by June Francis
Naomi Ruth would not have approved of her behaviour. Hilda remembered the elderly Pentecostal Christian she had met in hospital when she was feeling desperate. Death was leering at her from the end of the bed in the guise of a doctor in a white coat, and Hilda had been terrified out of her wits. Getting religion had suddenly seemed preferable to dying with no hope. But Naomi Ruth had prayed. Her whole church had prayed. Hilda had survived but Naomi Ruth had died. Even to Hilda that had seemed a little unfair, even granting that Naomi Ruth was eighty.
‘Lord, where is that girl?’ she said aloud. ‘Not as pretty as me at her age but clever, so Flo said. Out to catch George, of course. Perhaps she’s more like me than I thought?’
She opened the door and went in search of her daughter.
Hilda was annoyed. Where was Viv? And where was George? Had they gone together? She had left beautiful California without seeing Hollywood and the homes of the stars, and had paid a lot of money to come home to get to know her daughter because she had promised to do so to Naomi Ruth almost on her deathbed (some things even in Hilda’s point of view were sacred), and now Viv had gone and vanished. It seemed unfair considering all the trouble she had gone to.
Perhaps they had only gone as far as next door? The Kellys … did they still live next door? A rare genuine smile lifted the corners of her mouth. It was years since she had thought of the Kellys. ‘“There were seven in the bed and the little one said, Roll over! Roll over,”’ she sang softly. Did God mind her finding some comfort in the memory?
Dominic Kelly had rolled right on top of her and she had belted him. He had hit her back, not too hard, then kissed her when she started crying. It had shut her up and she had not minded when he held her close and explored beneath her flannelette nightie. Her mother had just died and she could not bear the pain of her own grief. How old had she been? Ten – eleven? Over thirty years ago. Times had been difficult and they had got worse when her father had gone back to sea and Aunt Beattie had taken charge.
Hilda had never been her schoolmarm aunt’s favourite and in the early days her bare legs had often stung from the cane she kept under the sideboard. Hilda’s face tightened and her hands curled into fists. Then she shrugged. Forgive and forget it. All water under the bridge. At least there had been none of that for her daughter. Was Viv next door? There would be no harm in finding out if the Kellys still lived there.
She did not bother with a top coat although a few snowflakes fluttered on to her face. It was cold but it could not compare with conditions in New Jersey in winter. As she stood with her finger on the bell beside the partly glazed, shiny blue and white painted front door, she could not help comparing the two houses. Her father’s door and window frames were a dull green and paint was flaking off in places. Obviously the landlord had got away with murder for years and her father had been too mean to spend money having the outside of the house done up.
The door opened and the young man standing there filled the doorway. Her eyes devoured him. She had managed to pack up the ciggies but the opposite sex was still a temptation. His short hair was damp and tousled and there was a towel around his bare neck. He wore tight black trousers and a white sloppy joe. He looked twentyish, was a gorgeous example of manhood, and was the spitting image of his father. ‘Can I help you, missus?’
She switched on a smile. ‘I’m Hilda Murray née Preston. And you have to be one of the Kellys. Which one I couldn’t guess.’
‘Joe.’ His voice was interested. ‘Gran used to talk about you.’ Hilda wondered what she had said. ‘What is it yer after?’ he asked.
‘My daughter Viv. She isn’t in your house, is she?’
‘Nope. But I saw her walking up the back jigger from the bedroom window. Not long after George actually.’
Hilda did not let her annoyance show. ‘Girls!’ Her expression was rueful. ‘My turning up gave her quite a shock.’
He was silent but a voice called from inside asking who was at the door. He shouted back, ‘Hilda Preston, Dad.’
Several seconds passed and Hilda rubbed her arms. She was starting to feel the cold. The vestibule door opened and a man with thick, straight, greying hair loomed up behind Joe in the small space between the doors. He and Hilda stared at each other. He had been six foot at fourteen with the best shoulders she had ever seen. He still looked good.
‘I don’t believe it! The blinkin’ prodigal’s returned,’ said Dominic. ‘Bit late, aren’t yer, girl? The funeral’s been and gone.’
