by Kitty Neale
Jenny frowned, feeling bewildered. Craig was talking as if they’d already planned to get married. Had she missed something somewhere? In a bold move for Jenny, she summoned up the courage to ask, ‘Was that some sort of strange proposal?’
‘Yes, I suppose it was! I’ve always known you’re the one for me and I just assumed we’d get married. They say you don’t truly know someone until you live with them. Well, we’ve been living together for over a month now and that must surely be the equivalent to years of dating. It seems sudden, but if you think about it, it’s not really. So, Jenny Lombard, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
Jenny felt tears begin to stream down her cheeks, and Craig’s eyes were glistening too.
‘Oh, bugger, I didn’t get down on one knee,’ he added.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jenny said. ‘My answer will still be the same. YES!’
Chapter 12
‘So where do you suggest she sleeps? There’s only the sofa,’ Lizzie said.
Dwight had been working on Lizzie for over a week and on Sunday it sounded like she was finally considering the idea of bringing Gloria to live with them.
‘The sofa’s mighty comfortable, or I can buy her one of those Z-bed things. She’s young, Lizzie, and needs her momma’s guidance.’
‘All right, if you say so, but it’s going to change things for us. For one, there won’t be any more late-afternoon hanky-panky on the sofa, or early-morning canoodles in the bathroom. We’ll be confined to the bedroom, and we’ll have to keep the noise down.’
‘I realise that, but don’t you think it’s a small sacrifice to pay for knowing your daughter is safe and sound?’
‘I suppose so,’ Lizzie mumbled.
Dwight didn’t think she sounded sincere or happy about it. She had her back to him, scrambling eggs on the stove, and he walked over to wrap his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck.
‘That is so nice,’ she husked, reaching round to cup his engorged manhood. ‘And someone’s a big boy! You must really, really, really like my scrambled eggs.’
‘Oh yeah, Lizzie, I sure do,’ Dwight answered, but in truth it was the thought of Gloria’s young body that had aroused him.
On that same Sunday morning, Jenny had gathered Pamela and the boys in her gran’s flat. Her gran was in one chair, Pamela in the other, and the boys sat cross-legged in front of them. Craig stood by her side.
‘What’s this all about?’ her gran asked.
Jenny could feel herself reddening as all eyes were on her. ‘We … Craig and me … we’ve got something to tell you …’
She felt Craig’s hand in hers and quickly glanced nervously at him. Fortunately, he continued with the big announcement. ‘I asked Jenny to marry me last week, and she said yes!’
The boys exchanged a wide-mouthed glance and cheered but it was her gran who spoke first. ‘Oh, Jenny, that’s wonderful news. Congratulations to you both, I’m chuffed to bits, I really am, but why wait a week to tell us?’
‘We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a while, that’s all.’
‘You soppy pair of lovebirds,’ her gran said, but she was smiling happily.
Jenny looked at Pamela and saw that she didn’t look happy. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘Nothing,’ Pamela answered.
‘Aren’t you happy for me and Craig?’
‘Of course, I am … but … but … what’s gonna happen to us?’
‘Oh, Pam, nothing much will change. We’ll all still live together but hopefully in a bigger house soon. Don’t worry, I’ll always look after you and the boys.’
At last Jenny saw her sister smile. She’d hoped they’d all be thrilled about the wedding and now it seemed they were, though she doubted Gloria would be as pleased when she told her later that day.
Henry arrived home from the pub and when he opened his front door he immediately noticed that the house smelled fresher. As he walked into the kitchen, his nostrils again twitched at the aroma of a Sunday roast dinner. He’d met Audrey the week before and already the woman had moved in. It suited him that he now had a full-time cook and cleaner on hand. He couldn’t say he was overly attracted to her, but she’d do for when the mood took him, which was normally only after he’d had a few beers.
He went through to the kitchen to find her sitting at the table, nervously biting her nails. She looked up at him with her brown, wonky eyes. When they’d first met he’d joked and asked if one of her eyes was going to get the fish whilst the other got the chips. She’d smiled weakly at the time, and he’d felt a bit mean and quickly bought her a drink.
