Polly's War (19 page)

‘Aye, watch out, she’ll have you clocking in and out next.’

Belinda went home alone well before the allotted time simply because Benny refused to come with her. She was relieved to find that the joint was only slightly overcooked, and the potatoes nicely crisp. Not bad for a first effort. She’d already made an apple pie which stood cooling on the window sill.

Lucy arrived with the children moments later, along with Polly and Charlie, and they all ate the meal in a silence which might have been called companionable. Polly offered high praise on her Yorkshire puddings despite their being a touch leathery while Belinda gave an entertaining account of her visit to the pub. No comments were made upon this, and no one enquired where Benny was. She quite lost her nerve to ask whether there was still a place for him in Polly’s business. When Charlie politely enquired how they were managing, she assured them that Benny had been getting plenty of work on the wharfs in recent weeks and had the matter of the licence all in hand. Then she offered them a slice of apple pie and the subject was dropped.

By the time Benny deigned to come home his family were long gone. He’d made sure that they would be, having no wish to have his mother again picking over the ragbag of his life. It also left him free to play the heavy husband, as his mates had insisted he should, getting him tanked up so that he could do it right. He swaggered in, tossed his cap and coat on the back of a chair and demanded Belinda fetch him his dinner, good and hot. ‘And that’s the last time you’ll shame me in such a way, woman,’ he announced, quite spoiling the ferocity in his voice by hiccupping loudly at the end.

Belinda cast him a withering glance as she placed the dried remains of his dinner on the table before him with commendable control. She’d never seen him in such a filthy temper but had no intention of being cowed by it. ‘I accept that perhaps my coming with you to the pub was a mistake, though by rights it shouldn’t be. I’m your wife, and entitled to the same relaxation as you. Besides, I’m used to such places, having been in the army myself, remember.’

‘You shouldn’t be drinking anyway, being pregnant,’ he muttered, rather self-righteously.

‘I only had a half shandy. However, I offer my sincere apologies if I embarrassed you.’

 
Benny subsided into an aggrieved silence, not quite knowing how to proceed now that she had so quickly capitulated. His advisers had been quite certain that she wouldn’t, that he’d need to throw his weight about. They’d said she’d be in a mood because this was the first Sunday lunch she’d ever cooked for his family but she wasn’t behaving as he’d expected at all, even her apology sounded genuine. Which made it feel as if he was in the wrong.

As he chewed on the dry tough meat, half wishing he’d had the pleasure of eating it when it was still hot and tender, Benny stubbornly offered no forgiveness, no soft words of reconciliation. A man, his advisors had assured him, must make a stand. Start as you mean to go on. Show who has the iron fist. He regretted having to treat Belinda in this way, but they were clearly right. He couldn’t have a woman dictating his life, as if she owned him. It wasn’t the way things were done round here.

Belinda seated herself at the opposite end of the table and started to tell him about the lunch, about how Charlie had looked much better, and how relaxed and happy Lucy seemed to be, almost glowing with health these days.

He gazed at her, growing increasingly annoyed that he’d missed this happy family occasion, yet justifying his anger by insisting that she still hadn’t got the point. ‘Have you heard a word I’ve said? I’ll not be made a fool of in front of my mates.’ His carefully nurtured reputation would vanish like fog in sunshine, if she did anything half so daft again, he told her. ‘Then where would we be? Up Queer Street.’

Belinda gave him that crooked smile of hers, which made the blood pound where it did most damage. ‘Oh, I heard all right, but I’m a lady of determination as well as great talent, Benny. Make no mistake about that. I’ve already apologised for embarrassing you but we’re equal partners, remember. Isn’t that what we agreed? And I’d really like to be treated as such.’

While Benny swallowed his anger with his rapidly cooling dinner, Belinda went back to discussing bits of gossip and the funny things the children had done, as if the problem were settled. ‘Sarah Jane is a sweetheart, but young Sean is a little devil. He must’ve been downstairs for an age playing with those sharp tools of yours before anyone missed him.’

