by Ros Franey
‘You all right, Annie?’ she asked. ‘You look a bit peaky.’
I said I was fine, but that I was scared to go home because of Mother being cross. I had wondered whether to tell Marjorie about Nana, but had never told her anything because it was too big a secret to share. I scuffed my toe against a kerbstone, not looking at her.
‘She’s a weird one, your stepmother, isn’t she? My mother says—’
‘What?’ I looked up, interested.
‘Nothing. I didn’t ought to say.’
‘No, go on. Tell me.’
‘It’s nothing. She just can’t understand …’
‘What?’
‘Why your father had to go and marry her.’
I smiled. ‘That’s what we said!’
‘I mean, she’s not exactly—’ She broke off.
‘Not exactly what?’
‘His … sort of … well his type, is she?’
I looked at her. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘It’s just what me mam says.’
‘What does your mother say? What type?’ I didn’t understand, but I was curious all right.
Marjorie was blushing. She looked over my shoulder. ‘Well … me mam says—’ I could see panic in her face. I wondered what she was so afraid to tell me. I could feel her fishing around for words. ‘Take your real mother,’ she said at last. ‘I mean, she wasn’t a bit like her, was she?’
‘No,’ I said with feeling. ‘No. So?’
But Marjorie would tell nothing more.
As I walked home, doing fairy steps to make it longer till I got there, I knew that wasn’t really what Marjorie’s mother had said. I wondered whether to tell Beatrice about this conversation. Bea might know what it meant, but she didn’t think much of the Bagshaws anyway and would go on at me for listening to Marjorie. Then my thoughts turned to Daddy. What had he been doing out all night? Because surely he hadn’t been for a morning walk in his evening shirt in all that drizzle. For some reason it was linked in my mind with a thing Fred had said about Roebuck’s Biscuits being in trouble. I didn’t know what that meant, except that it might require unusual behaviour, like the managers staying up all night smoking cigarettes and talking about what to do. I decided this is what must have happened, and of course Daddy didn’t want to worry me – though whether Roebuck’s Biscuits was in trouble or not didn’t bother me nearly as much as what would happen when he told Mother about Nana being indoors at night. As I turned into Corporation Oaks and started the slow descent to our house, the sickness came back to my stomach and I stood outside for a moment, searching the big dark windows for clues about what would happen next.
First I went quietly through the side gate, as I usually did, to see Nana. As I approached her kennel the sickness was boiling into panic – supposing Mother had had her taken away as my punishment?
‘Nana?’ I called, very softly, frozen suddenly, unable to walk round to the front of the kennel and look in. My relief was tremendous when her dear old sooty head came through the opening, and her half-floppy ears. Glancing up at the sitting-room window to make sure Mother wasn’t watching, I threw down my satchel and hugged her, and she beat her tail against the sides of the kennel in a silent greeting. Then I backed off, smoothed down my coat and gymslip, picked off a couple of dog hairs, took my satchel and walked sedately into the house. Nana and I both knew that we must not display too much happiness, otherwise she would think of a plan for taking it away. In the kitchen, Maisie was making shortbread, my favourite, and the butterflies almost departed as I smelt the delicious sugary baking smell.
‘Where’s Mother?’ I asked casually, as I washed my hands at the sink.
‘Your Mother’s poorly, lovie. She’s got one of her bad heads.’ Maisie nodded towards a medicine bottle with its cork stopper, sitting with a glass and a spoon on a tray covered by a lace doily: calcium lactate, as I came to know it later. ‘It’s a bad ’un. She can’t even swallow that today. You’ve to be very quiet and settle down to your homework.’ She winked at me. ‘No piano practice this evening.’
And that’s how it went on. Not that night, nor the next day – when Mother reappeared looking paper-skinned and tired with the dark circles beneath her eyes – nor in the days afterwards, was anything ever said about Nana. I couldn’t believe Daddy hadn’t seen the dog. It could only mean that he had decided to keep my secret. Dear Daddy. He was my friend and my defender, like all the Knights of the Round Table. I was especially nice to him for at least two weeks after that, plumping up his cushions, laughing at his jokes, handing him his newspaper before he even asked for it. If he noticed, he never said. After a couple of days when I left her outside, Nana and I dared to go back to our routine and life returned to, well, to normal.
