Fred was at war with himself. He didn’t know what to do for the best. After Alison had run out in tears he’d vowed to keep his big mouth shut. By rights it was none of his business. Yet he didn’t really believe that. In some way he felt responsible for her. It wasn’t just because she was his assistant. It was more that she didn’t have a father to look out for her interests. Also, he admitted to himself, her mother and sister didn’t seem to like her very much or be inclined to help her. Furthermore he genuinely liked and admired the young woman, who’d become such an asset to the shop.
He noticed that the weight she’d lost had started to come back, and then that she’d begun to show a bump. As June turned into July it was definitely making an appearance. Perhaps he was more aware of it because he saw her tying her apron every morning. She fastened it more and more loosely as the weeks went on, but in that moment before tying the ribbons he could see the little curve.
Sometimes he would ask her if she’d been to see a doctor yet, but she’d shake her head and refuse to talk about it. He wondered if her mother knew. No, something would have happened if she did – Cora wouldn’t have accepted such a bombshell. But hadn’t she noticed? The girl’s hair was shining, her skin was blooming, and she was wearing clothes that were baggier and baggier. It seemed obvious to him and he was just a middle-aged man who knew very little about young women’s bodies. Surely her mother or her sister would spot something? Did they pay that little attention to her at home?
The one good thing was that the sickness seemed to have passed. Alison was back to her capable self around the shop, cutting up liver without a murmur. It was only now and again when he caught her staring into space with a hopeless expression that he’d have known anything was wrong. She had grown more and more quiet, chatting to customers if she couldn’t find a way out of it but not volunteering any comments as she’d begun to do only a few months earlier. It made him sad to see the change in her. She was closing in on herself again, just when she’d been doing so well.
Should he tell Cora, prepare her for the news? Would she take it better coming from him? But then again he didn’t know the circumstances or if there was some unknown young man waiting in the wings. Just because the girl never mentioned him didn’t mean anything. He could be away doing National Service. If he was going to have a conversation with her mother then he should find out the facts. Yet every time he tried to raise the subject Alison clammed up and after several attempts he was none the wiser.
On the surface they were nearly back to their old companionable ways. ‘What are you doing this weekend?’ he asked as one Friday afternoon drew to a close. Fred was quite pleased with himself. When he’d worked out how much it would cost to employ Alison, he’d found it cheaper to employ a lad on Saturdays, allowing Alison to have the weekend off. ‘Cinema, maybe? Have you seen Funny Face yet? They say that Audrey Hepburn’s marvellous in it.’
‘No, I haven’t been for ages,’ she replied. The truth was she’d hardly ever gone to the cinema. Her mother had never had the money to take them, she’d been too young to go with Linda before she left home, and Hazel didn’t want to be seen out with her. A handful of times some of the women from the factory had asked her along and she’d enjoyed herself, but the last thing she wanted was to see other people’s romances paraded in her face right now. ‘I’ll probably just stay in. Might treat myself to something at the market.’ She’d taken to buying men’s shirts in a large size, making sure they were from one of the stalls well away from Joe Philpott and his mates. If she chose plain ones they weren’t so very different to the blouses she’d worn before. As long as she did her own washing then Cora or Hazel had no reason to suspect anything. Somehow she’d convinced herself that she could keep up the pretence that nothing was wrong and that this would continue up to the baby’s birth. Beyond that, she hadn’t thought.
‘It’s got Fred Astaire in it too,’ said Fred. ‘I like him. I used to fancy myself as a bit of a dancer when I was young.’
‘Did you?’ Alison couldn’t hide her surprise. Fred was the last person she could imagine on the dance floor, let alone moving like Fred Astaire.
‘I did,’ said Fred, keeping a straight face. ‘Sadly nobody else rated my efforts. I knew all the steps but that wasn’t enough. Then the war came and Mother got ill, so that was the end of that. I used to love all that going out and dancing, it was a right laugh and took my mind off things, but her needs had to come first, it was only right. I had to hang up my dancing shoes once and for all.’
