by Kitty Neale
She remembered when Linda had been expecting June. Four years ago she’d been too young to pay that much attention especially as Linda had recently moved down to Kent, adamant that no child of hers would be born in Battersea. But her big sister had been up to visit a lot in those early days and had talked to Cora about how hard she was finding pregnancy. Alison had listened to the list of sickness, tiredness, being off her favourite foods, swollen ankles, disturbed sleep, and pitied her big sister. Of course when June arrived everyone had been delighted. But Linda’s circumstances were very different.
She forced herself to count back to when she’d last had those stomach cramps she always got when it was her time of the month. It hadn’t been long after she’d started working for Fred and she’d been too embarrassed to ask if she could sit down for a bit when they’d got really bad. Paul had raped her at the beginning of March. She counted on her fingers the weeks that had passed. Her heart sank when she realised it all added up. She’d been too miserable to notice at first. She’d assumed her overwhelming tiredness was down to being so depressed about Paul’s terrible betrayal.
A baby. Was that really what was happening to her? How would she know for certain? How could she cope with a baby? Where would she live? She was pretty sure Cora wouldn’t want it in her house. Her mother would be mortified at the disgrace of it. Cora had very plain views about girls who let themselves get taken advantage of before marriage and never hesitated to voice them. Alison couldn’t even begin to imagine what she’d have to say when her mother found out.
She tried to be practical. Would she be able to carry on working? What would Fred say? She didn’t know what he thought of unmarried mothers but she knew he was very against anything that was bad for business. Once word got around she was sure she would be a liability to him. Even if he was kind, how hard would it be to work once the baby was born? Cora had told her often enough what it had been like in the war, having to hold down two or three jobs to keep the wolf from the door with two little girls and herself as the unwanted extra nuisance. She’d been dropped off with neighbours much of the time. They’d been willing to help out because Cora had been left a widow. Alison knew she couldn’t count on anyone helping her.
What would it be like to have Paul’s baby? Every time she looked at it she would be reminded of that stinking alley, the shock of realising what he was doing. How could she live with that? Would it have his eyes? She’d adored those eyes once but now she knew how cruel they could be. How could she love a child who looked like him?
But as the days went by, she realised that maybe there was a way around it. Perhaps she didn’t have to have the baby. She’d heard whispered conversations about people who got rid of their unborn children. There had been a woman at the factory who was rumoured to have done it. She’d been mysteriously off sick for a few days and had returned, gaunt but determined, saying nothing. The word was she had a husband but he beat her and she didn’t want to bring a child into a household like that. Some had condemned her and others had been sympathetic. Alison thought it couldn’t have been worse than being unmarried and going through with it.
But how would she find out about such a thing? She didn’t have any friends to advise her. Her family was out of the question. Who did she know who might be able to point her in the right direction? She didn’t know enough about any of this.
Alison bit back a sob as she faced the fact that there was nobody she could turn to. She had to find out what was happening to her but she was totally alone.
Cora was delighted. She’d been to see about hiring the church hall in September and had managed to get it at what she knew was a very good rate. She’d emphasised the fact that she was a widow but, though poor, her daughters were respectable and hard-working. She’d also mentioned that the Parrots were exactly the sort of family they wanted to move to the area – prepared to help out and muck in with anything, even though they weren’t local. She’d painted the picture of Hazel and Neville as the perfect young couple who just needed a little helping hand to start their life together before becoming pillars of the community. The church warden couldn’t have been more obliging. They’d settled on the price and Cora had put down a deposit. She congratulated herself on a job well done.
She decided she would treat herself to a trip round the market. Normally she only rushed from stall to stall, haggling for what she needed, never taking much notice of what else was there. Now she walked slowly along, enjoying the spring sunshine, eyeing the goods on offer. The thought struck her that Hazel would soon be wanting new items for when she set up home with Neville. Perhaps they would be given some as wedding presents but they would have to buy the rest. It was a bit early to start yet but it wouldn’t hurt to look. Also, for the first time there would be some spare room in her own house. She’d become so used to the cramped space she hadn’t really considered what it would be like once Hazel left and took all her clothes with her. They took up more room than her own and Alison’s put together.
