Nelly Shuttleworth licked the point of her pencil and hunched over the table, holding the edge of the paper down with her thumb. She printed out the letter she’d been composing in her head for days. It wasn’t easy; besides the physical effort of writing, she carried the burden of guilt for the way her eldest son had treated Mary. And the girl had been nothing but kind to her. In fact, Nelly thought, she’d treated her as a friend, keeping in touch all these years when she could just as easily, more easily, in fact, have refused to acknowledge any of Nelly’s notes. There wasn’t a day passed when she didn’t think of the horrible thing Frank had done to Mary. It haunted her. And, sometimes, even though she knew he would despise her for it, she went to the canal to say a little prayer for his soul.
Nelly stared down at the note, struggling to concentrate. The noise of the paddle in the washing machine, the stew bubbling in the pan and the loud voices from George’s wireless upstairs blocked her thoughts. Planting her stained worn-down slippers firmly on the floor and holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she formed each word with determination. She needed Mary to know how sorry she was that, yet again, she had grief in her life.
When she’d finished she sat back in her chair and, lifting up the hem of her skirt, she pulled back the elastic on the leg of her pink bloomers and scratched her knee, her lips moving silently as she read the letter in the pool of light from the bare bulb on the ceiling. When she’d finished she licked the pencil again and added a few more words:
… LIKE I SAID, THERES ALWAYS SOMEONE TO PASS ON BAD NEWS AROWND HERE. GEORGE SAW THAT BLOKE, ARTHUR BROWN, IN THE CROWN LAST NIGHT AND HE TOLD HIM ABOUT YOUR TOM BEING KILLED A MONTH OR SO BACK. I WERE THAT SORRY. WHY DINT YOU WRITE TO TELL ME. I WOULD AVE GOT IN TOUCH BEFORE. IM ALWAYS THINKING ABOWT YOU PET. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. DON’T FORGET WERE I LIVE WHEN YOU NEXT COME BACK HOME. ILL MAKE SURE YON BUGGER IS OUT.
YOUR FRIEND, NELLY SHUTTLEWORTH
The wireless upstairs became suddenly louder and heavy footsteps clattered on the stairs.
‘What’s for tea? I’m off out in ten minutes.’ Nelly’s son scowled at her. He squinted through his cigarette smoke as he stretched his neck to fasten the collar studs. ‘I told you.’ He ran a finger around his collar. ‘I’ve got a date.’ He smirked. ‘Taking Gloria Grimstead to the flicks.’
‘You want to watch yourself with that one. She’s got a right reputation.’
‘I’m not interested in her reputation, Ma.’ He shot a look at her, trying to see what was on the paper hidden under her arm. ‘What yer doing?’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Give us a look.’
‘Mind your own.’ But before Nelly could move he’d snatched the letter from her and ran his eyes over it.
His face flushed with anger. ‘Why’re you writing to that cow?’
‘Why don’t you mind your own business?’
‘Our Frank’s dead because of her.’ George crumpled the paper and threw it towards the fireplace. ‘She had him murdered.’
‘He raped her.’ Nelly closed her eyes, unable to believe she’d said the words to her youngest son.
‘Crap. She asked for it.’
For a big woman Nelly could move fast. The chair crashed to the floor behind her.
With closed fist she hit the side of George’s head. ‘No woman,’ she panted, ‘asks for that.’
Didn’t she know it? She wouldn’t have been lumbered with a useless husband if that was the case. Four months pregnant she was when she married, her reputation in tatters. Hadn’t she paid ten times over for Alec raping her, with the beatings and abuse from the day they were married? Hadn’t he left her with two black eyes and a split lip when he walked out on her and her sons? And good riddance, she thought. She glared at George. ‘Now get out.’
He’d raised his fists in retaliation, but the look in her eyes stilled him. ‘Haven’t had me tea.’
‘I’ll be making no tea.’ Nelly picked up the chair and sat on it before her legs gave way under her.
He banged the front door after him, rattling the piled-up pots on the side of the sink. He’d left his wireless switched on; the voices droned to the empty room.
Nelly straightened her arms on the table in front of her. The muscles in her forearms bulged from the years of wringing clothes. Then she laid her head on them and dry sobs shook her whole body. She thought back to the days when her boys were little. If anyone had told her that they would turn out such cruel men she would have drowned them both at birth.