by Kitty Neale
‘There you go, love. There’s a good boy,’ Maude cooed as she spooned mouthfuls of the stewed apples into Johnnie’s mouth. The poor love, she thought, he misses his mum and Glenda is missing out on her son growing up. It’s been over three weeks since she’s seen him and look at Johnnie now, eating solids like a big boy. Still, she had never really liked Glenda, and as it had turned out Johnnie would probably be better off without her. After all, Maude reasoned, what sort of woman could run off with another man and not even think twice about leaving her own flesh and blood behind?
‘Bob,’ Maude said as she put Johnnie back into his pram, ‘get round to Harry’s and get him up. He should be here with his son, not feeling sorry for himself.’
‘Leave the poor bloke be. He’s getting over his wife doing a bunk, and he’s entitled to a bit of self-pity.’
‘Enough is enough and it’s time he pulled himself together,’ Maude argued. ‘This baby needs his father and I’ll thank you, Bob Jenkins, to do as I bloody well ask!’
Maude didn’t see Bob roll his eyes, but she knew it was exactly what he’d be doing. However, no matter what her husband said, she wasn’t prepared to let her son wallow in self-pity for a moment longer. He needed to step up now, and, so help her, she’d make sure that he did.
Harry could hear the front door banging, but really didn’t want to get out of the warmth of his bed. Whoever was knocking could bugger off!
‘HARRY … HARRY …’ Bob was shouting through the letterbox.
For God’s sake, thought Harry, can’t a man get any peace round here? He had a thumping headache. Feeling agitated, he reluctantly got out of bed and made his way to the front door. ‘What are you playing at, Dad? It’s only ten in the morning.’
‘Your mother wants you up and round at ours. She reckons Johnnie needs to spend some time with you.’
Harry could see his father looking at the mess in the front room as he followed him inside: dirty clothes strewn around, plates scattered about with half-eaten meals left on them, and several empty spirit bottles. The kitchen didn’t look any better; the sink was overflowing with washing-up.
‘This won’t do, son,’ Bob shook his head. ‘You’ve got to pull yourself together. Look at the state of this place, it’s filthy and you don’t look much better yourself.’
‘Yeah, well, housework is a woman’s job and I ain’t got a woman now, have I? As for me, I just need a good soak and a bit of breakfast. Tell you what, give me half an hour to spruce myself up and then I’ll come round to yours and Mum can make me something to eat.’
‘All right, son. I’ll see you soon,’ said his father, adding sternly, ‘but don’t you go taking advantage of your mother! She’s already run ragged looking after that boy of yours so I don’t want to find that she’s been round here cleaning up your mess too!’
Harry could do without his father giving him an ear-bashing, but he had a point and his mother did too. He hadn’t seen his son all week and with his sober head on he did miss the little lad. As he closed the door behind his father, Harry ran his fingers through his greasy hair. He’d been so consumed with fury towards Glenda, and so frustrated at being unable to find any trace of her, that he’d been drowning his sorrows night after night.
He looked into the mirror over the hearth, appalled at how bad he looked. Though he hated to admit it, he was missing his wife. But, he thought to himself, even if Glenda showed her face again and begged him to take her back, he’d refuse out of pride. She had turned him into a local laughing stock and to spite her he would never let her set eyes on their son again. Feeling indignant, Harry turned away from the mirror, avoiding his own eyes. Despite everything, he knew in his heart that he still loved Glenda, and probably always would.
Glenda looked out across the bleak, shingled landscape towards the grey sea. It was blowing a gale; huge waves crashed on the shore. Frank had managed to find work with a local fishing family and, although the pay was low, he brought home enough to cover the small amount of rent on the converted railway carriage that they called home. She smiled ruefully at the thought of him coming home later, smelling like a battered cod.