Cora groaned to herself. She’d be stuck with Alison and nobody else to break the tedium. She wasn’t looking forward to that. With Hazel there was always something to talk about – where she’d been, who’d been in the café, what was happening at Neville’s factory. But with Alison there was nothing. She never brought back any decent gossip from the butcher’s, even though she must hear lots of it. Too dim to work out what was worth repeating and what wasn’t, more than likely. She had no friends and never went anywhere. She might earn her keep by bringing home her wages and the offcuts and leftovers, but as a companion she was worse than useless.
‘All right, Mrs Butler?’ called Joe Philpott. ‘How are the dresses coming on?’
Cora smiled at him. ‘They’re going to be lovely. Jill Parrot is very clever with her sewing machine. I wish I was half as good at dressmaking as she is.’
‘Hazel tells me you’ve made lots of her stuff and you’ve taught her everything she knows.’ He winked. ‘And she’s a stunner. So you must be pretty good yourself.’
‘Oh, nonsense,’ said Cora but she was flattered. She hadn’t had a bit of a banter for ages.
‘Tell you what, why don’t you take a look at my trimmings.’ Joe brought out a big box. ‘See anything you fancy? What about these pearl buttons?’
‘Joe Philpott, if those are real pearl then I’m a Dutchman.’ She picked up a packet of rickrack binding in different colours. ‘Now this is more like me. I could use some of this when I’m making up a frock for my granddaughter. She’s three already, you know.’
‘You don’t look old enough to be a grandmother,’ said Joe. ‘I’d never have believed it if I hadn’t heard it from your own mouth. Why don’t you choose a couple of colours and have them on me. On account of your family being such good customers of late.’
Cora beamed. ‘That’s very good of you. I’ll take you up on that before you change your mind. That pretty primrose yellow and the pale blue. They’ll suit her best.’
Joe popped the wavy binding into a paper bag and handed it over. ‘There you go.’
Still smiling broadly, Cora wandered along the other stalls, thinking this was her lucky day. After all she’d been through over the years, she was well overdue a change of fortune.
Chapter Seventeen
The walk from the butcher’s to Clapham Junction was almost too much for Alison. She had to hurry as she only had her lunch hour to complete her mission, but it left her gasping for breath by the time she reached her destination. Not eating much didn’t help. All she really felt like was small pieces of dry toast. Anything else made her sicker than ever.
On the corner at Clapham Junction was the grand entrance to Arding and Hobbs. She glanced at it nervously. She’d hardly ever been there, never having had the money to afford their prices. She remembered going in a few times as a child, although what with the war and clothes rationing it was much quieter back then, and Linda had taken her there a couple of years ago. She knew it was huge inside and that it wa
s easy to get lost. She’d have to keep her wits about her as she didn’t have time to lose her way.
It seemed as if half of Battersea had come to the big department store at lunchtime, as the press of people going in and out of the big doors threatened to overwhelm her. Alison put her head down and concentrated on keeping going. She was here for only one reason and she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted or fear the crowds. Her idea might be a crazy one but she knew she had to try.
She had to find the floor with ladies’ wear. Once there she had to hope the person she was looking for was on duty. There was no guarantee that she would be, but Alison couldn’t think of another way to see her. It had to appear casual. She just had to keep her fingers crossed she wasn’t on her lunch break as well. She knew it was a long shot and she might be making too much of what had been a brief acquaintance but she’d always hoped it would turn into something more. Well, now was the time to put the idea to the test.
This must be it. She was surrounded by elegant clothes far finer than anything she’d ever worn. Wide-skirted dresses in every colour imaginable hung from hangers, and further away she could see a rack of the new sack dresses, none of which would be in her size, she was sure. She dared not touch anything and just prayed her awkwardness didn’t show on her face as she tried to blend in with the other customers. How she would love to have clothes like this. Such a dream seemed farther away than ever. If her fears were right soon all she would be able to fit into would be her baggiest jumpers.
