Putting on the Style

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘From where? Who told you this rumour?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It does to me because I never told anyone, not the police, not even my own mother. I took the coward’s way out and pretended Pete had been messing about in the dark, then simply slipped and fell in. I’ve had to live with that guilt ever since. Not only did I fail to protect him but I should have done more to find the culprit, to seek justice for my little brother’s death. So, tell me, Carl. If you know all of this, what else do you know? Who were those thugs? And why did they attack us?’

  ‘I’ve already told you, I know nothing about it. Just leave it,’ then he got up from the bench and walked away.

  Dena watched him go with a pain in her heart she was sure would split her in two. Could this really be happening? Carl hadn’t laughed off the accusation at all. He’d been deliberately evasive and his behaviour decidedly suspicious.

  Dear Lord, what on earth did she do now? Had she fallen in love with her brother’s killer?

  Later that day Dena went to see Barry. As always in times of trouble, she needed someone to be on her side. Dena sat on an upturned orange box patiently waiting while he weighed out two pounds of cox apples for a customer, only half listening as he joked about her own cheeks being rosy as apples. When the woman had gone, Dena said, ‘I suppose you’ve heard the latest.’

  He turned innocent eyes upon her. ‘And what might that be, chuck?’

  ‘Don’t play games with me, Barry. The entire market is talking about Carl and me, and about that fight. The latest is that Kenny has wrecked my machines and ripped all my finished dresses to shreds. He’s ruined me.’

  Barry’s jaw dropped open. ‘Nay lass, I hadn’t heard that part. Oh, Dena, that’s dreadful. Poor love, what will you do?’

  ‘Stick my head in the gas oven?’

  Barry gave a harsh little laugh that held no amusement in it. ‘Stick Kenny’s head in the gas oven, more like. Come on, you’re no quitter. What are you doing sitting here? You should be out buying new machines, picking yourself up and starting all over again.’

  ‘There isn’t the time and I’m not sure I have the will, or the energy, let alone to money to start again.’ Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she felt quite unable to stop them from rolling down her cheeks.

  ‘Self pity doesn’t suit you, love. Na then, what can I do to help? I could lend you a bob or two, mind Trudy while you get back to work.’

  ‘Oh, Barry, you’re so sweet, but I can’t borrow money from you, and I’ve got Winnie to help with Trudy, don’t forget.’

  ‘No,’ he said, pulling a long face. ‘I never forget that you don’t need me around as much, not now you’ve got Winnie.’

  Dena frowned, realising instantly that without meaning to, she’d hurt his feelings. ‘You’re my friend, I shall always need you, and you know you can come and see Trudy any time. Winnie tells me that you often pop in. Come tomorrow, if you like. She’s over the ‘flu and very bored. She could do with a bit of spoiling and petting.’

  Barry visibly brightened. ‘You don’t mind my taking an interest?’

  ‘I not only don’t mind, Barry, I need you around to help give my lovely daughter at least the illusion that she has a loving family.’

  ‘I’m your man. And you’ll think about the loan?’

  ‘I’ll give it due consideration.’ She turned to go then paused to smile back at him. ‘You really like children, don’t you Barry?’

  ‘I’m more used to lads these days,’ he said, as he turned away to restack his pile of apples. ‘But I’ve a soft spot for little girls too.’

  In the days following she never seemed to have a moment to herself as she cleaned and scrubbed out the devastated workroom, which was perhaps just as well, in the circumstances. Against all odds, Dena held on to the hope that Carl was innocent. It had occurred to her that he might be covering up for his younger brother. Hadn’t he always protected Kenny?

  Although there was little comfort in the thought, since Kenny was the father of her child. Whichever brother had done the deed, it was a sorry mess. But Dena loved Carl, and prayed that he wasn’t the one responsible for Pete’s death, and that one day he would admit to her who was.

  Easy-going Joan was not oblivious to how things stood with regard to the Garside brothers. Even if she was unaware of the goings-on in Alice’s bedroom she’d certainly heard about the fight, as had the rest of the market, and seemed to understand what it had all been about. Somehow it didn’t surprise her that Kenny should choose to take revenge in this way.