Despite the sometimes wild weather, Glenda quite liked living in Dungeness; she enjoyed the quiet, and it felt like a lifetime away from Battersea. But mostly she felt safe. Harry would never find them here. Anne had friends in Margate who rarely used their holiday home, especially in winter, and they had been happy for them to rent it for a six-month period. Thankfully they hadn’t minded that Frank couldn’t pay up front, and when Glenda had first seen the old sleeper carriage she could see why. She hadn’t thought it possible that anyone could actually live in such a confined space, but she’d got used to it in the last couple of weeks and now found it quite cosy. There was an outside toilet, but that didn’t bother her. It was all she had known as a child growing up in her parents’ house in Battersea, and with the carriage there was the bonus of a bath in a small inset.
Their first night in the carriage had been a bit awkward to begin with. There was only one bedroom and Frank had uncomfortably raised the subject of them sharing it. He had said he didn’t want to push Glenda into anything she didn’t feel ready for. She loved how he was always so thoughtful about everything and considered her feelings, something that Harry never did.
There hadn’t been any need for the awkwardness, as once Frank had held Glenda in his arms, she had melted into his body and relished their gentle lovemaking. It had felt so natural and had cemented their love for each other.
There were only three things Glenda felt unhappy about: the first was missing Johnnie, the second that she was worried about her parents, and the last problem was boredom. There wasn’t much she could do about Johnnie and her parents until she received news of them from Helen, but she could do something about the boredom and had taken to crocheting woollen blankets. So far she had made two from the large bag of wool remnants that Anne had given her, and she’d been successful in selling them both to the vicar at St Mary’s Bay church. He had told her how draughty the old vicarage could be and hoped to see her in a few weeks’ time for the Christmas service.
The thought of Christmas felt like a stab in the heart to Glenda. She couldn’t bear to be away from her baby, especially as it was his first one. Her crochet needle became blurred as her eyes filled with tears and she gave way to the emotions that she had kept bottled up for weeks.
Glenda threw her head back and wept heavy, racking sobs as she held her half-made blanket to her chest. ‘I miss you so much, Johnnie,’ she cried loudly, but no one would hear her wailing in the small railway carriage on the shingle of Dungeness. As her body shook and she howled, so did the wind as if echoing her grief.
It was rare for Helen to receive letters, but she instantly recognised the handwriting on the envelope that had just dropped through the letterbox as Glenda’s. She ran up the stairs to her room and, sitting on the edge of her thin mattress, she eagerly ripped open the envelope, overjoyed to finally hear something from her best friend.
My dearest Helen,
I’m so sorry that it’s taken a while to write to you, but me and Frank have been busy trying to sort things out. And I’m ever so sorry about abandoning Johnnie with you the way I did. I didn’t have a choice when it dawned on me that with Harry baying for blood there was no time to do anything other than to get on a train and go. I hope it didn’t cause you any trouble with Harry.
We’ve found somewhere really nice to stay for a good few months. To prevent any gossip we are posing as a married couple and I’m using Frank’s surname. He’s got a job packing and selling fish. We’re living right next to the sea which is wonderful, albeit bitterly cold at the moment. Despite that, Johnnie would just love it here! I’m guessing he’s at Maude’s most of the time and I know it’s hard for you, but please, I’m desperate for news of him. I don’t want to put you in a difficult position, but I would be ever so grateful if you would write back to me and let me know how he is. And my mum and d
ad, I know they’ll be worried about me, so can you tell them that I’m fine, though please don’t tell them where I am in case Harry tries to force it out of them.
To protect you as much as I can too, I’ve given you the address of a little church. The vicar said it’s all right for me to have letters delivered there. I told him it’s because the post doesn’t come out to where me and Frank are living, and anyway, it’s best this way. Like my parents, if you don’t know where I am then Harry can’t bully you into telling him.
I haven’t worked out how I’m going to get Johnnie, but somehow, one way or another I’m going to. In the meantime, I shall really look forward to hearing from you.
I want you to know that I’m fine, Helen, and other than pining for my son, I’m happy. Frank is a good man and takes good care of me. Once I get Johnnie back, I know my life will be perfect.
I hope you are well. I miss you. Please don’t say a word to anyone about me contacting you, not even my mum and dad.