Then she saw the familiar figure. She made her way cautiously across the floor, and came to a halt by a rack of blouses. She carefully chose one with a scalloped collar and lifted it on its hanger, as if she did this sort of thing every day.
‘Can I help you, madam?’
‘No thank you, I’m …’ Alison looked up, feigning surprise. ‘Vera! Fancy seeing you here!’
‘Alison Butler! I was only wondering the other day how you were getting on,’ said Vera, smart in her shop clothes and without the usual bright lipstick. ‘Are you here to choose something for your sister’s wedding?’
Alison wasn’t surprised she’d heard about the big event. Winnie had probably passed on the news after a gossip session with Cora at the newsagent’s. That was how Alison had learnt where to find her old colleague. Most likely all of Battersea knew about the wedding by now.
‘Not really. I’ve got to wear a bridesmaid’s dress. I wish I could just go in normal clothes but there’s no escape.’ Alison didn’t allow herself to think about what would happen if this conversation failed and she had to tell Hazel why she couldn’t be a bridesmaid. She’d deal with that later. Otherwise she would break down completely. But the good thing was her former colleague seemed as friendly and open as ever, and hadn’t cut her dead.
‘Did Hazel like her ring?’
‘Yes, she … how did you know about the ring?’ Alison was so surprised that she forgot what she’d come to ask.
‘Didn’t Neville say?’ Vera’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh God, I’ve gone and put my foot in it. Don’t worry, it was all perfectly innocent.’
‘What was?’
‘Well, I happened to bump into him when he was going to choose the ring and he was all of a dither so I asked if he needed a bit of a hand. I went along to help him pick the right one. You know what men are like, haven’t a clue about that sort of thing.’ Vera raised her eyebrows.
‘He didn’t say,’ Alison told her. She was stunned by this piece of news. ‘I … I won’t mention it to Hazel.’ She knew what her sister and her mother thought of Vera and could imagine what would happen if they found out. They’d never believe it was as innocent as Vera claimed. If Alison spilled the beans then she was sure somehow she’d end up getting blamed for it.
‘How are you getting on?’ Vera asked. ‘Anything’s better than the factory, isn’t it? Those miserable old men always trying to get you in a corner and cop a feel. Dirty sods. There’s none of that in this place.’
That had never happened to Alison but it reminded her of why she was here. ‘I’m glad to be out of there,’ she said truthfully, ‘but I’ve got a bit of a problem. Actually, you might be able to help me. Is there anywhere we can talk without everyone listening?’
‘Not really. But I could meet you after work if you like.’ Vera glanced up. ‘Would that be all right? I finish at five today.’
Alison took a deep breath. Of course. It had been silly to think Vera would be able to get away when the store was so busy. But she hadn’t said no outright. That was good of her – it wasn’t as if they’d had the chance to get to know each other properly before. ‘Would you? That’s really kind of you. I finish at five too.’
‘We’ll do that then.’ Vera nodded. ‘I’d better go. The supervisor’s always on my case, thinks I spend too much time chatting as it is. Five-fifteen, that café outside the station? See you there.’
Alison flew out of the door of the butcher’s at just after five. Usually she helped Fred to clear up but she didn’t want to miss Vera, who only had a short distance to go to the café. Fred watched her, wondering what the urgency was. It was the fastest he’d seen her move for ages.
After walking as fast as she could, Alison arrived at the café, breathless. There was no sign of Vera. Frantically Alison’s eyes swept the room. There were young couples gazing at each other over the Formica tables, some old men who looked as if they’d been in there all afternoon, a few professional types grabbing a quick snack before the long train journey back to the suburbs. But no Vera.
Hesitantly Alison took a seat at one of the few vacant tables. The heat and smells of cooked food were making her feel sick again and her head swam. She gripped the edge of the table. Up to today she’d been sick only in the mornings. Please God don’t let that change now.
