Mothers and Daughters (30 page)

‘It’s not that. You know how it is – an Englishman’s home is his castle. He’s not good with visitors late at night … We have a routine.’

‘No worries, Joy, you don’t have to explain.’ Connie waved to her and jumped back in the car, feeling hurt. She was learning fast that once her friends were in couples they shut themselves off into their little nests from which she was excluded. Two’s company, three’s a crowd. Now they were almost polite strangers. All those years growing up together counted for nothing once a husband came into the equation.

But in her heart she sensed there was more in this – Joy’s nervous agitation, her preoccupation with the time. Why on earth was she afraid of being late?

To Connie’s surprise Gran was pleased with the coming invasion. She’d invited all the neighbours in the cul-de-sac to Joy’s Tupperware display, and Lee and Maria came, together with news that Rosa was on her way home and docking in Southampton
next week. At last a chance for them all to be together like old times! Rosa would be full of all her adventures. Letters and postcards were all very well, but there was nothing like a gathering. Surely Joy would get a night off to see her old friend too?

This time Connie arranged to pick up Joy early. She was not having her struggling on a bus. She knocked but there was no reply. Surely she hadn’t forgotten the arrangement? Perhaps she was out of earshot?

‘Joy! Joy! It’s me!’ she yelled, thinking she must be upstairs. ‘I came early, let me in!’

‘You can’t come in. I can’t come tonight,’ a faint voice came from inside.

‘Are you sick? You should’ve rung us. I can still cancel it. Are you in bed?’ It was ridiculous shouting in the avenue.

‘No, I’m in the loo!’

‘Let me in. I’ll call the doctor if you’re ill.’ There was no reply. Connie was furious. Why couldn’t she have picked up the phone? Was it something she’d done to upset her? ‘Why can’t you let me in? Is it something I said?’ Connie peered through the letterbox.

‘It’s not you … it’s me. I’ve been stupid.’ Joy was coming down the stairs slowly in her blessed dressing gown again. She unlatched the door and Connie shot in, all guns blazing.

‘What’s going on? You could’ve rung!’

Joy was standing there dishevelled with a burst lip and black eye, a bruise that leeched across her cheek. Connie stared in disbelief.

‘It looks worse than it is,’ Joy apologised.

‘Another accident driving?’ Connie shook her head.

‘I bumped into a cupboard,’ Joy replied.

‘And I’m Marilyn Monroe. Pull the other one. Who did this to you, as if I need ask!’

‘It’s not what you think. He doesn’t mean to. I just get him all wound up. I dither … Look, he’s bought me this beautiful bunch of red roses,’ she whispered, pointing to a crystal vase full of blooms.

Connie felt sick to the stomach at the sight of such an injury. ‘I don’t understand. Why is it your fault he hits you?’

‘He has a lot of worries … the business isn’t going so well … Everyone has electric fires and gas now … Kim cries in the night … No! He doesn’t touch her but he needs his sleep. He doesn’t mean it,’ she said with such conviction it made Connie want to scream.

‘Joy, has the doctor seen these bruises?’

‘No, and you mustn’t say anything or I’ll never speak to you again. I’ll deal with this in my own way. He loves me!’

‘If he loved you he wouldn’t do this to you. You’re worth more than this.’ Connie wanted to hug her sister, but as she made to Joy recoiled.

‘It’s not that bad. Don’t tell tales, Connie, please. It’s none of your business.’ Joy flashed such a look at
her. ‘I’m sorry to have brought you out but I can’t go like this, can I?’

‘Then tell me what to do and I’ll do it for you, just this once.’ Connie gulped at what she was offering.

‘Are you sure?’

‘On one condition: that you don’t let him hit you again, right? It’s not going to happen again. Promise me?’

‘I’m not the only one. Rene’s been putting up with it for ages from Den’s father. She says you get used to it.’

‘Then more fool her. I won’t let him do this to you.’ Connie was on fire. She wanted to find Den and kick him in the goolies.

