‘Yer do think Gloria’ll be all right, don’t ya?’ Angie asked Dorothy.
‘Yes, she’s as tough as old boots,’ Dorothy said as they jumped on the bus that would take them from Thompson’s back over to the south side. ‘Remember that last beating he gave her, just before you started welding?’
Angie nodded. The image of Gloria’s battered face as they sat and ate cakes after work in a little tea shop on Dundas Street would always be imprinted on her mind’s eye.
‘Well,’ Dorothy said, as they each paid the bus conductor their fare, ‘I reckon that was much worse. The only reason she got taken to the hospital was because this time it happened in public rather than behind closed doors.’
Angie looked around her to make sure there was no one she knew as they sat down in the seats at the front of the double-decker that was now trundling along Dame Dorothy Street.
‘It made me think about my own mam,’ she said quietly. ‘Not that she’s had someone else’s bab, though!’ Angie kept her voice low as she whispered into her friend’s ear.
‘What?’ Dorothy hesitated. ‘You mean, if your dad found out …’ She let her voice trail off.
Angie nodded.
Neither of them had said anything since the day they had spotted Angie’s mother down the back lane with another man.
‘My dad’s not like that Vinnie, ya know,’ Angie said. ‘He’s not as bad as he looks.’
Dorothy wasn’t sure if she believed her friend or not.
‘Sometimes he doesn’t mean to hurt ya,’ Angie continued, ‘I just don’t think he knows his own strength.’
Dorothy thought Angie might well be kidding herself. She had seen a few examples of Angie’s dad’s inability to ‘know his own strength’ on her friend’s face when he’d cuffed her or given her a backhander.
As the bus drove across the Wearmouth Bridge, they were both automatically looking out down the river when Angie suddenly let out a loud laugh.
‘God, who am I kidding! He’d go bloody ballistic and – ’ Angie’s voice was back to a whisper ‘ – God only knows what he’d do if he found out any of us weren’t his! Not that any of us aren’t Mam and Dad’s! Well, I hope not anyway!’ she added as an afterthought.
‘Well,’ Dorothy said, ‘I think if I was your “mam”, for starters I wouldn’t be doing anything I shouldn’t.’ She dropped her voice, even though the bus was now full and everyone was immersed in their own loud chatter. ‘And secondly, if I was, I’d make damn sure I never got found out.’
Angie nodded. ‘Yeh, yer right. Luckily, my dad’s not the brightest.’
As they stood up to get off at their stop, Dorothy warned: ‘And if I was you and your dad ever did find out, I’d make bloody sure I didn’t get caught in the crossfire.’
They walked down Fawcett Street and crossed over to Burdon Road in silence before Angie asked, ‘What do ya reckon yer stepdad would do, if he found out yer mam was having it off with someone else? And worse still, had had another bloke’s bab?’
Dorothy shrugged. ‘He’d probably either pretend he didn’t know and turn a blind eye, or just leave.’
Angie made a face that intimated this was far stranger than getting a beating. ‘What, even though he’s got four bairns with yer mam?’
Dorothy shrugged again.
As they continued to walk up the road they were silent for a short while, both immersed in their own thoughts.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who’s got a stepdad,’ Angie said out of the blue.
Dorothy looked at her friend and laughed. ‘I don’t think I have either. Mind you,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘I reckon there’s plenty out there. People just don’t let on.’
Dorothy had never been exactly forthcoming herself about the fact that the man her mother was married to was not her biological father. And even though her stepfather wasn’t her most favourite person ever, when people assumed that he was her real father, she didn’t correct them.
‘Ya never say much about yer dad, Dor.’ Angie looked at her friend. ‘Yer real dad, I mean. Can yer remember him?’
‘Bits and pieces,’ Dorothy said, sounding unusually vague. ‘I was only young when he left. My memory of him is a bit of a blur. He left one day and never came back. I do remember that Mum seemed happier afterwards. Like she was relieved. She used to tell people that he’d died.’
‘Really?’ Angie said. ‘That’s a bit naughty.’
‘Well, I don’t think she wanted the stigma of being classed as a divorcee. It’s still frowned upon now, but back then it was quite scandalous.’
Angie thought for a moment before chirping up: ‘Yer know, I don’t think I have ever known anyone who’s got divorced either.’
Dorothy looked at Angie and was going to say something but stopped herself.
‘Anyway, enough about boring parents,’ she said, grabbing her friend’s arm, forcing them both to hurry across the Mowbray Road and on to the start of the long stretch of Ryhope Road. ‘On to more important things,’ she said theatrically, ‘like where’re we gonna go after we’ve seen Gloria at the hospital? Shall we see what’s on at the flicks? Or do you think we should have a little drink somewhere?’
‘Both!’ Angie said, linking arms with her friend as they both hooted with laughter.