by Pam Howes
‘Don’t go, Daddy,’ she sobbed. ‘I want you to stay here with us tonight.’
Dora looked away as Joe’s eyes filled. She took the empty coffee mugs into the kitchen, leaving her girls and Joe alone for a few minutes. When she came back into the room Carol was on her knees tugging at Joe’s trouser leg.
‘Come on, Carol,’ she said gently, pulling the little girl into her arms. ‘Let’s find that tin of pilchards you bought for Topsy, she needs her tea. Daddy has to go now. Shall we ask him to come for tea one night in the week after work?’ She looked up at Joe and nodded towards the door for him to leave. ‘She’ll be fine in a few minutes,’ she whispered.
‘Noooo,’ Carol screamed. ‘I’m going home with my daddy. I’ll get my bag.’
Joe stood by helplessly as she pushed Dora away and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door shut.
Jackie burst into tears as Carol came running back out, shoving things into her bag, her coat flung over her shoulders. ‘I don’t want Carol to go to Daddy’s, Mammy,’ Jackie sobbed. ‘She lives with us now.’
Dora took a deep breath. It was the same most Sundays when Joe brought them home. As soon as he’d gone, Carol settled down again as quickly as she’d got upset. But Dora hated this scenario. It made her feel like the wicked witch. She spoke, a slightly firmer edge to her voice this time. ‘Carol, come on now. See how upset Jackie is, and you’re scaring Topsy with all that noise. She’s run under the settee. We have to let Daddy go. Ivy will be wondering where he is. He’ll come on Wednesday for tea, won’t you, Daddy?’ she finished, looking meaningfully at Joe. It was easier for him, to a point. They didn’t cry after her when she dropped them off at the prefab; they were so happy to see him. And if agreeing to come for tea caused him a problem with Ivy, well tough. His daughters should come first, like they did with her.
Joe nodded, looking her in the eyes. ‘Yes, I’d love to come for tea. But only if Carol stops crying right now.’
Carol looked up from beneath her thick fringe and nodded. She wiped her eyes on her cardigan sleeve and gave a watery smile. ‘I promise,’ she said, reaching for Topsy, who had warily ventured out from her hiding place.
‘Good girl,’ Dora said, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘Kiss Daddy goodbye and we’ll go and feed Topsy.’
After she’d settled the girls for the night, Dora sat with a mug of tea, reflecting on the events of the last few months. It would be Christmas in three weeks; time was flying. Carol had settled well in her first term at All Saints School alongside Jackie, and during the week, after school, was a willing little helper to Esther in the shop. She’d proudly arranged all the bobbins of thread in the correct shades and had sorted out the bundles of ribbons and lace, stacking them neatly. She helped to reckon up the cost when customers made purchases of several items, and Esther and Sammy praised her constantly in their efforts to make her feel as welcome as Jackie was. Apart from the regular crying scenes when Joe was leaving, and Dora put that down to Carol’s attempts at trying to control the situation in the only way a child would know how, all seemed to be well. Hopefully it would be easier as Carol got older.
Over the next twelve months Joe came regularly for tea mid-week and Carol seemed to be settling much better. Dora knew it caused him problems with Ivy, but it helped Carol and, as far as Dora was concerned, their daughter’s happiness was far more important than his marriage.
‘There’s something we need to talk about,’ Dora said to Joe after they’d finished tea one Wednesday night and the girls had gone to their room to get ready for bed. They’d all had a nice time, played a couple of board games, and while Dora washed up, Joe had listened to the girls reading their school story books.
He looked at his watch and sighed. ‘I really need to get going. Ivy will pull her face if I’m much longer. Can it wait until the weekend?’
Dora chewed her lip. Something had been bothering her for several months now and she’d been putting off saying anything for fear of causing an argument. But if she didn’t do it soon, she’d never do it. ‘Not really. I want to get the ball rolling and the sooner the better. I already told you I want to change my surname back to Evans, and I want to do the same for the girls, so that it doesn’t look awkward at school if they have a different surname from me.’
Joe stared at her, his jaw dropping. ‘I didn’t think you were serious about that. They’re my daughters. Why do you want to change their names – and yours as well, come to that?’
