by Annie Murray
Sixty-One
The afternoon was darkening by the time Melly came back. Her husband, Reggie, a tall, gentle-faced man, had arrived earlier, and with him a boy and a girl, introduced as Tina and Chris. Evie remembered Reggie when she saw him. He nodded and said hello and the children were sweet, friendly kids, though shy. Evie looked hungrily at them – they were a little older than her two. For a moment she longed to fling her arms round them and pull them close and a terrible pang went through her as Reggie took them off upstairs to watch TV. When would she be able to hold her own children? Would they ever be able to forgive her?
Mo had driven the other grandchildren back to their respective families after their time in the fresh air. He returned claiming he was ‘wrecked’ and went off for a snooze, leaving the women to it.
Evie felt apprehensive when she heard Melly come into the house while she and Dolly were still in the kitchen. She had refused to see Melly when she was in the hospital and wondered if she would hold it against her. Even though Melly was only a couple of years older, Evie still thought of her as a ‘big girl’ – older and more knowing.
‘Hello!’ Melly called from the hall, evidently taking her coat off. ‘Is Reg back with the kids? Oh, I could murder a cup of tea, I can tell you.’ She stopped at the door and took in the sight of the two of them at the table.
‘Evie!’ Her hands went to her face and her manner changed from weariness to glad astonishment. ‘Oh my God, am I pleased to see you!’ She hurried over and wrapped her arms round Evie’s shoulders.
Evie, fragile as she was, felt the tears rise in her again at this welcome.
Melly looked down at her, a hand still on her back. ‘Oh Evie, you look better. I’m so glad. I went over to Rubery to see you – I don’t know if they told you. A couple of times. There was ever such a nice man there the second time, said he’d come to visit you.’
Evie blushed, looking down. Alan Dickson.
‘Alan he said his name was. Anyway, I meant to come again, when you were up to it, but . . . And then when I asked later they said they’d discharged you and I felt so bad because I don’t know where you live or anything.’
‘Here, love.’ Dolly brought over a cup of tea, stirring sugar in, and handed it to her. Melly sank down at the table.
‘Ta.’ She took an ecstatic mouthful of tea. ‘Ah, that’s better!’ She still had her uniform on and looked very trim and workmanlike, Evie thought, her hair smoothed back and fastened up. ‘Aah, that’s better. So, Evie, tell me. Everything! How are you? And where’re your kids?’
‘Tell her, Evie,’ Dolly urged her, putting a cup of tea down in front of her as well and sitting at the table with them.
As soon as Melly mentioned the children, it all came out in a blurt. ‘I don’t even know if they’ll want to be with me now,’ she wept. ‘I’ve been away such a long time – maybe they don’t even remember who I am.’
Melly stared at her. ‘You mean, the two of them are with your mom and dad?’
Evie nodded. ‘And Rita. She’s got five lads – she’s round there half the time. And Shirl lives there – she’s got a daughter, Tracy’s age nearly. All one big happy family,’ she finished bitterly.
‘Evie.’ She felt Melly’s warm hand press down on hers and she spoke with great force. ‘I’m sorry to say this but . . . from what I remember about your mom, I wouldn’t trust her with a pet rat, never mind my own kids. Would you, Dolly?’
‘Well . . .’ Dolly looked pained. ‘Sorry, Evie, it’s a harsh thing to say about your mother in front of you. But Melly’s right. Course your little ones will want you. The sooner you get them away from there the better, I’d say. We need to go with her, Melly – go and get them.’
‘But I’ve got nowhere to go,’ Evie said. ‘No job . . . and, and . . .’ She broke down. ‘I’m such a mess! I don’t even know if I trust myself . . .’
‘Oh Evie.’ Melly put an arm round her shoulders. ‘Look, you’re strong as anything – you always were. I remember Mom saying that. You’ve been through the mill, love. Stronger people would have broken down a lot sooner than you. But all I can say is, if my kids were with that vile cow . . .’ Her expression was grim.
‘Melly!’ Dolly protested.
‘No.’ Evie felt a grin creeping through her tears. ‘Thanks, Melly. She is. She really is. The doctor in the hospital said he thought I shouldn’t have anything to do with her. But there’s the kids . . . And I just don’t know if I can face it – face them – not on my own.’
