by Kitty Neale
‘Sit down, Helen,’ Bob offered, his brow furrowing.
‘I don’t suppose you know what’s been going on with Harry and Glenda?’ Helen asked nervously.
‘No, love. We ain’t seen them this week,’ Maude answered, but then felt a surge of anxiety. ‘Why are you asking? Has something happened to them and that’s why you’ve got Johnnie? Have they had an accident or something?’
‘No, no, it’s nothing like that, but, oh dear, this is so difficult,’ Helen cried.
‘For goodness sake, just spit it out,’ Maude urged.
‘It … it’s Harry. I saw him down the high street earlier on today and he’s got it into his head that Glenda has been having an affair with a bloke called Frank Myers. She hasn’t been, they’re just friends, but Harry will never believe that. Anyway, she left Johnnie with me while she went to Frank’s house to warn him that Harry was on the rampage and looking for him. But that was hours ago and she hasn’t come back. I’m really worried, Mrs Jenkins. If Harry found Glenda with Frank, I dread to think what he’d do to them.’
Maude slumped back on the couch, trying to digest the information Helen had just bombarded her with. So Glenda was seeing another man. Just friends, my arse, thought Maude. If Harry had found out about it, there was no doubt in her mind that blood would be spilt. This Frank bloke, whoever he was, he wouldn’t stand a chance against Harry. Serves him right, thought Maude, he should never have messed about with a woman married to a Jenkins. But she didn’t want Harry getting into bother with the law and going down for a crime of passion.
‘Bob, get yourself round to Harry’s house and see if he’s there,’ Maude ordered her husband. ‘Find out what’s going on and why Glenda hasn’t been to pick up Johnnie.’
‘What if he isn’t there?’
‘Then try the pub. And you, Helen, I know your mum shouldn’t be left alone, so leave Johnnie here and get yourself home.’
‘OK, but I’m going to be worried sick until I know that Glenda is all right. As soon as you know, will … will you get word to me?’
‘Yes, of course I will,’ Maude assured her as she ushered her to the door.
‘And, Mrs Jenkins, please don’t let Harry know that it was me who told you about what’s been going on.’
‘No, I won’t bring your name into anything. Now, off you go.’
Bob put on his flat cap and followed her out into the cold evening, closing the door behind them both. Maude returned to the front room, still reeling from what she had just been told. If it hadn’t come from Helen’s mouth, she would never have believed that Glenda would have an affair. Her daughter-in-law was so quiet and timid, like a mouse; she just didn’t seem the type. Then again, it’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for, thought Maude.
As the shock began to wear off, anger set in. Maude wondered what on earth Glenda was thinking of; after all, she knew full well what Harry was like and she must have known how he would react to her being unfaithful. He would go berserk and by the sound of it he had. Maude twisted her hands with worry. Glenda was a sly bitch and deserved whatever she had coming to her but Harry wasn’t good at controlling his temper and she fretted that he would go too far. Wait ’til I get my hands on that girl, she thought. If my son don’t give you a good bloody hiding, Glenda Jenkins, then I will!
Johnnie began to cry loudly, obviously hungry. As Maude picked him up, she whispered in his ear, ‘There, there, it’ll all be all right,’ though in her heart of hearts she didn’t believe her own words.
She still had a bottle and some formula, but as she made up the baby milk Maude had a deep feeling of dread, her intuition telling her that nothing was ever going to be ‘all right’ again.
Chapter 8
It was almost half past nine at night when Glenda and Frank disembarked from the steam train at Margate station. Frank had been here to see his aunty Anne a few times before, but only as a child. He felt he recognised the station, but was unsure of the way to his aunt’s house.
It was cold and Frank pulled his collar up around his neck, then took Glenda by the arm, gently leading her towards a taxi sitting just outside the station. He took in a long breath of the fresh air, thinking that in different circumstances it would have been nice to be away from the dirty stench of Battersea.
Frank tapped on the driver’s window and the driver wound it down, offering Frank a big, toothless grin.
‘Evening. Could you tell me how to get to Tivoli Road, please, mate?’ Frank asked.
