Putting on the Style

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

  ‘Eeh, I can’t wait to get my hands on some lovely soft cotton instead of flour and fat. It’ll be a real treat.’

  Dena laughed. ‘Don’t you believe it! Your back will ache from all the bending you’ll have to do over the machine, and your fingers will get sore and rough from being so often pricked by the needles. I hate it when I bleed onto a lovely piece of fabric I’ve just painstakingly stitched into place. Or if I’m so tired I can’t think what I’m doing and put the left sleeve in the right armhole.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll make mistakes of that nature at first,’ Joan admitted. ‘But don’t worry, I’m a quick learner.’

  ‘Just one more thing,’ Dena said, her lovely young face creasing into a frown. ‘How do you feel about having me for a boss? I’m quite a bit younger than you, after all.’

  ‘Aye, but you’re mighty clever with that needle, and with your designs. I’ve no problems with your age, Dena, or your circumstances, if you’ve none with mine. And you’ve got to be an improvement on our beloved Belle.’

  It was later that same day that Belle Garside came over to express her displeasure, in no uncertain terms, over Dena pinching her staff. ‘Not content with ruining my son’s life, you’re after damaging my business now, are you?’

  ‘Belle, look, I’m sorry about this. It wasn’t my idea. Joan approached me, not the other way round. She’s looking for a change, that’s all. It’s nothing you’ve done, and I’m sure you’ll find a replacement cook easily enough.’

  ‘You and me both know that’s not true. Nobody makes pies like Joan Chapman.’

  ‘Molly Poulson does. She runs an entire business making excellent pies and puddings. Steak and kidney, minced beef, meat and potato, hot-pot, you name it. You could always buy in off her.’

  ‘And lose most of my profit? Not flipping likely.’ Belle wagged a scarlet nail dangerously close to Dena’s face. ‘Keep away from my family. I’ve had enough of you and your trouble-making. Do you hear me? Keep your hands off me and mine!’

  Kenny felt quite certain that he’d thought of a way to soften Dena’s heart and make her look more kindly upon him. It had risks attached but he was willing to take them, to try anything to win her over.

  He waited until she was settled in her new home, then went knocking at Winnie’s door to carefully explain how he wished to discuss a matter of great importance with her. Admittedly she didn’t look too happy about him being there but at least she allowed him over the threshold.

  ‘If this is what I think it is, it would be better if we sent for Carl as well.’

  Kenny looked at her. ‘Why the hell would I want our Carl here?’

  He thought she looked bothered about something as she led him into the front parlour where there was evidence of baby stuff everywhere, which greatly irritated him. He was forced to wait for several minutes while she carried the bath out to the kitchen to empty it, cleared away talc and bottles of lotion, baby clothes and toys. What messy creatures babies were, he thought, particularly when they started walking, as this one had.

  He made no offer to help but as Dena placed a kiss on the baby’s head before carrying her upstairs to bed, he had great difficulty in restraining himself. He wanted to knock her away from the little brat, order her to kiss him for a change, to give him the love he surely deserved.

  He was glad when she returned, her arms empty at last, leaving her free to concentrate on him. But some of his irritation must have shown in his voice because she flinched away from him as he approached.

  ‘Look at you,’ he said, ‘a bag of nerves. Worn out by too much work and that child, I should imagine. Sit down for goodness sake and take the weight off your feet. How can I talk to you while you’re bobbing about all over the place?’

  ‘It’s all right, I can listen while I’m clearing away.’ Then she started babbling on about the baby, all about how wonderful she was, and how she must leave the parlour door open so that she could hear if Trudy woke up. ‘Mind you, she rarely does these days. She sleeps through the noise of my sewing machine, Variety Bandbox on the wireless, everything. She sleeps in the big cot next to my bed, so she’s always close by my side.’

  Kenny didn’t want to hear any of this.

  Dena kept talking because she was feeling slightly edgy as she always did these days when Kenny was around. Had Carl told him about the kiss? Was that why he was here? She folded nappies, picked up Trudy’s beaker, set it down then picked it up again, turning it round and round in her hands.

