Authors: Kitty Neale
‘I’m thirsty. Can I have a drink please, Mummy?’
‘Of course you can,’ Mavis said, smiling fondly at her son. ‘Orange juice?’
James nodded and as she mixed the juice with water, Mavis’s mind was still full of memories. Grace could hardly remember her real father and James’s memories of him were fading day by day. That was a good thing as Alec had beaten James badly, although not as often as he’d beaten her. Mavis shuddered as she recalled the pain of the frequent bruises she’d had to keep hidden for so long.
‘I want some juice too,’ another voice demanded.
‘Grace, you won’t get anything unless you ask for it properly,’ Mavis said sternly.
Grace looked sullen for a moment, but then said, ‘
Please
can I have some orange juice.’
‘That’s better,’ Mavis said approvingly and when Bobby appeared she made him a drink too.
Once finished they all ran off again, while Mavis poured herself a cup of tea and then stood sipping it whilst watching the children through the kitchen window. James was now running around without a care in the world. He was still a thoughtful little boy, often seeming older than his eight years, and he wasn’t as withdrawn and fearful as he’d once been. As for Grace, even when a toddler she’d always said exactly what she thought – nobody had ever had to teach her how to put her foot down. She was more like her Granny Lily than anyone else and Lily was very fond of her granddaughter.
Mavis smiled ruefully again. As a girl she had found school hard, which had led to her being friendless and awkward. Grace on the other hand was fearless. She was a force to be reckoned with, and her teachers didn’t know whether to praise her for her willingness to speak up in class or to punish her for never shutting up. Yet she was generous and kind-hearted – there she was now, making sure Bobby was all right after he’d taken a tumble. Mavis started, wondering if she should rush out, but Bobby didn’t cry and she could see he’d only grazed his knee. He was made of tough stuff, the spitting image of Pete right down to the squashed nose. He’d known nothing but love all his short life and responded by loving everyone right back.
Mavis decided she’d finish her tea and then call them in as the light was fading and it would be getting cold, even if they were running about like champion athletes, exploring every nook and cranny of the new garden. She’d give them something to eat and a Corona fizzy drink for a treat to mark their first day in their new home. Then Tommy would be here.
Tommy. Her heart flipped over. Despite what Lily said, Mavis wouldn’t be giving him a tour of her bedroom in the upstairs flat, no matter how much she might want to. It wasn’t so much that Mavis craved respectability; she’d done that once and a fat lot of good it had done her. It was fear that held her back, along with the fact that she doubted she could ever completely trust a man again, even Tommy. He appeared perfect, kind, and caring, but Alec had seemed kind too. All that changed when she married him and she had been through too much to risk making the same mistake again.
‘I’m not bloody having it!’ Rhona Foster, screamed in frustration as they neared the end of their shift. ‘How the hell do they expect us to do the same work but faster? Whose bright idea was that? They can stuff it, I’m not going to do it.’
‘Yes you are and you know it.’ Jean Barker, at twenty-six – seven years older than her hot-tempered colleague – had seen and heard it all before. Anyone could tell from a glance at her that she took no nonsense, from her sensible shoes to her tidy brown hair, now hidden under the regulation scarf they were all meant to wear on shift, though the younger ones often ignored the rule. ‘It won’t make any difference what we say. You’ve been at this factory for three years now, Rhona, and can you remember a time when the foreman ever listened to us? So we got to put up with it and get on with it. Unless you want to lose your job, which I can’t see your mum being very happy about. I sure as hell don’t want to lose mine.’ She began to fold the cardboard boxes that had been stacked flat in the back room of the factory. ‘Come on, let’s make a start.’
‘Rhona’s right, they’re picking on us,’ moaned Penny, who at eighteen was the youngest of them, a year younger than Rhona and half a head shorter. She shook her mass of wavy blonde hair. ‘It’s not fair. I’ll break me nails. I don’t know why we have to lift those horrible filthy things anyway.’
‘It might have something to do with someone round here chucking the foreman’s nephew last week,’ Jean said. ‘I’m not casting aspersions, just saying. There he was, thinking it was love’s young dream, and then he gets the old heave-ho before he even knows there’s something wrong. Get bored, did you, Rhona?’