‘Course I can. Jump in, boss, and I’ll run you up there,’ the driver offered.
‘Thanks, but I can’t afford it. If you could just give me the directions, I’m sure I’ll find it.’
‘No bother,’ the driver said with a smile, ‘I won’t be getting any more fares tonight so get in and I’ll drop you there on my way home.’
Frank was slightly taken aback by the kind offer, but grateful, especially as Glenda looked completely washed out. It wasn’t any wonder, he thought, considering how devastated she was at having to leave her baby. He’d thought she would never stop crying, but eventually her tears had dried and she’d dozed off for a while, no doubt mentally exhausted.
They climbed into the back of the taxi, glad of the warmth, but less than five minutes later Frank was thanking the driver as he bade him goodbye. With Glenda behind him he walked up the short path to tap on his aunt’s front door, thinking as he walked that turning up out of the blue like this was going to take some explaining.
His aunt Anne answered the door in her slippers and dressing gown. Her grey hair was tucked into a hairnet and a cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth. She was a round woman, just as Frank remembered her, and though she could look as fierce as his mother, Frank knew she was a jolly old soul. He recalled how she used to bounce him up and down on her big belly and sing a little ditty to him, ‘Diddily diddily, diddily dum, he’s got a dirty bum.’ The memory brought a warm smile to his face but he wondered if his aunt would recognise him now.
‘Hello, young man, can I help you?’ she asked as ash dropped from the end of her cigarette onto the tiled hallway floor.
‘Aunty Anne, it’s me, Frank Myers. Joyce’s boy,’ Frank answered, holding out his arms for the huge hug he expected to greet him.
‘Frank? Well, I never! What on earth are you doing here?’ she asked as she scooped him into her flabby arms.
Frank chuckled. ‘If you let me breathe for a minute, I’ll tell you.’
‘Sorry, love,’ Anne guffawed. ‘Come in, son, and your pretty lady friend there too. Blimey, you look like you could both do with a good hot drink inside you.’
Frank was pleased to be so warmly welcomed. It would make it easier to explain the reason they were there. He looked over his shoulder at Glenda, who was silently following him up the hallway, her face pale and her expression glum. All he wanted was to hold her, to protect her and make her happy, but he knew that, until she held her son in her arms again, that was unlikely to happen.
Anne made them tea and then bustled off again, before long returning with two large bowls of vegetable broth and a lump of bread which Frank gratefully accepted on behalf of them both. The large front room was lit by two art deco style wall lamps and a roaring fire positioned in the centre of the back wall, with a long wooden table and six chairs in a bay window on the opposite side. There were two large, comfortable sofas and an armchair close to the fire.
‘So then, son, what brings you to my door at this time of night?’ asked Anne.
‘It’s a long story, Aunty, but the long and short of it is that Glenda and me need a place to stay for a while. We’ve come as you see us, just in the clothes we’re standing in. We’ve hardly any money to spare, but I’m willing to do any handy jobs round the house, and Glenda can cook and clean. We ain’t asking for charity, but we do need your help.’
‘No problem! I’ve got plenty of jobs that need doing and the house isn’t as clean as I’d like it due to these old bones of
mine. Now, tell me why you’re here. Are you in some sort of trouble?’
‘Well, you could say that,’ Frank said.
‘I hope you haven’t been breaking the law. I don’t mind you staying here, but I don’t want the police on my doorstep.’
Frank slurped his broth and enjoyed the warm liquid as it passed down his throat. If only it was the police that they had to be afraid of, he mused, rather than Harry Jenkins! ‘No, don’t worry, Aunty. The police aren’t looking for us. It’s Glenda’s husband and he’s a nasty piece of work. He doesn’t like it that we’re friends. In fact, he hates it so much that if he finds us he’ll probably kill us. We’ve come here to hide away from him.’
‘Oh, I say, I’ve only just noticed your wedding ring. So you’re a married woman then, Glenda?’ Anne looked shocked to say the least.
‘Er, yes,’ Glenda replied meekly. ‘But it’s not what you think. Frank and I are just friends, but my husband is a very jealous man.’
