The Doorstep Child

by Annie Murray

  ‘I’ve got the day off on Saturday,’ she told him one spring evening when they were sitting in the Kardomah, one of their favourite coffee shops, next to the Great Western Arcade.

  ‘At last!’ Ken beamed. ‘It’s ages since you had a Saturday off. Tell you what, let’s have a proper day out – right out of Brum. Go and see some farms!’ He half stood and kissed her lips across the table.

  ‘Ken, not here!’ She pulled back, giggling. ‘Nice jumper by the way.’ He was wearing an enormous sludge-green cable-knit thing which made him look wider than usual.

  ‘I know.’ He shrugged, making a comical face. ‘Mom knitted it. Have to wear it, don’t I? And why shouldn’t I kiss you? No one minds. But I want you all to myself.’ He leaned towards her again for a second, kissing the tip of her nose. He was like a puppy in his enthusiasm for her.

  ‘Well, you’ll have to wait ’til Saturday,’ she said coyly.

  They woke to sunshine. Evie, already washed and dressed, opened the front door, almost unable to believe it, smelling the spring-like promise of the air and seeing each fragment of colour in their soot-darkened street – every white glint of sun on windowpanes, every doorstep polished with cardinal red, the dull, dusty hues of the doors – all lifted by the bright light. Excitement bubbled through her. She got her things ready, gathering up her bag.

  Shirley was sitting at the table in her nightie, yawning and drinking tea, a magazine spread in front of her. Mom and Dad still weren’t up and their father’s snores could be heard rising and falling from upstairs.

  ‘Where’re you going?’ Shirley asked eventually. There was a snide edge to her voice, but she was less forceful without Rita there. Now Rita and Conn were living in a couple of rooms above a pet food shop in Nelson Street, close to Conn’s mom and dad, Shirley had lost her main ally and companion. It was peaceful without Rita constantly making trouble.

  ‘Just out,’ Evie said, not meeting her eyes. Should she take a coat? She might be cold without one. ‘Town – the shops,’ she said. She hardly ever went shopping now. Instead of mooching round C&A and Woollies with a few shillings to spend after she’d handed over some of her wages to Mom, she spent every spare moment with Ken. But she had found time to buy a pair of jeans and she was proudly wearing them now, with a white blouse and pink jumper. ‘Wear something you can walk in,’ Ken had said. She didn’t have anything, so she had bought some cheap plimsolls.

  ‘You’re always out,’ Shirley remarked, with an edge of accusation.

  Evie went to the door, coat over her arm, and looked back at her sister. ‘So?’ she said. ‘What’s it to you?’

  She closed the door behind her on Shirley’s glare. As she walked off down the road, a smile spread across her own face at the thought of a whole day ahead with Ken.

  Eighteen

  ‘So where’re we going?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ Ken teased her until she stopped caring where they were going. They were together, she was on Ken’s arm and the whole day stretched in front of them. It was amazingly warm, her jeans were thick and she had to stop to peel off her jumper and tie it round her shoulders. By the time they were sitting on a train together, she was rolling up her sleeves, cursing herself for bringing the coat.

  There was hardly anyone on the train as it was early on a Saturday and they were heading out of town. ‘I’ll carry it for you. I’ve got my camera as well.’ He nodded towards his knapsack on the seat. ‘I can get some nice snaps. And I bought sarnies.’

  ‘Oh, you think of everything!’ she said, laughing at how middle-aged he was in some ways, while being sweet and kind. ‘Picnic, eh? Come on, where’re we going?’

  ‘Wait and see. Now come’ere, you.’ Ken nudged her forwards so that he could put his arm round her and drew her close to kiss her, deeply absorbed in her. She found the effect she had on him exciting.

  As the train slowed to a stop at another station he surfaced, almost as if from sleep, and looked out.

  ‘A couple more stops to go,’ he said, turning to her. He looked at her, an intensity in his eyes. ‘God, Evie.’ His eyes moved over her body. ‘You’re some girl, you are.’

