by Kitty Neale
Vera’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, I remember. But don’t you go thinking of such a thing. It’s dangerous, and illegal. You could die and they won’t lift a finger to save you. Costs a bomb as well. Believe me, you don’t want to go anywhere near that.’
Alison’s last flicker of hope disappeared. ‘Is it that bad? Don’t you know anyone?’
Vera shook her head and her eyes flashed. ‘No, I don’t. And if I did I wouldn’t send you their way. I’m serious, they’d kill you and not care. I wouldn’t go near them if I was in your position. Which I haven’t been.’
‘I didn’t mean …’ Alison began, anxious not to offend Vera even though she was on the brink of despair.
‘I’m not stupid,’ Vera said, slowly lifting her cup and then putting it down again. ‘I know what people say about me. As it happens, they’re wrong. Just because I wear makeup and dress the way I do doesn’t mean I drop my knickers for anyone who asks. I like a bit of fun, so what? Doesn’t everyone? It makes me sick, the way they all sit on their tight little arses and whisper behind their hands and nudge each other when I come near. Thinking they’re better than me. At least I’m honest about it. Two-faced old bags.’
‘I didn’t mean anything by it, Vera,’ said Alison. ‘I knew you’d tell me what was what, that’s all.’
‘Well, I’m telling you now to stay away from those back-street bodgers,’ Vera said, calm again. ‘It’s the best advice I can give you. I’m sorry I can’t do more, I wish I could. Look, I better be going, but come and see me any time. You can always leave a message for me if I’m not on duty. Don’t go doing anything silly – promise me.’
Alison smiled weakly. It was strange to think that this woman who everyone was so rude about could offer kindness so willingly and yet her own family, always certain they were doing the right thing, wouldn’t hesitate to throw her to the dogs. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ll be all right. At least now I know.’
Vera picked up her big handbag. ‘Always better to know what you’re up against, that’s my motto. See you around.’
Alison wished she could be as sure. It seemed that whatever way she looked at it, the future was impossible. If she couldn’t get rid of the baby, then what was she to do?
Chapter Eighteen
Neville had met Hazel after work and had taken her to the cinema. They couldn’t spend every night at home, saving money. He wanted to spoil her a bit, to show her how proud he was to be seen out with her. The evenings were getting longer as it was late spring, with summer just around the corner. The sun was setting as they wandered back towards Ennis Street, and Hazel paused outside a shop window.
‘Look at that tea set,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it lovely? We could have something like that when we’re married.’
‘My mum said we could have her old one,’ Neville told her. He couldn’t see what the difference was. It was something to drink tea out of, and he didn’t really care what the cups and saucers looked like. There was no point in wasting good money on such things when there were so many important wedding preparations on which to spend their hard-earned cash.
‘That’s nice of her,’ said Hazel, trying not to grit her teeth, ‘but that one there is more modern. See those shapes and colours? That’s what’s fashionable. Linda’s got one very like it.’
Neville nodded, thinking that he was going to have to get used to that idea. He was hearing more and more of what Linda had and how perfect it all was. He hadn’t realised Hazel was quite so keen to have everything her sister had, or even better.
‘Let’s save up for it then,’ he said. ‘We can start off with what Mum gives us and then put a bit away each week. Anyway we’ll have to find somewhere to live first.’
Hazel pressed her nose against the shop window. ‘They’ve got some cushions as well. I can’t wait to start making a home together.’ She turned and smiled invitingly. He drew her into his arms and kissed her.
‘I’m more interested in what we have in our bedroom,’ he breathed, unbuttoning her coat and pulling her to him around the waist. ‘Let’s think about that first.’
She snuggled closer and then pulled away. ‘Time enough for all that when we’re married.’ She didn’t want to be thought common, canoodling with her boyfriend in a shop doorway in the fading light. But the wedding night seemed like ages away. Sometimes she hated having to wait.