‘That’s a shame,’ she said. ‘You should try it again some time. It’s never too late.’ She smiled as she picked up her coat that no longer quite reached around her middle.
To hear her talk like that, thought Fred when he was alone clearing up in the shop, you would think nothing was wrong. He swept the old sawdust into neat piles and began to put down new for the next morning. It couldn’t continue. It was the calm before the storm.
Alison found herself alone in the house that evening. Cora had gone to see Jill, and Hazel needed to sort out some details about bridesmaid’s duties with Kathy, and had made it very clear that Alison’s views wouldn’t be welcome. ‘Kathy’s got common sense, which is more than you have,’ Hazel had told her, ‘so we’ll just let you know what we decide.’
Exhausted, Alison made her way back down the narrow stairs towards the living room. As she did so her foot caught on the edge of the tread and she had to catch hold of the banister to keep her balance. As she stood shakily at the foot of the stairs she wondered if this could be the answer to her problem. Hadn’t she read somewhere of a woman losing her baby after a fall? Would she have the nerve to try it? But what if she backed out now – would she dare to risk everyone finding out about her shameful secret?
Trying to think straight through her misery, she climbed back up towards the dim landing. She might never get such a chance again. The trick would be to fall far enough to cause a miscarriage but not so hard as to really hurt herself. When she was little she used to play at jumping from the stairs but that was a very long time ago. She’d twisted her ankle once and Cora had been furious. Cora’s anger would be worth it though. She could easily put up with the pain from the fall if this got rid of the baby. She shook her head. She’d have to throw herself from at least halfway up. In the half-light it seemed impossibly high up and her courage failed her.
Then she remembered the hidden bottle of gin. If she had some of that she would feel braver. Quietly, hoping that Cora or Hazel didn’t decide to come home early, she found where she’d tucked the green bottle and drank a slug straight from the neck. It tasted no better than the last time but she knew she had to manage it somehow. She made herself take another swig, and another. That was better. She felt very unsteady now. Carefully she returned the bottle to its hiding place.
Slowly she made her way back to the chosen step. The walls around her were starting to spin, so she tried to focus on the doormat. She’d aim to land there. Pushing away her growing despair she closed her eyes and launched herself forward as hard as she could.
There was an agonising crack as her knees hit the bottom step, then she felt the scratchy coir of the doormat against her face. She thought she might be sick but that passed. Alison lay there, staring at the patterns the streetlight made on the walls and lino, in an effort to stop her head from spinning. She lost track of time. Her legs and cheek were very sore but she couldn’t feel anything else happening. How long would it take?
Finally she realised she’d have to move. She was blocking the door where she was, and the last thing she wanted was for her mother or sister to find her collapsed on the doormat. Wincing at the pain in her knees she dragged herself back up the stairs and fell onto her mean little bed. Now she just had to wait. Slowly sleep overcame her and she gave in, utterly tired out with the emotional strain of pretending all was fine when inside she wanted to scream for help.
A noise from the street woke Alison in the middle of the night and she sat up, trying to work out why she felt so ill and why her head was pounding. Then it all came flooding back to her. Cautiously she felt between her legs and the bedsheets underneath but there was nothing. All that effort and no result, just like before. A sob burst from her throat but she choked it back, not wanting to wake anyone. She couldn’t afford for them to hear her distress. Her knees were on fire, her head was splitting and her stomach heaved at the unaccustomed gin, but the bump was still there.
‘Don’t you think you can lie in today,’ Cora shouted up the stairs. ‘You have to do my shopping this morning and then this afternoon you’re needed round at Jill’s. She’s cut out your frock and now she has to adjust it before sewing it up.’