She folded her hands on her lap and looked him in the eye. ‘I don’t want the same name as Ivy. I hate sharing Mrs Rodgers with her.’
Joe shook his head, staring at her as though she’d gone mad. ‘Well, I can understand your reasoning for a change, but I don’t want you changing their names. That’s completely wrong,’ he finished as Carol appeared at his side, her eyes wide and questioning. ‘And anyway, it’s against the law to do that, isn’t it?’
‘It isn’t. It’s perfectly legal if you do it right. I can do it by deed poll. Frank told me he’d read about it somewhere. We should ask the girls what they think,’ Dora suggested. ‘Carol is old enough to understand and make up her own mind.’
Carol planted her feet firmly apart, hands on her hips. ‘I don’t want to change my name. All my friends at school will laugh at me. I want my name to be the same as Daddy’s.’ She stamped her foot and pouted.
Dora sighed, wondering why on earth she’d assumed this would be easy. ‘What about you, Jackie?’ she asked as her youngest sat down beside her, thumb in her mouth. ‘Do you want the same name as Mammy or Daddy?’
Jackie pointed at Dora. ‘Mammy’s name,’ she whispered.
Joe shrugged and raised his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘Okay. If that’s what you both want. Carol stays a Rodgers and you two can change to Evans.’ He got to his feet and sighed. ‘I’ll leave it with you, Dora. Now I really must go.’
‘Kiss Daddy goodbye, girls.’ Dora stood back as they enveloped Joe with hugs and kisses. She saw him to the door.
‘We’ll see you soon,’ she said as he turned at the top of the stairs. His eyes were moist and she felt a rush of sympathy for him.
‘This still isn’t easy for me, you know,’ he said. ‘I hate goodbyes and being apart from them. But then, you know how that feels, don’t you?’
Dora nodded. She patted his arm gently. ‘I do, Joe. It’s hard, but it gets easier to cope with after a while. Just keep on looking forward to the weekend. It was all I ever lived for, for a long time.’
Joe took a deep breath before getting out of the car. Ivy would be in a right mood – again. He was sick and tired of the way she moaned constantly about his daughters while they were at the prefab, and then even gave him the cold shoulder after he’d taken them home. Punishing him, almost. She hated him going for tea on a Wednesday too, but if it kept the kids happy it was a small price to pay.
He went indoors and called out, ‘Only me,’ as he put his keys on the hallstand and hung his jacket up on the pegs.
Ivy was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove, her back to him. She ignored him as he knew she would. He sat down at the kitchen table and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag and blew smoke into the air. ‘What’s that you’re making?’ he directed at her back. ‘Smells nice.’
‘It’s for tomorrow’s tea,’ she snapped. ‘Mince and onion. Saves me time. I want to go shopping in town tomorrow morning and I’ve got a hairdresser’s appointment in the afternoon.’ She turned the light off from under the pan and removed her frilly pinny. ‘Right, I’m having a bath and an early night.’
‘It’s only just gone half eight,’ Joe said, frowning. ‘I thought we might watch a bit of telly together now I’m home.’
Ivy shot him a withering look. ‘I’m surprised you’re not tired yourself, working and then rushing over there to see her and the kids. Dancing to her demands every week instead of spending time with me. I’m stuck at home on my own all day. It’s not fair. Don’t you think you see enough of them at the
weekend?’
Joe rolled his eyes. ‘No, I don’t. I’d see them every day if it was possible. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t spend anywhere near enough time with them.’
‘And how do you think that makes me feel?’ Ivy’s lips trembled, but there were no tears. ‘After what happened to our poor baby and knowing it’s unlikely I can give you any more children. Don’t you think it upsets me?’
‘I’m sorry, love.’ Joe sighed. She always pulled that one out of the bag and made him feel guilty for being a father. ‘Let me finish my fag and I’ll run your bath for you. Why don’t you go and relax in the sitting room and I’ll pour you a nice glass of sherry.’
Ivy stared at him and then shuffled away in her slippered feet. He jumped up and got a glass out of the cupboard, tipping a generous amount in. A drop of sherry usually made her a bit less grumpy and maudlin. Joe shook his head as he handed her the drink, wishing for the millionth time at least that he’d never met her and was still living with Dora and his precious daughters.