  She felt a give inside her, a hitch of desire. Up until now, though Ken was full of admiration for her, he had always been restrained and gentlemanly, kissing her but drawing back. But in that moment she felt something change. She looked at Ken, a frank, giving look. He gazed back at her, then had to look away, as if her look was too much for him.

  ‘ALVECHURCH.’

  They climbed down, onto the platform of the country station, which was bathed in sunlight. A few people were waiting on the opposite platform to go into Birmingham, but on their side, it was only them. Once the train moved away again, it was so quiet she could hear a breeze in the trees behind.

  ‘I’ve got a map,’ Ken said, unfolding it.

  Evie saw a well-worn map, covered with browns and green, criss-crossed by red and green roads. She didn’t mind where they went, and would just let him guide her. What was now between them – desire, unspoken, but insistent – veiled everything.

  Ken folded the map and looked at her. Solemnly, he took her hand. ‘Come on then,’ he said. They walked hand in hand as they headed along a road lined with hedges and fields.

  ‘I’ve never been out of town before,’ Evie said.

  Ken looked astonished. ‘What, never? Don’t you ever get out for walks?’

  She shook her head, smiling at him. ‘Told you. We’re not that kind of family. I’m a townie through and through.’

  The wide spaces, fields dotted with grazing cows or striped with green shoots, made her feel strange. It seemed empty and dull to her, but she didn’t want to say this to Ken. And it was a lovely day, the air fresh and warm and only a few puffs of cloud in the sky.

  ‘I just can’t imagine that,’ Ken said, sounding almost sad. ‘We used to go off for a good walk nearly every weekend – Mom and Dad and me. And I went with the Scouts.’ He looked ahead, towards a thick clump of woodland. ‘This is what I want – to live out here, on a farm, with all this.’ He swept his arm to take in the view. ‘And animals. Growing your own food. Nothing like it.’ He fumbled in his bag and brought out the camera and snapped a picture of the view.

  ‘Aren’t you going to take one of me then?’ Evie said, affronted.

  Laughing, Ken turned to her and obliged. ‘I’ve only got twelve shots – I’ll have to save some for later.’

  He took her arm and they set off again. She liked the feeling of him close to her, but his words were rankling.

  ‘So, why d’you want to come and live out here?’ She could hear herself sounding aggressive because she felt there was no place for her in his plans.

  ‘Well, I want to be a farmer – or at least work for one to begin with. I don’t want to spend my life living in a town, with filthy old factories everywhere. I want a cottage with a garden, where I can grow things and have a dog and chickens . . . And’ – he glanced at her, realizing he was being tactless – ‘you as well. In our own little house, with a nice big table to sit everyone round.’

  Evie smiled, slightly mollified, but her heart sank at the thought of living surrounded by fields and trees.

  ‘I don’t think I’d be much good,’ she said, feeling cast down.

  Ken looked round. ‘So where would you live if you could live anywhere?’

  She struggled to think. Apart from Aston and Ladywood she hardly knew anywhere else. She thought of Gary’s dream, all those years ago. ‘By the seaside. What if you had a farm by the sea?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Ken chuckled. ‘Better wait and see, eh?’ He put his arm round Evie’s shoulder. ‘Here, let’s go along there.’

  There was a footpath between two fields, just wide enough for them to walk twined together, Ken’s arm round her shoulders, hers reaching round his waist. She could feel the wiry strength of him. Walking like that, close, feeling each other’s warmth, changed things again. Evie wanted him, wanted to be close, for thei
r kissing to go further. She knew he wanted it too, but neither of them could say because they knew they shouldn’t, that it was wrong.

  The mood changed between them suddenly and for a time neither of them spoke. To break the silence, Ken stopped her and moved to kiss her. It was still only just gone ten and no one else was about. He put his bag down and, with an intense look, drew her close. They stood in the breeze, warm lips pressed together, bodies finding their way closer. A bee buzzed somewhere low down, rooks were scraping in the trees beyond and it felt as if they had the whole world to themselves.