When Fred came home and saw the kennel for the first time, he dropped to his knees in horror. ‘Nana! How could they?’ he breathed, and as soon as he said it I knew I could let him into my secret.
I sat him down and told him what I had been doing every night, and I won’t forget the look he gave me when I had finished. Not bad, for a girl. He immediately said he would do it, too. He had no choice: she was his dog, after all, and he was a boy; of course he was brave enough! I made him swear not to breathe a word to Beatrice, who couldn’t bear any kind of deception. We paced out the routine together, the noisy back-door lock, the floorboards to steer clear of, the creaks on the stairs. His room was closer to the staircase than mine, and further from Mother’s, so it wasn’t quite so dangerous for him, but of course I knew better than to point this out.
So during school holidays, whenever he was home, Fred took responsibility for Nana; but he was mostly away and it fell to me. It was good for my piano playing because I never missed a practice and got a distinction in Grade Four, which they said I was young to get it. I knew it wasn’t a patch on what Miss Blessing had done, but I kept that to myself. Anyway, it was just the way we lived now.
One day at the end of the following Summer, so Nana had been living in the yard for a whole year, I walked her as usual after school, swishing up the Oaks through the dead leaves. It was one of those warm, late afternoons when you think Winter is still a long way off. The sky was pink over the city and I counted, as I had started to do recently, ten more years and then I can leave home. It was an age, five times as long again since Our Own Mother died. Mother’s grandmother had been French and Beatrice said I looked like her: she had shown me the miniature from Mother’s jewellery box, and although I couldn’t see any resemblance, I was excited to believe it might be so. If I went to France I would become very good at French indeed. I decided at that moment France would be my escape. Then I remembered Nana, trotting loyally beside me and felt guilty. Of course, I couldn’t leave while Nana was with us because I was the only person who could protect her. ‘Don’t worry, old girl,’ I told her. ‘I’m not going anywhere for ages and ages.’ She looked round at me gratefully and wagged her tail.
I realised we were quite far from home by this time and had almost reached the Arboretum. Suddenly two figures emerged through its gates, girls deep in conversation, and I saw immediately that one of them was Miss Blessing. I waved and quickened my step towards them.
‘Hello Annie,’ she said. ‘What brings you out here?’
I felt suddenly shy, and hesitated a short distance off, fiddling with Nana’s lead. She was my teacher, after all; her confessions over the blue shoes and being angry with God somehow made it complicated. But if I was uncertain, Nana was not. She wagged her tail and pulled me forward as if to greet an old friend. And in a moment Miss Blessing seemed to recollect herself; turning to her companion, she said, ‘Eddie, this is one of my Sunday School pupils, Annie Lang. Annie, this is my sister.’
I examined Miss Blessing’s sister curiously. She was a few years older, but had the same auburn curls, the same direct brown eyes as Mildred and the same sweet smile. ‘Hello,’ I said.
‘Hello, Annie. My sister doesn’t know how to introduce us properly. I�
��m Edwina, but you can call me Eddie if you like.’ She held out her hand and I shook it, clumsily, because there wasn’t time to remove my glove first. Auntie Vera would have been scandalised, but Eddie Blessing didn’t seem to notice.
‘We love coming out here,’ said Mildred. ‘Gives us the chance for a good old gossip.’ She turned and smiled at her sister and squeezed her arm.
‘Weekdays, we might come here to the Arboretum, and then sometimes at weekends we go to the flicks,’ said Edwina.
I looked from one to the other, mystified.
‘The pictures,’ Mildred translated, seeing I hadn’t the faintest idea what they were talking about.
‘Oh we do,’ Edwina said. ‘It’s our great Saturday-night treat! My, but we live it up!’
