by Kitty Neale
‘Probably not,’ Sarah answered, ‘so I’m going to have to do it.’
‘How are you going to manage that?’
‘I’ll have to leave school, I suppose,’ Sarah said.
‘But you can’t do that. You’re right clever, you are. You could have gone to grammar school if you’d taken your eleven plus.’
‘Maybe, but we’ll never know, will we, ’cos I didn’t have any shoes at the time. Not that it would have done me any good now,’ Sarah answered as she devoured the last of the stew.
Mrs Turner came back into the kitchen with a cloth bag bulging at the seams. ‘’Ere you go, love. This little lot will get you started, but I want the bag back.’
‘Thanks, thank you so much,’ Sarah said, taking the bag. ‘Can you show me how to make up the formula, please?’ She had a good idea of how it was done, but she wanted to quieten Tommy before returning home.
Mrs Turner prepared the bottle, while Jenny showed Sarah how to put a nappy on the baby. ‘We’d better put something warm on him too. Babies feel the cold, ain’t that right, Mum?’ Jenny said, and rummaged through the bag for something suitable.
‘Yes, love, they do, so keep him wrapped up warm. And, Sarah, try to get some sleep when you can, ’cos if your Tommy is anything like mine he’ll have you up most of the night.’
Once Tommy had been fed and drifted off to sleep, Sarah made her way back along the corridor. With her arms full, and Tommy content, she slowly pushed open the door to her flat, and was relieved to hear her mother still snoring. She placed Tommy on her mattress and emptied the contents of the bag. Mrs Turner had been very generous. She found towelling nappies and safety pins, and three little hand-knitted outfits, as well as some mittens and a hat. There was even a small stuffed toy.
She carefully moved Tommy over on the bare mattress, hoping it wouldn’t disturb him. Then she lay down next to him and stared at him in awe before closing her eyes.
She gently pulled him close to her. ‘I’ll protect you,’ she whispered, all the time worried her mother would wake up and snatch the child away.
Chapter 3
Annie had never felt so rough. She was sore down below and ached all over. This was one of the worst hangovers she’d ever had. She squinted against the daylight as she opened her eyes. A stiff drink would sort her out, she thought, then remembered with horror – she’d given birth.
Her head was thumping, but she managed to push herself up and saw Sarah sat at the table. To her disgust, her daughter was holding the baby and looked to be bottle-feeding him.
‘I thought I told you to get rid of him,’ she snapped.
Sarah didn’t answer but, to Annie’s surprise, she saw her daughter throw her a look of disdain.
‘So what’s he still doing here?’ Annie demanded.
‘Mum, I can’t get rid of him. It ain’t that easy.’
‘Of course it bloody is! If you’d gone out last night when it was dark, like I told you to, you could have thrown him over Battersea Bridge and no one would have seen you.’
Annie saw her daughter’s eyes widen in shock. The stupid little goody-two-shoes, she thought.
‘I couldn’t do that! It would be murder! I thought you was kidding last night. Mum, how could you? Tommy’s your child!’
‘Tommy, eh. So you’ve given the bastard a name. Don’t get too attached. I’m telling you, he ain’t staying!’ Annie said, and lay back down on the mattress.
‘Please, Mum, I’ll look after him. You won’t have to do a thing. Look, I’ve got him some clothes and nappies … Please …’
Annie rolled her eyes and heaved a deep breath. She didn’t want to be thinking about it. She could feel dried blood on her legs, so she’d have to get up and wash herself down. Bugger, she thought, as she realised she’d be out of action for at least a week. That would make it difficult to get her hands on any booze, and a bottle of gin took priority over a bastard baby.
‘Do what you want, Sarah, just keep the bloody thing out of my sight, and don’t expect me to feed it,’ she answered dismissively. The sooner her milk dried up, the better, she thought, as she glanced down at her engorged breasts. She’d have to be extra careful in future and avoid any more unwanted pregnancies. After all, a swollen stomach wasn’t good for business and was taking its toll on her body.