‘Leave it be. Don’t say anything. Don’t make it worse. He won’t do it again. I’ll be careful not to provoke him.’

‘Why should
you
be careful? He’s the bully boy.’

‘He really does love me. He just likes things to be just so. He doesn’t like all my stock cluttering the house. I’ll give up the party planning.’

‘Listen to yourself … and lose the one night out you get to be independent? What happened to you, Joy? No man is worth getting beaten for.’

‘It’s all right for you, Goody Two-Shoes. You’re single and fancy free. You don’t understand. Denny and I were young sweethearts, he’s the father of my baby. He wants us to have another one soon. We have this lovely home. It’ll get better. This is just a bad patch.’

‘Oh, Joy, if only you knew …’ Connie almost blurted out her own secret but this was not the time. Joy needed her help not another tale of woe. ‘Let’s get the boxes packed.’

They piled the stock in the car and Joy pointed out how to start the evening, go round the boxes and make sure everyone saw the catalogue and had a good feel of the product.

‘They sell themselves. The salad washer is the latest offer. Get the money up front before you take orders, and find another venue, please.’

‘I don’t like to leave you like this. Rosa’s coming home. We must all meet up.’

‘We’ll see. I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.’ Joy waved her off.

Connie drove back in a dream trying to remember everything, her heart aching for Joy’s misery. She made up a cock-and-bull story about Joy being struck down with sickness. What made it worse was not the lies but colluding in Denny’s nasty violence by saying nothing.

The funny thing was she had a great night. Gran was on form and had baked up a storm of goodies. Connie muddled through somehow, took orders, and found another venue close by.

There was a group of women who organised evenings where they met in each other’s houses and had a programme of events. Most off them seemed to be housebound young mothers: one of their gang
offered to host a party and was anxious to meet Joy: ‘She might like to join us. We have discussions and speakers … Do you think she’d be interested?’

Connie made a note to tell Joy about this Housewives’ Register and the playgroup someone was planning for toddlers.

How she wanted to tell Maria and Lee the real truth so they could warn Susan, but a promise was a promise. They had never split on her. But it wasn’t right, and she lay in bed tossing and turning, trying to find ways to get Joy to see sense. How could she even think of living with such a monster?

Perhaps when Rosa returned Joy would fess up to her too and somehow together they could sort out this mess. Funny how concern for Joy’s pain had made her forget her own sadness, Connie thought. She was needed here and that was enough.

Rosa couldn’t believe they were all sitting together in Santini’s sipping cappuccinos as if they’d never been apart. That was the joy of old friendship; you just picked up where you left off. Yet both Joy and Connie were looking tense and tired and so pale.

The café was now La Dolce Vita Espresso Bar. Rosa’s Santini cousins had cashed in the old juke box for yet another bulbous monster playing Beatles and the charts. Maria’s old theatrical posters were gone and in their place were scenes from the Italian Riviera. Sophia Loren hung from a film poster alongside Rossano Brazzi, the heartthrob from
South Pacific
, stared out with those sensuous lips. She glanced across the street to where the King’s Theatre was now a bingo hall and looking its age. The place was buzzing. Enzo, her cousin, was sporting a Beatle haircut and his new wife, Elaine,
was running round just like Mamma used to do. It was good to be back and there was so much to tell them.

She’d just had a furious row with Mamma and was glad to get out of that madhouse.

‘How dare you come back here and tell me you’re married! What crazy nonsense is this? You are married when you stand before a priest, not a captain on a ship! What will Serafina say when she learns you have robbed her of being your bridesmaid?’

‘You’ve not heard a word I said. It was just a civil ceremony. We can have a party later and a blessing in church. Marty’s not home yet for ages.’

‘What girl gets married on ship and then leaves husband … ?’ Mamma’s English was breaking down in an effort to cross-examine her.

