A Daughter's Ruin

by Kitty Neale

  Ethel wasn’t quiet, though, and said scathingly, ‘You’re a cruel man, Mr Burton Blake, and should be ashamed of yourself. If I hadn’t come, your daughter would have had to face her mother’s funeral alone.’

  ‘How dare you talk to me in that tone.’

  ‘Oh I dare. I’m not your servant now.’

  ‘Come on, Ethel, leave it. Let’s just go,’ Constance urged.

  ‘Yeah, all right, I’m coming. Your father isn’t worth my spit.’

  With that, they walked away, but as they left the grounds Mary tittered, then laughed, sputtering, ‘I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but did you see his face when you told him he wasn’t worth your spit?’

  ‘Yeah, I saw it.’

  Constance found herself smiling. Yes, she had seen the expression on her father’s face too. He had looked astounded, then angry, and she doubted anyone ever had the audacity to confront him like that before. Ethel was right, though, he was cruel, but was Albie any better?

  Constance had told Dora and Albie that Ethel had been at the funeral, and that she now lived in a flat with Mary, but both of them had scowled, telling her they didn’t want to hear the woman’s name mentioned in their house. Constance had tried again, but Dora had been so annoyed that she said no more. Dora was the only one who had shown her any kindness and she didn’t want to ruin their fledgling relationship.

  By the time three more days passed, Constance found living in Kibble Street almost impossible to bear. It was now Friday and she picked up the shopping list that Dora had left for her, along with some money. She would have to go to three shops, the grocer’s, greengrocer’s and butcher’s. She had cycled to the library yesterday, needing a book to read to bury her grief, and hadn’t encountered any neighbours, but with this much shopping she wouldn’t be able to carry it on her bicycle. The books she had chosen gave her some respite, a chance to escape her unhappiness, but she had to make sure she wasn’t reading when Albie was around. It angered her that she had to pander to him, but she had found it easier than having to put up with his moods if she crossed him.

  With a heavy heart Constance put on her coat and tied a scarf around her hair. It was a Hermès, a present from her late mother, and a favourite. She picked up two shopping bags and gingerly left the house, walking as quickly as she could to avoid encountering her neighbours. She was a little breathless when she reached the grocer’s, where there was a small queue at the counter. Constance kept her head down to avoid any of the other customers taking notice of her, but when it was her turn to be served, things changed.

  ‘What can I get you, love?’ the grocer asked.

  ‘I have a list, but to start with I’d like a half a pound of Cheddar cheese.’

  ‘Blimey, did you hear that?’ a voice asked. ‘She must be Albie Jones’s new wife. I’d heard she’s a bit posh.’

  ‘Yeah, and I heard that she’s got a bun in the oven.’

  ‘Is that right? Well, if you ask me that’s bloody disgusting.’

  ‘Yeah, she might be married now, but it’s obvious the horse came before the cart.’

  ‘She might be posh, but she’s a tart.’

  ‘Leave her alone,’ a voice called, one that Constance recognised and she turned to see that Ivy had joined the queue.

  ‘Why should we? She acts like upper class, but she must have the morals of an alley cat.’

  ‘Oh, so you’re perfect all of a sudden are you, Susan Porter? I think you’re forgetting what you got up to when your Reggie was away.’

  ‘Shut your mouth, Ivy Nelson.’

  ‘You didn’t like that did you, Susan? You can dole it out, but you can’t take it. And you ain’t the only one in here that I can chuck shit at, so I suggest you all leave Connie alone.’

  Silence descended, and the grocer said to Constance, ‘What else can I get you?’

  ‘A tin of corned beef and two tins of baked beans,’ she said, relieved when the order was finally complete. She paid for the goods, picked up her shopping bag, and smiled at Ivy, saying softly, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Remember what my Penny called you? You’re the Queen of Clapham, so act the part. Hold your head up high and don’t let the buggers get to you.’

  Constance managed to smile and then made her way to the greengrocer’s, where, once her bag was full and heavy with the weight of potatoes, she carried both bags home, relieved to close the street door behind her. Ivy had been so kind, standing up for her like that, and her feelings warmed towards the woman. She just hoped there were others in Kibble Street who were kind, but so far she had only been treated with nastiness.