Alison dragged herself out of bed with a groan, avoiding the sight of her swollen belly. Her headache had faded but her knees were stiff and bruised. Her face felt raw from where it had slammed into the doormat. She could barely stand to start with but after moving around a little they weren’t so bad. At least her skirt was long enough to cover them. If she hurried now she could get the grocery shopping over and done with and maybe manage to drop in on Vera to say hello. She’d done this a couple of times since they’d met in the café, only ever managing a quick conversation in between Vera’s customers, but it broke up the day. She felt she deserved this treat after the agony of the night before. To think she’d wondered about trying to get to know Vera when they worked together but had been too shy – and now they’d ended up friends thanks to the most unlikely of reasons.
Alison skipped breakfast as she was trying not to eat much, thinking she could keep the weight off that way. Also, she still felt sick from the gulps of gin. Cora didn’t notice or, if she did, never commented. She was probably just glad to have more bacon for herself and Hazel. Alison often felt the only way she’d really please her mother was to become invisible.
The queues at the baker’s and grocer’s were longer than normal and there was no time for a detour via Arding and Hobbs. She couldn’t move as fast as usual because of the pain in her legs. Disappointed, she returned with her bags of goods, to find Cora fussing round the kitchen. ‘Jill wants you over there at half two. If you’re quick you can have a sandwich, and make me one while you’re at it. Use some of that ham you brought back yesterday.’
Alison did as she was asked, making only half a round for herself. She was ravenous now but in her confused logic she hoped she could hide the growing bump by cutting down on what she ate. Resolutely she pushed away her plate. ‘All right, I’ll be off then.’
‘Hold your horses,’ said Cora. ‘I’m coming too. I know Jill will have done a good job but I want to make sure it’s all to Hazel’s liking, as she probably won’t finish at the café in time to see you.’
I can’t see Hazel hurrying to see me for any reason, thought Alison, as she sat at the kitchen table while her mother ate her ham sandwich. She stopped halfway through to add more Branston pickle.
‘I’ll give Fred his due, he does lovely ham.’ Finally Cora finished. ‘What’s got into you, ants in your pants? It’s only over the road. We’ll be there early.’
‘She won’t mind us being early,’ said Alison, anxious now to get the ordeal over with. She hated showing her body to anyone at the best of times and she certainly didn’t want her mother scrutinising it now. She’d have to think of a story to explain the latest bruises. Not to mention her growing waistline.
Jill was waiting for them in her front room, which was scarcely bigger than their own but was somehow much more cheerful. It helped that Mr Parrot must bring home a decent wage, but it was more than that. There were bright cushions everywhere, and a well-placed mirror made it seem lighter and brighter. It felt like a room where people were happy. Music sounded from upstairs.
‘More Elvis?’ asked Cora. ‘Hasn’t he grown out of it yet?’
‘I wish it was Elvis,’ sighed Jill. ‘Richie’s gone off him. He plays someone called Little Richard now – it’s even worse. He screeches along and we don’t know what to do with ourselves, it’s driving us crazy.’
‘I don’t know why he doesn’t like a nice British boy like Tommy Steele,’ said Cora. ‘I don’t mind him. And he’s from quite near here too. Lovely lad. Not like this American rubbish.’
Alison rather liked what she could hear coming through the ceiling but knew better than to say so.
‘Right, Alison, do you want to go upstairs and change?’ Jill asked. ‘Here it is – mind the pins. You can use Kathy’s room, that’s the equivalent of yours over the road. Will you need a hand?’
‘She’ll be fine down here,’ said Cora. ‘We don’t want to put you to no trouble. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before so she can change down here. You’ve got net curtains, so no one passing by can see anything. You won’t frighten anyone, Alison.’
Alison took a deep breath. This wasn’t what she wanted at all – there would be no chance to cover up. But she couldn’t see a way around it. Reluctantly she unbuttoned her shirt.
‘Is that new?’ asked Jill. ‘I haven’t seen it before. It’s quite plain, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, I got it for work,’ Alison said hastily. ‘No point in wearing anything fancy there. You never know what you might get on it.’ She undid the waistband of her skirt, which she’d stretched with extra elastic, hiding this as best she could.