‘We both had contracts to fulfil. I couldn’t let Mel down. Don’t be cross with me. He’s a good Catholic boy, like you always wanted.’

‘What good Catholic boy lets you marry on a boat?’

‘On a ship … It’s a ship.’

‘Don’t get clever with me! I wiped your bottom not that long ago, don’t forget. Do I have to start knitting?’ Maria glared at her daughter’s stomach with interest.

‘Of course not. I’m on the pill.’

‘Holy Mary, Mother of God, do you hear such blasphemy! There’ll be no pills in my house. What does Mrs Gorman have to say to all this?’

‘I haven’t met her yet. Marty has written to her.’

‘Why the rush? How will I tell my friends you have shamed me?’

‘There’s no shame in marrying someone you love. We thought it would be fun.’

‘Marriage isn’t fun, it’s bloody hard work. You hardly know him … Out of sight, out of mind. Are you sure he’ll come home?’

‘I’m not listening to all this,’ Rosa had argued. ‘I’m meeting the girls. They’ll be happy for me. Anyone would think we were living over the brush. Look, here’s my rings and a picture to prove it. It was so romantic!’

‘Tush … romance. What has romance got to do with anything? This is a life sentence we are talking about. Have I had a day’s rest since I married Sylvio? Work, work, business and babies. I didn’t want that for you. I wanted you to be my star.’

‘You wanted me to live your dream and I have. I’ve travelled the world and now I’m back for a while. I’ve found the one for me, so be happy for us.’

Why was everything between them such a battle? Mamma was never happy unless she was worrying over them, fussing over Luca, spoiling the boys. She and Marty just wanted to have fun and be together. It was funny how they just clicked into place, slotted together, laughing at the same things, sharing the same background. She’d found her soul mate and she
was giddy with happiness. No one was going to pour cold water on her good news.

Rosa was being very mysterious. She was bronzed and wearing the shortest mini-skirt, Connie had ever seen, little more than a pelmet, and tights too, real nylon tights with white boots. Her hair was piled up into a tousle of curls and her eyes were made up like soot.

Joy had come with Kim, who was sitting in a high chair, sipping juice from a plastic beaker. Connie wondered if Anna would be feeding herself yet.

‘You look a million dollars,’ Connie smiled.

Rosa suddenly held out her ring finger to show off a beautiful solitaire diamond over a gold wedding band, and Joy and Connie shrieked.

‘You dark horse! When, where and who?’ Connie gasped. Rosa was married and hadn’t told them!

‘It was all a bit of a rush on board ship, like in the film
The African Queen
. We didn’t even have a ring so we borrowed one from a passenger. It was so … romantic. He had to go on to Australia to do a gig, but he’s flying back soon and we’ll have the biggest bash ever. It was in the papers there. I would’ve told you. It was all so sudden and I’m so happy. We couldn’t believe it … we both knew. “Just One Look” like the song.’ Rosa began to sing the pop song.

‘But who is this Mr Wonderful?’ Joy asked. She’d
brushed her hair forward into a long curtain and deep fringe, which hid a yellowing bruise.

‘Oh, didn’t I say? Someone you both know, actually.’ Rosa’s cheeks flushed. ‘I hardly dare tell you.’

‘Who?’ They were both so curious now, leaning forward, all ears.

‘Guess?’

‘Not Paul Jerviss?’ Joy asked.

‘Don’t be daft, he’s a medic in the hospital,’ Connie snapped. ‘One of his mates?’

‘Warm … from the Salesian college. Who do we know who went into showbusiness from there?’

‘Not Des O’Malley?’ Connie said, but her heart was thumping. There was only one name left on her lips and she couldn’t say it.

‘Getting hotter by the minute. Look!’ Rosa produced a wedding snap of the two of them looking smug, standing by the captain. ‘Mr Snake-Hips Gorman. Marty. I married Ricky Romero!’

Connie went through the motions like a pro. She forced her cheeks to widen into a grin and whispered, ‘How lovely. You both look very happy.’