30
JANUARY 1957
Dora hurried back to Homer Street and banged the snow off her boots on the shop mat. She’d just rushed the girls to school, at the last minute as always happened on a Monday after they’d had two lie-ins in a row. Esther and Sammy had arrived while she was out and had put the paraffin heaters on to take the chill off the large room.
It had been really cold since Christmas and even now, the first week of January, it showed no signs of letting up, although the snow wasn’t too heavy. ‘Roll on summer,’ Esther said as she gingerly removed her woolly hat and then put it back on again. She coughed and held her sides.
Dora frowned. ‘That cough sounds worse than it was last week. You need to see a doctor, Esther. You should be home resting. Me and Sammy can manage here.’
‘I’m all right. Don’t fuss. I’m better here than sitting moping about at home. And someone needs to be in the shop while you two are in the workroom.’
Sammy looked at Dora and rolled his eyes. ‘She won’t be told. I suggested she stay in bed and I’d pop back and get her a bit of dinner later. We can manage. The panto season is over so we’ve little theatre work in at the moment, barring a couple of quick repairs, and the wedding season won’t be on us for at least a couple of months. The main work at the minute is the youngsters wanting these new styles they can’t get in the usual shops. Maybe we can offer a bespoke tailoring service for the young men. What do you think? Like those jackets I’ve seen some lads wearing, drape jackets, they call them. Your brother’s got one.’
‘Hmm,’ Dora said with a grin, thinking of her brother strutting around in his red velvet jacket with the black lapels and denim drainies, thinking he looked the bee’s knees. ‘Frank sees himself as a Teddy Boy now, except he’s a bit older than the usual age group. It’s all this new Rock ’n’ Roll music coming over from America. The dresses the girls are wearing now are lovely. Very full skirts with lots of net petticoats to make them stick out when they do that new dance they call a jive.’
Sammy nodded. His face screwed into a frown and his eyes looked as though he were miles away. ‘Just popping out for a minute,’ he announced. ‘Get that kettle on, ladies. I won’t be long.’
Esther stared after him. ‘Wonder what’s got into him?’
Dora shrugged. ‘No idea. Not like him to dash off when we’ve just opened.’
‘It’s far too quiet in here without our Jackie,’ Esther said as she brewed a pot of tea.
Dora smiled. ‘But she loves school and Carol’s well settled so it couldn’t be better. Took a bit of time, and at one point I thought it would never happen, thank God for Topsy. The girls are such good company for each other. Very competitive as well. That little monkey Jackie runs rings around Carol. It’s all down to you though, Esther, all the teaching you did during those few years before she started school.’
Esther poured them a mug of tea each as Sammy dashed back in, bringing a blast of cold air. ‘Hurry up with that door,’ she yelled as he banged the snow from his shoes on the mat. He dropped a handful of magazines onto the counter and smiled.
‘What have you bought magazines for?’ Esther said, picking up a copy of Woman and staring at the cover.
‘To get an idea of the latest styles,’ he said. ‘See, that young girl on the cover there, well she’s wearing a dress like Dora described. We should be aiming at a younger customer. We’ve got our own designer on site. There are hundreds of kids in this city who go out dancing at weekends. They want to dress up a bit, not go out in styles their parents wear. Am I right, Dora?’
She nodded, liking the way the conversation was going, but at the same time wondering how she could possibly make hundreds of dresses. They’d need a factory of their own. Or at least to get one involved with production of her designs. That’s where a place like Palmer’s would have come in handy.
‘What I thought as I walked back from the newspaper shop was that we need a new window display now Christmas is done with. We’ll get the wedding stuff out again in March, but Valentine’s Day is coming up and that would be a nice theme for a fresh display. Do you think you’d have time to knock up a sample dress like that one, Dora, if I nip to the wholesalers and try and get some similar fabric?’
The dress, made in a striking red and white polka dot design, had a sweetheart neckline, button-fronted bodice with cap sleeves and a full skirt with the white net petticoats just peeking out from below. The waist was tiny and cinched in with a shiny white belt. Dora flicked through the magazine and saw that it was called a waspie belt.