‘Let’s try the frock, then. If you lift your arms up and bend your legs so you’re at my level, I’ll slip it on you.’ Jill picked up the turquoise fabric, carefully making sure the pins didn’t catch on anything. ‘Over we go … and just tug it gently. Ah, it seems to be a bit stuck. Nasty bruises you have on those knees – did you fall over? Hit your face as well, did you? Stand up straight and I’ll try again. No, it’s still not budging. I wonder if I cut it wrong?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Cora, her expression a mixture of horror and disgust.
A deathly silence fell. Alison knew she was blushing and stared at the ceiling, willing the thumping sounds of Little Richard to make it fall in on them.
‘Alison,’ said her mother finally, ‘what’s that?’
‘What’s what?’
‘That. That bump. The bump in your belly.’
‘I’ve got a touch of indigestion.’
‘Indigestion? You haven’t eaten enough to feed a fly. Indigestion my arse.’
Jill gasped, not fully realising what was going on. Then she moved from the window and saw what the fuss was about. ‘Alison? What’s this?’
‘I’ve got an upset tummy, it’s nothing.’ Alison said, closing her eyes against the look on her mother’s face.
‘It’s not nothing.’ Cora’s voice rose sharply. ‘I know exactly what that is. Do you think I’m stupid, my girl? Do you think I don’t know a fallen woman when I see one? A filthy little tart? That’s what you are, a filthy little tart. My own daughter. Gone and got herself a bun in the oven and never so much as a word about it. So what have you got to say for yourself now your secret’s out, eh? What’s your excuse?’
Alison said nothing, desperately willing her mother to stop, but she continued her tirade.
‘How did you manage that? You actually managed to get a man to come near you? Was he blind? Who is it? Is he going to make an honest woman of you?’
Tears fell down Alison’s face but still she said nothing. There was nothing to say. All Cora’s ranting and raving wouldn’t change anything.
‘Answer me, you little trollop!’ Cora swung her daughter around to face her. ‘Who’s done this? Who’ve you let do this? Who does he think he is? Who do you think you are, ruining our family’s good name?’
‘Now, Cora, I’m sure Alison can explain,’ said Jill, horrified at the way her friend had changed. The lively, chirpy neighbour had become a screaming monster who she barely recognised. No wonder the girl was petrified.
Cora ignored her. ‘When I think of all I’ve done for you! You’ve never been anything but a burden and yet I’ve fed you and clothed you and given you a roof over your head. You’ve wanted for nothing and this is how you repay me. Well, you needn’t think you’re bringing a baby into my house. You’re a disgrace, to me and your dear late father and your sisters. You’ve let us all down. You’re an ungrateful little strumpet and you’ve no one to blame but yourself.’
Alison stood stock-still, waiting for her mother to finish. She couldn’t go on forever, she’d have to draw breath at some point. But just when she thought things could get no worse, the front door opened.
‘What’s going on, Mum? I could hear you yelling from outside,’ said Hazel, red-faced from running back from the café so she could check on how the dress was coming on. She was greeted by the sight of her beanpole sister standing in the middle of the room, barelegged, her taffeta frock halfway over her body, tears running down her face. On one side was Jill, her hands up to her face with an expression of horror. On the other was her mother, hair and eyes wild, looking fit to kill.
‘Hazel.’ Jill took a deep breath. ‘We weren’t expecting you so soon. Let me just say …’
‘She’s pregnant,’ yelled Cora, stabbing a finger at Alison. ‘Yes, you heard. Your gormless little sister has disgraced herself and brought shame to us all. I wish I didn’t have to tell you, Hazel, but it’s true. Look at her.’ Alison cowered at her mother’s sharp glance.
For a moment Hazel just stood frozen, but then her face infused with colour. She strode across the room in two steps and slapped her sister hard across the face.
‘You little bitch. You’ve done this deliberately, haven’t you? You’ve done it to ruin my wedding because you’re jealous.’
