by Kitty Neale
Harry shifted his naked body from the bed and quickly dressed in a vest and pants. ‘Shut up moaning and go put the kettle on. I’m parched,’ he snapped as he headed for the bathroom.
‘But, Harry,’ Betty shouted, ‘it’s such a lovely summer’s day. Surely you don’t have to rush round to your mum’s straightaway. If you don’t want to come back to bed, how about a walk in the park?’
Harry stormed back into the bedroom where Betty was sitting up in the bed, grabbed her clothes from the floor and threw them at her, saying harshly, ‘If you’re gonna keep on at me, then you can bloody well sod off!’
‘There’s no need to be so moody, Harry,’ said Betty indignantly. ‘It’s just that I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, but come the weekends you don’t seem to want my company.’
Harry ground his teeth for a moment before answering, ‘You ain’t my bloody girlfriend!’
‘What do you mean?’ Betty asked. ‘We’ve been seeing each other for months now. In fact, I’ve been hoping you might be thinking about giving me a ring soon.’
‘Leave it out,’ Harry laughed mockingly. ‘Marry you? Are you having a laugh? Anyway, I’m still married to Glenda, or had you forgotten about my wife?’
‘You … you could get a divorce.’
‘No! No way, and even if I did, do you really think I’d marry someone like you? You’ve got to be kidding me!’
Betty paled. ‘But … but I’ve got something to tell you. I’m –’
‘I ain’t interested,’ Harry interrupted impatiently. ‘Now get up, get your clothes on and bugger off.’
‘But –’
Harry didn’t wait to hear any more. He turned on his heels and headed again for the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, Harry was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a cup of hot tea when Betty appeared in the doorway, her face slick with perspiration.
‘I’ve been a bit sick, do you mind if I sit down for a minute?’ she asked.
‘Suit yourself,’ said Harry, but he just wanted her to go.
Betty took a seat and folded her arms on the table. ‘I’m guessing you’ve got a bit of a hangover and that’s why you’re being so nasty, but that thing I wanted to tell you, I was on about it earlier … well, I didn’t want to say it like this, but … I’m pregnant.’
Harry sat in stunned silence for a moment before blurting the first thing that came into his mind. ‘Is it mine?’
‘Of course it’s bloody yours,’ Betty said indignantly.
‘So you say, but I’d never be sure,’ he said harshly.
‘You can be. I’m telling you the truth.’
‘Nah, I ain’t having it. You were seeing Billy Myers before me. It could be his kid.’
‘I didn’t sleep with Billy.’
‘You’ve slept with half of Battersea, but I’m supposed to believe that you didn’t give it out to Billy?’
‘Honest, Harry, I didn’t!’
‘You’re a lying tart and I don’t believe you. All that talk about getting you a ring – you must think I’m a right mug, but you ain’t trapping me into marrying you,’ Harry shouted as he scraped back his chair and rose to his feet. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, took out a few pound notes and threw them onto the table.
‘What … what’s this?’ Betty asked, looking bewildered.
‘Take that money and get rid of it. I don’t care how you do it, just make sure that you do, and Betty –’ he leaned forward so his face was up against hers, their noses almost touching ‘– don’t tell anyone about this or you’ll live to regret it. That isn’t an idle threat. I’ll kill you if you open your mouth.’
‘K–kill me!’ cried Betty, the colour draining from her face.
‘Yeah, that’s right. Now get out of my sight, and don’t try to see me again.’
Betty at last stood up, but she didn’t pick up the money. Harry pushed the notes towards her, but she only cried out, ‘Harry, please, it really is your baby.’
Harry banged his fist hard on the table, so hard that Betty jumped in fear. ‘Get out!’ he yelled.
Her hands shaking now, Betty quickly grabbed the notes before making a dash for the door. As soon as he heard it slam behind her, Harry flopped onto his chair with relief.
‘Fucking women!’ he mumbled to himself. ‘That’s it, I’m staying well clear of ’em all!’