‘I’ll get my pad and pencil,’ she said, excitement running through her veins at the prospect of a new challenge. The bodice and neckline were similar to another design she used to make and the skirt would just be masses of gathered fabric attached at the waist.
‘That’s my girl,’ Sammy said, a delighted smile on his face. He rooted in his pocket for his van key. ‘Right, I’m off to look for some spotty fabric and waspie belts. See you later.’
‘And I’ll get cracking on cutting out some paper hearts for the window and when the girls are home from school we’ll colour them red. A real team effort,’ Esther said as Dora’s black cat, tubby now, appeared at her feet and wrapped herself around her legs, rubbing her face on Esther’s fur-topped boots. ‘Hello, Topsy. Wait until you see what a nice treat I’ve brought in for you today.’
‘You spoil her,’ Dora said, ‘just like you spoil me and the girls. No wonder she’s fat. But we love you for it.’
‘Not half as much as we love you lot,’ Esther said, blinking rapidly.
Dora opened the back door and let the cat out. No doubt she’d be back in seconds on a day as cold as today was. Just as she’d expected, Topsy wanted back in within a few moments. Dora shut the door and went to put her coat upstairs, taking her mug of tea with her.
She switched on the wireless and turned the dial to the Light Programme. The good thing about all this new music and fashion coming over from the USA was the singers were good-looking and the songs were exciting, compared to most post-war music. Big swing bands like Joe’s were falling out of style and soon there’d be no work for them in the social clubs. She wondered how he’d manage without his extra weekly income now he was providing her with money for both girls. Ivy would just have to get off her fat backside and find a job. How long did it take to get over a miscarriage, if there even had been one? She was milking it for all it was worth. Nearly three years. What a joke.
Dora thought back to how she’d coped with the death of her newborn, two bouts of severe depression and another birth in less time than that. That woman had really seen Joe coming. Dora almost felt sorry for him. But he’d been stupid to marry her when there had been no need. Ivy didn’t seem to like him spending time with his girls either. Although Joe wouldn’t let anything stop him from having them at the weekend and his Wednesday teatime visits. But Jackie had told her just before Christmas that when Daddy went for a paper or
popped out to the shops, Aunty Ivy shouted at them, and she always moaned at Daddy that she had a headache because they were there and she said that he should take them home.
Dora had asked Jackie what did Carol say about Aunty Ivy shouting at them and Jackie had shrugged her shoulders. ‘She said nothing. I don’t like Aunty Ivy, Mammy. I wish she’d go out when we’re at Daddy’s.’
Dora resolved to mention this to Joe next weekend before things got to the point where Jackie didn’t want to go and see him. It was so handy to have the time to herself while Joe looked after them. She loved going to visit her mam at the home and catching up with Frank, who’d told her she should come along to the Grafton one night with him and his mates and he’d teach her how to jive. One Saturday she planned to do just that, so that she could see first-hand what the young people were wearing to go out in.
Dora sat at one of the cutting-out tables and began to sketch dresses like the ones in the magazine. As if on cue, the latest singing sensation Elvis Presley began to warble a song that sent a thrill through her. ‘I Want You, I Need You, I Love You’. The words sent a shiver down her spine and she imagined being in Joe’s arms and him singing along, whispering in her ear. She took a deep breath, before the tears that were never far away could take hold, and carried on sketching.
Dora snapped out of her trance as she heard Esther calling her name, and ran down the stairs. ‘Wait until you see these,’ Sammy said, laying two huge rolls of cotton fabric on the counter. He dashed back outside to the van and came in carrying two wrapped bales of white netting for the underskirts. He took the wrappings off the fabric rolls and Dora gasped as she ran her hand over the surface.
‘Those are fabulous,’ she said. One roll was red with white polka dots and the other black. The polka dots were the size of a shilling piece and the colours really striking.
‘And look.’ He held up a small box that contained an assortment of shiny waspie belts in white and red. ‘Thought the red would look good with the black dress. Adds that bit of colour. Maybe girls could match their shoes to it. What do you think?’
