Alison tried to work at her usual speed the next Monday morning, knowing it would be the quietest time of the week, but she couldn’t find the energy. She felt completely worn out and couldn’t see the point of anything. Wearily she transferred cuts of pork and beef from the back of the shop to the front, dragging her feet, feeling every tray was a dead weight.
She’d so looked forward to Linda’s visit. Her big sister was the one person in the world who’d always stood up for her and who didn’t blame her for being so awkward. Linda might have understood if Alison could have got up the courage to tell her what had happened that Friday night. But that hadn’t happened.
From the moment she and June had arrived it was nothing but plans for the wedding. If it wasn’t arrangements for the dresses it was exclaiming over Hazel’s engagement ring. Alison had hardly been able to get a word in edgeways, let alone a moment to confess to her big sister. It had been a huge disappointment.
There had been a moment when they were both on their own in the kitchen when Linda had asked her if she was all right. That would have been the time to say something – but then June had come running in and any chance of comfort from her big sister had vanished.
She should have known it was a false hope. Nobody could help her carry her burden. It had been her fault for daring to dream Paul really liked her, that she could have a boyfriend like all the other girls did. Telling Linda wouldn’t have altered that. Although the bruises had faded, in her heart she was deeply hurt. That hadn’t even begun to heal. She wondered if it ever would.
Grimly Alison went from shop to storeroom, listening to Fred talking to the occasional customer, knowing this state of everlasting misery was how things were going to be. There was nothing to look forward to except a bleak future and she’d been stupid to think otherwise.
Over the next few weeks Alison grew more and more tired and barely spoke unless she had to. She lost all interest in food and the cosy lunches with Fred petered out. She made up an excuse of not wanting to put on weight before the wedding as the dress couldn’t be altered. Fred went along with it but was sure there was more to it than that.
He knew Alison wasn’t one to put herself forward but over the time she’d worked for him he’d seen her start to come out of her shell and how naturally easy she could be with people when given a chance. It worried him that these days she avoided speaking to the customers unless there was no way out of it. And she barely chatted to him at all. He knew he was far older than her and that she wouldn’t look on him as a friend and yet he couldn’t help feeling snubbed. They’d built up a good working relationship – or at least he thought they had. He’d found her a real companion, with opinions and ideas that he suspected she never shared with anyone else. She’d begun to smile and when she stopped worrying about everything it turned out she had a quick sense of humour too. Maybe he should ask her outright if there was something wrong. But what did he know about young women? Even if she did confide in him, he wasn’t sure he’d know what to say. It wasn’t as if he’d had much experience of women at all, unless he counted his domineering mother. He certainly didn’t know what the modern girl might have to worry about.
So he said nothing. That didn’t stop him growing ever more concerned, as Alison’s face got thinner and thinner and her eyes developed dark rings beneath them. Was she ill? Was that what was alarming her and making her behave so differently?
She also seemed to be back where she started when it came to dealing with offal. Several times now he’d seen her hurrying to the back of the shop and then a door would slam and there would be the unmistakable sound of someone being sick. If this went on he was going to have to say something, as it was affecting the way they worked. He had to be able to rely on her to pack and serve whatever was in the store. She couldn’t pick and choose. He couldn’t be out the back checking deliveries wondering if she was going to leave a customer in the lurch as she ran off to the toilet. Business would suffer and he wasn’t having that.
Alison had seen the look on Fred’s face when she’d returned to the counter. She was beginning to suspect she might have more to worry about than an angry boss. Even though she was naïve she wasn’t completely ignorant. When she’d been working at the factory several of the women had been pregnant and had talked about their symptoms. One in particular had had to be sick several times each morning and had treated everyone to a full description every time. Alison had thought it was enough to put anyone off having a baby.
She remembered when Linda had been expecting June. Four years ago she’d been too young to pay that much attention especially as Linda had recently moved down to Kent, adamant that no child of hers would be born in Battersea. But her big sister had been up to visit a lot in those early days and had talked to Cora about how hard she was finding pregnancy. Alison had listened to the list of sickness, tiredness, being off her favourite foods, swollen ankles, disturbed sleep, and pitied her big sister. Of course when June arrived everyone had been delighted. But Linda’s circumstances were very different.
She forced herself to count back to when she’d last had those stomach cramps she always got when it was her time of the month. It hadn’t been long after she’d started working for Fred and she’d been too embarrassed to ask if she could sit down for a bit when they’d got really bad. Paul had raped her at the beginning of March. She counted on her fingers the weeks that had passed. Her heart sank when she realised it all added up. She’d been too miserable to notice at first. She’d assumed her overwhelming tiredness was down to being so depressed about Paul’s terrible betrayal.
A baby. Was that really what was happening to her? How would she know for certain? How could she cope with a baby? Where would she live? She was pretty sure Cora wouldn’t want it in her house. Her mother would be mortified at the disgrace of it. Cora had very plain views about girls who let themselves get taken advantage of before marriage and never hesitated to voice them. Alison couldn’t even begin to imagine what she’d have to say when her mother found out.