  Ken drew back again and gave her a long look, as if he wanted to say something but could not think how to begin. All she could think about was wanting him, being pulled more and more into those feelings as if nothing existed except now. Nothing else. No thought, no consequences.

  He took her hand. The path led into the woods. They followed it for a time, a well-worn path in dappled shade, then turned off it through the trees, along the woodland floor littered with leaves and twigs.

  When they could tell that they had gone far enough, where they could only see trees and more trees on every side, Ken stopped. Neither of them said anything. It was as if each of them were waiting for the other to say, No, don’t, we mustn’t, to try and put a stop to the wanting. Evie was partly ashamed of what she wanted. But she saw in that moment that she regarded herself as bad and Ken as good, and that if they did wrong together, it would make him more like her.

  Neither of them spoke and Ken looked at her longingly, as if asking permission. Seeing the look in her eyes he reached for her coat and laid it spread on the leaves. Gently, he pulled her to the ground with him and she went gladly, her knees ready to give way.

  And all she could feel in this floating moment was that this was the most important thing she must ever do, as if each of them must guarantee the other, claim them, and keep them tied and close forever. There was nothing and no one else except this and now: Ken’s hands moving hungrily over her body. Every move was about removing layer upon layer so that their skin could be close with nothing in between and eventually Ken’s urgent voice saying, ‘Can I, Evie? Can I . . . please?’

  They lay afterwards, holding each other. The breeze seemed louder in the trees.

  Ken still seemed in a kind of trance. He gazed and gazed at her, running his hand over her white body, the curve of her belly, and she shivered.

  ‘I’ve thought so many times about what you’d look like,’ he said in an awed tone. ‘I can’t believe it. I knew you’d be beautiful, but you’re much more than I thought . . .’

  Evie lay, listening. It was a wonderful feeling to be so worshipped. The very sight of her had sent Ken into a taut desperation for her which moved her. He was so sweet and loving. She had never been adored like this, ever before. Her body felt strange, the memory of him pushing up inside her, the remaining wetness between her legs, the tight feeling of the skin of her lips, her cheeks, where he had kissed and kissed her.

  ‘Here.’ He noticed the goose pimples rising on her skin. ‘You’d better put something on. You’ll catch cold.’

  ‘And you,’ she said, giggling. ‘Your thing’s gone all wrinkly. And what if someone comes?’

  While they were dressing they heard a dog barking somewhere in the distance and their eyes met with desperate mirth.

  ‘Hurry up!’ she hissed, throwing Ken his trousers, tingling with the danger of it. ‘Get them on, quick!’ She was already hauling up her jeans.

  Both laughing and now fully dressed, they lay down again, cuddling up to get warm. Somewhere a voice called, ‘Billy! Billy!’ twice, but they never saw anyone.

  They wandered through the woods and fields, each thrumming with what had just happened. They picked bits of stuff out of each other’s hair. Ken held tight to her. Every so often he turned to her with a look of amazement and said, ‘God, Evie.’

  Once he said, blushing, ‘That was . . . you know, your first time . . . I am right?’

  ‘Yes.’ She went pink as well. ‘Course. Couldn’t you tell?’

  Ken shrugged. ‘How? It was my first time as well.’

  They ate their sandwiches when they came to the canal, watching a few boats go up and down. The sun glanced off the water and a breeze blew the surface into ripples. Evie looked at Ken beside her, his long legs bent up in front of him, his good-looking face in profile. He was only just needing to shave and there were a few little bits of stubble round his chin. She could see his jaw moving as he chewed and she felt tender towards him. He’s mine now, she thought. Really mine. They would be together forever now, that was what it meant.

  A moment later, almost as if reading her thoughts, Ken, staring ahead of him, said, ‘Evie, why won’t you let me meet your mom and dad? Mine like you – you know they do.’

  She had noticed that Mr and Mrs Heaton were warm and welcoming to her, but she still wasn’t sure if they really thought she was good enough for Ken or just doing their Christian duty.