Looking at her face now he could see she was worried. ‘What’s wrong?’
Audrey pulled her hand away from her mouth and spoke in almost a whisper. ‘I … I’ve over-cooked your chicken a bit.’
‘Not to worry, love, I like it well done,’ Henry answered, then pulled out a chair opposite her. ‘Pour me a whiskey, will ya? It’s on top of the larder.’
Audrey jumped up and scurried across the kitchen. He eyed her up and down as she strained to reach the bottle. She was a tiny thing, less than five foot tall, with short, light brown hair. She didn’t have much of a figure and wasn’t good-looking, but at least she wasn’t mouthy like Lizzie. She was grateful too, grateful for any small kindness, and for the rare occasions when he used her body.
She placed a glass of whiskey in front of him, then asked, ‘Would you like me to dish up your dinner, Henry?’
‘No,’ he said, grimacing, ‘my shoulders are still aching from the overtime yesterday, so give them a massage first.’
‘All right,’ Audrey agreed quietly as she moved to stand behind him.
Henry knew that lifting the heavy dustbins was beginning to take its toll, but no doubt he’d be doing the job until he died, and then they could carry his body out in a bin rather than a coffin. He took a large mouthful of whiskey, hoping that along with a massage it would ease the pain. Only minutes later his temper flared. There was no relief. The woman wasn’t strong enough to punch her way out of a paper bag, let alone undo the knots in his muscles. ‘Gerrof,’ he snapped. ‘You ain’t helping.’
Audrey quickly stepped back, saying nervously, ‘I’m sorry, Henry.’
She was so skittish that he guessed she’d had a few backhanders in the past, but it had made her more pliable and that suited him. He ignored her apology and snapped, ‘Go and run me a bath. The hot water might help.’
‘But your dinner?’
‘Sod me dinner. I’ll eat it later.’
‘All right,’ she said, then hurriedly left the kitchen.
He finished his whiskey, and then Audrey was back, telling him his bath was ready. He went upstairs, and seeing the bubbles on the surface of the water, he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel irritated. ‘The silly cow,’ he mumbled, shaking his head as he stripped off his clothes.
It wasn’t like Henry to bathe at this time of day. He usually had a bath on Sunday evenings, but on this occasion he hoped having it earlier would ease the pain. ‘Audrey,’ he yelled. ‘Audrey!’
Within minutes she appeared and stood in the doorway biting her thumb.
‘Give my back a wash,’ he ordered.
‘Yes, Henry,’ she agreed.
He smiled. Audrey had only been there a week, and already he was enjoying the pleasures of being pampered, waited on hand and foot. She would never excite him like Lizzie had, and she wasn’t as passionate as his wife either. Lizzie had been wild in the bedroom and liked it rough, but this one, she just lay on her back silently, so he had no idea if she enjoyed it. Not that he was bothered if she did or not. It might not be great sex, but Audrey had her uses and she would do for now.
Chapter 13
‘Come back to bed,’ Dennis urged.
It was Monday, the morning after Jenny had been to see Gloria to announce that she was getting married. Gloria was pleased for her sister, but it had made her take stock of her own relationship. Her mi
nd had been mulling it over for most of the night and she’d come to realise that Dennis wasn’t the man she thought he was. She’d soon discovered he was boring and had no oomph about him. The initial spark she’d felt had quickly been extinguished. She’d jumped in too quickly but probably out of desperation to get away from home. Now she regretted her haste, though she didn’t want to go back to Craig’s either.
Her restless night had left her tired, but now she was already dressed and ready to begin her morning shift in Queenie’s. ‘I can’t come back to bed. Unlike you I don’t have the luxury of doing bugger-all and have to work for a living.’
‘Come on, just ten minutes.’
‘No, Dennis, you know what Queenie is like. Last time she docked me an hour and I was only seven minutes late.’
‘Sod the old cow! Tell her where to stick her job. The pay is rubbish and there’s plenty of other jobs out there.’
‘Yeah, maybe, but where would we be without my wage until I find one?’