She tried to be practical. Would she be able to carry on working? What would Fred say? She didn’t know what he thought of unmarried mothers but she knew he was very against anything that was bad for business. Once word got around she was sure she would be a liability to him. Even if he was kind, how hard would it be to work once the baby was born? Cora had told her often enough what it had been like in the war, having to hold down two or three jobs to keep the wolf from the door with two little girls and herself as the unwanted extra nuisance. She’d been dropped off with neighbours much of the time. They’d been willing to help out because Cora had been left a widow. Alison knew she couldn’t count on anyone helping her.
What would it be like to have Paul’s baby? Every time she looked at it she would be reminded of that stinking alley, the shock of realising what he was doing. How could she live with that? Would it have his eyes? She’d adored those eyes once but now she knew how cruel they could be. How could she love a child who looked like him?
But as the days went by, she realised that maybe there was a way around it. Perhaps she didn’t have to have the baby. She’d heard whispered conversations about people who got rid of their unborn children. There had been a woman at the factory who was rumoured to have done it. She’d been mysteriously off sick for a few days and had returned, gaunt but determined, saying nothing. The word was she had a husband but he beat her and she didn’t want to bring a child into a household like that. Some had condemned her and others had been sympathetic. Alison thought it couldn’t have been worse than being unmarried and going through with it.
But how would she find out about such a thing? She didn’t have any friends to advise her. Her family was out of the question. Who did she know who might be able to point her in the right direction? She didn’t know enough about any of this.
Alison bit back a sob as she faced the fact that there was nobody she could turn to. She had to find out what was happening to her but she was totally alone.
Cora was delighted. She’d been to see about hiring the church hall in September and had managed to get it at what she knew was a very good rate. She’d emphasised the fact that she was a widow but, though poor, her daughters were respectable and hard-working. She’d also mentioned that the Parrots were exactly the sort of family they wanted to move to the area – prepared to help out and muck in with anything, even though they weren’t local. She’d painted the picture of Hazel and Neville as the perfect young couple who just needed a little helping hand to start their life together before becoming pillars of the community. The church warden couldn’t have been more obliging. They’d settled on the price and Cora had put down a deposit. She congratulated herself on a job well done.
She decided she would treat herself to a trip round the market. Normally she only rushed from stall to stall, haggling for what she needed, never taking much notice of what else was there. Now she walked slowly along, enjoying the spring sunshine, eyeing the goods on offer. The thought struck her that Hazel would soon be wanting new items for when she set up home with Neville. Perhaps they would be given some as wedding presents but they would have to buy the rest. It was a bit early to start yet but it wouldn’t hurt to look. Also, for the first time there would be some spare room in her own house. She’d become so used to the cramped space she hadn’t really considered what it would be like once Hazel left and took all her clothes with her. They took up more room than her own and Alison’s put together.
Cora groaned to herself. She’d be stuck with Alison and nobody else to break the tedium. She wasn’t looking forward to that. With Hazel there was always something to talk about – where she’d been, who’d been in the café, what was happening at Neville’s factory. But with Alison there was nothing. She never brought back any decent gossip from the butcher’s, even though she must hear lots of it. Too dim to work out what was worth repeating and what wasn’t, more than likely. She had no friends and never went anywhere. She might earn her keep by bringing home her wages and the offcuts and leftovers, but as a companion she was worse than useless.
‘All right, Mrs Butler?’ called Joe Philpott. ‘How are the dresses coming on?’
Cora smiled at him. ‘They’re going to be lovely. Jill Parrot is very clever with her sewing machine. I wish I was half as good at dressmaking as she is.’
‘Hazel tells me you’ve made lots of her stuff and you’ve taught her everything she knows.’ He winked. ‘And she’s a stunner. So you must be pretty good yourself.’
‘Oh, nonsense,’ said Cora but she was flattered. She hadn’t had a bit of a banter for ages.
‘Tell you what, why don’t you take a look at my trimmings.’ Joe brought out a big box. ‘See anything you fancy? What about these pearl buttons?’
‘Joe Philpott, if those are real pearl then I’m a Dutchman.’ She picked up a packet of rickrack binding in different colours. ‘Now this is more like me. I could use some of this when I’m making up a frock for my granddaughter. She’s three already, you know.’
‘You don’t look old enough to be a grandmother,’ said Joe. ‘I’d never have believed it if I hadn’t heard it from your own mouth. Why don’t you choose a couple of colours and have them on me. On account of your family being such good customers of late.’
Cora beamed. ‘That’s very good of you. I’ll take you up on that before you change your mind. That pretty primrose yellow and the pale blue. They’ll suit her best.’
Joe popped the wavy binding into a paper bag and handed it over. ‘There you go.’
Still smiling broadly, Cora wandered along the other stalls, thinking this was her lucky day. After all she’d been through over the years, she was well overdue a change of fortune.