I was in awe at the idea of these sisters, arm in arm at the Mapperley Park Essoldo, or whatever it was called. Oh, how free and wonderful their lives must be!
But Edwina had turned her attention to Nana, standing by my side. ‘And who is this?’ she enquired. ‘Please will you introduce us?’
‘Oh this is Nana,’ I said. ‘Nana is my dog, well Fred’s originally but mine since he went away to school.’
‘Nana!’ Edwina bent towards her and held out a hand for inspection. Nana sniffed it and gave it a small polite lick. ‘Oh Nana, you are beautiful. You remind me of our dear Wendy.’
Mildred explained, ‘We lost our beloved dog last year and our mother is too sad to get another just yet.’
‘Nana – Wendy’s dog from Peter Pan,’ said Edwina. ‘That’s a coincidence, Millie, isn’t it? It must be lovely to have a real Nana to take care of you.’
I breathed in sharply. ‘W-well,’ I stammered. I suddenly felt breathless. The sisters looked at me. And then, after months of bottling up my horrid secret, the words came tumbling out before I could stop them. ‘I – well, she can’t, that is, she’s not allowed in the house any longer. She has to have a kennel in the yard now – just like Nana in the story.’ I bit my lip. No one outside the family knew about Nana’s banishment, and no one inside ever discussed it.
Both Miss Blessings looked at me with concern. ‘She has to live outside all the time?’ asked Edwina. ‘All Winter? But that’s terrible.’
I suddenly felt I had betrayed a family secret. ‘Well I suppose lots of dogs live outside,’ I said, regretting my indiscretion.
‘That’s one thing!’ cried Edwina. ‘But a dog that’s grown up a house dog, forced to live out in the cold – it’s not right! Goodness me. We’d have her, wouldn’t we, Millie? It’d be so good for Mother, wouldn’t it?’
Mildred said, ‘Steady on, Ed. She’s Annie’s dog. Annie doesn’t want to get rid of her!’
My hand dropped protectively to Nana’s head. ‘No. That is – I make sure she’s all right, you know. I love her very much.’
‘Of course you do,’ Edwina said. ‘But all the same, if things ever get too difficult – she’d find a good home with us. We’d take care of her.’
‘Ach, don’t listen to her,’ Millie interrupted, giving her sister (I noticed) a sharp nudge. ‘Anyway, Eddie, you’re not even going to be here if Canada comes off! I’m sure Nana can look after herself, can’t you, Nana?’
Nana wagged her tail. I wondered what ‘Canada’ meant, but didn’t like to pry. Edwina cast Mildred a sideways look. ‘If,’ she muttered.
‘Eddie’s applying for a teaching job in Canada,’ Millie explained. ‘She’s very modest about it, but I think she’s going to get it. We’ll miss her terribly.’
Canada. How glamorous! I wanted to tell these beautiful sisters everything; how I had slept in the kennel, just like Wendy’s father in Peter Pan, and how I risked my neck to smuggle Nana upstairs at night. But I knew I would do so at my peril; it was something that could never be told. Anyway, it all paled into insignificance beside Canada! They would scarcely be interested in my woes. I was suddenly aware that the light was fading fast and there would be more trouble if I stayed out after dark. ‘I must go!’ I told them. ‘They’ll be looking for me.’
‘Are you all right, Annie? Would you like us to walk home with you?’ asked Edwina. ‘We could explain to your mother that you met us.’
I thought I saw Mildred shrink back a little and throw her sister an anxious glance, so I guessed she must have had experience of Mother’s critical tongue when she took over as harmonium player. The prospect of the two Miss Blessings speaking to Mother seemed somehow impossible; they were my discovery and I didn’t want her to spoil them. Besides, I had said too much about my family already. ‘That’s very kind of you, but really it’s quite close by,’ I told them, ‘I’ve Nana to protect me.’ I tightened the lead. ‘Come on, old girl!’ Turning back to them, I said, ‘Goodbye … When I’m older, can I come to the flicks too, please?’