Rhona shut her eyes in exasperation. ‘For God’s sake. He was awful. Hands like a wandering octopus, and he kissed like a flabby sponge. Couldn’t dance, couldn’t get me backstage. What earthly use was he? I only went out with him ’cos he said he could get free tickets to the Talisman club and then it turned out we had to pay anyway. Good riddance to him. I’d rather stack boxes than get stuck with him for another evening, and that’s saying something. Sorry, girls, that’s the truth.’
‘So my nails get ruined ’cos you chucked Andy Forsyth?’ Penny glared at her friend.
‘You don’t seriously expect me to make up with him for that?’ Rhona glared back. ‘And put your scarf back over your hair or you’ll get it full of dust and then you’ll blame me for that as well.’
‘I hate wearing it. It makes me look like me Auntie Rita and she’s nearly fifty.’ Penny made a face as if she couldn’t imagine anything worse. But she did as she was told, because getting factory dust out of her curls took ages and she hoped to have better things to do with her time. She noted that Rhona still hadn’t put her own scarf on.
‘Well, you should be used to it,’ said Jean without sympathy. ‘Get on with it, Penny, or we’ll be here until Saturday, and I’m sure you’ve got other ways to spend your weekend than finishing off this lot.’
‘I know I have,’ said Rhona and gave them a wink as the thought of what was in store brightened her mood. ‘I’ve found myself another hot date. He’s gorgeous, he plays the guitar and guess what he’s got backstage passes to?’
Jean shook her head as she really didn’t care, but Penny was beside herself with curiosity, her curls bobbing up and down. ‘Where? Go on, don’t be mean, what are you up to? Has he got a friend, can I come? Aren’t you going to tell us?’
Rhona pretended to turn away but she couldn’t resist her moment of triumph. ‘I’m going all the way up to North London to see the Rolling Stones. How about that?’
Jean shrugged, as she couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Penny screamed and quickly covered her mouth with her hands. Rhona glowed. ‘Yep, he’s called Kenneth and he knows everybody, I mean everybody, and he’s going to introduce me to the band and everyone behind the scenes. So why do I care about this stupid factory?’ She tossed her hair, which she tried to style like Brigitte Bardot’s, though that wasn’t easy working in such a place. She liked it when people said she looked like the film star though – and there was a reasonable resemblance, as Rhona’s eyes were dark and wide, and her hair a similar blonde. ‘You heard it here first, folks. He might be my ticket away from all of this.’
Tommy Wilson checked the sign at the end of the street to make sure he’d come to the right place. It wasn’t as if this was his first time in Peckham, but he wasn’t as familiar with the area as he was with his old stamping ground, Battersea, or with where he lived now, over in Wandsworth. Still, he thought as he thrust his hands in his jacket pockets against the cold, with luck he’d be seeing a whole lot more of this road. If this was where Mavis lived then this was where he wanted to be.
He still counted himself lucky that she’d agreed to go out with him, even though they’d been dating for a year and a half. He knew Mavis was the one for him. But he’d treated her so badly when they were kids growing up on the same mean and dingy street that he wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d said she wanted nothing to do with him.
When they’d met again as adults, it was soon clear the attraction ran deep on both sides. But the timing wasn’t right. He had just got divorced from his wife, Belinda. He hadn’t wanted to admit it but inside he’d been a mess. As for Mavis, she’d been married to that cold fish, Alec Pugh. What a useless excuse for a man he had been – or still was, wherever he was. A coward as well as a bully. Tommy clenched his fists at the memory. He couldn’t abide men who abused their physical superiority and beat women and children. He seethed at the thought of anyone laying a hand on Mavis in anger.
He checked the numbers on the front of the houses. He was nearly there. The buildings were of three storeys, with tall windows, and it didn’t look too bad a place at all. After Alec’s disappearance, Mavis had rented a small house on Harwood Street for a couple of years, not too far from here, next to her mother and Pete. Although it was a step up from Battersea it had been too cramped for her and two growing children. But these places, even though they were still terraced, looked much bigger. Mavis had said the road had a dog-leg bend and they were in the corner of that. Here it was – just as she’d described it. The front of the house was, if anything, narrower than those around it but Mavis had said around the back, because of the bend, there was a bigger garden than those of the neighbouring properties. So it would be ideal for the kids, and she and Lily would still have lots of space for a washing line and maybe even some vegetable beds.