‘It’s none of my business what you two have been up to, though I will say that whilst you’re under my roof I won’t have any shenanigans going on. I keep a respectable house, so you, Glenda, can have the spare room, and Frank, you’ll be down here on that couch. You’ll find it comfy enough. And one more thing – this lot down my street love a bit of scandal so make sure you keep your business to yourself.’
‘Yes, all right, Aunty,’ Frank agreed.
‘I expect with you wearing a wedding ring people will take you for a married couple. If you don’t want that, Glenda, I suggest you take it off,’ Anne said.
Glenda didn’t answer and when Frank looked at her he saw that her eyes were vacant again, as though nothing had really registered with her. She seemed to be in a fragile state of mind and it worried him.
Bob could see the lights on at Harry’s house, but no one was answering the door even though he’d repeatedly hammered on it. He tried calling through the letterbox and tapping on the front-room window, but still nothing.
He was about to give up when through a chink in the curtains he spotted that someone was sitting in the front-room armchair. It looked like Harry so Bob tapped harder on the window. Eventually, he saw Harry rise to his feet and at last he came to the door.
‘Dad, what do you want?’
‘Your mother sent me round,’ said Bob as he entered the house and wrinkled his nose at the smell of strong alcohol. ‘Where’s Glenda?’ he added casually, though inwardly he was frantic with worry.
Harry threw himself back down into the armchair, picked up what was left of a bottle of cheap whisky and downed the remainder of the contents before he answered, ‘I don’t know where she is. I can’t find her and it looks like she’s fucked off with my boy.’
‘Johnnie’s round at ours,’ Bob said, confused. ‘He ain’t with Glenda.’
That information made Harry more alert. ‘Johnnie’s at yours? That doesn’t make sense. Glenda wouldn’t leave without him, I’m sure of that.’
‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m telling you that the boy is safe and sound with your mother. Now you’d better tell me what’s going on ’cos your mother will skin me alive if I don’t go home with the full story.’
‘I heard that my slag of a wife has been seeing another bloke so I went to sort him out, only to find that he’s done a runner. As Glenda ain’t here, I assumed she’d gone with him, but, as I said, I ain’t so sure now.’
‘But you haven’t seen her?’
‘No, I’ve already told you that,’ Harry snapped. ‘Now you tell me how Johnnie ended up at your house.’
Bob was calmer now he knew that Harry hadn’t hurt Glenda. He hadn’t heard Helen’s request to Maude on the doorstep and was oblivious to keeping her name out of anything. ‘Helen dropped him off a little while ago. From what I can make out, Glenda was at Helen’s when she found out you were looking for this bloke. She went to warn him, and no doubt that’s why he’s done a runner.’
‘I’ll find him and when I do …’ Harry growled.
‘Forget about him for now. Johnnie needs his mother and I can’t believe that Glenda would run off without him. She must be hiding somewhere locally, probably until she thinks you’ve calmed down.’
‘She’d better not show her face!’ Harry screeched. ‘I’ll kill her if she has the audacity to set foot in here. And I’m telling you, she’s never going to see Johnnie again! The dirty fucking bitch ain’t fit to be a mother. Nah, that’s it, she’s fucked up and when I get my hands on her I’ll make sure she knows it!’
The room smelled musty, and a thick layer of dust had settled on the small oak dressing table under the window, but Glenda was glad of the time alone in Anne’s spare room. It gave her the chance to clear her head and to plan what she was going to do next.
She climbed under the candlewick bedspread in an old flannelette nightie that Anne had found for her to wear. It was huge and swamped her small frame, but she was glad of its warmth. It was very kind of Frank’s aunt to put them up, but Glenda could think of nothing but Johnnie. She wondered who was looking after him, and if he was crying for his mummy. She felt deep pangs of guilt and questioned how she could have left him, but everything had happened in a frantic haste, leaving her little time to think. That was no excuse, though. She had still abandoned her son. What sort of awful mother was she?