‘We’ll have a beautiful bed,’ he went on, ‘and we’ll never want to leave it. I’m going to make you so happy …’ He reached for her again and kissed her more and more desperately, his hands moving under her coat. For a few moments she gave in, then wriggled out of his arms.
‘What if someone sees us?’ she hissed. ‘Let’s walk on.’ She held his hand and found she was trembling with suppressed passion. Why did the other girls have all the fun? Perhaps she should just give in. But she’d never bear the shame if anyone found out or, worse, if she got caught out and fell pregnant.
‘Where shall we live?’ he said after a moment. ‘We could start putting our name down with the landlords. I’d like to be close to Mum.’
Hazel sighed. What she really wanted was to be in a better area, even if somewhere like Kent was out of the question. She knew they couldn’t be too far from the paint factory, but they could do better than Ennis Street. Also, while she could see it would be useful to be near their families, she didn’t want them dropping in every spare minute of the day. She was looking forward to some privacy alone with Neville as God knows they had precious little of that now.
‘Maybe not too near your mum,’ she suggested. ‘I mean, nothing against her, or the rest of your family, but I want it to be just us.’ She squeezed his hand tightly and turned to look at him meaningfully.
‘So do I.’ He could barely get the words out. ‘I can’t tell you how much I want to be alone with you in our house. September seems like ages away.’
‘Only a few months now.’ She started to walk on again. ‘We could find somewhere a bit further from the factory, further away from the power station. That wouldn’t be too bad, we could still see everyone.’
Neville wasn’t sure. He reckoned he would miss his mum’s home cooking and had thought they might drop by for a meal whenever they could. He also didn’t want to have to spend ages getting home if he was on night shifts.
‘Not too far from the factory,’ he said. ‘Remember I’ll still have to do lots of overtime if we’re setting up house and buying new stuff. You don’t want me arriving home dog tired. I want to save my energy for other things …’
‘Yes, but we’ll want to have somewhere as nice as we can afford,’ she insisted. ‘I don’t want a cramped place like Mum’s. Linda’s house has lots more room in it and she’s thinking of going somewhere even bigger. I don’t want to live in a hovel.’
Neville wondered if Hazel actually knew how much flats in the area cost, as he was pretty sure that was all they could manage, even if they both carried on working long hours. But he didn’t want to disappoint her. ‘I won’t let you live in no hovel,’ he assured her. ‘Nothing but the best for my princess.’ He stopped and kissed her once again. ‘Come on, we’ve still got time for a drink. How about a visit to the pub before last orders?’
Hazel looked at him standing under the streetlight and thought once again how gorgeous he was. But all the same, she’d have to put her foot down about where they lived. She was desperate to have a nice home away from the crowded terraces of her childhood, where the only view was straight onto row after row of houses just like her own. She sensed Neville would live next to his mum if she let him, and she wasn’t going to settle for that. She couldn’t wait to get him alone in their own place. September seemed longer away than ever.
‘A drink would be lovely,’ she said, hugging him and breathing in the scent of his neck. She’d force herself to have another sherry. After all, Linda liked it.
‘Your idea to sell eggs has been a great success,’ Fred said to Alison a few days later, as the latest delivery arrived. �
�Look, this is twice what we took that first time. Some days we can’t keep up with demand.’ He grinned broadly, wiping his hands on his apron. Nothing made him happier than a successful business move. He wished she was as pleased as he was, but he couldn’t even raise a smile from her. ‘It’s all down to you.’
Alison tried to sound interested. ‘Thanks, Fred. It’s nothing.’
‘It’s not nothing. Good ideas are money in the bank. Good ideas are what keep this place going.’ He wanted her to understand. ‘Not everyone has them. You can wait for years for an idea that works. You must have a talent.’ He waited to see if she reacted.
Alison smiled wanly. ‘Beginner’s luck.’
Fred bustled around the counter. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. You have to learn to take a compliment. I’m not making it up, you know. How about a nice omelette for lunch? We haven’t done that for ages.’