  It was strange how her feelings for Kenny had changed so completely. From being utterly besotted she felt uncomfortable whenever he came near. It was his brother who fascinated her now. She and Carl had seen each other every night this last couple of weeks, and the more often they met, the more they wanted and needed each other.

  She glanced at the little alarm clock she kept on the mantelpiece. Seven o’clock, still time to do an hour or two on the sewing machine, if only he would say what he had to say, and then leave without giving any trouble. Was that possible? At least Winnie was in the next room and would come if she called. She almost wished that Trudy would wake and cry, which might persuade him to go.

  Perhaps she was worrying unnecessarily. Maybe he had come to tell her that it was all right, that he’d no objection to her seeing Carl? Oh, please let that be the case. Dena took a deep breath and stretched her lips into a smile. Best to get it over with as quickly as possible.

  ‘So, what is it, this important matter you wish to discuss with me? I’ve got a lot of sewing to do so . . .’

  ‘I’ve come to properly explain why I took you to see Maureen.’

  Dena’s heart sank. This was the last thing she’d expected or hoped for. ‘Not that old chestnut again! I thought we were over all of that. It really isn’t necessary to keep dragging up the past. I’ve put all of that stuff behind me now and so should you.’

  ‘Well, I can’t put it behind me. I need you to understand why I took you to see Maureen. You must listen to me, Dena. What I have to say is very important.’

  Kenny adopted a wounded, hurt expression, not quite meeting her gaze, hoping this would arouse her curiosity. It seemed to do the trick as, giving a little sigh, she put down the baby’s cup she’d been fiddling with and came to sit in the chair opposite. ‘All right, get on with it. I’m listening.’

  ‘It’s because I know what it’s like not to have a father.’

  Dena frowned, not quite understanding. ‘But Trudy does have a father. She has you, and I would have married you had it not been for your suggestion that I get rid of her. What sort of father would do that?’

  Kenny became confused by her logic and struggled to get his story right in his head. It had all seemed so much less complicated when he’d worked it out earlier.

  ‘What I mean is that I didn’t want you to feel that you were being forced into anything, into marrying me, that is. My father – my real father – didn’t hang around, didn’t want to, I imagine. After he’d gone I had a succession of step-fathers, or at least various men in my mother’s life. Not that any of them stayed very long either, so, like you, I know what it feels like to be rejected. And one of these men – I won’t name him – well, he did things to me. He hurt me.’

  Dena was stunned, and then her heart went out to him. ‘Oh, Kenny, no!’

  He kept his head down, not meeting her gaze, fingers knotted tightly together, waiting for the rush of sympathy he knew would come. ‘I’ve never told anyone about this before. I don’t like talking about it even now, d’you see?’

  ‘Yes, I do see.’ Dena came and sat beside him on the sofa, rested a hand on his shoulder. ‘What did he do, this man? Did he beat you?’

  Kenny had been trying to decide exactly what to tell her – how much to say – and snatched gladly at her suggestion. He lifted his head and met her sympathetic gaze, his own deeply sorrowful. ‘He was a real bully. Used me like a punch bag.’

  �
�Kenny, that’s dreadful. Did Belle know? Did she put a stop to it? Didn’t she see the bruises? There must have been bruises. Didn’t Carl do something to help?’

  ‘They didn’t know anything about it. He made sure the bruises didn’t show and threatened he’d do worse if I told on him.’

  ‘Well,’ said Dena. ‘These things happen, I suppose. Is that why you started to learn boxing with Barry, so you could stand up for yourself more? That was an excellent idea. You have to stand up to bullies.’

  Kenny looked at her, studying her face to see if she was genuine in her sympathy. She didn’t seem anywhere near as shocked or sympathetic as he’d hoped. Almost matter of fact, as if she just wanted him to say his piece and go. Kenny clenched his hands together and tried again. ‘He’d take me down the cellar and give me a real pasting, and worse. Like I say, he did things that I can’t ever talk about, not even after all this time.’ And then his voice hardened to a deep, bitter note. ‘He used me for his own twisted satisfaction. Touched me, and made me touch him.’