Worse still, as Sarah appeared reluctant to dump the child, it looked like she’d be burdened with this one too. She couldn’t force the girl to do it, but that didn’t mean she’d have to look after it. As far as she was concerned, if her daughter wanted the baby, then she’d be the one to take care of it, and woe betide her if she didn’t keep the little bastard out of her way.
Chapter 4
Christmas came and went, and, as expected, Sarah’s festive stocking had been empty. Her mother said she didn’t believe in Christmas, and years before had told Sarah that Santa Claus didn’t exist.
Now, another four months had passed and Sarah was pleased the bitterly cold winter was behind them. As the early afternoon spring sunshine broke through the April clouds, she pushed Tommy’s pram through the housing estate. She’d found the pram broken and dumped at the bottom of the stairs, and though she didn’t like Eddy, she’d been thankful that he’d managed to repair it.
Her stomach growled. It had been days since she’d eaten properly, just a few mouthfuls of vegetable broth here and there. Her mother had given Sarah some bread ration coupons, but she’d sold them to buy formula for Tommy.
Sarah stopped for a moment and pulled back the pram hood, allowing the sun to warm Tommy’s face. As he happily gurgled, she smiled lovingly at him, satisfied that her sacrifice of food was worth it to see Tommy thriving. He was six months old now and she’d soon have to wean him off the formula, and then it wouldn’t be long before he would be walking and talking. Though she was keen to see her brother develop, part of her wished he could stay forever a small bundle, safe in her arms. She feared once Tommy was a toddler, their mother’s patience would wear thinner, and she wondered how she’d protect him against her vicious tongue and brutal ways.
‘Hey, Sarah.’
Sarah heard her friend’s voice calling her name and looked behind to see Jenny running towards her. Though they were both now fourteen years old, Sarah thought Jenny looked very young with her blonde hair in pigtails.
‘I haven’t seen you for ages,’ Jenny said breathlessly when she caught up with her.
‘I’ve been busy with Tommy. You know how it is.’
‘Yeah, I suppose. A bunch of us are going over to the old bomb site. Stanley’s dad made him a new cart and Molly and me are gonna have a leapfrog race with him. Do you want to come? It’ll be a right laugh.’
Sarah thought for a moment. She would’ve loved to join her friends and play, carefree, but she had more pressing things on her mind. ‘No, not today. I’m taking Tommy for a walk in the park.’
‘Oh, Sarah, you’re not off to see that old codger again, are you?’ Jenny asked and rolled her eyes.
‘Mr Sayers ain’t an old codger … He’s really nice.’
‘If you say so. Well, suit yourself, I’m off. You’re no fun any more.’
Sarah watched her friend skip away. Unlike her, Jenny didn’t look as if she had a care in the world, and as much as Sarah loved Tommy, a part of her was jealous and yearned for her old life back. Dismissing her thoughts for now, and driven by the need for something substantial to fill her belly, she continued through the estate, heading for Battersea Park. A cool breeze caught her long dark hair and whipped it over her face. Tucking it firmly behind her ears, she marched on, hoping to find Mr Sayers working on his allotment.
Part of the park had been given over to the war effort and many allotments remained, though with the new sculptures they were erecting and the redevelopment of the park, Mr Sayers had told Sarah he wasn’t confident he’d have his little piece of land for much longer. Still, it suited them both for the time being.
She had first met him in th
e park, when he’d seen her picking and scoffing wild blackberries which were growing in some brambles along one of the more discreet pathways. When he’d discovered she was eating the fruit because she was so hungry, he’d taken her to his allotment and offered her some cabbages to take home. That had been a year before Tommy had been born, and since then a firm friendship had developed. Mr Sayers’ eyes weren’t good, and he missed reading the daily papers. Sarah would sit and read aloud to him, and in exchange he would provide her with seasonal fruit and veg.
Once in the park and a little further on, she spotted her elderly friend, leaning into his shovel and digging the soil.
‘Hello, Mr Sayers,’ Sarah called, waving eagerly.
The man stood up and arched himself backwards as he squinted into the sun to see her. ‘Hello, love. I thought you might come down today so I’ve just been digging up some lovely rhubarb for you. Come and have a look at this! I can’t believe how big it’s grown, especially after all that snow we had a couple of months back!’