Instead of accepting with enthusiasm Alison turned green and ran through to the back.
Well now, thought Fred. That wasn’t about handling offal. They hadn’t sold any all morning and she hadn’t had to move any in the storeroom. A tummy bug? It was possible. There was always something going round, but he hoped he’d impressed upon her that if she was sick she mustn’t come in. There could be another reason of course.
He thought about it. She’d been awful when she’d first started the job, running off to be sick every five minutes, but then she’d improved. She hadn’t complained about cutting up all manner of bits of animal that would have turned many people’s stomachs. Then it had all started up again.
He didn’t want to ask her outright. Maybe he’d got this wrong. He hoped he had. But he could hear her now out the back, running a tap loudly to try to cover the other noise. It might work for the customers but it didn’t fool him.
He thought about what he knew of her. She never mentioned friends and had certainly never said anything about a boyfriend. Then again, why would she? He was only her boss. She probably thought of him as ancient. Also, he knew her mother and she wouldn’t want any snippets to get back to Cora. He was fond of his old friend’s wife but knew she had a fearsome reputation as a gossip. All the more reason for Alison to keep her secrets.
He was equally aware of what Cora thought of her youngest daughter, and – from comments Alison had let slip – what Hazel thought as well. Fred didn’t agree. Alison was bright and funny and good company once you got past her awkwardness. All right, she wasn’t a looker like her sister, but she had other things in her favour. He’d come to count on her around the place. If he could see her special qualities he supposed a young man might too.
So what were this young man’s intentions? Was he going to stand by her and do the right thing? Maybe she hadn’t told him yet, or maybe he was as scared as she was. Alison was only seventeen. Perhaps her young man wasn’t much older. Perhaps he needed someone to talk him round, point out that he couldn’t leave her in the lurch when it was as much his fault as hers. It was no laughing matter to have a baby when you weren’t married.
The more Fred thought about it, the more certain he was that this was what was wrong with his assistant. He made up his mind. He’d have to say something. She wasn’t just his employee, she was his old friend’s daughter too, and he wasn’t around to look after her any more.
After a while Alison emerged, her hair even more straggly than usual, her face white. ‘Sorry, Fred. Must be something I ate.’ She wouldn’t meet his steady gaze.
He wasn’t prepared to accept that. ‘Seems to me as if you’ve been eating lots of things that don’t agree with you,’ he said. ‘In fact, you’ve been doing that for quite a while. Strange thing is, I never see you eat anything. You’re wasting away. Are you sure nothing else is wrong?’
Alison shook her head and looked away. ‘I’m all right,’ she muttered. ‘I had a big breakfast before I came in.’
Fred took a breath. He didn’t want to pry. Yet this couldn’t go on. He had a duty to say more. ‘Are you?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think you’ve been overeating at breakfast every day for these last few weeks. That won’t make you tired and listless. That’s not like you. You were lively and you learnt everything fast. You even chopped up liver.’
Alison gulped and turned her back to him.
‘Look, I don’t want to stick my nose in,’ Fred went on doggedly. ‘But I’ve got to say something. I don’t think you’re well. Have you been to a doctor?’
‘I hate doctors,’ Alison said quietly, her voice catching.
‘But you should go. You can’t carry on like this. People will notice.’
‘I’m putting off the customers, am I?’ she cried. ‘That’s exactly what Mum and Hazel said would happen. It was only a matter of time.’
‘No, no, that’s not what I meant.’ He clumsily tried to touch her shoulder but she shook him off.
‘I don’t want to hurt your business,’ she choked. ‘You’ve been nice to me. I’ll go.’
‘No, you mustn’t go.’ He was doing this all wrong. ‘I don’t want you to go. I just wondered if there was anything else wrong. Anything I could help with. If you wanted me to have a word with your young man …’
‘No!’ she shouted. ‘I’m all right. Just leave me alone.’