‘We’d get by,’ Dennis answered.
Gloria was already fed up but hadn’t yet spoken up. Now she felt she couldn’t bite her tongue any longer and blurted, ‘On what, fresh air? And anyway, getting by ain’t good enough. You never take me anywhere and I’m sick of being cooped up in your room all the time. Not only that, I can’t even afford to buy some new clothes!’
‘Hey, calm down. What’s brought this on? Oh, I know, your sister’s getting married and you want an outfit.’
‘Yes, I do, but that’s got nothing to do with this. It’s you … us … I’m bored!’ She sat on the edge of the bed and pouted, hoping to get some sympathy from Dennis.
‘Gloria, I thought you liked spending time alone with me.’
‘Yes, I do, but I’d like us to go out more too.’
‘You’ve never complained before.’
‘I am now and it’s all very well you telling me to find another job, but what about you, eh? Why don’t you get off your arse and go to work? Why should I have to graft when you don’t?’
‘Oi, drop the bloody attitude! If you don’t like it, you know where you can go,’ Dennis said petulantly and rolled over in the bed.
Gloria knew that now she’d put him in a bad mood, it would be futile trying to talk to him. Instead, frustrated, she stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Jenny sat in her usual place at work. It was a long bench with seven women on one side of her, four on the other and twelve opposite. Thelma sat two seats down with a cigarette hanging from the side of her mouth and, as usual with her, she looked depressed. Jenny couldn’t blame her; after all, Thelma had an uninvited guest in her home – Gloria.
However, not even Thelma’s miserable face would dampen Jenny’s spirits today. She couldn’t stop thinking about Craig. If she hadn’t been such an introvert, she would have liked to shout from the rooftops that they were getting married.
‘Did you have a nice weekend?’ Joan sitting beside her asked. She was a rotund woman who wore thick-lensed National Health glasses. The other women would often joke with Joan, referring to her specs as the bottoms of milk bottles. Joan never seemed to mind and gave back as good as she got. She was a jolly woman and Jenny liked her, but Joan could never be described as quiet.
‘Yes, it was lovely, thanks,’ Jenny answered.
‘Really! What was so lovely?’ Joan pried.
Unable to hold her wonderful news in any longer, Jenny blurted, ‘My … my boyfriend proposed to me and I said yes. We’re getting married.’
‘Blimey! Did you hear that, girls? Jenny’s getting married.’
Jenny cringed. She hated drawing attention to herself and now wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Straightaway she was bombarded with questions, one woman asking who she was marrying and what was he like, another asking when and where they were getting married. There was a cacophony of female voices and all eyes were on her. She felt her cheeks burning and wanted to get up and run away, then to her relief she saw Miss Aston appear on the factory floor.
‘Quieten down, ladies,’ Miss Aston bellowed above the noise of the women. ‘What’s all this fuss about?’
‘It’s Jenny, Miss, she’s getting married,’ Joan told her.
‘Congratulations, Jenny, that’s wonderful news, but now all of you get back to work. You can chat about it later when you’re on your lunch break.’
A few of them murmured, ‘Yes, Miss,’ and seemingly satisfied the woman returned to her office, which overlooked the factory floor.
Jenny felt a gentle dig in her side and Joan quietly asked, ‘You haven’t told us about the bloke you’re marrying yet.’
‘His name is Craig. He’s a carpenter and lives upstairs from my gran.’
Though they had both spoken quietly, Thelma must have heard and leaned their way to hiss, ‘Yeah, and he’s deaf.’
‘Deaf? Well, that’s a turn-up for the books. At least he won’t be able to hear you nagging him!’ Joan said and chortled.
‘Never mind about wedding bells, what are you going to do about your bloody sister?’ Thelma asked.
‘I’ve tried to persuade her to come home but she won’t listen to me,’ Jenny replied, acutely aware that most of the women were trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. So far the gossip hadn’t reached them, so she hoped Thelma wouldn’t mention anything about her living with Craig. They slept separately, but she knew nobody would want to believe that. Most people preferred to think the worst of others and she’d often hear about someone being slagged off, maybe because it took them away from their own unhappy or mundane lives.