‘We are. It was just a bit of fun, us being miles from anywhere on the high seas. We got talking about home and families and friends. He sends his love to you, by the way. I knew you wouldn’t mind me going out with him. It was ages ago, wasn’t it?’

Connie felt sick, the coffee gagged in her throat.
She couldn’t swallow it down. A whirlwind romance … So much for Marty not being tied down.

‘How’s his career going? I haven’t heard him in the charts for ages!’

‘You won’t. He’s doing more technical stuff in recording studios, helping record companies.’

She was being vague. It hadn’t worked out for him as he’d planned, then. ‘Some session work and the odd gig. Just wait till you see him. He’s so gorgeous.’

With one name Rosa had ruined this rendezvous; with one photo, taken Connie right back to London and Switzerland and that terrible time afterwards. How could she ever tell her friend that Marty might be the father of her lost baby?

It was as if a glass shutter fell down between her and the others. She heard their prattle through muffled ears. She wanted to run out of Santini’s and flee from Rosa’s happiness. Why couldn’t it have been her? Then she would have a baby sitting alongside Kim.

‘Can I kip down with you for a few nights?’ Rosa said to Joy. ‘Mamma and me have fallen out. She thinks I’ve let the Church down but we’re going to have a blessing with Mass and everything. She’ll come round eventually. Serafina’s not speaking to me either.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Joy looked panicked by this request. ‘I’m not sure …’

‘Forget it. I’d better go back and make my peace,’ Rosa smiled.

‘So what’s going to happen to your showbiz career?’ Connie asked.

‘The
Gazette
asked me that. There’ll be a spread in the paper on Friday: “Local Stars Make Good”. Mamma doesn’t know about that. She’ll forgive me then. Marty wants us to travel together but I have had a great year. I missed all you lot, though.’

‘You can’t have a career and babies when they come,’ Joy interrupted. ‘A child has to come first, and our husbands, of course.’

‘Listen to yourself. You do party planning – that’s a career, or the beginning of one,’ Connie couldn’t resist. She turned to Rosa. ‘She’s quite a sales girl. Surely you can do both?’

‘Joy’s right in a way. To get to the top you have to be ruthless, dedicated, nothing must get in the way of your auditions or your next show. There were girls dancing on the ship who had babies back home and were pining for their little ones. I wouldn’t want someone else bringing up my kids.’

Connie flinched at her words. Rosa had changed. She was softer round the edge. Love had replaced that burning ambition. How envious Connie was of her happiness.

‘What do you think, Joy?’ Connie pushed. ‘Who comes first in your family?’

‘Connie! You promised … She’s talking off her head, Rosa. She thinks Denny and I are heading for divorce.’

Connie brushed Joy’s fringe to the side to reveal the bruises. ‘Look at that. It isn’t make-up. It’s Denny’s fist. Rosa should know the score. Not all marriages are made in heaven.’

‘Is this true? Oh, Joy, I’d kill him if he did that to me,’ Rosa whispered.

‘You’ve both got it all wrong. For better or for worse, that’s what I promised. I know we’ll get through this. It’s the drinking that does it. He’s like his father. They can’t hold it and it changes them. Honestly, we’ve discussed it and it won’t happen again. Just leave it, both of you.’

Why did she not trust Joy to stand up to him, Connie wondered. Joy’d invested her whole life in her precious house and its carpets and furnishings. Kim was the coolest baby in town with her little outfits, but there wasn’t a book in the house. What had happened to all Joy’s reading, to all those travel plans? Now she was as isolated from her friends on that housing estate as Connie was in the family.

Joy was silent on the way back, but when they got closer to her house she exploded.

‘How dare you tell Rosa my business like that? But I expect you were put out about Marty. You can be a grade-one cow, sometimes! You’re just jealous,’ she said, and Connie shuddered.

‘I don’t think so. Not of the life you’re living now. I want to do something with my life first. Did you
join the Register I told you about? Did they send you a programme?’