‘There’s no need to be on your own,’ Dolly said. ‘Look, Evie, why don’t we go over tomorrow? We’ll get all ready, and I’ll do your hair . . .’
‘My hair?’ Evie said, bewildered.
‘Her hair looks fine as it is,’ Melly said impatiently. She stood up. ‘No. Why not now? We have to get those kids away from that place now. Come on. I’ll come with you.’ As Dolly made noises of protest, Melly clamped her hands to her hips and went on heatedly, ‘I’m not scared of Irene Sutton, Dolly. Or those sisters of yours, Evie. My God, some of the things I saw when they were living next to us . . . Come on, Evie.’
‘But . . .’ Dolly tried to interrupt. ‘Reggie . . .’
‘Reggie’ll survive. He knows how to lift a kettle. I’ll run up and tell him what we’re doing.’
Melly was already on her way to the stairs.
‘But . . .’ Evie said. ‘Melly, I’ve only got pyjamas on!’
This paused Melly’s crusading fervour for a moment. ‘Oh . . . well, look . . . you can borrow something of mine. Let’s go up and find something. Come on.’
‘Your hair looks quite nice anyway,’ Dolly said, slightly doubtfully. ‘Well.’ She got up. ‘I’d better rouse Mo to drive you over. Tell you what’ – she took off her apron with decisive energy – ‘I’ll come, an’ all.’
Before she even had time to think, Evie had dressed in a stretchy blue crimplene skirt, a blouse and a black polo neck. She was plumper than Melly so there was not a lot of choice, but by luck they had the same size feet, so she’d been able to borrow some high-wedged sandals with rope-covered heels.
‘Make sure you look after those,’ Melly teased as she quickly changed out of her uniform into slacks and a thick red jumper. ‘They’re my favourites. I know it’s cold, but they look all right with tights – and you want to look your best, don’t you?’
Soon the four of them were in the family’s big comfortable Rover, driven by Mo, who, having been woken up, was bewildered at first, until the women explained emphatically why he needed to get himself together and get the car going.
‘Irene Sutton?’ he murmured as he looked for his keys. ‘Dear oh dear oh dear. Oh yes, you want to get them away from her. Oh yes.’
Evie loved him for it. It felt astonishing to know how much these people were all on her side, to remember that, long ago now, they had been on her side then as well.
The car smoothed its way through the darkness.
‘So . . . which road?’ Mo said as they crossed the south side of town.
‘Alwold,’ Evie said. ‘The easiest way’s down past the cemetery.’ She was so tense that it was good to have the directions to think about so that she was not overcome by terror. She felt a deep pang of shame as the car passed the Grants’ house.
As they turned into Alwold Road, the blood began to surge so fast round her body that her breathing struggled to keep up. Her children were just along this road . . . She wanted to cry out, Stop! Not now – I’m not ready! But after these astonishing, kind people had brought her this far, she knew she could not back out.
Mo pulled up just along from the house, the engine still running. Evie drank in the sight of it. There were lights on inside. Out at the front, there were lads moving back and forth playing something. She strained her eyes to see if one of them was Andrew, but it seemed to be Rita’s older lads.
‘What’re we gunna do then?’ Mo said, sounding apprehensive now.
‘I’ll go with her,’ Mell
y said. Evie was impressed by how fearless she seemed. Evie found her own mother terrifying. But Melly must be used to dealing with all sorts by now. ‘You two stay here – if we need you we’ll let you know. Just move a little bit closer, eh, Mo?’
He slid several yards along the street, braked and cut off the engine. The boys gave a curious glance for a second, then turned away and moved further down the street into the gloom as if they were up to something that they did not want anyone to see.
‘Right, Evie,’ Melly said. ‘Come on.’
Once they had climbed out, Evie felt Melly take her arm and tuck it firmly into her own.
‘Don’t want you falling off those shoes, do we?’ She smiled. If she was nervous, it didn’t show and Evie was full of admiration for her.
‘Oh God,’ she said.
‘Evie.’ Melly paused and spoke firmly to her. ‘They’re your kids. Not hers, or Rita’s, even if they do want to take over everything. They’re yours – and they need you. All right?’
Evie nodded, her whole body seeming weak and boneless.