  At seven-thirty that evening, Albie said, ‘Right, I’m off out. See you later.’

  Constance said nothing. He’d been out nearly every night since they married, but she didn’t protest. There was no love between them, no affection, and though she tried her best, he criticised her at every opportunity.

  ‘Where are you off to tonight?’ Dora asked.

  ‘I’m going to the snooker hall.’

  ‘Before you go, that cheque must have cleared by now and I want my housekeeping money.’

  ‘All right, here you are,’ he said, peeling off some notes.

  ‘Give Connie at least three quid too.’

  ‘What! Leave it out.’

  ‘Now you listen to me, my boy. Your wife needs a bit of her own spending money. Not only that, she’ll want to buy things for the baby.’

  ‘There’s no hurry.’

  ‘If she starts to get baby clothes now, it won’t be such a big outlay when the time comes. You’ll have enough to fork out for then, such as the pram and cot.’

  ‘All right, don’t nag. You’d said all that before. Here,’ he said, handing a couple of pound notes to Connie.

  She took them, and even managed to thank him, all the while thinking that he was mean in handing out her father’s money. He hadn’t found a job yet and she wondered if he was even looking. Albie went out in the morning, and didn’t show up again until dinnertime so if he wasn’t looking for work, she couldn’t help wondering what he did all day.

  At eight-thirty Constance was reading, something that her mother-in-law didn’t object to. She had suggested teaching her to knit, but Constance had asked if that could wait until she had mastered the other things she had to learn, such as baking bread, which she had yet to tackle.

  She was just starting a new chapter, thinking that the click of Dora’s knitting needles was soothing, when Ivy came in through the back door.

  ‘Wotcher, Dora,’ she said. ‘Has Connie told you what happened in the grocer’s today?’

  ‘No, she hasn’t.’

  ‘I was going to tell you, but then it slipped my mind,’ Constance said.

  ‘Right then, tell me now.’

  It was Ivy who chipped in. ‘Some of the old biddies were giving Connie a hard time and one even called her a tart. Mind you, I soon put her straight.’

  ‘Thanks for that, but don’t worry, Connie, it’ll pass. Once the dust has settled they’ll find some other poor sod to pick on.’

  Constance hoped she was right, and said, ‘It was good of Ivy to stand up for me.’

  ‘Yeah, it was, and thanks again,’ Dora told her. ‘If I hear anything said, they’ll get a piece of my mind too. Do you fancy a cuppa?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ve only popped round to see if I can borrow a bit of sugar.’

  ‘Well, you know where it is.’

  ‘Thanks, love. I’ll pick it up on my way out. Night, night.’

  Dora waited until Ivy had left then sighed heavily. ‘Ivy is a good friend and it was nice of her to stick up for you, but her borrowing is getting a bit much.’

  ‘What does her husband do?’

  ‘Stan has got a good job on the railway and he’s never been tight. Her son, Melvin, contributes too, but with Penny out of work yet still wanting money for clothes and make-up, it could mean Ivy has to stretch her housekeeping more than usual. Mind you, even when Penny wa
s working, Ivy was always borrowing stuff. Maybe she’s just hopeless at making sure she’s got enough food in her cupboards.’

  Constance was hardly listening. So Penny wasn’t at work, but like Albie, she was never around during the day. A suspicion began to form, and though she hadn’t expected to care, it was one that kept her awake that night. Yet if she was right, why did it bother her? It wasn’t as if she had any feelings for Albie. Maybe it was because her pride was hurt – they had been married for a week, and Albie hadn’t attempted to touch her.

  When Albie crept into their bedroom later that night, it was gone eleven. Constance pretended to be asleep, but was still wondering if her husband of just one week was already having an affair.

  Chapter 22

  Another week passed and Constance wasn’t sure she could stand living in Kibble Street for much longer. She’d been unhappy at home, before and after her mother died, but that unhappiness was nothing to how she felt now. She avoided going out as much as possible, knowing that when she did some neighbours would scowl at her, calling her all sorts of names, and it was wearing her down.

