having us on.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Danny said, ‘me too! I knew right away yer were kidding, ’cos ye’re not the type to waste yer money on gambling.’

  Ada shook her head slowly. ‘I can’t quite make up me mind whether ye’re better at cheating or telling fibs. But whatever it is, it doesn’t make any difference to the fact my cards were down on the table, face up, first. And as I believe that makes me the winner, then kindly pass yer pennies over. And I don’t want any buttons or foreign coins, either.’

  While Jimmy put his hand in his trouser pocket to root a coin out, Danny passed over a silver sixpence. ‘That’s for you to buy three cream cakes with, Mam. For you and Auntie Hetty, and Mrs Phillips.’

  Ada waved it away. ‘I don’t want money off yer, don’t be daft. Put it back in yer pocket, sunshine. And you, Jimmy, leave the penny in yer pocket. It was only a game of cards for heaven’s sake, and it was a good laugh, I enjoyed meself.’

  Danny pushed the silver coin back across the table. ‘I enjoyed meself, too, Mam. And that sixpence would have gone in the dance hall, so I’m no worse off.’

  Ada had a smile on her face as she picked up the coin. ‘Well, sunshine, if yer put it like that. And I thank yer on behalf of meself and Hetty, and Mrs Phillips. We’ll toast yer with our cups of tea.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  There was a queue in the chip shop, but Annie and the children didn’t mind, for it was nice and warm. ‘I love the smell of fish and chips,’ Jenny said. ‘It always makes me feel hungry.’ Then she thought of how much it would cost for three fish, and knew her mother couldn’t afford to fork so much out. ‘But me favourite are scallops, so can we have a few with our chips, Mam?’

  ‘Of course yer can, sweetheart.’ Annie’s smile was forced. She was putting a brave face on for the sake of the children, but inside she was full of apprehension. Tom Phillips wouldn’t let her get away
with what she’d done today, and she feared what he had in store for her. But no matter what it was, she wasn’t going to allow him to treat her the way he had for nearly twenty years. Blows she could cope with. But the humiliation she’d suffered in the bedroom, that was a thing of the past. She was determined that would never, ever happen again. And she’d put her foot down with him when it came to Ben. If the lad didn’t want to go out at the same time as his father every morning, then she’d make sure he wasn’t forced to.

  Annie sighed as they moved a step nearer to the counter. Brave words were easy when they were in your head. It wasn’t so easy when you had a violent drunk in front of you, determined you were going to do as he said. But she’d made a vow to herself that no longer would she be afraid of telling people that her husband was a drunkard who lashed out at his wife and children. That he used his fists instead of kind words. And he cared for no one except himself. She’d unburdened herself to Ada and Hetty, and she felt a lot better for it. They didn’t back off from her like other folk had over the years. They were sympathetic and understanding. And they’d listened without laying the blame at her door for being so weak. She’d been truly blessed finding friends like Ada Fenwick and Hetty Watson.

  ‘Only two more in front of us now, Mam,’ Jenny said. ‘It’s a pity we can’t eat them in here, where it’s warm. I don’t fancy eating them in front of me dad. One look at his face would put me off them.’

  ‘We could stand in a shop doorway and eat them.’ Ben thought he’d choke if he had to eat with his father glaring at them with hatred in his eyes. ‘Let’s eat them out of the paper. They’ll be red hot, so they’d keep us warm.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Annie said, shuffling forward. ‘But I think a shop doorway would be preferable to yer father’s temper.’

  Then it was her turn at the counter. The man behind it was the only person in the shop who didn’t have a red nose from being out in the cold. He’d been run off his feet for two solid hours, and was roasting. ‘Yes, missus, what can I do for yer?’

  ‘A pennyworth of chips and a pennyworth of scallops, three times, please. And I’d be very grateful if yer would put salt and vinegar on, and wrap them up separately in two lots of paper so they’ll stay hot until we get home.’

  The man, whose name was Walter, was turning the chips over in the hot fat. ‘Blimey, missus, yer wouldn’t want me to eat them for yer as well, would yer?’

  Even though Jenny knew the man didn’t mean to be sarcastic, she took umbrage on behalf of her mother. ‘We’re quite capable of eating them ourselves,’ she told him. ‘We even know how to use a knife and fork.’

  The man looked put out. ‘It was only a joke, love.’

  ‘I’ll forgive yer,’ Jenny said, ‘but yer can give us an extra chip for being so cheeky.’

  ‘Seeing as ye’re a pretty girl, yer can have two.’

  ‘Me mam is pretty, too,’ Jenny said, smiling. ‘And me kid brother is handsome.’

  ‘What about yer next-door neighbours?’ Walter tipped the chips from the hot fat into the next container and winked at Jenny. ‘And haven’t yer got a grandma what is pretty?’

  A man standing behind the Phillipses shuffled his feet. ‘Before yer go through all her ancestors, would yer mind serving a man who isn’t pretty, but who is nearly ruddy well starving with hunger?’

  Walter moved like lightning then. He shovelled fresh chips on to a piece of greaseproof paper, laid three scallops on top, then wrapped them in double sheets of newspaper. He repeated the performance twice, then passed the three parcels over and held his hand out for the sixpence Annie had ready to give him. ‘Run home and eat them in front of a roaring fire, girl, and they’ll taste a treat.’

  Annie took the parcels and thanked him, but inside she was wishing she could do as he said. If he only knew. Outside the shop, she passed over the children’s share and said, ‘Well, would yer rather eat them in a shop doorway, or take a chance on yer father being home when we get there?’

  The children answered as one. ‘A shop doorway, Mam.’