Chapter 15
Billy Myers sat back in his chair, watching as his mother bustled around the kitchen. It was August and since Frank had done a runner things had changed. He was the only son at home now, and, as though worried that he might leave too, his mum was making sure that he was well looked after, with decent food put in front of him as soon as he came home from work, and his clothes always freshly washed and ironed. Of course, he knew why. His mother enjoyed the money he provided, and as he was on better wages now, he’d increased her share.
He had something else to smile about nowadays too. Harry Jenkins was no longer the big man. He had blotted his copybook big time with that Betty Howard situation, and most people avoided him now. Billy had never forgotten the pasting Harry had given him and was glad to see the man brought low.
Billy’s thoughts turned back to his brother. ‘Mum, have you heard from Frank?’
‘No, son, not a word.’
‘I’m surprised he hasn’t been in touch, if only to let you know that he’s all right.’
‘Well, love, as the saying goes: no news is good news.’
Billy hid a smirk of derision. His mother was a lying bitch. She knew Frank was in Margate and probably had regular updates from her sister. Of course, after finding Anne’s note Billy also knew where his brother was, but so far he’d kept that bit of knowledge to himself. ‘Do you think Frank’s still with Glenda?’ he asked his mother.
‘I don’t know, but as she hasn’t come back to these parts, I should think so.’
The thought of them together still sickened Billy, and unbidden images plagued his mind. It’d been a long time since he’d had a woman, but his brother had the one he’d fancied next to him in bed every night. He groaned in frustration. He needed to find a woman, but it was rare that they’d give it out before marriage. There were tarts, of course, but the thought of all the men who had been there before him made him feel sick to his stomach. He’d heard of the things you could catch from them and it made him fussy. He wanted a decent woman, he thought to himself, but as he was so desperate perhaps he wouldn’t worry too much about her looks. It was then that the perfect solution came into his mind. He could have a woman, one on tap, available whenever he wanted her, and, though she wasn’t an oil painting, she had nice big assets that he wouldn’t mind getting his hands on. She wasn’t Glenda but she was friends with her and at least she didn’t sleep around. In fact, Billy thought she was probably still a virgin.
He stood up, smiling, knowing where he’d be able to find her. Hopefully he’d manage to grab her before his shift at work even started too …
Maude pinned her black hat to her head and checked her reflection in her bedroom mirror. The last time she had worn this hat was at Mr Taylor’s funeral over a year ago, but he had died an old man who had lived a long and full life. It didn’t seem right today, burying such a young and vibrant woman. She knew that tongues would be wagging, people talking about her today, yet even though she dreaded it she had to go to the church. It would look even worse if she didn’t.
When she went downstairs, Bob was reading his newspaper and Johnnie was crawling around on the front-room floor. Maude looked at the time on the wooden-cased clock on the mantel. It was half past eleven; she had expected Harry to be here by now. I bet he’s hiding in the bloody Castle, she thought, too ashamed to show his face.
‘Bob, get round the Castle and see if Harry’s in there, will you? If not, go and drag him from home. He may not want to face this today, but tough bloody luck. Like it or not, he’ll have to. It’s the least he can do,’ Maude ordered.
‘Com
e on, love,’ Bob pleaded, ‘you can’t blame him for not wanting to show his face. He really does feel bad about what happened and he’s unlikely to be in the Castle, or any other local pub. He’s probably keeping his head down.’
‘Bob, the same as most of the folk round here, I blame Harry. I’m having to face the shame of it, and he should too. Now, like it or not, I won’t have him hiding away from his responsibilities; that’s how he got himself in this mess in the first place. Now do as I say. Wherever he is, go and find him and get him here sharpish. We can’t be late for the funeral and, as hard as it will be, I want him there.’
Bob grudgingly followed Maude’s instructions and trudged out of the front door. She sat down on the sofa, still unable to come to terms with what had happened. She was aware that her son could be cold and heartless, especially when it came to women, but never would she have believed that he had it in him to force a young woman to abort his own child … her grandchild.