Sarah had heard of rhubarb but she’d never eaten it. She looked at the red and green stalks with a dubious expression on her face.
‘Boil it up in a saucepan, that’s all you have to do. With these blinking rations, I doubt you’ve got any sugar, but if you have, sprinkle a bit on, and there you have it, stewed rhubarb. You’ll love it, and so will the boy,’ Mr Sayers said, and handed Sarah the fresh fruit before looking into the pram at Tommy, who greeted the toothless old man with an equally gummy grin. ‘Blimey, he’s getting big.’
‘Yes, he is, and I think it’s time he came off the milk, so I’ll give him a bit of this rhubarb later. Thank you.’
‘Sarah, come and sit down, pet. There’s something I need to tell you.’
She noticed a troubled expression on Mr Sayers’ lined face, and instantly her heart began to pound in anticipation of bad news. She sat on a rickety bench and watched with concern as he slowly lowered himself down beside her. His back must be playing up again, she thought, wishing there was more she could do to help the dear old man. His wife had passed away many years ago, and now Mr Sayers rented a room in a house owned by an elderly couple. The rent was reasonably cheap and was supported by the fruit and vegetables he supplied, and though it was not ideal, he always said he was happy enough, although his landlady was a mean-spirited miser. He’d once told Sarah he was even charged extra for using the shed. On a few occasions, Sarah had helped Mr Sayers carry his tools back to the shed, but she’d never been invited into the house.
Mr Sayers took Sarah’s hand, and sighed a long, deep breath. Though his palms were calloused, she noticed the papery skin covering the back of his hands, and could feel him shaking.
‘What is it, Mr Sayers?’
‘Thing is, Sarah … well, I’m an old man and I’ve had a good innings. I’ve seen five kings and queens come and go, and I’ve lived through two World Wars. But my time’s about up and it won’t be long before I’ll be seeing my Dulcie again.’
Sarah knew Mr Sayers’ wife had been called Dulcie, but she was dead.
‘I don’t understand …’ she muttered, praying it wasn’t what she thought.
‘I ain’t going to mince my words, so I’ll tell you straight … I’m dying, love. The doctor says I’ve got this blinking disease that’s gonna finish me off within a few months.’
At the thought of losing her substitute granddad, Sarah instantly felt tears welling up in her eyes. Mr Sayers was such a caring, sweet man, and as most of her old schoolfriends now shunned her, he was pretty much the only friend she had. He couldn’t be dying – it wasn’t fair!
‘Now, now, now … we can’t have any of that sad stuff. Like I said, I’ve had a good and long life, but I’ve missed my Dulcie. It’ll be good to be with her again.’
Sarah pulled her hand away from Mr Sayers’ and wiped her snotty nose with the cuff of her sleeve. ‘But … but … but I’ll miss you!’ she blurted out.
Mr Sayers shuffled further along the bench and placed his arm around Sarah’s shoulders.
‘I’m sorry, pet. There’s nothing I can do about it. Death is a part of life and comes to us all eventually. I didn’t want to tell you, but I had to ’cos I won’t be coming up here no more. It’s getting a bit much for me now. Come on, stop crying, you’ll upset young Tommy …’
Sarah heaved in a juddering breath and looked into Mr Sayers’ grey, watery eyes. ‘So … is this the last time I’ll see you? No, it can’t be! Let me come and look after you … please …’
‘You can’t, love. My son and his wife are coming to pick me up tomorrow morning. They’re taking me to live out my days with them in a town up north called Liverpool,’ said Mr Sayers, then chuckled before adding, ‘It ain’t my cup of tea – they talk funny up there! Cor, you should hear the way my daughter-in-law sounds. Still, it’s for the best, I suppose.’
Sarah threw her arms around the old man, sobbing hard. Mr Sayers was like the granddad she’d never had, and her heart was breaking at the thought of never seeing him again.
‘You’ve got to be a brave girl. No more tears,’ he said, and gently eased himself away from her.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah said as she tried to pull herself together. ‘Can I walk back through the park with you?’
‘Of course you can, though when we get to the gates, I don’t want any of this mushy long goodbye stuff … just a quick wave and a “see you later”. OK?’