‘I didn’t know,’ she said with a tremulous smile. ‘How are you, Dom?’
‘Fair to best.’ He wore a cream Aran sweater which made his shoulders look even larger. ‘How’s yerself?’
She shrugged. ‘Can’t complain. Had a bit of a chest.’ She placed a hand on her bust and coughed.
His dark eyes followed the movement. ‘You’ll have to look after it. Mam always said you were prone to be chesty.’
‘We used to have such terrible fogs. Remember us getting lost?’
‘I always knew my way about.’
A giggle escaped her and Dominic slanted a look at his son who was leaning against the doorjamb listening with obvious fascination. ‘If you’re going out you’d better hurry up, lad.’
Joe moved reluctantly.
‘Nice-looking lad,’ said Hilda.
Dominic shook his head. ‘Too young for yer, girl,’ he said in a teasing voice. ‘Besides, he’s not interested. Still prefers his mates, football and skiffle.’
‘My husband liked jazz. He thought he could play the saxophone. I met him at a dance.’
‘The second husband, I presume?’
‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘He died a few months ago.’
‘So you’re a widow.’
‘Yes.’ Her lips curved into a delightful smile. ‘And not a very merry one at the moment. I need cheering up, Dom.’
‘You haven’t changed.’
She sighed. ‘I’m older now.’
‘Any wiser?’
‘I hope so.’ She thought of the fun they had had together. They had learnt a lot from each other. She felt nostalgic for those days and determined to keep the conversation going despite the fact that her feet were freezing in their patent leather high heels. ‘You’re still supporting the wrong team, I see.’
‘Up the Blues,’ he said dispassionately.
‘Your house looks nice.’
‘You want to get George to paint yours now the old man’s gone. Or aren’t you stopping?’
‘I’m stopping for a while if …’ She shrugged. ‘George has gone off somewhere and so has Viv. That’s why I called.’
‘Had a row did you? Money, I suppose,’ said Dominic.
She wondered if he had heard the row through the walls. ‘I was the eldest daughter,’ she said with dignity.
He made no comment and her expression relaxed. ‘Anyway, if I stay perhaps you could paint my door red and white?’
‘It’s the wrong time of the year,’ he drawled. ‘Besides the bristles would fall out of me brush with them colours. I wouldn’t mind working inside if you’ve got any jobs? Get laid off on the building sometimes at this time of year.’
‘Why don’t you come in now and see what needs doing?’ She smiled and said with a touch of satisfaction, ‘I can pay, you know. I’m a rich widow.’ They stared at each other in silence and she knew that the shiver she gave was not just due to the cold.
‘Might as well,’ he murmured. ‘The wife’s at her mother’s for the weekend. She’s crippled with rheumatism and the sisters take turns in staying with her.’
‘Good!’ Her smile dazzled. ‘No time like the present.’
He closed the door behind him and followed her.
The house looked quiet and peaceful as Viv opened the front door. She had told Nick to leave her at the corner of the street in case her mother was waiting on the doorstep, saying that she wanted no noisy confrontations. It had only been partly true. If the truth were told, to her shame, she did no
t want him meeting her mother. Hilda was a damn sight too attractive still.
‘What about America?’ he had asked. ‘Are you going or not?’
‘I haven’t decided. It depends on what happens when I get home.’
Well, she was home and there was no sign of her mother in the front room and the fire was almost out. She stood quietly, and caught the murmur of voices. She listened and recognised the deep tones of Mr Kelly from next door. Her feet in their ballerina shoes made no sound as she walked across the room. She stopped when she reached the partially open door and heard her mother say in warm tones, ‘You don’t know what a comfort it was having you to turn to, Dom. I wanted to block out death and you helped me for a while.’
‘It was my pleasure. Although if I’d thought on about how your father would react to your being in our house, I mightn’t have been so reckless about letting myself go. We were lucky.’
‘Yes! And so young. I had no idea where babies came from.’
‘Do you think your Flora was aware of what was going on?’
