by Kitty Neale
‘I’m staying here.’
Sighing again the doctor took out his fountain pen and scribbled out a prescription, which he handed to Mary. ‘Get this filled as soon as you can, and if her condition worsens, call the surgery immediately.’
‘Yes, doctor. Thank you, doctor.’
With a shake of his head the man left, Mary scurrying to close the door behind him. She then went back and said to Ethel, ‘Is there anything you want before I go the chemist?’
‘No, love,’ she answered weakly.
Worried, Mary chewed her lower lip. Ethel had told the doctor that she could look after her, but she felt out of her depth. Ethel looked dreadful and she wished the woman hadn’t refused to go to hospital. She’d have got proper care there.
When she left the house it was a lovely, mild spring day, but Mary was too worried about Ethel to appreciate it as she hurried to the chemist. Some costermongers called out greetings to her, but she didn’t stop to chat. She was just praying that whatever the doctor had prescribed would work and that Ethel would start to recover.
With the prescription filled, Mary hurried home again, only pausing briefly to appreciate the daffodils and tulips for sale on the flower stall. ‘Wait, Mary,’ Bessie Trimble called as she hastily wrapped two bunches of the flowers. ‘Give these to Ethel, they might cheer her up – and you, too.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ Mary said, the lovely gesture bringing tears to her eyes. In the short time they had lived here, she had found the stall-holders so cheerful and kind. They loved to jest, ribbing her when she was at work in the café, but she didn’t mind. In a way it felt that she had come home, the market workers part of a big-hearted family.
It wasn’t long before she was back, and after sorting out the pills for Ethel, she put the flowers in a vase of water. She carried both through to Ethel’s bedroom. ‘Look, love, look what Bess—’
The vase fell to the floor with a crash. Ethel was hanging off the side of the bed. Mary ran to her and struggled to pull her up. ‘Ethel … oh, Ethel,’ she cried, and fearing the worst she flew out of the door again and dashed to the nearest telephone box to call for an ambulance.
Chapter 25
On Friday morning, Constance waited until Dora and Albie left before putting on her dress. She then slipped on a jacket and, hoping not to arouse suspicion, kept her eyes peeled as she hurried to Jill’s house.
‘That dress looks nice on you, but you could do with a bit of lipstick. I’ve got just the shade to match it,’ Jill said.
Constance put it on, pleased that it gave her a bit of colour. ‘Thanks, Jill. That’s much better.’
‘You should wear eye make-up too.’
‘I haven’t got any.’
‘Blimey, Connie, you really do need taking in hand. I used to be a hairdresser, so when you’ve got a bit more time I’ll give you a haircut. I think the Vidal Sassoon gamine look would suit you.’
‘The what?’
‘Never mind. You’ll see. Now, do you want a cuppa before you leave?’
‘No, thanks, I need to dash off, but we can have a drink and a chat when I come back.’
‘Right then,’ Jill said, leading her to the back door. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘Yes, see you,’ Constance echoed as she left, her eyes still nervously peeled as she hurried via a back street to the bus stop.
Thankfully, Constance didn’t see anyone who might know her and she didn’t have long to wait for a bus, which she got off at Northcote Road market. As always, the busy bustle of the market, with stall-holders shouting their wares, made her smile. She walked to Ethel’s house and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Puzzled, she knocked again, but when there was still no sign of Ethel, she wondered if Mary knew where she was.
Constance walked back to the market and at a stall selling fruit and vegetables she asked for directions to the café.
‘It’s just along there, love,’ he said, pointing.
‘Thank you so much.’
‘You’re welcome, Duchess.’
Constance smiled. It seemed she was collecting titles, first the Queen of Clapham, and now Duchess, but it had been said without malice. She walked the short distance to the café, and opened the door, feeling a blast of warmth and taking in the smell of fried food as she stepped inside. Her eyes flicked around, but seeing no sign of Mary she walked up to the counter. ‘Excuse me,’ she said to the jolly-looking man behind it. ‘I’m looking for Mary.’
‘Are you a friend of hers?’
‘Yes, a good friend.’