There was no bell or knocker, so Melly banged her hand on the chipped front door. They could hear the sound of the telly, an endless chatter inside. Evie wondered if they were all there. Saturday night – booze night. Dad might be in the pub – they both might. She prayed for her mother and father not to be there.
At the second attempt, the door flung open, letting out the sound of the telly and the smells of fags and, Evie realized, fish and chips. A tall, skinny figure stood there with a baby on her hip and a cigarette in the other hand, rocking from one foot to the other to placate the child. Her mousey hair lay in feathery layers round her gaunt face. It looked freshly done. She wore trousers and a smock top in hectic black and white patterns.
‘Yeah?’ she said unenthusiastically.
‘Rita?’ Melly said, before Rita had clocked Evie behind her. ‘Long time no see.’ She spoke with chilly but firm politeness. ‘Evie’s come to fetch her children.’
Rita pushed most of her weight onto one leg so that her hip jutted out and took a long drag, giving herself time to take in this information.
On a billowing mouthful of smoke, she said, ‘Who the f*** are you?’
‘Melly, Rita. Remember me? The good old days down the old end in Aston when we were kids together?’
Evie wasn’t sure whether the sarcasm would be lost on Rita. Most likely. She was distracted in this thought by a movement behind her sister. A skinny figure with honey-brown hair hanging over her shoulder leaned out of the front room. Tracy was peering out, curious to know what was going on.
Evie’s heart was ready to explode. If she could only get to her, get Andrew, and just run for it! She moved her hand to attract Tracy’s attention and saw her notice. Tracy froze, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.
‘Reet, shut the cowing door, will yer!’ the voice boomed out. Her mother’s unmistakeable tones. Oh no, oh no . . . ‘We’m freezing our arses off in ’ere!’
But in that second, as Rita turned to give her away, to shout that she was here, she saw Tracy recognize her properly. She could see it in the child’s eyes, the dawning, the straightening up of her body, her moving closer, in her little pink corduroy trousers, short on her now, her pink jumper, clothes that she, Evie, had bought for her. She came ducking round Rita.
‘Mom?’ Her voice was faint, her eyes stricken and hungry and still not quite believing. ‘Is that—’
‘Tracy!’ Evie burst towards her. ‘Oh Trace! Come here.’ She knelt down on the step, holding out her arms as Tracy stumbled to her, like someone falling into an oasis, and clung to her. Evie’s tears wet her daughter’s hair as she sobbed, her eyes closed, not caring what else was happening, only about this moment, this little beloved body in her arms.
‘Mom . . .’ she heard Tracy saying, over and over. ‘Mom . . . Mom . . . You’re here . . .’ And her body quivered with sobs as if they had been waiting there all this time.
There was a moment when everyone was stunned, before Rita shouted over her shoulder, ‘Well, guess who’s come swanning back after all this time!’
‘What yow on about?’ Evie heard her mother bawl from the living room. True to form she could not be bothered to get up. She wondered if her father was in the house: Saturday night. Ten to one he was down the pub.
Evie opened her eyes. She drew back from Tracy a little. The girl’s wet face looked hurt and heartbroken and still only half believing. She raised her hand and touched Evie’s face.
‘I knew you’d come back one day,’ she said. ‘But where’ve you been, Mom?’ And she was crying again.
‘Trace, where’s Andrew?’ Evie stood up.
‘Upstairs, I think.’ She shrugged, hauling her sleeves across her eyes.
Rita had moved to the door of the living room. ‘Madam’s just turned up after all this time,’ she informed her mother. ‘You’ve got a cowing cheek, you have.’ She spoke to Evie with a new, nagging pecking motion with her head, like a self-righteous hen. ‘Coming back here after dumping your kids on us all this time? Who d’yer think’s been paying for their keep, eh? And I s’pose you think you can just—’
‘That’s enough,’ Melly said, stepping into the house.
‘Who the . . .’ Evie could hear her mother making moves at last. She appeared round the door, in the baggy red dress, shoes wide as barges, her hair hanging down. She was pink in the face and obviously well into the evening’s drinking. She screwed up her eyes to peer at Melly. ‘Who’s this?’