Thanks Helen, thank you for everything.
Your best friend, Glenda xxx
Tears dropped onto the thin white paper and smudged the black ink. Helen rubbed her eyes and forgot for a moment that her left one was still painful from where Harry had unceremoniously punched her.
Glenda was right to be cautious, and Helen shuddered as she recalled her encounter with Harry. Quite a crowd had gathered around them as he’d drawn attention by shouting obscenities at the top of his voice, and when Helen had fallen to the wet pavement, not one man had stepped in to help. They were all too scared of him and his reputation. When Harry had raised his booted foot to kick her in the stomach, it was Betty Howard who had screamed out for him to stop. He did, and though Helen didn’t like Betty, she would be forever indebted to her for her bravery in saving her from a savage beating.
Her dad had been furious and urged her to get Harry arrested for assault, but she doubted anyone would own up to witnessing what had happened. Not only that, she was scared of Harry and how he’d react if she put the police onto him. In the end, she just nursed her wound and said nothing.
Harry was a nasty piece of work, and after that he’d tried to intimidate Glenda’s dad into telling him where she was too, but thankfully, though he’d yelled and expostulated, he hadn’t actually laid a hand on Ted. How Glenda had put up with such a nasty, violent man for so long was beyond Helen, and after having read the letter she was over the moon for her friend and pleased to know she was safely out of Harry’s wicked reach.
She would happily write back with news of Johnnie and keep her up to date with the health of Elsie and Ted, but she would have to warn Glenda about writing too often as she was sure the postman had been nobbled by Harry. The postie hadn’t said anything, but there was something about the way he’d looked at her when he handed her the letter. It had roused her suspicions and she didn’t want another run-in with Harry.
Helen was keen to get news back to Glenda, yet realised she knew nothing of Johnnie. She hadn’t seen him since she’d dropped him at Maude’s on the night that Glenda had run away. She’d wait until Monday, and while Harry was at work she’d pop over to Maude’s. Hopefully Maude would let her have him for an hour or two, and then she could take him to see Ted and Elsie as they must miss seeing their grandson.
Helen carefully dried her eyes and then smoothed down her dress. It wouldn’t be long before her sister arrived with her toddler niece and nephew for their monthly visit. She would have to get a move on and get their favourite gingerbread men baked or all hell would break loose in the Atkins house!
Chapter 10
It was Christmas Eve and though Glenda wasn’t full of Christmas spirit she was determined to make an effort for Frank’s sake. She had found two similar-looking pebbles in the shingle that both had a hole through them. She thought they would make quaint matching keyrings, one for Frank and one for her. It wasn’t much of a gift for the man she loved but she did think it was quite romantic. The pebbles were wrapped in a pair of crocheted socks that Glenda had fashioned into the shape of fish. She thought the socks were practical but would also make Frank laugh, and she did love to hear him chuckle.
Frank had found a pine branch to use as a Christmas tree and, as she knelt down and placed her gifts underneath, she noticed a small wooden box balanced in the foliage. It must be a present for her and though she was curious she resisted the temptation to sneak a peek inside.
The carriage door opened as Frank walked in. The wind from outside caused the paper chains suspended from the ceiling to flap in a frenzy.
‘Quickly, Frank, close the door, the decorations will break,’ called Glenda.
Frank had been working overtime most nights and the long hours meant much of their time was spent apart. She missed him terribly when he was at work and jumped up from her knees to rush and greet him.
‘Hello, my sexy lady. I hope you haven’t been snooping around that Christmas tree?’ Frank teased as he wrapped his arms around Glenda.
‘I was tempted,’ she answered, ‘as I did notice there’s something in the tree. Is it for me?’
‘Of course it is, but only if you’ve been a very good girl,’ said Frank, and he playfully slapped her behind.
‘Oh Frank, you know me – I’m always a good girl … and when I’m bad, I’m even better!’ Glenda flashed him a saucy smile and ran giggling as Frank chased her through the carriage.