‘In that case, you’d better brace yourself for some bad news.’
‘Oh, no, don’t tell me something has happened to her.’
‘Not to Mary, but if you know Ethel, the old girl she lives with, she was rushed to hospital yesterday.’
Constance’s knees almost buckled. ‘Do you know why?’
‘Well, love, she went down with the flu, so it might be something to do with that.’
‘Do you know which hospital?’
‘Bolingbroke, I think.’
Constance turned and as fast as she could, without even thinking to thank the man, she left the café to go to the hospital. With every step she took there was a chant in her head. Please be all right, Ethel, please be all right.
Jill hoped that Connie wouldn’t get caught, but even if she did, she doubted that Albie would be violent. He might have a go at her, but unlike her husband, Denis, he wouldn’t use his fists. She rubbed her arm, sore from a punch he’d landed last night. She’d become adept at covering bruises, along with the fact that her marriage was less than perfect. At the least hint of that, the gossips would have a field day and she wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction. So, as far as anyone knew, she was as happy as a lark with her beautiful baby boy and a husband with a decent job. At least Denis didn’t keep her short of money, so that was something. She’d never be able to put up with having no decent clothes or underwear like Connie.
Jill decided to go for a walk in the park. The fresh air would be good for Andrew, and then on the way back she’d get a bit of shopping. Connie might appreciate something to drink and a cake when she came back so she’d call in at the baker’s. With Andrew snug in his pram she left the house, only to bump into Susan Porter.
‘Wotcher, Jill. Have you heard about Penny Nelson?’
‘Yes. I feel so sorry for her.’
‘Sorry for her! Are you mad? What sort of girl has it off with a black man? It’s bloody disgusting.’
‘Don’t be stupid. What does it matter what the colour of someone’s skin is?’
‘Well, whatever you think, it’s one in the eye for Ivy Nelson, the stuck-up cow.’
‘I’ve never found Ivy stuck-up. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got things to do.’
‘Huh, hark at you, all up yourself now that you’re friends with Albie’s snooty wife. It don’t make you any better than the rest of us.’
‘No, it don’t, but at least we ain’t prejudiced or malicious gossips. Unlike some people around here,’ Jill snapped and then pushing hard on the pram she marched off.
‘I hope you ain’t referring to me,’ Susan shouted after her.
‘If the cap fits,’ Jill mumbled. Susan wouldn’t have heard her, but Jill was still proud of herself for standing up to the old cow.
Constance hurried up to the reception desk at the hospital, joining a queue. She was frantic to find out how Ethel was and twirled a lock of hair with impatience.
‘Constance, is that you?’
‘Mary, thank goodness,’ she said, leaving the queue and throwing her arms around Mary. ‘Please tell me that Ethel is all right.’
‘She’s in intensive care, but the doctor did his rounds this morning and said she’s stable. I’m on my way home to pick up a clean nightie for her and some other bits.’
‘All right, tell me where the ward is and I’ll see you when you get back.’
Mary gave her directions but then said,
‘I doubt they’ll let you stay that long, but if you visit again this evening I’ll see you then.’
‘Oh, yes, fine,’ she agreed, anxious to see Ethel as they parted.
She was about to step into the ward when a nurse stopped her, saying, ‘Excuse me, who are you here to see?’
‘Mrs Jones. Ethel Jones.’
‘Are you a relative?’
‘I’m married to her grandson.’
‘In that case, can you see that he and any other relatives are informed that Mrs Jones is gravely ill?’
‘She … she isn’t going to di—’ Constance choked on the word.
‘At the moment, she is stable but given her age and the seriousness of her condition, we can’t rule out a secondary infection or any complications that could arise. Now you can go in to see her, but only for five minutes.’
Constance barely held it together as she was led to Ethel’s bed. She looked so frail, pale, shrunken, and dragging out a seat Constance took hold of her clammy hand. ‘Oh, Ethel … Ethel,’ she gasped.
Her eyes flickered open, and there might have been a ghost of a smile before they closed again. The nurse repeated, ‘As I said, five minutes and no longer. Mrs Jones needs to rest.’