Johnnie was heading for the hearth so she quickly rose to pick him up before placing him in the playpen. He started to protest so she hastily gave him his favourite toy animal to stem his tantrum. As she watched Johnnie, her mind returned to Harry. He was such a loving father to his son, so how could he be so cruel? He must have known that back-street abortions were illegal, and been aware of the risk he was forcing poor Betty to take. Mind you, she thought, I don’t suppose he expected Betty to die from the procedure.
Of course it was only gossip, but Maude knew that what everyone was saying was true. It couldn’t be proved so Harry was in the clear with the law, but their family name was dirt around here now. Harry Jenkins, once well respected, was now considered low life.
Johnnie was becoming a bit fretful again so Maude went to the kitchen to get him a biscuit. He gurgled with delight when she gave it to him. Maude’s mind returned to Harry. He couldn’t have married Betty Howard as he was still married to Glenda, but he could have looked after her, seen that she was all right. But no, he had turned his back on her, forced her to see a back-street abortionist, which had left her with a fatal infection, and today half of Battersea would be packed into the small church to see the poor young woman laid to rest.
Twenty minutes later and Bob returned with Harry in tow.
‘Mum, I don’t think this is a good idea,’ said Harry, pacing the front-room floor with his hands in his pockets.
‘I don’t suppose you do, but did you think it was a good idea when you made that poor girl seek the help of that butcher? No, but you still made her do it so you can at least show her the respect of saying your last goodbyes to her. For Christ’s sake, son, she was your girlfriend! How do you think it would look if you don’t show up today?’
‘She was not my girlfriend! And do you really think her family will want me there today? They all blame me and I hear what everyone’s saying – Harry Jenkins this and Harry Jenkins that – but I do feel bad about it, really I do. I didn’t want Betty to die.’
Maude watched as Harry flopped onto the sofa. He looked exhausted. Maude softened a bit.
‘I know, son,’ she said. ‘Of course you didn’t want the poor girl dead, but she is and now you’ve got to face up to it. Drowning your sorrows and staying away from the funeral isn’t going to give the right impression.’
‘I don’t think I can face it.’
‘Now look, we all know what Betty Howard was like. She was hardly a woman of virtue and should never have been putting it about with a married man so you’re not entirely to blame. Come and show your respects. At the end of the day, that butcher of a back-street abortionist is the one who killed her.’
‘But, Mum, I–I’m so ashamed. I feel bloody rotten. The more I think about it, the worse I feel. I’m even having nightmares about it. How could I have been so hard on her? She may have been a bit of a tart, but she was really giving and caring. She put up with my moods and tried to make me happy, but look what I did to her. She was carrying my baby and I made her kill it. Mum, am I some sort of monster?’
Maude walked over to her son and placed her hand on his shoulder. She had never seen him so vulnerable, and never before had he been so open about his feelings. This business of Betty’s death had hit him hard and left him looking almost broken.
‘No, Harry, you are not a monster,’ she said. ‘You just made a very rash and bad decision, one with terrible consequences that I’m afraid you’ll have to live with for the rest of your life.’
‘It’s no more than I deserve.’
Maude glanced at the clock worriedly. ‘Maybe going to Betty’s funeral is your chance to show a bit of remorse and to pray for penance. Now come on, here’s your dad’s black tie. You can wear it today while he stays here to look after Johnnie.’
By the time Maude and Harry arrived at the church the service was about to start, but as they entered people began to nudge each other and a silence fell across the congregation, a hush that was quickly followed by whispers. Maude could see heads turning to look at the man whom everyone held responsible for Betty Howard’s death. Betty’s mother kept her eyes to the front, firmly focused on the cheap wooden coffin in which her daughter’s lifeless body lay.
They found room in a pew towards the back. Helen was seated in the one in front of them. She quickly turned to offer them a curt but polite greeting. That’s when the thought struck Maude – she would have a quiet word with Helen as soon as the service was finished.
After prayers, a few hymns and a eulogy read by Betty’s cousin, the service came to an end and people gathered in the churchyard in small groups, some looking at the flowers, others thanking the vicar, whilst a few offered comforting words to Betty’s mother, who was being supported by her two sisters. And though many people glanced sideways at Maude and Harry, no one came and spoke to them.