And what about her parents? No doubt Harry would be on the rampage so she daren’t get in touch with them. She knew what Harry was capable of – knew he’d try to intimidate her parents into telling him where she was. The only way to keep them safe was to give them no clue as to her whereabouts.
Glenda sobbed into her lumpy feather pillow. She had to find a way to get her son back, but to do that she would have to get past Harry. Oh, Johnnie, my baby, she gasped as she curled into a ball of pain.
Eventually Glenda fell into a light sleep, which was broken throughout the night with images of a distressed Johnnie needing his mum.
As the weak morning sun broke through the thin curtains, Glenda rubbed her sore eyes and slowly managed to drag herself from the bed. She could hear light chatter between Frank and his aunt drifting up the stairs along with the smell of toast which, despite her unhappiness, made her tummy rumble.
The toilet was outside in the small back yard, which meant she would have to brace herself to face the cold and to greet Anne and Frank, so she did her best to plaster a smile on her face as she entered the back kitchen.
‘Good morning, love,’ Frank chirped, ‘did you sleep all right?’
‘Yes, thanks, but I need to pop outside. Please excuse me for a minute.’
Glenda closed the door behind her, but not before she heard Anne’s loud whisper. ‘She’s telling fibs, Frank. These walls are paper thin, and with my room being next door I could hear her breaking her heart half the night.’
When she returned to the kitchen, Glenda found that Anne had made her a cup of tea, along with some hot buttered toast. ‘It’s much easier to get the likes of bread and butter down here compared to the queues in London,’ said Anne. ‘Get stuck in, girl, there’s plenty more where that came from.’
‘Thanks, and I’m sorry if I disturbed you with my crying last night. It’s just that I’m upset about leaving my baby behind.’
‘Yes, Frank told me this morning, and no wonder you’re upset. You’ll get him back, but in the meantime you’ve got to keep your strength up, so tuck into your breakfast.’
Glenda felt a little heartened by Anne’s reassurance and bit into her toast. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.
‘Good girl, and don’t you go worrying yourself about having a bit of a cry.’
‘I–I miss Johnnie so much.’
‘Right then,’ said Anne brusquely, ‘we’ll just have to get our heads together and work out how you’re going to get him back. What do you think, Frank, any ideas?’
Frank looked thoughtful. ‘I know you won’t want to hear this, Glenda, but I don’t think we can rush it. Ha
rry won’t have calmed down overnight. In fact, I bet he’s even more worked up now he has realised you’ve left him. I think we should leave it be for a couple of weeks at least. Let him think you’re never going home, lead him into a false sense of security, and then …’
‘A couple of weeks! I can’t wait that long, Frank! Johnnie will forget who I am.’
‘No, he won’t,’ Anne insisted. ‘Your baby won’t forget his mum, and, to be honest, Frank’s right. Your husband will be on his guard. In fact, even if he lowers it, I think you should both stay away from Battersea. You could get someone in your family to bring Johnnie to you, somewhere well away from London.’
‘I can’t get my parents involved. My mum has been poorly for years and I dread to think what Harry would do to them if he found out.’
‘A friend then?’
‘No, I can’t put a friend at risk for the same reason,’ Glenda said, close to tears again at the hopelessness of the situation.
‘Look, love, don’t get upset,’ said Frank. ‘We’ll find a way, but as I said, I think we’ll have to bide our time for a while before we make our move.’
Glenda nodded sadly. She couldn’t bear the thought of being away from Johnnie for so long, but what Frank suggested made sense. She could hardly just waltz through Harry’s front door and take Johnnie. Anyway, chances were Johnnie would be with Maude and there was no way her mother-in-law would simply hand him over. ‘I think you’re right, Frank. As much as it breaks my heart to admit it, I’m going to have to bide my time.’
Chapter 9
Maude warmed up a small pot of stewed apples and called through to Bob, ‘Fetch Johnnie in here. I’ve done him a bit of breakfast.’
It was a Saturday morning and although she was more than happy to look after her grandson, Maude thought that Johnnie should be with his father on weekends. However, there was no sign of him; no doubt Harry had been down the Castle last night and was probably nursing a hangover this morning.
