‘Always thought she’d be famous, did that one.’ Hannah Booth tipped her head towards Ellen, who was sitting at the kitchen table determinedly reading an article on Tyrone Power playing the leading role in Mister Roberts at the London Coliseum.
Hannah picked at her cuticles. After trying and failing to make eye contact with her daughter-in-law, she continued, ‘Just because she’s had a few jobs singing in the likes of back-street clubs she says she could have made a career of it. Caterwauling more like.’
Ellen mouthed the words along with Hannah. It was a comment she’d heard many times, one that used to hurt but not anymore. Now it made her want to scream. She forced herself to read against the background of Ted’s mother’s droning voice.
The District Nurse acted as though nobody had spoken. She’d learned months ago that this was the only thing to do. Keeping her head down, she concentrated on unwrapping the bandages from Hannah’s leg and studying the varicose ulcer on her shin.
The stench was instantly noticeable and Ellen wrinkled her nose in disgust. God, she hated the sound, sight and smell of the fat cow.
Hannah poked the nurse on the shoulder. ‘You’d think she’d know better, a wife and mother, wanting to gad about all the time.’ She flicked away a small piece of cuticle with the pad of her thumb. ‘Makes you think, huh?’
Ellen slapped her magazine on the table. ‘Enough! I’ve heard it all before, Hannah, and I don’t think Nurse Hampson wants to hear your vicious carping.’
The nurse bowed her head even lower over the wound.
Hannah smiled in satisfaction. ‘Truth hurts, doesn’t it?’
‘Oh, just shut up!’ Ellen stared at the pages of Theatre World Magazine. The words merged together. Outside, the tin bath scraped against the wall in the wind, rain rattled on the metal. She could hear Doreen in her kitchen next door, whistling to some tune on the radio. What was it their mam used say? A whistling woman and a crowing hen brings the devil out of his den. Yeah, that was it. She and Ted were living with the devil, that was for sure. Ellen scowled.
The nurse swabbed the ulcer with Red Lotion, but the sweet aroma of lavender and zinc did little to block out the reek of the slowly granulating flesh around the wound.
Ellen saw Hannah wince and for a brief moment felt some sympathy, recalling the very early days when they’d lived together in harmony and she’d helped her future mother-in-law to bandage the damaged varicose veins. It was impossible to believe they’d ever got on; now she sometimes wished Hannah dead.
‘That’s me done, Mrs Booth, I’ll see you next week.’ The nurse patted Hannah’s arm. Packing her bag and closing it with one hand, she stood and fastened the buttons of her coat with the other.
‘She’ll see you out.’ Hannah carefully took her leg off the small stool and lowered it to the floor, adjusted her long black dress over her knees.
Ellen led the way along the hall and opened the front door. She watched the nurse cycle, head bent against the rain, down the street, the black nurses’ bag bouncing around in the wicker basket behind her. As she turned onto Shaw Street, Ellen saw Nurse Hampson wobble and grab hold of her hat with a shrill shriek, in danger of losing it in a sudden gust of wind. A man, hurrying down the street on the opposite side, swopped glances with Ellen and laughed before continuing on his way, taking long strides to avoid the streams of cream and yellow donkey-stone that was being washed off the door steps by the rain.
The smile faded when she closed the door and went back into the kitchen. Ted had told her he’d had a word with his mother about her constant picking. It hadn’t made much difference.
‘I’m at the end of my tether with you,’ she said, sitting back at the table. ‘This is my house and you’d better remember that before you start again with your nasty remarks in front of anybody else.’
‘Aye and it’s my money that paid for the shop that pays for the upkeep of your house.’ Hannah’s jowls shook with the force of her words. She wiped at the sweat on her forehead with a large white handkerchief. ‘I speak as I find, my lady, and you’ve never been good enough for my Ted.’
‘You didn’t say that when you were so bloody lonely stuck up in that house of yours that you begged me to come and live with you.’
‘You asked.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘You did.’
Ellen rose and walked to stand over Hannah. ‘You. Bloody. Asked,’ she repeated. ‘And, like I’ve said a thousand times, if I knew then what a selfish old cow you were I’d have run a mile.’
Even though she shrank slightly back in her chair the old woman raised a large pudgy fist and shook it at Ellen. ‘If I’d known what kind of woman you were I wouldn’t have let you within a hundred miles of my lad.’ She sucked her lips into her toothless mouth and dabbed at her chin where she’d dribbled. ‘You kept very quiet about her upstairs –’ she paused to catch her breath in one loud intake, ‘until it was too late for Ted to change his mind.’ She pushed the handkerchief into her ample cleavage and wrapped her black cardigan tighter around her.
‘Don’t you ever again…’ Ellen raised her hand and gritted her teeth. ‘I’ve told you – and I know Ted’s told you – leave Linda out of this. I’m warning you, Hannah, one word from me to Ted and you’ll be gone, faster than a rat up a drainpipe. We’ll both make sure of that.’ She shoved her clenched hands into the pocket of her apron. She spun around and picking up the magazine, left the kitchen.
Upstairs, the two children were still napping. She checked the clock. She’d leave them for another half an hour.
In her room she flopped down on the bed and shuffled back against the headboard, pulling the eiderdown over her legs. The room was gloomy. Rain slapped on the window. She reached up and yanked on the lamp cord, intending to read in the pool of light. Instead she wrapped her arms around her waist and hugged herself, going over and over again what Hannah had said. She was trembling and a tight pain in her chest only allowed her to take shallow breaths. She’d had it a few days now and today it was worse. She couldn’t take much more and she didn’t know what to do. It was obvious Ted’s talk to his mother had no effect, her nastiness had only increased. But up to today, she’d stopped the spiteful talk about Linda and directed all her venom at Ellen. Now she’d started again.
Gazing at the window against the dark sky all she could see was a reflection of the room. Except for Ted’s bits and bobs strewn around, it hadn’t changed much since she’d shared it with Mary, but that seemed ages ago. Sometimes she thought about how they used to snuggle up together, laughing and whispering until their father banged on the wall, yelling at them to shut up.
She began to cry. Once she started she couldn’t stop. She tried but nothing halted the flood of tears, not even when Linda came into the room. Not even when she crawled onto the bed with Ellen and wrapped her thin arms around her.