‘You’ve got to do something,’ Thelma moaned. ‘It’s bad enough having to listen to them at it, but now they’re rowing too. She’s a tart, like your mother, and if you can’t make her shift I’ll resort to my own ways of getting her out.’
‘My mother isn’t a tart, nor is Gloria,’ Jenny said and could feel her heart racing.
‘Huh, did you hear that, you lot? Lizzie is a trollop and her daughter’s going down the same road. Ain’t that right, ladies?’
None of the women answered Thelma, nor did they speak up in defence of Jenny’s mother and sister. She felt sick inside, knowing that if they heard that she was living with Craig, they’d turn on her too.
‘Huh, nothing to say, Jenny. Well, I’m warning you, it would be better for Gloria if she went of her own accord.’
Jenny wasn’t sure what Thelma could do but heard the threat in the woman’s words. Gloria had refused to listen to her, but she would have to try again. She said hastily, ‘Leave it with me.’
‘You’ve got ’til the end of the week. If Gloria ain’t gone by Saturday, she’ll be sorry.’
Jenny felt protective of her sister and wanted to front Thelma out, but with everyone listening and watching, she just nodded her head. All thoughts of Craig were gone for a while as she worried about her sister instead.
After finally giving in to Dwight, Lizzie set off for her mum’s flat in the hope that Edith would know where to find Gloria. If she didn’t, she’d have to ask Henry, but after the way he’d kicked off the last time she was there it wasn’t something she looked forward too. Still, it had been ages since she’d seen the boys, so she could kill two birds with one stone.
It was beyond her why Dwight thought the girl should come and live with them, but he’d kept on and on about it, intimating that she wasn’t a good mother. She couldn’t allow him to think badly of her, not if she was going to get her hands on his wealth.
Lizzie used a key she’d had for years and flounced into Edith’s, calling, ‘It’s only me, Mum,’ as she walked into the lounge, to find her mother in her usual armchair listening to the radio.
‘Huh, look what the cat’s dragged in,’ she said, looking her up and down.
‘Hello, Mum, how are you?’ Lizzie responded, choosing to ignore her mother’s derisive remark.
‘I’m fine, not that you’d care. What do you want, Elizabeth?’
Her
mother rarely called her by her full name. As a child, being called ‘Elizabeth’ meant she was in trouble.
‘I don’t want anything, just to see you. Shall I make us a cup of tea?’
‘I’ve just had one and don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. I ain’t stupid. You haven’t been to see me for months, so I can guess you’re only here ’cos you want something.’
Lizzie sighed and said, ‘All right, there is something.’
‘I knew it!’
‘I’m looking for Gloria. Do you know where she is?’
‘Of course I do and so should you. You’re her mother for Christ’s sake. Fancy not knowing where your own kids are. You’re a bloody disgrace.’
‘And you wonder why I don’t come and see you more often. Can you blame me? This is what I get every time and I’m sick of it.’
‘Well then, you should never have walked out on your children. I’m embarrassed to call you my daughter.’
Lizzie drew in a long, slow breath to quell her rising temper. If she was to find Gloria’s whereabouts she’d have to have to remain calm and not goad her mother. Another alternative would be to wait outside the factory gates where Jenny worked and ask her, but she preferred to keep away from the place and the snide comments from the other women who worked there. ‘Mum, please, just tell me where Gloria is.’
‘What do you want with her?’
‘I’ve heard she’s living with a man and it ain’t right.’
‘That’s rich coming from you.’
‘I ain’t sixteen, and I intend to take her home to live with me.’
‘What’s come over you? Are you suddenly developing a conscience?’
‘Look, are you going to tell me where she is, or not?’
‘I suppose so, considering you’re doing the right thing for once. Too little, too late, if you ask me.’
‘I didn’t ask you, so can you please stop digging at me and just tell me where she is.’
‘Digging at you! My God, Lizzie, I ain’t even started! Do you have any idea what those poor kids have been through? No, how could you when you’ve barely seen them.’
