Ashford, North of England
‘You think all you need to do is flutter your eyelashes and Ted will let you do anything. Well, let me tell you, my lady, one day, you’ll come unstuck.’ Hannah Booth narrowed her eyes as she glared at her daughter-in-law and took a long noisy slurp of tea.
Ellen chopped the onions with quick impatient cuts, willing herself not to react to the constant carping.
‘Leaving me to look after William and…’ Hannah wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘And the other one.’
‘She’s called Linda. God above, can’t you even say her name? My – our daughter is called Linda. L-i-n-d-a.’ Ellen glared at Hannah.
There was a moment of apprehension on the older woman’s face before she spoke again, this time with triumph.
‘Don’t think I won’t tell him how long you were out this morning, doing the so-called shopping…’
‘What else do you think I was doing, Hannah?’ Ellen clenched her jaw. ‘I was in that queue outside the butcher’s over an hour.’ Her feet still tingled with pins and needles from standing so long.
‘And what did you bring home?’ Hannah pushed a fat forefinger at the small brown paper parcel on the kitchen table, the blood already seeping through. ‘Two ounces of lamb’s liver. Hardly enough for one.’
‘That one being you, of course.’
‘Well, why not? I need the iron, the doctor said.’ Hannah banged her mug of tea down on the table and crossed her arms across her large bosom.
‘Because it’s Ted’s money that bought it and it’s Ted that’ll be coming home from work hungry.’ It was an automatic response. But to be honest, the way Ellen was feeling about him these days, he could whistle for his tea. She was sick to death of him going on about how good his new shop assistant was. Anybody would think he fancied her.
A small chill settled in her stomach. She pushed it away, aware that Hannah was still watching her.
‘And you’ll cook it before you go off gallivanting, will you?’
‘It’s work. My singing … is my work.’ Ellen ground out the words as she threw the onions into the frying pan and gave then a stir.
Hannah snorted. ‘Work? Prancing about in front of some blokes with nothing better to do? In a frock that leaves nothing to the imagination?’
‘I sing in a respectable club.’
‘Huh!’
Ellen turned the gas off on the cooker. She couldn’t bear to be in the same room as the woman any longer. She washed her hands, getting as much lather as she could from the hard green bar of soap; she wasn’t leaving the house stinking of onions. ‘I’m going to get ready.’ Sod the liver. They could fight over who would have it when he came home. And his mother could cook it. It would make her get up off her fat backside. ‘I’m not having this argument again, Hannah.’
‘You’re not leaving before Ted gets home?’ It was as much a challenge as a question.
Ellen stopped on the first tread of the stairs, holding back the heavy green curtain. She didn’t turn around. ‘The kids are in bed if that’s what you’re worrying about.’
‘I’m not. I don’t mind looking out for William.’
‘There are two children up there.’ Ellen’s fingernails dug into her palm. ‘Are you saying you won’t look out for Linda? Should I tell Ted you said that?’ She spun around to face Hannah.
Hannah scowled. ‘I just said…’
‘Yes?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Good.’
When Ellen came back downstairs she wore the new black satin strapless dress her friend Edna had made for her in exchange for two summer frocks that were too big for her. She sat down carefully at the table; the dress was a little tight but looked all the better for that. There was a stony silence in the room. She defied her mother-in-law, setting out her make-up. Pulling the top off the small tube of red lipstick, she held up the thin Yardley compact and peered into the mirror.
‘I don’t know why you think you need all that slap.’ Hannah watched Ellen. ‘I never bothered much with tutty myself. Eddie didn’t like it. Very old-fashioned my hubby. And neither does my Ted. He says he likes a girl to be natural.’
Ellen pressed her lips together, moving them from side to side to even out the lipstick. ‘Does he? He’s never said anything like that to me. He always says I look beautiful.’ Her glance at Hannah was defiant.
‘Oh yes.’ Hannah pursed her mouth. Without her false teeth in, her top lip covered her nostrils when she sniffed. She didn’t take her eyes off the younger woman. ‘Natural’s best, I always think. Then there’s no nasty shock for the man in the marriage.’
No wonder Mr Booth had a heart attack when Ted was a kid then, Ellen thought, slowly pressing face powder on her forehead and studying her reflection in the mirror before closing it with a snap. She waited a moment before saying, ‘I’ve been asked to do a stint at the Astoria in Manchester next Friday as well.’
Hannah frowned. ‘What about Ted? Does he know?’
‘He won’t mind.’ He never minded what she did as long as she was happy. At least that’s what he said. Had he said it more often lately? Was that because he was working late more regularly? With her from next door. Ellen stopped that train of thought.
‘You going on the bus looking like that?’
‘No, I’m getting a lift from one of the band. Harry. He lives locally. He’ll bring me home as well.’ Put that in your pipe and smoke it, as Mam used to say, she thought. ‘Tell Ted, will you? Tell him I’ll see him about one o’clock.’ They’d have an hour then before he got up to go to the bakery. Time enough to show him what he’d been missing these last couple of weeks. She smiled to herself.
‘Right, I’m off.’ She pushed her feet into her silver peep-toed shoes and shrugged on her coat, adjusting the fake pearl earring that caught in the collar. She lifted one leg and then the other, looking over her shoulder, checking her seams were straight.
Just for mischief she said, ‘Wish me luck.’ She wouldn’t admit it but she was nervous. This was only the second time she’d sung at the Embassy Club in Bradlow and the last time it felt as though she was battling against the noise of the chatter around the bar; as though she was invisible.
As she walked down the hall she heard Hannah mutter, ‘Dressed up like a tart…’
Ellen slammed the front door and looked towards Shaw Road. A man walked by and wolf-whistled under his breath. She pulled her coat tighter and glared at him.
A black Ford Prefect pulled up at the end of the street. Harry. Ellen waved as the driver sounded his horn.
Avoiding the cracks in the pavement she teetered towards the car on her high heels. ‘I’m entitled to a life,’ she muttered, ‘miserable old cow.’