‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right, Mum? I don’t like leaving you on your own, and anyway, I don’t really feel like going out. After the day I’ve had, all I want to do is curl up by the fire and rest.’
Emily looked over to where Nellie was sitting by the fire, her attention on her needlework box and the pile of worn socks on her lap waiting to be darned. Careful to keep her face averted from the pitying glances of the two young men and Doris, who were standing awkwardly by the door, Nellie said firmly, ‘For goodness sake, Emily, how many more times do I have to tell you? I’m fine, and I’ll be a lot better once you’ve gone and given me a bit of peace and quiet to get on with my sewing. Besides, Lenny will be back as soon as his stomach reminds him he’s had no dinner. You know what your brother’s like.’
Emily bit down hard on the retort that hovered on her lips. Oh yes, she knew only too well what her brother was like. And, as much as she loved him and sympathised with his plight, she found it hard to forgive him his periodic disappearances whenever life became difficult. She could understand his actions when he was younger, but not now, not when his mother needed him at home to act as a buffer between her and the brute she had married. Because even though Lenny might be childlike in his mind, his build and strength were more than a match for Alfie Ford. All Lenny needed was the confidence to stand his ground against his father – just once, that’s all it would take – because, like all bullies, Alfie would soon back off once he knew there was a danger of finding himself on the wrong side of a heavy fist. But it was no good Emily voicing her thoughts. Her mother would be horrified at the idea of her son, her little lad, as she still thought of him, squaring up to his own father, however much the situation warranted it.
‘Your friends are waiting, Emily.’
Realising that it was pointless to argue, and knowing her mother was embarrassed by her friends’ presence, Emily picked up her clutch-bag from the table, her fingers opening and shutting the clasp nervously. She felt bad about going out and leaving her mother on her own, after what had happened earlier, though what Emily had witnessed was probably an everyday occurrence. That would explain why her mother had recovered from her short burst of crying so quickly and had fobbed off any further probing by her anxious daughter. As much as Emily didn’t want to admit it, the plain truth was that her mother was so accustomed to being used as a punchbag that she no longer thought anything of it. But even though Nellie seemed resigned to her brutalised state, Emily had no intention of letting it continue, which was why she was reluctant to leave her mother on her own. For all she knew, her dad might well be keeping an eye on the house, just waiting for Emily to leave before he showed his face.
A surge of anger flowed through her, and it wasn’t all directed at her absent father. Threaded through the animosity was a feeling of pity and shame. Shame that her mother could let herself be used in such a way. God! If any man ever raised his hand to her… Then she looked at the bowed head and the anger vanished, leaving in its place a deep sense of guilt for having judged her mother so harshly.
Bending down to kiss the smooth cheek, she whispered, ‘I won’t be long. I’ll be back home as soon as the show is over. And if Dad comes back in the meantime, you tell him I’ll be bringing Andy and Tommy back with me.’
Straightening up she said aloud, ‘Don’t have any supper, Mum. I’ll bring some fish and chips home with me. Or would you prefer some pie and mash?’ A broad smile came to her lips as a look of disgust passed over Nellie’s face. Her mum had never been able to stand the sight of the thick parsley sauce that smothered the traditional pie and mash. And she was the same herself. Every time her dad brought some home, Emily and Nellie would carefully avert their eyes from the gooey mess, as both Lenny and Alfie tucked in with relish. ‘Don’t worry, I was only joking. I’ll bring you a nice bit of cod, or would you prefer plaice?’
‘I’ll have whatever you can get,’ Nellie said testily. ‘Now get yourself off, before those three start climbing the walls with impatience.’ She nodded her head in the direction of the three figures standing by the door, all of whom immediately jumped guiltily. Forgetting her own troubles for a moment, Nellie let her gaze linger on the two young men.
She had known them since their childhood, yet at this minute she hardly recognised them. The fact that they were twins came as a surprise to most people, for they were as different as chalk and cheese, both in appearance and in manner. Nellie could still remember seeing them when they were toddlers.
Andrew, so sturdy with his mop of blond, curly hair falling over his face, and Tommy, as thin as a whippet and his hair as black as coal. They didn’t look much different now. Andrew’s heavy build and blunt features belied his nature. He was a quiet, shy man who had always seemed older than his years, whereas Tommy, with his slim build and dark hair, had always been the dare-devil, the cheeky rogue who could talk his way out of trouble as a boy and now, as a young man, could, as the saying went, charm his way out of hell and into heaven. As long as she’d known him, Tommy had always had a smile on his lips and a gleam of laughter in his dark blue eyes. Though Nellie had often wondered if his happy nature was simply a façade to compensate for the total lack of affection shown to him by his mother. Of the two brothers, Andrew was the one Ida Carter adored, lavishing all her love on that particular son while having as little to do with her other son as was humanly possible. Through no fault of his own, Tommy Carter was the living image of his father, both in looks and personality, and the unfortunate lad had paid dearly for his startling resemblance to the man who had left his wife and sons to fend for themselves many years ago.
Both young men had had their hair cropped so short that their heads looked only one step away from baldness, but it was the uniform that had completely transformed them, from the small lads who had seemed to be for ever in and out of her parlour when Emily was still at home into grown men. They were wearing tight-fitting khaki uniforms, with puttees wound around their calves from the tips of their highly polished boots, and their peaked caps held self-consciously by the tips of their fingers.
Then Tommy, his eyes alight with mischief, came towards Nellie, smiling.
‘How about getting your glad rags on and coming with us, Mrs Ford? I’ve always fancied going out with an older woman.’
Despite herself, Nellie laughed out loud. Looking into the deep blue eyes of Tommy Carter, eyes that were filled with kindness, she felt suddenly young again. Flapping her arm at him she cried happily, ‘Get along with you. Why, you’d run a mile if I was to take you up on that offer.’
Emily watched the happy banter, her own lips spreading into a grin of delighted amazement. Wiry, her mum was flirting with Tommy, and he, the cheeky devil, was playing up to her.
Oh, it was good to see her mum happy. She looked ten years younger at this minute. With a sudden shock Emily realised just how pretty her mother was. Or could be, if her dad wasn’t around to put added years on her. There came to Emily then an overwhelming determination to make sure that her mother was never hurt again, even if it meant turning her dad over to the authorities. She was surprised to realise that she could consider such an action without any compunction on her part. For years he had made her mother’s life a misery. Now it was time he had a taste of his own medicine; it was no more than he deserved.
When the door closed after them, Nellie stared long into the fire, the smile still in evidence on her face. He was a nice lad, that Tommy Carter, and kind. His brother Andrew was nice too, but in a quieter sort of way. But Tommy… Well, he’d broken a few hearts in his time, and without even trying. For a few moments she thought of Ida Carter, and wondered how any mother could treat her child as she treated her son. Then she shrugged.
She had enough troubles of her own without taking on anyone else’s. As she bent to her sewing, she saw again those mischievous eyes, which had taken her back all those years, and found herself humming a tune beneath her breath.