He caught up with her and embraced her tightly, lifting her off her feet. ‘I love you, Glenda … you naughty little minx.’
Glenda smiled, ‘I love you too, Frank Myers. Now put me down and jump into that nice hot bath I’ve run for you, you bloody reek of fish. I’ll stick your dinner on to warm and you never know, if you’re lucky, I might come and wash your back.’
Frank didn’t need telling twice and stripped down to get in the bath. As Glenda went to the kitchen, she glanced at her naked lover. She couldn’t wait to be snuggled up in bed with him later. It was going to be a Christmas tinged with sadness for her, but she was looking forward to waking up in the morning with Frank by her side. It would be one of the best Christmas Days she had ever had, and one thing was for sure: she would not be missing Maude’s limp vegetables or Harry’s unreasonable demands. Of course, she missed Johnnie, but in spite of that, for the first time in a very long while, Glenda felt a true sense of happiness and contentment.
Billy Myers woke up on Christmas morning to the sound of his mother loudly humming ‘The Harry Lime Theme’. Bloody hell, he thought, she’s in a good mood considering her precious son isn’t here today. He climbed out of bed and drew back the curtains to reveal a blanket of white snow covering Sheepcote Lane. It didn’t look like it was going to thaw any time soon.
In the warmth of the small kitchen, Billy offered up a kiss on the cheek to Joyce, who quickly dismissed him. ‘Pack it in, you silly sod!’ she chortled, ruffling his hair. ‘Sit yourself down and I’ll knock you up some powdered eggs for your breakfast. Shame our Frank ain’t here. He was always like a big kid at Christmas and didn’t half used to make me laugh.’
Billy hung his head in shame as he tried to hide his guilt from his mother. He liked the fact that Frank wasn’t around but wished it hadn’t been his doing. His stupid jealousy over that Glenda Jenkins had driven him close to madness. How could he have grassed up his own brother to Harry? And by doing that he had put his mum at risk too. He had known that Harry would do his nut, and he had expected Frank to get a bit of a pasting, but it had never crossed his mind that Harry would have killed Frank if he had found him.
And where had it got him? Nowhere, that’s where. Harry had still come after him and given him such a beating that he’d been off work for a week. He didn’t really understand what he’d done to deserve it as he thought he was doing the bloke a favour. When he had been on the receiving end of the punches, in between the blows, Harry had spluttered that Billy had enjoyed telling him about Glenda, something Billy would’ve denied had he only had a chance to an
swer.
When he’d returned to the site he’d been given the sack. The foreman said it was because of all the sick leave, but Billy guessed that it was more likely to be Harry’s doing, what with him and the foreman being good mates. And Glenda had gone too. Who would have thought that she would have run off with Frank?
‘Oh, don’t look so downcast, Billy. I guess you’re missing your brother too, eh?’ said Joyce, her large hips rolling from side to side as she walked across the kitchen.
‘Yeah, I miss him’ – like a hole in the head, he added to himself. ‘Like you said, Mum, Christmas ain’t the same without Frank here, winding me up along with his laughing and joking.’ More like getting on my nerves, thought Billy, glad that his goody-two-shoes brother wasn’t there soaking up all the attention. Joyce had never said so, but Billy felt that Frank had always been his mother’s favourite. He surmised it was on account of Frank being the eldest, Joyce’s first born, but it wasn’t fair that Billy had to play second fiddle just because he was the younger brother.
‘I just hope he’s happy, wherever he is and whatever he’s doing. I wouldn’t have minded a Christmas card from him though, but there you go, that’s sons for you!’
Billy inwardly cringed. Joyce was obviously missing Frank and though it suited him that his brother wasn’t there, his secret was eating him up inside. He wondered if he should tell her that it was his fault that Frank was forced to do a runner. He thought she might hate him for it and favour Frank even more than she already did, but Joyce had always told them that honesty was the best policy. Maybe if he was honest with her she might have more respect for him, and it would go a long way to easing his conscience.