As she chattered on, Benny ceased to properly take any of it in. The beer and whisky were fuddling his head and doing a war dance with the food in his stomach, making him feel decidedly queasy. He ruefully contemplated a whole list of worries that tormented him, not least his lack of success in his business venture. He’d spent the afternoon in a rebellious, and illegal, game of black jack that he could ill afford, in an attempt to recover some of his lost pride and credibility. All he needed was that licence, though how he would explain to Belinda when he finally did get hold of some new wood, that he wasn’t quite the skilled carpenter she imagined, nor had the first idea how to make a chair, he wasn’t quite sure.

He felt himself starting to panic, overwhelmed by his own fantasies which had somehow turned into barefaced lies without his meaning them to. He now bitterly regretted treating his mother’s offer with such contempt. But how had he known that he’d be making this headlong dash into matrimony? That’s what had done for him. In his present mood of maudlin self-pity, Benny felt tempted to put the entire blame on Belinda. She’d been the one to take on this white elephant of a shop, after all, without even a by-your-leave.

If only he had more capital then it wouldn’t matter. He could change direction, do something other than joinery. But how could he even buy stock for the shop in his current state of penury? He’d asked Polly for help in this direction and she’d refused. There was only one more avenue worth exploring.

‘We’ll have to go and talk to your dad,’ he found himself saying, the words popping unbidden out of his mouth. ‘If we put it to him straight, I’m sure he’ll help.’

‘With the licence?’ Belinda laughed. ‘Like hell he would. It could well be him who’s putting the block on it.’

Benny stared at her, stunned by this new insight into Hubert Clarke, never having considered such a possibility. He tried insisting that she must be mistaken, that he’d surely be prepared to help since she was his only daughter after all, perhaps with a loan so they could buy stock, for instance. Belinda calmly refused to even consider the possibility.

‘I’ve already told you, I won’t ask for help. I’m done with them. We’ll make it on our own in the end, I know we will. However,’ she continued, in that low, sexy voice of hers and running her fingers through his hair, ‘Returning to our earlier conversation, I’d prefer it if you did not address me as “woman” and don’t ever shout at me again, Benny Pride. I won’t stand for it.’ She rubbed noses with him, gazing intently right into his greeny-grey eyes. ‘I deserve some respect as the mother of your child, for all I may be making a few mistakes. You should’ve been here for lunch with your family. It was your duty to me, as well as to them.’

Weak with fresh love for her, Benny could do nothing but agree. And his mam would give him gyp next time she saw him.

While Belinda went to put the kettle on to make him a fresh pot of tea, Benny pushed aside the half-eaten meal, a bleak expression tightening his jaw, bitterly aware that for all their undoubted love for each other, the marriage was equal only in the sense that they occupied the same flat and the same bed. Apart from that, Belinda supplied the money and he spent it.

Hubert sat back in his chair and steepled the tips of his fingers together. His smile, if you could call it that, beneath the crisp moustache showed a row of pearly teeth, but did not reach the narrowed eyes beneath the beetle brow. He’d unnerved the lad, or so his sources reliably informed him. Stubborn as Belinda herself, Benny Pride still hadn’t given up, so which card should he play next? Hubert never liked to lose.

It took very little effort to discover the name of Benny’s landlord. The handing over of a few paltry pounds elicited an agreement to evict the pair from the premises at the first opportunity, on the grounds that they’d never opened the shop.

Chapter Twelve

Summer changed into a damp autumn when the rains never seemed to stop and as the days shortened and winter approached Belinda was forced to give up her part-time job at the insurance office because of her advanced pregnancy. Several local cotton mills had closed and there was talk of a coming coal shortage, not that they could afford much in any case. Benny was more worried about the threat to nationalise ports and road haulage as these were the only areas where he was finding work. Permanent employment now seemed an impossible dream, and he’d lost all hope of ever getting an allocation licence so he bought a few bits of second-hand wood from a mate and set about fashioning a stool. He thought this would be easier than a chair but somehow memories of woodwork at school had grown surprisingly hazy and after hitting his thumb with the hammer several times and almost slicing a finger off, he announced that he’d changed his mind about being a joiner. The dream was dead.

He stuck an advert up in the fish shop window and sold off the work bench together with all the tools to the first half decent offer he received.