‘Probably. Your brother wasn’t backward in coming forward and she was in bed with us, wasn’t she?’
Viv was rooted to the spot. What had been going on? Her mother! Aunt Flo! Both in bed with Mr Kelly and his brother! The next words ensured she would continue eavesdropping.
‘I don’t think I could have survived without sneaking off with you,’ said Hilda. ‘They were awful days and Father was so cold. I couldn’t get near him. He shut me out. Perhaps he blamed me for her dying?’
‘Perhaps he blamed himself? He was always away and you were only a kid.’
‘He expected me to cope, though. He had a high opinion of me then, Dom!’ There was a pause and when Hilda resumed speaking there was pain in her voice. ‘Aunt Beattie ruined things between us completely by always complaining about me. He started to believe I was uncontrollable. That did something to me, Dom. I became what he believed I was. When I started with Viv that was it! He tore into me. I’ve never forgotten what he said.’ She laughed. ‘And there’s Viv and George believing me the world’s worst daughter because it seemed I didn’t care about him! Perhaps I was? But if so I had cause. He rejected me more than once. Although I still believed he might come round in the end.’
There was a pause and then Dominic said, ‘You should have let me know when he threw you out. I would have helped you.’
‘You couldn’t. You were in the navy and had a wife.’
‘I’ve a wife now.’
‘Pity,’ said Hilda, a smile in her voice.
‘I’d best be getting home.’
‘Yes.’
There was silence and Viv just knew they were kissing. Part of the conversation she had overheard thudded dully in her head. ‘You should have let me know … You had a wife.’ Could Dominic Kelly be her father? Oh, no! She turned and fell over the cat which yowled. There was nothing for it but to walk into the kitchen and confront them. Her head was held high but she felt as taut as a violin string. ‘I thought I’d come and ask you a few questions about my father again,’ she said brightly. ‘He couldn’t be Mr Kelly by any chance, could he?’
Hilda opened her mouth, then closed it before smiling and saying, ‘You shouldn’t listen at keyholes.’
‘I wasn’t listening at keyholes.’ Viv flushed. ‘And if you wanted all that you said to be a secret, you should have locked the front door.’
‘I was hoping you’d still be coming home despite the time. Didn’t I say so, Dom?’
He did not answer her question but said quietly, ‘I wish you were my daughter, girl. I always wanted one but the wife wouldn’t have any more kids after the three lads.’
‘Now that’s sweet,’ said Hilda, her expression hardening. ‘If you’d kept quiet, Dom, we could have passed you off as her long lost daddy and then I wouldn’t have her bringing the subject up again. Now you’d better go. I want to have a heart to heart with my daughter.’
‘That’ll make a change,’ said Viv, folding her arms over her breasts. ‘You never wanted to talk to me in the past. Are you going to tell me a bedtime story? You were never there for Red Riding Hood and the big bad wolf in the past. You much preferred the human kind.’
‘Hush.’ Dominic placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘A girl of your age needs a mother.’ He picked up his jacket and left by the front door.
Mother and daughter eyed each other. ‘When I think you made me feel dirty with George,’ said Viv, her eyes glinting. ‘And here’s you alone with a married man at this time of night!’
‘We’re old friends,’ said Hilda, frowning. ‘And what’s a kiss after all? It’s hardly a full blown affair. And if we’re talking about the time – where have you been? You’re only seventeen. Who have you been with?’
‘It’s none of your business.’ Viv’s chin set determinedly. ‘Don’t think just because you’ve come home you’re going to tell me what to do and what time I’ve got to be in. I had enough of that with Grandfather and George.’
‘Fair comment,’ said Hilda. ‘Where is George, by the way?’
‘He’s gone to Paris to paint. It’s what his father wanted to do and he never got the chance. That’s why George wanted the money. So you see, Mother, why he took off without a goodbye.’
She shrugged. ‘Sure I see. It was the easy way out. You’re made of sterner stuff, Viv.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She sat on the rocking chair.
‘You lived here with your grandfather. It must have taken a lot of doing.’ Hilda sat on the lumpy sofa. ‘I admire you.’