‘I’m Melanie. Rachel Booker’s daughter – remember? The one who used to take Evie in when you left her out on the step at night. Evie’s been ill, which is why she hasn’t been around. Now she wants to see her children and take them home. So if you wouldn’t mind telling us where her little boy is, we can be on our way and they won’t have to be your responsibility anymore.’
Evie saw her mother gape in astonishment at Melly. She took the chance to bend down and whisper to Tracy, ‘Go up and get him, will you, love?’
Tracy slipped past and was about to go upstairs.
‘Where you going?’ Rita grabbed Tracy by the arm.
‘To get Andrew,’ she whispered. Evie’s heart contorted at the sight of her daughter’s anxious face.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ Rita said.
‘Rita,’ a voice said from the door. ‘Let her get her brother. Let go of her.’
Evie turned to see Dolly and Mo in the doorway. Dolly came inside and stood in front of Irene. They looked so fine, the Morrisons, Evie thought, almost with awe. So kind and solid, distinguished almost. So not like her mother.
‘Let her take her children and go, Irene,’ Dolly said.
Evie saw her mother take one look at Dolly and Mo. There was instant recognition and Irene knew she was defeated.
‘Oh, look who’s ’ere, eh – Dolly Morrison. You always was a bossy cow,’ Irene said, petulant as a child who has been found out.
‘And I could say what you were,’ Dolly retorted.
‘She abandoned those kids. If it weren’t for us, they’d be in a home by now.’
‘I’m sure Evie will repay you anything you’re owed when she’s back on her feet,’ Dolly said. ‘But by God, Irene, there’s not a farthing that kid will ever owe you. Not even mothering. You never did a thing for her if you could help it. All you did was make her life a misery. You were cruel and unnatural then and you’re cruel now, heaven help you.’ She looked Rita up and down sternly. ‘Let go of her,’ she ordered. She smiled encouragingly at Tracy. ‘You go and get your brother, will you, bab?’
‘Where’s Ray then?’ Dolly said, as Tracy ran upstairs. ‘The usual place?’
‘Oh, shut yer cake’ole,’ Irene said, slouching back against the door frame and folding her arms. Once more she reminded Evie of a big, unformed child. ‘Take the bloody kids then, I don’t care. Got enough brats round ’ere as it is.’
Tracy appeared at the top of the stairs holding the hand of t
he long, thin boy Evie had seen her with at the school. How her little boy had grown! He had obviously had a haircut again recently – he had a very short back and sides. The almost military haircut made his cheekbones stand out even more. He was only five, but he looked like a hard little man. A moment later, Wayne appeared behind him.
‘Andrew,’ Evie breathed. ‘Come ’ere, babby.’
‘Babby,’ Rita muttered scornfully, still jiggling Dean on her hip. ‘Who’re you babbying? Some mother you are.’
Andrew came down with halting steps. His face did not look glad. His expression was solemn, mutinous.
‘S’all right, Andy, you don’t have to go with her – you can stay ’ere with yer Auntie Reet if you want.’
He glanced at Rita and came to Evie, looking up at her. There was no smile, no word, nothing. Something about him made her feel afraid.
‘Andrew.’ She knelt down again in front of him. He wouldn’t look at her, and stared past her, at the floor. ‘Love?’ She stroked his bristly hair, his cheek. She didn’t like having to talk to him in front of all of them. ‘It’s Mom, babby. Are you coming home with me?’
He looked at her then, a hard, detached look and, to her horror, shook his head.
‘See!’ Rita came to life, triumphant. ‘’E don’t wanna go with you. He doesn’t even know who you are!’ She laughed then, blowing smoke into baby Dean’s face, and he sneezed. ‘That’s it, Andy, you stay here with your family!’
Adding to Evie’s distress, she saw Melly begin to look uncertain. None of them had expected this reaction. Evie felt desperate, as if it was all spinning away from her. It was such a long time since Andrew had seen his mother. No wonder he had got used to Rita as the person always in his life.
‘Rita,’ Dolly said, with such gravity and firmness that even Evie’s hard-faced sister looked taken aback. ‘Stop playing games with this child’s feelings, for heaven’s sake! You’re not his mother – Evie is. Haven’t you got enough children of your own? Just stop it, right now. It’s wicked.’ She turned to Andrew.