‘Something will turn up,’ he told Belinda with a confidence he didn’t quite feel. ‘Just wait and see.’

What did turn up was the eviction notice. Benny stared at it horror-struck. It seemed like the last straw. How were they going to manage without even a roof over their heads? The prospect of going back home to number 32 and the pair of them squeezing into Big Flo’s single bed seemed too much of a defeat for Benny to swallow. There’d been severe flooding in September when the River Irwell burst its banks in neighbouring Salford and Benny knew they were lucky to have a roof over their heads at all. Housing was in short supply and the floods hadn’t made it any easier. The last thing he wanted was to have to take Belinda to a municipal lodging house. He’d die sooner.
 

Desperate not to upset her, since she’d spent most of the morning feeling ill and all afternoon sleeping, he tucked the eviction notice into his pocket, hoping for some inspiration before it was taken into effect. He’d have a word with Percy Sympkin, the landlord, and make it clear they were up to date with their rent, though how much longer that state of affairs would last, he couldn’t say. Surely no one would be so cruel as to turn a pregnant woman out on the streets?

Polly was keeping a close eye on the goings on of her son and daughter-in-law. She’d enjoyed the Sunday roast Belinda had made for them, the meat a touch overdone perhaps and the potatoes a mite greasy but then it was the girl’s first effort. That Benny hadn’t turned up to eat it had troubled her somewhat at the time, but the fact there’d been no invitation since, concerned her even more, seeming to indicate that there were problems the young couple weren’t owning up to. Polly was so worried she could barely stop talking about them.

‘It’s nowt to do with us,’ Charlie constantly warned her. ‘Don’t interfere.’

‘I’m not,’ Polly protested, even as she wondered what she could do to put matters right. She could guess what it was. Benny hadn’t found work and was too proud to crawl back and accept her offer. She’d grown tired of trying, deciding to let him stew in his own juices in the hope that would bring him round quicker. It didn’t seem to be working. Perhaps a quiet word with Belinda wouldn’t go amiss, woman to woman, as it were.

She saw Belinda rarely but once or twice caught sight of her out shopping and felt again that nudge of worry as the girl quickly hurried out of sight, as if not wanting to be seen. But then she wasn’t exactly blooming. Pregnancy didn’t seem to be sitting well on her and so far as Polly was aware, Benny was still stubbornly waiting for that dratted licence.
 

Christmas came and went, dull and damp, the shortages seeming to bite ever deeper. Lucy was having a hard time finding the money for presents for young Sean and Sarah Jane. Michael Hopkins managed it though, buying Sean a fire engine and Sarah Jane a high chair for her dolly of which Polly didn’t entirely approve. After all, as she constantly reminded Lucy, Tom was only
missing.

One Monday morning in early January, Polly decided to pop round to Belinda’s for a quick cuppa. Uncle Nobby and Aunt Ida were keen for them all to attend a New Year Coffee and Bun Social at the Methodist Church. Not being a strong Catholic, Polly had no problem with this, particularly since Big Flo had been strong chapel throughout her long life. Maybe she could persuade Benny to bring Belinda along. It would certainly make a good enough reason for Polly to call on the grounds it might do the lass good to have a night out.

She was appalled to find the little flat freezing cold despite the haze of steam coming from the wash tub in the small back scullery. The swollen figure of her daughter-in-law was propped on a kitchen chair, evidently trying to catch her breath before starting the mangling. Mindful of Charlie’s warning, Polly tried not to show the shock and concern she felt at sight of her. There were dark patches under the girl’s eyes and she looked far too thin for so late a stage in her pregnancy. ‘And how are you this fine day, me lovely girl?’

‘Fine, apart from feeling a bit sick, as usual,’ Belinda confessed. ‘It never seems to get any better.’

‘Then it’s a cuppa you’re needing, and one of these lovely custard tarts I’ve brought you.’ Polly helped Belinda up the narrow stairs to the small living room, insisting she take a short rest. While she waited for the kettle to boil she went in search of a few scraps of wood and coal to light a fire, and found none. The coal man, Belinda told her when she tentatively enquired, had forgotten to come this week.