Constance continued to hold Ethel’s hand, but there was no further response. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing her and inwardly prayed. She had prayed for her mother too, but those prayers hadn’t been answered. She just hoped that this time that God, if there was a God, was listening.
When the nurse came back in to remind her that visiting time was over, Constance reluctantly left the ward. Her mind was all over the place as she journeyed back to Battersea and as soon as she went through Jill’s back door it all came tumbling out.
‘Oh, Jill. I don’t know what to do. Ethel is gravely ill and the nurse told me I should inform her family, but …’
‘Whoa, start at the beginning, Connie. Does this mean that Ethel is in hospital?’
‘Yes, in intensive care,’ she told her. Her mind was so muddled that she found herself thinking that in Kibble Street she was Connie, but that Ethel and Mary still called her Constance. Oh, Ethel, she thought.
‘Come into the front room and sit down,’ Jill urged.
Constance almost stumbled onto a chair and then managed to gather her thoughts enough to relay all that had happened, but then blurted, ‘If I do what the nurse said and tell Dora and Albie, they’ll know I’ve been to see her. They’ll go mad and make my life a misery again.’
‘Don’t tell them then.’
For a moment Constance was tempted, but then knew she couldn’t do it. This might be the last chance they had to see their mother alive, and there was Ethel to think about too. How could she deny her the chance to see her daughter and grandson?
Jill walked over to the window and pulled the net curtain to one side. ‘I thought I heard a car. It’s Albie, he’s home.’
Constance rose to her feet. She hadn’t expected to do it yet, but with her mind made up she would have to go and face him. She thanked Jill and smiling wanly she left, feeling like she was walking into the lion’s den.
No sooner had she stepped in the door than Albie snapped, ‘Where have you been?’
‘I’ve come from Jill’s, but …’
Albie interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. ‘Where did you get that dress?’
‘Jill gave it to me.’
‘Well, you can bloody well give it back. We don’t need charity.’
Something in Constance snapped. She was already fraught with worry over Ethel, and this was the final straw. She’d had enough and shouted, ‘I will not give it back. It’s the only decent thing I’ve got to wear. All my clothes are so small for me now that I’m ashamed to be seen in them. My underwear cuts into me, most of it is ripped, while you swan around in a tailored suit.’
‘Now you want to watch your mouth—’
‘No, I won’t! You asked me where I’ve been. Well, if you must know I’ve been to see your grandmother in hospital. She’s gravely ill and I’ve been advised to inform her relatives. It could mean it’s your last chance to see her before it’s too late.’
‘I don’t give a shit, and I told you not to see her.’
‘You had no right to stop me. I may be your wife, but you don’t own me.’
‘You’ll do as I bloody well say!’
‘No, Albie, I won’t,’ Connie said, suddenly calmer as she realised that she just couldn’t take any more. ‘In fact, I’m leaving you. Our marriage has never been consummated, which means I can get an annulment. I’ll talk to my father and his lawyer, and also ask him to let me stay. If I have to go down on bended knees I will, but even if he refuses, I’m not staying with you.’
‘He won’t take you back and that means you’ll have no choice but to come crawling back to me.’
‘Never! Now I’m going upstairs to pack!’ and with a scathing sidelong glare, Constance marched upstairs as fast as she could to collect her few belongings.
Albie’s temper deflated like a pricked balloon. He’d thought he had Connie under control, but now knew he’d pushed her too far. She had turned and he hadn’t realised she had it in her to stand up to him like that. Sod it. He couldn’t let her leave. She was his cash cow and if she left, any hope of getting more money from her father would leave with her.
Sure that he could turn on the charm and persuade her to stay, he went upstairs to find her stuffing clothes into a small case. Softly, he said, ‘Connie, I’m sorry.
‘It’s too late for apologies.’
‘Don’t say that. I don’t want you to leave me. You’re my wife.’
‘In name only and not for much longer.’
‘Look, I know I haven’t consummated our marriage but I’ve already explained why. I just can’t bring myself to make love to you while you’re pregnant. It don’t seem right and there’s no way I’d be able to get it up.’