As I left them I realised that it was indeed almost dark and hurried across Mansfield Road and up Elm Avenue, thinking furiously about the adventure I had just had. There was something nagging at me about it, something said or not said … I was just on the point of recalling it when I suddenly saw the headline: it was a hoarding outside the paper shop on the corner of Cranmer Street: City Girl Missing. I quickened my step. I didn’t want them to think I had gone missing, too. As I slipped around to the yard to leave Nana in her kennel, Beatrice came to the back door and stared out at the darkness. I called to her.
‘Annie, where have you been?’
‘Has Mother said anything?’
‘Mother’s in the sitting room. Come quickly and wash your hands for tea and with luck she won’t notice.’
As I ran upstairs to brush my hair, I thought again about Our Own Mother’s French family. I was sure there’d be none of this creeping around, always scared of getting into trouble with them! For a start, I bet they weren’t Mission people, or have to be saved or get the total immersion the way we did. In France it would be warmer, the light brighter than the Midlands and the houses not red brick. They wouldn’t have to eat porridge or tinned pilchards or beetroot, tongue or suet puddings; they would eat – I tried to think what they could eat: garlic on strings from the onion man’s bicycle, and big sweet tomatoes because of having more sun than us, and … oh yes – I frowned – white sausages. It had come up in a dictée at school. But I hope I wouldn’t have to do that. I thought: ten years till I can leave home! I couldn’t wait.
Part Two
1926 and 1932
From the Nottingham Journal, 1931
FRENCH SCHOLAR
LOCAL GIRL’S SUCCESS IN ALL-ENGLAND EXAM
Unknown to the majority of East Midland people, a Nottingham girl, Miss Annie Lang, younger daughter of Mr and Mrs Harry Lang of Corporation Oaks, came eighth in all England in the competitive examination – the “Grand Concours” for all English Universities – of the Société Nationale des Profésseurs de Français en Angleterre. The first twelve are awarded free courses abroad, and Miss Lang is to study at the University of Bordeaux.
Miss Lang, 17, who, on her return, will be enrolling for a BA in French at University College, Nottingham, is an Old Mundellian where, in addition to gaining her hockey and swimming colours, she took an interest in literary and dramatic work and attained distinction in her Grade 7 piano examination. Her father is Worshipful Master-elect of the Basford Lodge.
NINE
1932
Wednesday, June 1
‘You look as if you’ve been through a hedge backwards,’ Maisie greets me cheerfully, as I heave my suitcase past the guard at the barrier at the station and out into the booking hall. ‘Heavens, Annie Lang, you’ve grown, my girl!’
I want to hug her, or at least kiss her on both cheeks like the French do, but we just beam at each other. ‘Oh Maisie, I’m glad it’s you!’ I say.
She gives me a sideways look. ‘Well you know how your mother is with anything about travel. Sets off her nerves.’ It’s probably meant to be an apology, but I don’t care that Mother isn’t here to meet me. I need to adjust to one thing at
a time. I make to turn out of the station to the bus stops, but Maisie pulls me towards the forecourt. ‘We’ve to get a taxi. Mr Lang said – with the suitcase an’ that.’
My eyes widen; this is luxury indeed. ‘Yeah, well, business is a bit better these days,’ Maisie says, noticing my expression. ‘All over the Midlands, it’s starting to pick up. Our Albert’s got work. They’ve been taking people on at Raleigh.’
‘Bet they’re not eating more biscuits, though,’ I tease her.
‘Makes no difference, Annie. When folk get work they can afford the little luxuries. Oh and your dad’s getting a new car!’
‘Is he? Shame he didn’t come and meet us in it then!’
‘Wolseley. It hasn’t come yet, but he showed me a picture. My, it’s smart. It’s a sort of silvery-grey with a black stripe on the side, I don’t know what they call them stripes.’
‘Will he teach me to drive in it, d’you think?’
Maisie snorts. ‘You’ll be lucky. Besides, he’s that busy, is Mr Lang these days. I tell you, Annie, it’s a rare sighting if I catch him coming home before I leave of an evening.’