Joy nodded. ‘When have I time to gad about with a load of chattering women? Party work takes up all my time. I don’t need that sort of thing. I told you it was just a bad patch. Denny was worried when you called round. He says to tell you it was all a misunderstanding.’

My arse, Connie thought. He knows I know. Perhaps that will keep her safe for a while, or will he put the bruises where they don’t show?

‘I could sit for you one night.’ She was trying to make amends for telling Rosa.

‘Thank you but you’ve done enough damage. Denny isn’t keen to have people in our house.’

‘But he goes out. Why not you?’

‘Oh, shut it, Connie. Don’t meddle in things you don’t understand. Leave us alone to sort it out. What goes on behind closed doors is private. Don’t interfere. Sort your own life out. Stop moping around. Do something useful or find a man of your own and then tell me how it feels.’

‘I was only trying to help.’

‘Well, you’re not helping.’

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Connie was smarting from Joy’s outburst. Kimberley was quiet in the back. She was such an appealing child, with those dark eyes and curls. How could Denny not recognise how lucky he was? If only Connie could
believe that Joy would stand up for herself when the next fight came …

Neville looked at the stiff card invitation to Rosa and Marty’s wedding with a smile. It would be the biggest bash the town had seen for years. ‘Rock Star Marries Cruise Line Starlet’, the paper announced. The fact that Marty wasn’t Cliff Richard, the fact they were already married aboard ship, and Rosa was little more than a chorus girl, didn’t seem to matter. Connie and he were going to go together. He wondered, as Marty’s ex just how she was feeling on top of everything else. It was almost a year since her baby was born and he still wondered who the father was. Connie was a closed book on that subject.

It was going to be a black-tie job in the big country house hotel outside town after a Nuptial Mass at St Wilfred’s. The great and the good of Roman Catholic Grimbleton would be there: all that incense and knee-bending was very theatrical. He quite fancied converting if it weren’t for all the other stuff he’d have to believe and practise.

He was being extra careful these days. No trips to Manchester clubs to eye the talent. The magistrates had been lenient, taking into account his youth, his family background and intended marriage, and he’d pleaded guilty to the offence. There was a fine and warning, but the case got the full treatment in the
Mercury
, the worst shame of all. He’d slinked behind the market stall for months afterwards, convinced no one would want him to serve them, but nothing was said to his face. His father stood by his side and he learned to grow a tough shell round his feelings. ‘Smile and wave at yer troubles, sonny. It’ll pass,’ said one of his old customers. He could have hugged her for her compassion. Others didn’t look him in the eye any more but snatched their coins and fled as if he was some nasty pervert.

It was a customer who told him that Trevor and his mother had exchanged their council house for one in Burnley. They’d never met again except in court. It was all so sad and unfair. What with his mother’s breakdown, Gran, and Connie’s baby, Neville just kept his head down. He’d put his energies into setting up their health shop in the High Street. It was more like a chemist’s shop, selling smellies and herbal products, soaps and packaged pills and potions.

He did visit Ivy, but she was distant and dopey, drifting through her days in a haze of cigarette smoke and television. Her breath smelled of cheap sherry and peppermints. She was no longer the firebrand he’d known and he felt sorry for her loneliness.

They’d smartened up the rooms above the shop so he could live there. It was a compact flat, but he’d had such fun making it funky with white walls and black furniture, abstract print curtains and jazzy
pictures on the wall. There was nothing like having the key to his own door. If only there was someone to share it with, but there’d been no one on his radar since Trevor. How could there be?

Things were changing though. The
Guardian
had letters from homosexual men asking for a change in the law. There were moves afoot to allow some private relationships to flourish behind closed doors. The film
Victim
had raised discussion at the highest level. There was hope perhaps for the future. All he could do now was to subscribe to magazines that gave him a fix of talent and beautiful bodies, reminding him that he wasn’t the only queer in the world.