  ‘There’s every likelihood he’ll be propping the bar up in the pub,’ Annie said. ‘I’ll kick meself for standing in a freezing cold shop doorway if I get home to find the house empty.’ There was steam rising from the parcels, and the smell of chips was irresistible. ‘In the chandler’s doorway, kids, it’s the nearest. I didn’t realise I was hungry, but the smell is making me tummy rumble.’

  They tore some of the newspaper to make a hole, and each of them picked out a chip. ‘Oh, boy, I’m not half going to enjoy these,’ Ben said. ‘Chips always taste better when yer eat them out of a newspaper. He’s put loads of vinegar on, too. They taste great.’

  ‘Ye’re not kidding,’ Jenny said. ‘They’re a treat.’

  ‘Enjoy them, sweetheart, ’cos we might be in for a rough ride when we get home. Yer father’s not going to let me get away with walking out on him. Especially going against him in front of neighbours. He didn’t like that one little bit. His pride was dented, and I could see by the look in his eyes he was in a blazing temper. In fact, if looks could kill, I’d have been dead before I got out of the front door.’

  ‘It would have been far worse for yer if Mrs Fenwick and Mrs Watson hadn’t been there,’ Jenny said, before blowing on a chip. ‘If yer’d been on yer own, heaven only knows what he’d have done to yer for hitting back at him last night. He’d have battered the daylights out of yer.’

  ‘He’ll have it in for us, as well,’ Ben said, picking out a scallop from the opening in the newspaper. ‘I’m dreading going out with him in the morning, ’cos I know I’ll get a clip round the ear before we get to the bottom of the street.’

  ‘No, yer won’t, son,’ Annie told him. ‘Ye’re not going out at the same time as him in the morning, or any other morning for that matter. I’d made my mind up about that earlier on. Yer leave the house fifteen minutes after him, and that’s definite. If he kicks up a stink, then let him. There’s three of us, and only one of him. His days of ruling the roost are over. I don’t care if he knocks hell out of me, I’m going to do as I like in future. If I want to have friends in, then I’ll have them in. And if I’m invited to their houses, I’ll be delighted to go. Having good friends is worth a few clouts.’

  ‘If I get a chance, I’m going over to see Mrs Fenwick, to thank her,’ Jenny said, waving a long chip in the direction of her mouth. ‘It was good of her and Mrs Watson to stand up to me dad. He’d have put the fear of God into most women, and they’d have run out of the house as though the devil was chasing them.’

  Annie nodded. ‘Ye’re right, sweetheart. I expected them to do that when yer dad started on them. I thought they’d be out of the door sharpish, and I’d never set eyes on them again. And I can’t say I’d have blamed them. They’ve made me take stock of meself, as well. The way Ada Fenwick stood in front of yer dad without a flicker of fear was a lesson to me. That’s how I should have been with him since the day we got married. I should have been stronger, and stuck up for meself. That, or walked out of the door and left him swinging. I did think of that several times in the first few months of our marriage, but I never had the guts to face me parents and tell them what was going on. I know they’d have taken me back with open arms, and me dad would have gone round to sort out the rotter I’d married. But me pride wouldn’t let me. I kept telling meself, like a silly nit, that I’d made me bed and now I had to lie on it.’

  ‘It’s no good raking up the last twenty years, Mam,’ Jenny told her. ‘It’s over and done with. What yer have to concentrate on is the future. How much more are yer going to put up with from me dad?’ She felt in the paper to see if there were any chips hiding in the folds, then, clicking her tongue in disappointment, she screwed it up into a ball. ‘He’s not right in the head, yer know, Mam. I bet Mrs Fenwick’s husband doesn’t treat her like a piece of dirt.’

  Annie managed a smile. ‘He wouldn’t be allowed to, sweetheart. Ada wouldn’t put up with it. But from
what I’ve heard and seen, they’re very happy together. In fact all the family are happy, and there’s a lovely warm feeling in the house.’

  ‘It’s like that when I go round to me mate’s,’ Ben said. ‘They’re always laughing and joking. I go round there nearly every night, but I wouldn’t ask him round to ours in case me dad took off on him. And it’s not fair. I should be able to ask me friends round without having to worry about them being insulted or thrown out.’

  ‘I can’t promise yer anything, son, ’cos I won’t make a promise I know I might not be able to keep. But I’ll do my best to make a better life for all of us. I feel more able to stand up to Tom now, thanks to Ada Fenwick. And, please God, if her and Hetty still want me for a friend, then I won’t feel so alone with them to talk to. I can honestly say, that out of all the houses we’ve lived in, and all the neighbours who have shunned us because of the antics of yer father, this house is going to be lucky for us.’

  Jenny took her mother’s chip paper and screwed it up with Ben’s and her own. ‘I hope ye’re right, Mam. I’m seventeen years of age, and I’ve lived in about ten or eleven houses. I’ve never been in a street long enough to make a friend.’ A bitter tone came into her voice. ‘I don’t have anything to thank my father for. I know we’re supposed to love and respect our parents, but I have no love, or respect, for my father.’ She shivered as she remembered the feel of his grasping hands on her breasts. She’d never forget what he did, and never forgive him. ‘I love you to bits, Mam, and our Ben. But for my father I feel only disgust and anger.’

  She paused and took a deep breath to calm herself down. ‘When I’m lying in bed at night, waiting to drop off to sleep, my mind often goes back to when me and Ben were little. And I think of all those wasted years. We never had a normal childhood. Never knew what it was like to have a father who laughed and played with us. Never gave us a hug or a kiss, or told us he loved us. He never even gave us a ha’penny for sweets. We never looked forward to him coming home from work, didn’t run to meet him like other kids in the street ran to meet theirs. We dreaded the sight of him. He wasn’t like a father . . . more like a bogeyman, come to frighten us. And he did frighten us, Mam. I can remember how I used to shake with fear.’