‘I’m not jealous, and I didn’t get pregnant deliberately. I … I was … ,’ Alison cried, sobs racking her body as she broke down, unable to go on.
‘Whose is it?’ demanded Hazel, gimlet eyes trained on her sister. ‘Who would possibly want to do it with you? Tell me his name and I’ll bloody kill him.’ She grabbed her roughly by the arm.
‘It won’t do you any good,’ Alison wept. ‘He’s gone. He doesn’t even know. His family disappeared and I’ve heard nothing since.’
‘Oh no.’ It dawned on Cora who she meant. ‘Not those good-for-nothing gamblers? Not the Lannings? You let one of them … you’re carrying a child from that bad lot … How could you? How could you do this to your family?’
With a loud cry Alison wrenched the bridesmaid dress off, scattering pins all over the floor. There was the sound of tearing fabric but nobody tried to save it. She then threw on her skirt and shirt before fleeing out of the front door.
‘And don’t come back!’ Cora cried after her. ‘Don’t you dare think you can show your face round here! You’re nothing but a tart and a slapper and you’ve disgraced us all!’
Jill Parrot stood by her kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. She was in shock, unable to take in what had just happened. She tried to make excuses for Cora, although she was horrified at the behaviour of the woman she’d begun to think of as a friend. She hoped she’d have reacted differently if Kathy, God forbid, found herself in such a position. Then Hazel had hit her sister. She would never have believed it if she hadn’t seen it. But she had to make allowances. They were both upset and obviously neither had had the slightest idea beforehand.
What would Neville do now? He’d have to be told. Would he feel tainted, marrying into a family that had been disgraced? She didn’t know what to advise him. People would be bound to talk when they found out and everyone associated with Alison would be under scrutiny. Then again, he wasn’t marrying Alison, he was marrying Hazel, and he loved her. It shouldn’t matter what her sister had done, but she knew not everybody would see it like that. It was bound to affect them.
As for the lovely dress … she knew it was the least of their worries but when she’d heard that fabric tearing part of her had wanted to cry too. She’d spent so long carefully cutting it to Alison’s unusual size, and had looked forward to seeing how it fitted the girl. She’d wanted to make her something special, something she realised her mother and sister never did. Now there would be no need. She wondered if she should feel angry at her, for doing this damage to them all, but couldn’t find it in her heart to do so. She felt deeply sorry for her.
Cora came through into the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry, Jill, I really am. All your hard work on that lovely frock. Well, she won’t be wearing it now.’ She shook her head. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather. Alison of all people. I never thought she had it in her. Never so much as whispered anything about a boyfriend. Now it turns out he’s done a runner. Can’t say I blame him.’
Jill sighed. ‘Cup of tea? And would Hazel like one?’
‘No, that’s kind of you, but I won’t,’ said Cora. ‘Hazel’s already gone so she can see Neville between shifts. She’d rather he heard it from her than anywhere else. I better get home. I got some thinking to do.’
‘Well, if you’re sure, Cora.’ Jill was slightly relieved to be rid of the woman when she was in this mood.
Cora almost ran across the street, not trusting herself to say another word. She was beyond anger. To think that one of her daughters could have stooped so low. Never in all their years of poverty had she let them do anything shameful. Money couldn’t buy you a good name. They had been brought up to know right from wrong and how they should behave. Perhaps she hadn’t drummed into Alison hard enough what she should and shouldn’t do where boys were concerned as she’d found it hard to imagine the need would arise. Linda and Hazel had always had boyfriends and yet neither of them had got into trouble – they were very strict, never risking their reputations. Now Alison had brought ruin to their door. Their name would be muck.
Cora hardened her heart. If Hazel’s happiness was at stake then she wouldn’t let Alison wreck it. The girl had made her own bed and would have to lie on it. Clearly she thought she was big enough to make her own decisions. Well, now she’d have to learn to live with the consequences. Her youngest daughter wouldn’t be getting any help from her.