  Kenny hadn’t meant to go quite this far in his tale, the words had somehow sprung out of his mouth of their own volition. But now that they were out in the open, he saw with some satisfaction how she was stunned into silence, appalled by the picture conjured up by these few tragic sentences.

  ‘Oh, Kenny, I don’t know what to say.’

  Dena was horrified. She understood the heartache caused by being abandoned and rejected, but how did a child feel when someone had abused them? When an adult they looked up to had taken advantage of their innocence? She thought of her own child and felt sick at the prospect. It really didn’t bear thinking about. Filled with pity but unable to find the right words, she simply put her arms about Kenny and held him close.

  They stayed like that for some little time while he breathed in the scent of her, feeling quite light-headed with relief. Being held close to her like this was blissful and filled a deep need in his soul. Maybe she did care for him after all.

  All these years he’d kept this terrible truth bottled up inside himself, saying nothing to anyone, living with the shame of it, the knowledge of being dirty, of not being normal. He probably would never have mentioned the subject at all but for wanting to win over Dena. Who’d have thought that this would be the key to her heart? Worth all the risks.

  And he felt so much better, almost as if he’d been cleansed in some way. Maybe he should lard it a bit more. Play on her sympathy.

  ‘How long did it go on?’ she was asking him, her voice soft with pity.

  ‘Too long.’

  He slid his arms about her waist and clung to her, letting the tears fall, and as he sobbed Dena held him, stroking his hair as if he were a child still.

  ‘There, there, come on. You mustn’t give in. The thing is not to let what happened ruin your life. The crime is his - this man’s - not yours. You have to put it behind you and go on. Otherwise evil has won, hasn’t it? And that must never be allowed to happen. So chin up, blow your nose and I’ll make us a nice cup of tea. I’ve nothing stronger I’m afraid.’

  She tried to get up but Kenny held on to her, pleading with her not to leave him, his eyes swimming with tears, his face chalk-white, etched with pain.

  ‘I know I made a mess of things between us but I only meant it for the best. I had to be sure that you really loved me and wanted to marry me, because I could never walk out on you, Dena. Once you take me on, you’ve got me for life.’

  Dena looked at him, not quite following his logic. Was he saying that taking her to Maureen had been some sort of test because he didn’t quite believe that she loved him, or that he still wanted to marry her despite her leaving him at the altar.

  ‘Kenny, I’m not sure . . .’

  ‘Whether you can ever forgive me for what I did. I know. I understand, but now that I’ve told you all this stuff about myself, you can happen understand me a bit better, eh? Why I need you so badly. Because you’re the only person I can love. I feel so much better when I’m with you, and I know that deep down you still love me. We’re meant to be together, you and me, don’t you see?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Dena’s sense of guilt and heartfelt sympathy for him caused her to hesitate. A bad mistake, as she instantly discovered.

  Kenny became quite animated as he dashed the tears from his eyes. ‘Look, why don’t I take you somewhere special, some place really grand to celebrate my getting these horrors out into the open at last. I feel free, cleansed, as if this is a new beginning. I can be different now, better, more normal. You’re the only one who truly understands me, Dena. Let me thank you, at least. Let me take you out for a meal somewhere posh, as a treat. We’ll go to the Midland. How would that do?’

  Dena tried to protest but he closed her lips with the firm pressure of his fingers. ‘This time I won’t take no for an answer but don’t worry, I’ll behave myself. We don’t want no more of them little blighters,’ jerking his chin at the ceiling, above which the sleeping baby lay. ‘This will be a very special date, that I can remember always. I know nothing else may happen after that, that you might still walk away, but your support means all the world to me, Dena. And right now, having got all this business off my chest, I need it so much.’

  How could she refuse?

  Chapter Forty

  Just one special date, Dena reminded herself as she got ready the very next evening. Not a commitment in any way for the future. One date in which she might very well be given the opportunity to explain about her feelings for his brother, and if Kenny gave her the slightest chance, she would take it. Surely Carl would be only too pleased if she did.

  Then she could walk away from Kenny once and for all, and having got those demons off his chest, he could start again with somebody else.