Tommy smiled to himself. He couldn’t quite see Lily getting her hands dirty planting up tomatoes.
For a moment he wondered what it would be like to work in the garden with Mavis. He’d build them a couple of raised beds, and he’d show James how to hammer them together at the corners, or maybe they could get a shed … He shook himself. First things first. He was always getting carried away with dreams of the future but before any of that could happen they had to sort out the present. He was sure Mavis felt the same way about him as he did about her, but he couldn’t blame her for being cagey. She’d been badly hurt and he had to let time take its course and heal her deep wounds.
Again Tommy felt a surge of anger at Alec Pugh and his brutal behaviour. Calm down, he told himself. This is a day to celebrate. New house, new start. He fingered the little box he carried in his pocket and pictured Mavis’s beautiful face when she saw it.
‘Sure you don’t want anything stronger, sweetheart?’ asked Pete, picking up his empty pint glass and standing, stretching to ease his aching back. ‘I’ll have one more of these then we can get home. This isn’t a bad local, is it?’ He gazed around the lounge bar, all polished brass and dark wood. ‘I passed it by loads of times when we were doing the house up but never came in. See what we were missing out on.’
‘I’ll stick to bitter lemon,’ said Lily. She’d never been one for drinking – she’d had enough of that from her first husband who, if he wasn’t gambling away their rent money, was blowing it down the pub. ‘I like it in here. At least I’ll know where to find you from now on.’
‘I can’t keep away from you for long, you know that.’ Pete eyed his wife appreciatively. He was a lucky man and he knew it. He was under no illusions about his looks and yet he was married to a stunner. All those years of waiting had been worth it. He felt on top of the world. His own business, the most gorgeous woman in London and, just when he’d given up hope, a son of his very own who was the spitting image of him. A pity Bobby hadn’t inherited his mother’s head-turning looks in some ways; but Pete knew plenty of blokes who were far more handsome than him yet it hadn’t brought them happiness.
No, when times were tough, Pete thought, it was all about character, that’s what got you through. That’s what had got him to where he was today. If anyone deserved a second pint it was him: he owned that whole house, and he’d fitted it out to keep his family safe. He pushed to the back of his mind the uncomfortable thought that it wasn’t exactly bought and paid for. He’d be able to meet the mortgage without a problem just as soon as the big construction project was confirmed, and it was well-nigh one hundred per cent certain that it would be. He was proud that his company was the front runner for it – who’d have thought a bricklayer like him could end up doing so well? No need to worry, and certainly no need to share that bit of information with Lily.
Lily watched him, nursing her small glass in her hand. She didn’t want to admit how tired she was. Everyone said moving house was one of the most stressful things you could do, and God knew she’d had to do it often enough. This was different though: no more renting, getting by in substandard places with dodgy landlords and dodgier agents. They now had their very own place – and with Mavis safe above them, she could keep an eye on her beloved grandchildren too. Guiltily, Lily recalled how she hadn’t lavished love on Mavis when she’d been a child. She hadn’t been able to understand why her daughter had been so difficult and awkward, but nobody had heard of word blindness then. Now Lily intended to make up for it by devoting herself to James and Grace, and ensuring Bobby wanted for nothing. Blimey, fancy being a mother at her age. No wonder she was tired. She just didn’t have the energy to cope with a very active toddler and move house.
‘Here you go, girl.’ Pete put a glass of bitter lemon in front of her. The bright lights of the pub reflected in the cloudy liquid. ‘We might want to take our time over this. I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. Maybe Mavis will be giving Tommy a tour of her new bedroom.’
Lily eyed him above the rim of her raised glass. ‘No, Pete. I don’t think so.’ She sighed. ‘Mavis ain’t like me, not in that respect. Once bitten twice shy, that’s her problem, and as it was so hard fought, she doesn’t want to give up her independence.’
‘Yeah, I know, but Tommy won’t wait forever.’
‘Well nothing is going to happen at the moment, that’s for sure. Mavis is looking after the kids. Bobby will have gone to bed by now but James won’t and I bet Grace is playing up with her first night in her new room by herself.’