  ‘We’ll just have to start over,’ she said, and set about not only borrowing more sewing machines and roping in her sister to help, but also a couple of friends as well.

  ‘Oh, Joan. I’m not sure if we can.’

  ‘Well, we won’t find out by standing about feeling sorry for us selves, will we?’

  At least Winnie was back at her stall, and helping to care for Trudy, sometimes with Barry’s help. Dena had finally agreed to take the loan and dashed around the Manchester warehouses replacing all the fabric Kenny had ruined. Having done that, she spent every minute she could frantically sewing.

  ‘At least we know what we’re doing this time,’ Joan pointed out, ever optimistic. ‘It’ll only take half as long now that I know every bit of each pattern off by heart.’

  ‘Joan, you’re an absolute treasure.’

  ‘You’re not so bad yourself.’ Her homely face beneath the boyish crop of dark hair grinned good-naturedly.

  Mutual praise was all very well, but would their second efforts carry the care and freshness of their first? Dena didn’t even dare to think otherwise. She had her mind set on that fixed date in her calendar, the one shouting at her from every poster she’d stuck up, so she kept her head down and sewed.

  The work at least served to keep her mind off Carl.

  She missed him so much. If she saw him around the market she would find her heart would stop beating, leaving her quite unable to breathe. Sleep was quite impossible and so her machine would continue to whirr in Winnie’s front parlour long into the small hours, until Dena fell into bed of exhaustion.

  That was another benefit of her mother’s departure, she and Trudy had their own bedroom back again.

  A day or two following the fight, Joan said, ‘I saw Belle earlier and she’d like a word, when you’ve got a minute.’

  ‘Oh, what about? Did she say?’ As if Dena couldn’t guess. It surely wouldn’t be about Alice, but she might have heard Kenny’s version of the fight.

  ‘All I know is that you should watch out for Belle Garside, love. She’ll not take this upset over her two precious lads lying down. She might be all glamour, gloss and lipstick on the outside, but she has a heart like a clever calculating machine operated by gears which work entirely for her own selfish ends. You’d do well to remember that, Dena.’

  ‘I will, don’t worry. But maybe I’ll avoid her for the moment, at least until I’m able to speak to Carl about it.’ Dena frowned, wondering if that were possible. If Carl would ever speak to her again. ‘We couldn’t help the way we felt about each other. I was too young when Kenny and I first got together and . . .’

  ‘You don’t have to explain to me, chuck.’ Joan lifted the foot of the machine and swivelled the half finished blouse round, before efficiently sliding the next seam under. ‘Carl would always get my vote, difficult and sombre though he might be at times. But then there’s never been a lot of time for fun in that household, what with an endlessly changing supply of step-fathers or courtesy uncles. Belle ran off with Barry Holmes once, you know.’

  ‘Barry Holmes? You’re joking.’

  ‘No, I’m not. Quite a scandal, that was. The Social threatened to take the childer into care only she came to her senses in time and was back on the market within forty-eight hours, a saner and wiser woman. But if it hadn’t been for young Carl, fourteen or fifteen at the time, it might have been a different story. He minded his younger
brother and persuaded the authorities to wait and give her a second chance. He loves his mam, though he bears his responsibility of being the man of the house a bit too seriously at times. Always has, poor lamb.’

  Dena listened to all of this enthralled, who would have thought it? Belle and Barry! Was that why Carl had such a prickly relationship with him? She wondered if she should ask Joan about the other men in Belle’s life, the courtesy uncles. Would it help if Carl knew which one had hurt Kenny? She decided to keep out of it. It was none of her business, after all, and she had enough problems on her plate right now. Besides, she had no wish to upset Belle, who’d never actually done anything to hurt her, so far as she was aware.

  ‘Let’s not worry about it just now, Joan. We have too much work to do and I so want this show to be a success.’

  ‘We’ll make sure that it is,’ Joan agreed. ‘There, that’s another blouse done. I’ll get right on with the next, and press everything later. You do realise that if it is a success, you’ll need to expand this business of yours and take on more staff to help with the sewing? Even Winnie’s stock room might not be big enough then. You’ll need to put it on a proper footing.’