  She hadn’t seen Carl today, as Tuesday was the day he went round the warehouses to top up on his stock. And since he’d sold so much stuff over Christmas he’d warned her that it would be a long day, so he couldn’t promise to be back in time to see her this evening either.

  Dena had told him that it didn’t matter as she intended to catch up on her sewing. Winnie agree to baby-sit and Dena felt bound to apologise for putting on her yet again.

  ‘Nay, don’t I love nothing more than to have this little treasure to myself for a change.’

  In the event, Winnie didn’t have her to herself at all. A knock on the door heralded another visit from Barry and he contentedly sat and watched as Winnie bathed the lively youngster.

  ‘It must feel grand for you to have a young ‘un in the house.’

  ‘Aye, it does. I lost two of me own you know.’

  ‘Yes,’ Barry said. ‘I do know. I lost one too.’

  Winnie looked up in surprise, just as she was slipping a clean nightgown over Trudy’s head. ‘Did you? I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Few folk do, not round here. It happened when I was living in Blackpool. I had a little girl, about Trudy’s age, killed in a bombing raid. My wife too.’

  ‘Oh, Barry, I’m so sorry.’ Winnie paused to stare at him in horror. ‘Why did you never say?’

  ‘I don’t like a fuss. Shall I put the kettle on, and make this little one her cocoa?’

  Winnie beamed. ‘Eeh, that’d be grand. Then when I’ve got her off to bed we could listen to Ray’s A Laugh. I love Ted Ray, don’t you?’

  ‘Whatever you say, Winnie, whatever you say.’

  As promised, Kenny took her to the Midland Hotel and it was all hugely embarrassing because they absolutely refused to let him in. Unlike when he’d taken Alice, he’d dressed in his Edwardian get-up in the hope of impressing her, although Dena hadn’t seemed too impressed, and the commissionaire at the door didn’t even recognize him dressed like that. He just took one look and told Kenny to buzz off.

  ‘No Teddy Boys allowed in here,’ the man announced in a booming voice loud enough to turn heads and bring a deep flush of anger to Kenny’s face and neck.

  ‘What do you reckon I’m going to do? Contami
nate the place with me drainpipes?’

  ‘Be off with you afore I call the police.’

  Dena tugged at Kenny’s sleeve. ‘Please don’t make a scene. Let’s go to the Italian. I love Italian food. We don’t have to eat here.’

  ‘Yes we do,’ Kenny insisted. ‘I’ve promised you dinner at the Midland, and you shall have dinner at the Midland.’ And he set off to march right in, dragging Dena with him. Unfortunately the commissionaire was big and brawny, and grasping hold of Kenny by his velvet collar picked him up easily and tossed him out on to the pavement where he fell in an ungainly heap.

  ‘Be off with you! No doubt that’s the kind of treatment you understand.’

  Dena rushed to help him to his feet when another, more familiar voice said, ‘What’s going on here? Kenny, what the hell are you doing sprawled all over the pavement?’

  Dena looked up with anguish in her eyes. Oh no, why did Carl have to turn up at precisely this moment? Wasn’t he supposed to be out on a buying trip? ‘It’s not Kenny’s fault. The commissionaire wouldn’t allow us in.’

  Carl glared disdainfully down at his brother. ‘I’m not surprised, dressed like a prize idiot. And you were with him, were you?’ A bitter accusation was strong in his tone.

  Before Dena had the chance to reply, Kenny was on his feet dusting off his draped jacket, smoothing down the velvet flaps of his pockets and adjusting his bootleg tie. ‘Aye, she is. I’m taking Dena out for a meal to celebrate our getting back together, then that idiot chucked me out.’

  ‘Well, not exactly celebrating . . .’ Dena began but was allowed to get no further as Kenny interrupted her once again, demanding to know what Carl was doing here.

  ‘I’ve just delivered some goods to the kitchen that they ordered before Christmas. I still have more deliveries to make so don’t let me keep you. The pair of you must be keen to get on with your celebration.’ And turning smartly on his heel, he strode away.