There was a short silence then Viv smiled. ‘Soft soap, Mother. You must want me to stay.’
‘I do. I know things didn’t work out for us in the past but there’s no use crying over spilt milk. It’s all water under the bridge. I’m the only mother you’ve got. Our Flo might have done my job for me in bringing you up but she’s not here now.’
Viv took her gaze off her mother’s lovely face and stared at the fireplace. Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast. Did Hilda really mean what she said?
‘I’ve thought of going to America,’ murmured Viv. ‘Aunt Flo’s asked me there for Christmas.’
‘She’s what?’ Hilda sprang to her feet. ‘Damn her! She’s no right. You’re my daughter. She has her own family. How long is it since we’ve had a Christmas together, Viv? You’ll have to write back and tell her you’re not going.’
She felt a spurt of anger. ‘I’ll what?’ she cried. ‘Aunt Flo wants me, you never did! You never once invited me to stay with you in America!’
‘You never once asked! I wish you had. It would have pleased Charlie. He thought you weren’t interested in us.’
‘I wonder where he got that idea?’
Hilda flushed. ‘OK, OK. So maybe I told him so. But I’ve changed since then. Since I nearly died.
‘Nearly died?’ Viv laughed. ‘You don’t have to lay it on with a trowel, Mother.
‘Since I nearly died,’ said Hilda through gritted teeth, ‘I’ve changed. I realise how many things I’ve done wrong and I want to make up to you for them. A girl needs a mother at your age. I only wish I’d had mine around. Things might have been different. In fact, I know they would.’
‘In what way?’
‘I mightn’t have had to fight my own corner so much.’
‘You mean you’ll fight my battles for me?’ Viv was amused. ‘It’s a bit late for that, Mam. I’ve had to do my own fighting for the last couple of years. Generally against Grandfather.’ She paused. ‘Anything else you have on offer to make me stay?’
Hilda hesitated. ‘Not to compare with what our Flo can provide in America.’ She leant forward and touched her daughter’s knee. ‘We’re the only ones left in Liverpool, though, Viv, to keep the home fires burning if they ever return.’
Viv was strangely moved and said hesitantly, ‘I can’t believe it’s you saying that.’
Hilda smiled inwardly, remembering an American war film sh
e had seen. ‘You don’t really know me, though, do you? Give me a try,’ she said persuasively. ‘Our Flo would understand. She always wanted us to get together.’
Viv was silent, certain sure that she did not trust her mother to be any different if she stayed. But Nick had given his mother a chance and could she do any less? ‘I’m not the muttonhead I used to be, Mother,’ she warned. I won’t be your skivvy.’
‘Yes, Viv,’ said Hilda meekly.
Viv slanted her a knowing look. ‘Don’t think I’m fooled by that. Did you mean it about getting the house done up?’
‘Of course I meant it!’ Her mother’s baby blue eyes widened. ‘Why do you think I had Mr Kelly in here? He was measuring up the jobs that needed doing. He gets laid off for days in winter.’
‘Can I have a new bed? One of the latest divans.’
‘You mean, spend extra money?’ blurted Hilda.
Viv raised her eyebrows. ‘There’s my real mother speaking. Perhaps I’ll go to America after all.’
Hilda bit back an angry retort. ‘We’ll buy the bed.’
‘Jolly hockey sticks.’ Viv beamed at her and got to her feet. ‘You’d better take George’s room. I’ll be going up because I’ve work in the morning. Perhaps you’d like me to give you an early call?’
‘No thanks,’ said Hilda hastily. ‘The voyage quite took it out of me. The doctor said I have to have lots of rest.’
‘I bet,’ said Viv drily and sauntered out of the room, feeling that she had won the first round.
CHAPTER SIX
Viv gazed at the board in front of her with Saturday’s horse racing results and worked out the odds on two winning singles and a double before passing the green slip to Dot to check. Then she sat gazing into space, chewing on the end of her pencil.
‘You’ll get lead poisoning,’ said Dot.
‘I’m thinking.’