‘Let’s get out of here, Mum,’ Harry whispered. He was obviously uncomfortable in the situation and shifted from one foot to the other.
‘Yeah, come on, then,’ said Maude, ‘but I just have to say a quick goodbye to someone. You wait just outside for me, love. I won’t be long.’
With Harry out of the way, Maude approached Helen. She took the girl by her arm and gently led her away from the crowd. ‘Helen, I’ve had an idea but I’ve got to be quick. Listen, Harry has taken Betty’s death really badly, and I think it’s made him realise a few home truths about himself. I don’t know, he’s different, softer somehow. Anyway, I think it might be a good idea if you go up to him now and ask if it’s all right for you to take Johnnie out to see Ted and Elsie. I reckon he’ll go for it and then we ain’t got to keep sneaking about. Mind you, don’t say anything about Glenda. That would be taking it a step too far.’
Helen didn’t look too pleased at the idea of talking to Harry and, as if reading her mind, Maude added, ‘He’s just outside the gates. Go on, he won’t bite your head off, and I’ll be there with you.’
‘All right, Mrs Jenkins, as long as you come with me.’
‘Helen would like a quick word with you,’ Maude said to Harry, who didn’t look overly pleased to see her walking through the church gates with his mother. ‘Go on, gal, speak up.’
‘Er,’ Helen began nervously, ‘I wondered if you’d allow me to take Johnnie to see Ted and Elsie. They really miss him.’
‘Well, they are his grandparents and it seems only right,’ Maude chirped. ‘What do you think, Harry? It would give me a bit of time off too. I could get my washing or a bit of housework done in peace.’
‘Yeah, whatever you like,’ Harry answered, looking distracted and anxious to be away as more people left the church.
Maude was relieved. It had played on her nerves every time Helen had taken Johnnie out without Harry knowing. At least this way it was all out in the open, except of course neither woman would ever let on that he was also being taken to see his mother every few months. Yet Maude knew that it would have to stop soon. Johnnie was talking a little now, just odd words, but soon he’d be stringing them together. Though H
elen might not have considered it, she had. It might only be baby talk, but when that happened he might say that he’d been on a train, or, worse, he might talk about his mother.
No, it was definitely getting too risky, and though Maude worried about the consequences of Johnnie being cut out of Glenda’s life, she worried more about what would happen if Harry found out that he was being taken to see her.
Helen was glad that was over. She hadn’t wanted to be seen talking to Harry, but at least he’d agreed to let Johnnie see his grandparents. Poor Betty Howard, thought Helen. She had never really liked her much, yet remembered how Betty had stepped in once to stop Harry from kicking her in the stomach. She might have been a gossip, but she was a brave girl to face up to Harry like that. She wondered why Betty hadn’t been equally brave when it came to her pregnancy. If she’d refused to have an abortion, maybe she would be alive now. What an awful way to go.
It was said that after Betty had visited Mrs Burton – the back-street butcher, as she was known – the girl had been seen walking down Elsey Road, clutching her stomach and sweating profusely. Mrs Appleton, who saw her, had stopped to ask her if she was all right but Betty mumbled something about her monthlies and carried on.
When Betty didn’t arrive home that day, her mother wasn’t worried. She was used to her daughter staying out all night, ashamed of her and aware of her reputation. However, when another two days passed, she began to worry. She asked around, but, other than Mrs Appleton, nobody had seen Betty.
Becoming increasingly worried, Betty’s mother went to the police station to report her daughter missing, but their position was that as Betty was a grown woman, they didn’t take her concern seriously.
It was six days later when a couple of young lads playing on a bombsite made the gruesome discovery of Betty Howard’s body curled up in the remnants of an old bricked chimney breast. A post mortem revealed that she must have lain dying for days, her body ravaged with septicaemia, and the thought of how she must have suffered and died alone brought tears to Helen’s eyes.