‘All right,’ Sarah reluctantly agreed. She knew she was going to mourn Mr Sayers for a long time to come. As they walked through the park, she wondered what would happen to him. If he really was going to see his Dulcie again, would he be able to get a message to her dead brother?
Chapter 5
Annie drew a long breath on the roll-up she’d made from old dog-ends that Sarah had collected off the streets. She sat at the kitchen table, irritated at the thought that at any minute the front door would fly open and her children would be home.
Eddy had just left and given her a jug of beer. She poured some into a tin cup and drank quickly in the hope of getting rid of the disgusting taste he’d left. She hadn’t wanted him to finish in her mouth but he’d forcefully held her head to his manhood and had almost choked her. She had thought of biting down, that would have taught the bugger a lesson, but then he’d have been annoyed with her and wouldn’t have given her the beer. So, with little choice, she’d been compliant, but if he wanted that again, she’d demand gin next time.
‘Hello, Mum,’ Sarah said, sounding subdued as she came in, holding Tommy in one arm and a bunch of rhubarb in the other.
Annie managed a grunt, but she couldn’t be bothered to get into a conversation with the girl. Tommy flashed her a wide smile. The brazen little brat, she thought as she glared at him, and was pleased to see him turn his head and bury it in Sarah’s shoulder.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve had anything to eat, have you, Mum?’ Sarah asked.
Annie didn’t bother to answer.
‘I’ll take that as a no then. I’m making me and Tommy some stewed rhubarb. Do you want some?’
Annie rolled her eyes and shook her head. No, she bloody didn’t want any rhubarb. Just the thought of it made her want to heave.
‘Oh, Mum, you’ve got to eat. You’re so thin, come on, it’ll do you good.’
Here she goes again, Annie thought, her righteous daughter, nagging and mithering as usual. Annie didn’t want to hear it. She scraped her chair back, then grabbed her coat and walked to the front door.
She heard Sarah say, ‘Mum … where are you going?’ but didn’t bother to turn around.
‘Out,’ Annie snapped back. She had enough coins in her purse to visit the pub. She knew she wasn’t welcome in there, but anything was better than sitting indoors and watching her bastard son stuff his face with Sarah fussing over him. If Sarah had dumped the brat when he’d been born she wouldn’t have to keep looking at him. Every time she saw his face, she wanted to punch it in. The little bleeder
looked just like his father, and that was a face she’d sooner forget.
Ten minutes later, Annie pushed open the door to the pub and was immediately hit by the smoky atmosphere. She made her way to the bar, ignoring the snide comments from men in flat caps supping on their ales.
‘A large gin, straight, and half a beer,’ Annie said to the landlord.
‘Let me see your money first, Annie,’ the man demanded.
‘You know I’m good for it, Cyril, but …’ She pulled some coins from her purse and slapped them down on the counter.
Cyril nodded and proceeded to pour her drinks, and as Annie waited, she caught sight of a woman in the mirrored wall behind the bar. The woman could have been very attractive with her long, dark hair and olive skin. Her black eyes gave her an exotic look, but she appeared old and haggard. With a jolt, Annie realised she was staring at her own reflection. She hadn’t recognised herself.
Cyril placed the drinks in front of her, and she quickly knocked back the gin. How had it come to this, she thought, looking again at the aged image of herself. Men had used and abused her as far back as she could remember, but now she thought she had the upper hand. Surely it was her using them? She was in control, sleeping with them for what she could get. Granted, it wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep a roof over her head and fill her belly with beer.
The trouble was, it had also filled her belly with three kids. Two had lived and she despised and resented them. They had different fathers, but she hated both men equally. Sarah’s dad, Ron Lyons, had been her first love. When they’d got together, he was a married man, but had promised to leave his wife and marry her. She’d been fool enough to believe him, only to be dumped at sixteen as soon as she’d told him she was pregnant. Now every time she looked at her daughter, she saw Ron’s emerald- green eyes looking back at her. As for Tommy’s dad … a shudder went down her spine when she thought of him. The man was pure evil and she regretted the day she’d ever breathed the same air as him.