He couldn’t bear to see her so upset. ‘Listen, I don’t mind. Sometimes it’s better man to man. Make him understand that he can’t just leave you to face the music …’
‘You’ve no idea what you’re talking about! I tell you I’m all right! There’s nothing more to be said!’
‘Alison, stop, think for a moment …’
She had grabbed her coat and was running for the door. ‘I’m all right! I’m all right!’
She dashed out into the street, nearly knocking a customer off her feet.
‘Goodness, whatever’s wrong with her?’
Fred forced himself to make light of it. ‘Oh, she saw a big spider out the back. You know what some people are like about them. She’ll be back once she’s calmed down. What can I get you? We’ve got a lovely bit of pork belly at the moment.’
As he went through the familiar motions of cutting the meat and wrapping it, he wondered what he should do. Ought he say something to Cora? He couldn’t just do nothing, not when Alison had more or less confirmed his suspicions. But he didn’t want to land her in hot water either. ‘Here you are,’ he said, with his best shopkeeper’s smile. ‘See you soon.’
Wiping down the counter, he realised he’d have to wait and see. He couldn’t force the girl to accept help, no matter how concerned he was for her welfare. But if there was a young man out there who’d let her down, he wasn’t going to stand for it.
Chapter Nineteen
Alison almost ran down Falcon Road, desperate to put as much distance between herself and the butcher’s as possible. She was glad it had started to rain – it made her tears less obvious. The few people who were out in it had their heads down, taking no notice of her. She hunched over more than ever, trying to stifle her sobs.
She turned off the main road and wandered on more slowly now, not caring that she was getting soaked. A few more turnings and she was by the river. She could see the hulking shapes of the wharves. The buildings across the water were shrouded in drizzle, grey masses against grey clouds. If she walked along the bank a bit further she’d be at St Mary’s church. Her family never went there but she had an idea that Fred did. She couldn’t see the point of it all. God hadn’t answered any of her prayers so far and she certainly wasn’t going to spill her heart out to a vicar. She remembered hearing that the church had homes for people like her – unmarried mothers who needed to give birth to their babies in secret, away from gossiping neighbours and shamed families. She shuddered. She didn’t want to go to any such place, but she didn’t want to go through this alone.
Should she trust Fred? As she grew calmer she thought hard about it. He’d been kind so far and even though he’d asked those intrusive questions he hadn’t ordered her to leave. But wha
t could he do? He was a middle-aged man with, if her mother was to be believed, no experience of women except for an old harridan of a mother. Would he know about doctors who could help her? But Vera had said that was illegal. Even if her friend hadn’t told her what she wanted to hear, Alison believed her. The image came to her of a blood-soaked couch, sharp instruments all around, and a girl lying in the middle of it, rolling in agony. She didn’t think she had the nerve to risk it, let alone the money.
As the fine rain continued to fall she realised she was getting colder. Good. Maybe she could catch pneumonia and then she might lose the baby. Then she couldn’t be blamed for killing it but the result would be the same. Perhaps she could manage it so that her mother and Hazel wouldn’t find out. She could say it was a heavy case of the monthlies. She’d tell Fred he’d been mistaken and she’d been ill after all. That would mean Vera was the only other person who knew, and she wouldn’t say a word.
Alison opened her coat so that the rain would soak her apron and blouse beneath it but as fast as the shower had started it stopped again. The sun came out and instead of getting drenched, Alison began to dry out, steam rising off her coat. The weather was warming up with the advent of summer and usually she would have been pleased, but now it had spoiled her one desperate idea. She’d have to get something other than pneumonia, or else wait for the next heavy rainstorm. She shrugged. It was the best she could come up with.
Gazing over the churning water she decided she’d have to put a brave face on it and at least act more cheerful even if she didn’t feel it. If she went on like this even her mother might notice eventually. She’d stop wallowing in misery and get on with earning as much at the shop as she could, just in case her plan didn’t work. Then when it rained again she’d find a reason to be out in it for a long time and let nature take its course. Plenty of women lost babies when they were ill, after all.