There was a gust of cold air as the door opened and Vera burst in, red lipstick freshly applied, coat belted tightly to show off her figure. Every male head in the place turned. She ignored them all. ‘Sorry I’m late. That supervisor drives me nuts. You’d think the world was going to end if I left as much as a speck of dust on the underwear shelf. Still, I’m here now. What are you having?’
‘Just a cup of tea,’ said Alison, hoping she’d be able to keep it down.
‘I fancy some of that cake,’ said Vera, pointing to a rich fruit loaf on display at the counter. ‘I get ravenous in there on my feet all day. Sure you don’t want any?’
Alison shook her head, trying not to gag.
‘All right, just the one then.’ Vera smiled to catch the attention of a passing waitress and placed their order. ‘Not bad in here, is it? So, what was it you wanted me to help with?’
Alison looked around to check there was nobody in there who might know who she was but couldn’t see anyone. She’d better say her piece and get it over with. She was so nervous she hardly knew where to start.
‘I’ve not been very well,’ she said abruptly. Then it all came out in a rush. ‘I’ve been sick a lot, I’m tired all the time, I’m losing weight, I can’t think straight.’ She gasped. ‘I don’t know who to ask what’s going on. When I happened to bump into you …’ She paused as she told the white lie. ‘I thought you might know what it all means.’
Vera waited as their teas and cake arrived. She sipped her drink and lifted an eyebrow. ‘I see. If you don’t mind me asking, have you missed your monthlies?’
Miserably Alison nodded. ‘Twice. I didn’t think anything of it at first. But now, what with being sick all the time … it’s not just the smells at work, everything sets me off. I couldn’t handle the kidneys and stuff to begin with and my boss got used to me running out, so he still thinks it’s that. But I think it might not be.’ She couldn’t meet the other woman’s eyes.
Vera toyed with her cake and then set down her fork. ‘Right. That only sounds like one thing to me. Are you having a baby?’
Alison couldn’t stop a tear from escaping. ‘I’m afraid … afraid I might be. I’m n
ot making it up, am I? Those are the symptoms, aren’t they?’
Vera nodded. ‘Sounds like it. You can miss your monthlies for lots of things but adding it all together … when did you and your boyfriend do it?’
Alison almost laughed. ‘He wasn’t really my boyfriend.’ She caught Vera’s expression and hurriedly corrected herself. ‘I thought he might be, once. He was nice and everything to start with. But then … then … it was almost dark and he pushed me … and forced me. I couldn’t stop him.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘And now he’s gone and disappeared. So I’m stuck.’
‘Can’t you tell your mum?’ Vera asked. ‘Hang on, no, I suppose not. What about your sister?’
‘Not likely,’ sighed Alison. ‘She’ll say I’ve done it deliberately to ruin her wedding. You’re the first person I’ve told. There isn’t anyone. My big sister might help but she’s away from home and I can never get her on her own for a minute.’
If Vera was surprised she didn’t show it. After a moment she patted the back of Alison’s hand. ‘You poor thing. That’s such bad luck. You mustn’t blame yourself. These things happen.’
‘Thanks.’ Alison wiped her face with her hanky. ‘But I do blame myself. I shouldn’t have been so stupid. It’s my fault for trusting him.’
Vera tutted. ‘It isn’t. You just said you didn’t have no choice. So it’s his fault, no two ways about it. But it’s you what has to bear the consequence. Not fair, is it?’
Alison shook her head. Now that she’d finally told her secret she felt drained. ‘Please, eat your cake. Don’t let me spoil it.’
‘You daft mare!’ Vera touched her arm. ‘Don’t say such things. I’d love to help you more but I’m not sure how.’
‘You’ve listened to me and didn’t blame me,’ said Alison. ‘That’s more than I deserve. But I was thinking. Remember back at the factory, there was that woman who was having a baby – and then she wasn’t?’ She dropped her voice. ‘Do you know how that happened? What did she do?’