  ‘Oh, Joan, do you think so?’

  ‘Aye, lass, I do. You’re going places, girl. I can see that.’

  Later that day Dena went over to Carl’s household goods stall, in the hope of speaking to him about Belle, but he deliberately turned his back on her. He didn’t even have a customer to serve, he just strolled away from her to talk to an embarrassed Leo. Dena was left standing red faced and humiliated before everyone.

  Barry gestured for her to come over, and he gave her a big hug. ‘How are you doing, lass? I’ve heard all about you and Carl having your first lover’s tiff.’

  A dark shadow crossed her face. ‘How did you even know we were going out . . .’

  Barry shrugged. ‘I didn’t. You managed to keep that little secret very much up your sleeve, but Kenny is slagging you both off, telling everyone how he’s been betrayed by his own brother who’s slept with his girl.’

  Dena flushed bright crimson. ‘I never did. It’s a lie. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, Carl and me are through.’

  Barry looked shocked. ‘Nay, chuck, just because of one little tiff?’

  ‘It wasn’t a little tiff. It was so awful, and all Kenny’s fault for throwing accusations about.’

  ‘What sort of accusations?’

  ‘A lot of nonsense about our Pete, and of Carl being involved. At least I hope it’s nonsense. I pray that it is. I think Kenny is just out for revenge over – well – over various difficulties we’ve been having lately. He couldn’t seem to accept it was over between us, and let go. But I don’t believe a word of what he said about Carl, really I don’t. He’d never do anything so terrible to my Pete, I know he wouldn’t.’

  The smile on Barry’s face seemed to have frozen. ‘By heck, Dena, your life is more lively that the flicks.’

  Dena would have laughed at the joke if she’d felt in a happier frame of mind. ‘He did react very oddly when I told him, and in no time at all I found myself accusing him too. It was dreadful! Awful! I didn’t mean to, it just happened.’

  ‘Have you any proof?’

  Dena shook her head. ‘None, only something Carl said about the attack. The truth is, Barry, our Pete didn’t just fall in, and nobody knew that fact except me, because I didn’t tell anyone that he was thrown in by a bunch of thugs. Oh, I wish I knew who they were.’

  ‘Oh, Dena, love, what a thing to have to live with. And you think Carl might know who was responsible?’ Barry’s voice had dropped almost to a whisper, all sign of joking quite gone.

  ‘I think he might be covering up for someone and taking the blame himself.’

  There was a silence.

  Dena felt so uncomfortable in her remembered pain and guilt that she suddenly and desperately wanted to change the subject. Grasping at the first thing that came into her head she decided to tease him about the story Joan had told her earlier. ‘I know there’s not much love lost between you and Carl. I’ve heard all about how you and Belle had a bit of a fling a few years back. You’re a dark horse, not letting on.’

  Barry looked startled, as well he might, but answered her question nonetheless. ‘It wasn’t even that, not a proper fling anyway. She’d been having a bad time, needed a break and a bit of excitement in her life. Belle’s like that, can never be content with boring routine for long, so she hooked on to me to supply a few much needed thrills. It wouldn’t have gone anywhere.’

  ‘But you were forced to rush back from your dirty weekend so she didn’t lose the children?’

  Barry pulled a face. ‘Something of the sort. Who told you? Carl?’

  ‘No, not Carl. It doesn’t matter, just gossip. This market is rife with it.’

  ‘What does Belle say about all of this – this other business?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her yet. But if she ever starts preaching at me for bringing all this mess upon myself, or accusing me of playing one of her sons off against the other, it might help if I had a bit of ammunition of my own to fire back. Do you mind?’

  Barry had the grace to smile, for all it looked a bit stiff and forced, making Dena wonder if she’d broken some sort of taboo by mentioning the rumour. Perhaps she should have kept her mouth shut.

  Barry was saying, ‘It’s all dirty water under the bridge so far as I am concerned. You’ve not given up on him then, young Carl?’