‘You make it sound so crude.’
‘Once you’ve had the baby, things will be different, I promise.’
‘Albie, I couldn’t care less that you don’t want me. I don’t want you either. In fact, I despise you.’
‘Don’t say that, Connie. Granted, I know I ain’t been good to you, but that’s because of the way you make me feel.’
‘Oh, so it’s my fault that you order me around like a servant, and keep me penniless.’
‘Well, yes, it is. From the day after we married you tried to belittle me, and I don’t like it.’
‘We’ve already been over this.’
‘It still irks me that you picked me up for calling Sunday lunch dinner.’
‘That’s ridiculous. I wasn’t trying to belittle you. I can’t believe you’ve treated me so badly over something as trivial as that.’
‘There have been other times too, but I realise now I shouldn’t have let it get to me. Now come on, how about unpacking that case again.’
‘No, Albie. I’ve been unhappy for too long now and I can’t take it any more.’
Albie flopped onto the side of his bed, desperately trying to think of a way to persuade Connie to stay. An idea came to him, and though he baulked at the thought, if he wanted to keep his golden goose it might be the only way. ‘Connie, listen, if I agree to see my gran, will you stay?’
Connie spun around, her expression one of contempt, ‘My God, I didn’t think you could sink any lower, but here you are, using emotional blackmail.’
‘I know, I’m a shit, but I’m desperate, and you know how much it would mean to my gran if I go to see her.’
‘Yes, I do know, and also that seeing you might help her to recover.’
‘You’ll stay then?’
Connie sighed heavily. ‘For Ethel’s sake, I don’t think I’ve any choice, but if I stay things have got to change.’
‘They will, you’ll see, and to start with here’s twenty quid. Go and buy yourself some maternity stuff and underwear. I’ll give you five quid a week fr
om now on too.’
‘What about your mother? Do you think you could persuade her to see Ethel too?’
‘I’ll ask her, but I doubt it. When she knows I’m going she’ll probably cop the hump with me.’
‘Yes, well, I know how that feels, but I’m not going to stop seeing Ethel. She means the world to me.’
‘All right, from now on I won’t stand in your way, and I’ll talk to my mum. I’ll tell her to cut you some slack.’
Connie just nodded, and began to unpack. He stood for a moment, wondering if he should cuddle her or something, but looking at the way her face was set, she’d probably push him away. Mind you, that suited him. He’d found an excuse for not sleeping with her, and once the baby was born he’d have to find another.
Albie went back downstairs. He wasn’t looking forward to telling his mother where he was going that evening. Still, you never know, she might just agree to join him in the circumstances. Yeah, and pigs might fly, he thought, smiling ruefully, but at least he could warn her to be kinder to Connie.
That evening, Constance listened to Albie talking to his mother, and could see there was no budging her.
‘Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Mum? From what Connie said, Gran’s really ill and she could die.’
‘So what? She’s been dead to me since the day I found those letters. I can’t believe that you’re going to see her.’
‘I told you why.’
Constance hadn’t been privy to that conversation, but could guess that Albie had told his mother he was only doing this to prevent her from leaving.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘let’s go and get this over with, Connie.’
Dora scowled, but managed a curt goodbye as they left. Albie opened the passenger door of his car and she climbed in, saying, when he got into the driver’s seat, ‘This is the first time I’ve been in this car.’
‘Is it? I didn’t realise.’
‘Albie, if this is going to work, please stop pretending. You know full well you’ve never driven me anywhere.’
‘Yeah, sorry, you’re right.’
Conversation was sparse after that, and she guessed that Albie was annoyed that she had picked him up on his pretence. Constance didn’t care. She was never again going to be the meek, docile wife she’d become. She hadn’t expected him to be so against her leaving, almost begging her to stay, yet she knew it wasn’t because he loved her. Perhaps it was because of the baby, that he really wanted to become a father. She just hoped he’d be a good one. To break the strained silence she said, ‘Ethel and Mary have a flat, just off Northcote Road market, and Mary has got a job in the market café.’