  ‘I’ve told you.’ Thinking about home, about Mom and Dad, was like a cold shower on this warm day when she had never felt so loved. ‘They’re just not . . . they’re not like yours. Just believe me, OK?’

  Ken rubbed her back playfully. ‘Oh, I’m sure they’re all right. You’re just getting in a stew about nothing. And anyway,’ he said, serious now, ‘what if we’re to get married?’

  Her head shot round. ‘What?’

  ‘Married, the way people do. I mean, we’ve just . . .’ He blushed. ‘You know, done what only married folk are supposed to do.’

  Ken used words like ‘folk’ sometimes which she found quaint.

  ‘So . . .’ He paused gravely and she gazed back at him. Marriage – someone to love her and live with her? She had thought one day perhaps, but . . .

  ‘But we’re not old enough,’ she said, frowning at him.

  ‘We might think about it, though, mightn’t we?’ Ken was saying. ‘In a couple of years or so anyway, when we’re older. Maybe when I’ve done my training and I’m more settled. We could be engaged. We don’t have to tell anyone – but we’d know, wouldn’t we?’

  ‘Oh Ken!’ She was brimful of happiness suddenly. ‘Shall we? It can be our secret. And then when we’re older—’

  ‘I’ll buy you a ring!’

  ‘Oh Ken! I love you so much,’ she said, almost crying for joy. ‘I never thought anything as nice as this could happen – ever.’

  It stayed beautiful and warm all day. They wandered the countryside talking about their plans. Ken took pictures of animals, of farms, of Evie. She insisted that she take one of him so that she could have one when they were developed.

  Later in the afternoon, Ken came up close, kissing her neck just beneath her hair, and whispered, ‘I can’t stop thinking about it. Let’s do it again.’

  And the melting, hot sensation filled her all over again. It all seemed different now, not even wrong. They were promised; they would be husband and wife. They found another remote spot at the back of a half-empty barn and made love again, more slowly, lingering over it. As Evie lay beside Ken afterwards, his arms round her, she found herself filled with a sense of rightness, of amazement, as if this being wanted, giving herself, was what she was made for.

  Rolling over, she looked down into Ken’s eyes, surprising herself with her own heartfelt words.

  ‘I love you, Ken. I do.’

  Ken’s long face lifted into a rapturous smile. ‘Do you – really?’

  ‘I do. I never . . .’ Tears came to her eyes. Tears that were strangers. ‘I never knew there was anything so nice.’

  She could see he was moved. ‘Come ’ere,’ he said, and cuddled her close. ‘God, I love you, Evie girl.’ Held in his arms, there on the musty old straw of the barn, she felt she had found everything she needed.

  Nineteen

  December 1960

  ‘Filthy little bitch!’

  Mom towered over her, in a glorious rage. God, how she was loving it, Evie could
see, even as she cowered, ready to beg her not to be angry, not to be nasty but please, please to help her . . .

  They were downstairs – just she and Mom, who was wrapped in her checked coat over her nightdress. Evie stared down at her mother’s beefy legs, her feet pushed into a pair of pink sling-back slippers, too narrow for her feet. Evie, in her nightdress, crouched on the chair, hugging herself.

  ‘Yow think I cor see the nose on your face, but I can see yower bally all swole up. What kind of noggen yed d’yow tek me for?’ She came up close, her arm raised, and Evie shrank back, but she was hard up against the table. Dad and Shirley had gone to work so there was no one to save her – not that they would anyway.

  ‘Ow far gone are yer?’

  Evie shrugged, staring at the floor. ‘I dunno. Quite far, I s’pose.’ All these months of trying not to see it or believe it.

  Mom’s hand slashed across her face and she cried out at the usual blast to her ear, the pain jarring her neck, the skin of her face smarting.

  ‘Ow, Mom, don’t!’ Too late, she put her arms up to cover her head.

  ‘Ow, Mom, don’t!’ her mother mocked. ‘You should’ve thought of that before you let that nancy boy have ’is way with you an’ all. I never thought ’e ’ad it in ’im. But I tell yer, I’m gunna ’ave his guts for garters now, that I am.’