  She was also unhappy with the way Albie behaved. He was rarely home, and when he was, he spent his time either criticising her or ignoring her. She’d always lacked confidence, but she was now beginning to feel worthless. She felt trapped – trapped in a loveless marriage. She hadn’t known what to expect when she married Albie, but at least she’d hoped to be shown some affection. After her mother’s coldness and her father’s indifference, it was something she craved.

  There was only one person who had ever shown her any affection, and that was Ethel, so on Monday morning Constance left the housework and the ironing to cycle to see her in her flat near Northcote Road. It was quite a long ride, the wind snapping at her and making her eyes water, but Constance forged on. When she at last arrived she parked the bike on the small front path and knocked on her door.

  ‘Well, I’ll be buggered. I was just thinking about you and here you are at my door. Come in, it’s good to see you.’

  Ethel’s welcome was so warm that tears welled in Constance’s eyes. ‘Oh, Ethel.’

  ‘I can see something’s wrong. Sit down, I’ll make us both a cup of tea, and then you can tell me what the problem is.’

  ‘Where … where’s Mary?’ Constance asked when Ethel returned with the tea.

  ‘She’s got herself a job and started it this morning. It’s a waitressing job in the market café.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Constance said dully.

  ‘Yes, I’ll tell you more about it later, but for now get that down you and tell me what the problem is.’

  ‘I hate it, Ethel. Hate my marriage and living in Kibble Street.’

  ‘Right, one thing at a time. What’s wrong with your marriage?’

  ‘Albie is hardly ever home and when he is, he’s so cold, Ethel … I … I think he hates me.’

  ‘Hate is a strong word,’ Ethel said, pausing as though to gather her thoughts. ‘It could be that Albie feels he was forced into the marriage and feels trapped.’

  ‘He wasn’t forced. My father bribed him and he was happy to take his money. As for feeling trapped – it’s me that feels trapped. I dread leaving the house, because as soon as I show my face in Kibble Street some of the neighbours call me dreadful names. I … I’m not a tart, Ethel. I’ve only been with Albie, and that was just once.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Women can be cruel, but if you hold your head high and pretend that what they say doesn’t bother you, they’ll soon get fed up.’

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to live there, and … and I think that Albie might be having an affair.’

  ‘What! No, I can’t believe that. You’ve only been married for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘That’s just it, Ethel. We may be married, but we’re not living as husband and wife. Albie obviously finds me distasteful and he hasn’t touched me. Not even once …’ Constance sobbed, the tears falling in earnest now.

  ‘Oh, you poor girl. Come here,’ Ethel said, rising to her feet and pulling Constance into her arms. ‘I wish there was something I could do – wish I could give Albie a good talking-to, but you know how he feels about me so it isn’t possible.’

  ‘Why have both Albie and Dora cut you out of their lives?’

  ‘If I tell you I reckon you’ll turn against me too.’

  ‘Nothing could make me do that, Ethel. You’ve been like a mother to me and … and I love you.’

  ‘Oh, bless you, darling. All right, I’ll tell you, if only to take your mind off your own troubles for a while,’ she said, giving her another hug. ‘Now sit down again.’

  Constance listened quietly while Ethel explained the whole story, and frowned when it came to an end. ‘Why didn’t you post Dora’s letters?’ she asked.

  ‘Because I was an interfering mother and thought I knew what was best for my daughter. I felt she should go out with other boys, that she was too young to commit herself to Billy.’

  ‘If you didn’t open Dora’s letters, I can see why you didn’t know she was pregnant, but later, when you found out, why didn’t you post the letter to Billy’s commanding officer?’

  Ethel heaved a sigh. ‘Because I’m selfish, that’s why. I’ve never been a great beauty, and never understood why my husband married me. He was so handsome, and Albie takes after him, both blond, with lovely blue eyes, and well, I adored Fred. I was afraid to admit to what I’d done because I didn’t want him to think badly of me and stop loving me. So I lied, Constance, and I’ve regretted it every day since. I put myself before my daughter and I lost her, my grandson too. I don’t blame them for not wanting me in their lives.’