  Dena shook her head, a stray tear sliding down her cheek. ‘I can live in hope, eh? After all I’ve been through hope is all I’ve got left to hang on to.’

  A strangely sad expression darkened his face. ‘I’m right sorry about what happened to Pete. You’re a good lass who didn’t deserve any of it. But no one should ever underestimate you, Dena. You’re a rebel too, at heart.’

  ‘I’m a survivor,’ Dena said, kissing him on the cheek before striding away. Barry watched her until she was quite out of sight.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Belle folded her arms across her voluptuous bosom and considered Dena with a thoughtful frown. ‘I’ve a bone to pick with you, madam.’

  ‘I thought you might have.’

  ‘Stealing Joan Chapman from under my nose has left me in a right pickle. I’ve been driven to doing the baking myself for weeks, so you’ll understand I feel a bit put out by that. I’ve got someone now, a plain but reliable girl to take Joan’s place. Mind you, she’s not prepared to start as early, or work half as many hours. Joan was one of the old school. No complaints and got on with the job, no questions asked. Today’s young are another breed altogether. You can’t get decent staff these days. Loyalty is dead.’

  Dena said nothing, waiting patiently for Belle to get to the point, knowing she’d already had her say about losing Joan some time ago, and that there was another matter entirely on her mind. Although it was typical of her to first make an issue over a matter that most affected her personally.

  Belle took her time, shaking a cigarette from a packet of Kensitas, lighting it from a gold cigarette lighter and blowing a stream of blue smoke in Dena’s face.

  ‘Speaking of loyalty, what’s all this I hear about you and our Carl?’

  Here it came. ‘What have you heard?’ It always paid to give yourself pause for thought where Belle was concerned.

  Belle drew hard on the cigarette. ‘I hear your loyalty has suffered a remarkable sea-change. First one of my boys, then the other. So why should I believe you won’t treat my elder son the same way you treated his brother, by dumping him at the altar too? Because if that’s what you have in mind, girl, you’d best think again. It was bad enough to be shamed once, I’ll not stand by and see it happen all over again. We Garsides have our pride.’ Flicking away the ash from her cigarette with an air of disdain.

  ‘I realise that, Belle. But what I feel for Carl is entirely different.’

  Belle still made no mention of the battl
e royal Kenny was conducting, and Dena too said nothing.

  ‘What of our Kenny? He’s upset to have lost you. What are you going to do about him?’

  Dena could wait no longer. She took an eager step forward. ‘Belle, you’ve heard what’s happened, I’m sure. It’s like open warfare. Kenny is throwing punches and wild accusations about. He’s picked a fight with Carl and . . .’

  ‘Take no notice of that, my boys are always japing over something. Been doing it ever since they were small.’

  ‘And he’s wrecked my sewing room, attempted to ruin my hopes for a spring fashion show. Joan and her sister are doing their best to help salvage something out of the mess but I’ll be lucky if we can get it finished in time, so late in the day, and it won’t be anything like as good. You’ve always been fair with me, Belle. Believe me when I say that I didn’t let Kenny down on purpose. It was just one of those things. Will you try and explain that to him?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to hurt him but I love Carl. I believe he loves me, despite . . . Well, anyway, we did our best not to hurt Kenny, but - it’s happened, and there it is. Please try to make him see that I’m still fond of him, as a sister, that he can see Trudy any time he likes, if he’s a mind to. And she’d still be in the family, after all. If Carl and me got back together, that is.’

  Belle’s frown cleared a little. ‘Well, that would be one good thing to come out of this muddle, I suppose. But whether I can calm him down now that he’s in one of his rampages, is another matter altogether. I ask you, when did a lad ever listen to his mother?’

  ‘But you’ll try?’

  Without even pause for thought, Belle stubbed out her cigarette and gave a very firm shake of her head. ‘No, lass, I make it a policy in life not to interfere with either of my son’s affairs. And I expect the same respect in return from them. I won’t do anything to stop your plans with our Carl, but I’ll not do anything to help you either. You’ll just have to hope for the best where our Kenny is concerned, that he’ll be satisfied with this little tantrum and let the matter drop.’