  ‘Oh, Ethel. I’m—’

  ‘I know, you’re going to say you’re disgusted with me,’ she interrupted, ‘and no doubt you won’t want to see me again.’

  ‘No, Ethel, I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say how sorry I am, and though what you did was wrong, I think you’ve suffered enough.’

  Ethel sniffed and pulling a handkerchief from up her sleeve, she blew her nose. ‘I wish I could turn back time – wish I could put it right. It’s the only really bad thing I’ve ever done, and it lost me my family.’

  ‘There must be something I can do.’

  ‘There’s no point in trying. Albie and Dora’s minds are set, and if you try to interfere they won’t thank you. It would only make things worse for you.’

  ‘Ethel … can … can I live here? I don’t mind sleeping on the sofa and I can do the housework for you, even a bit of simple cooking.’

  ‘Oh, pet, I’d love to say yes, but I’m afraid our tenancy agreement doesn’t allow us to have anyone else living here. If we break the agreement we could be chucked out.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have asked. I’m being selfish and even if you could take me in, I couldn’t expect you and Mary to keep me. I’ll just have to stay with Albie.’

  ‘You’re carrying his child, love, and once it’s born I reckon you’ll see a big difference in him. He’s sure to love it and it’ll bring you closer together.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want us to be closer.’

  ‘I don’t recognise the Albie you’ve described to me. He was always such a lovely young man, a charmer, and you once saw that for yourself. Don’t give up on your marriage yet, Constance. Talk to Albie, tell him how you feel, and it might make him take a good look at himself and the way he’s been treating you.’

  ‘I suppose I could give it a try.’

  ‘That’s my girl. Now go and make us a fresh pot of tea and I’ll tell you all about Mary’s new job.’

  Mary was running around, doing her best to keep up with the orders, but at the same time enjoying the banter with the costermongers. Helen, the other waitress, occasionally gave her a hand, but with her own tables to wait on, there was only so much she could do.

  ‘Did you stick your finger in an electric plug this morning?’ a market trader asked.

  Mary frow
ned. ‘No. What makes you think that?’

  ‘It’s your hair, darlin’, it’s all frizzy and sticking up.’

  ‘Leave her alone, Larry,’ another man said. ‘You’re hardly God’s gift to women.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Larry said, laughing. ‘You’re right there. When I look in the mirror I frighten meself.’

  Mary giggled, and licking the end of her pencil she took their order. She wasn’t offended by what Larry said. She’d been called names in the kids’ home, and had learned that it was better to laugh them off. ‘Do you want baked beans with that?’ she asked Larry.

  ‘No thanks, sweetheart. I don’t want to be shooting bunnies all day.’

  ‘Shooting bunnies?’

  ‘He means farting, love.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Right then, no beans.’

  As Mary took their order to the kitchen, she was smiling. So far she loved this job and it was a big improvement on her last one. ‘Another order, Percy,’ she called.

  ‘Righto. How’s it going out there? Are they behaving themselves?’

  ‘Yeah, they’re all right. I like them.’

  ‘Pat, the waitress you’ve replaced, couldn’t stand their bawdy jokes. Are you sure you’ll be able to cope?’

  ‘Better to listen to jokes than moans, so yes, I’m sure I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Right then, off you go.’

  For the rest of the morning, Mary continued to enjoy the work, and though she made a few mistakes, Percy was patient with her and said she would soon improve. ‘For your first morning, you ain’t done badly,’ he said when the morning rush cleared. ‘It’s time for your break now so what do you fancy to eat? How about a nice bacon sarnie? Lunch is included, a perk of the job.’

  ‘In that case, yes, please.’

  ‘Right, pour your own tea and I’ll give you a shout when it’s ready.’

  In the lull, Helen came over to talk to her, but as her break was to follow she didn’t sit down. ‘I heard what Larry said about your hair. Don’t let it worry you.’

  ‘I won’t. I grew up in a kids’ home and I heard worse than that.’