A Daughter's Ruin Read online

  ‘He was bullied at school, called Lugs because of his sticky-out ears, and it made him a bit of a recluse.’

  ‘Oh, that’s awful.’

  ‘He should have manned up instead of running away,’ said Albie, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked into the room.

  ‘Were you one of the bullies?’ Constance asked.

  ‘What do you take me for? No, I wasn’t.’

  Constance took him for a cheat and a liar, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

  ‘Dinner won’t be long,’ Dora told him. ‘Here, do you want to hold Billy?’

  ‘Nah, maybe later.’

  ‘You take him then, Connie, and I’ll see to our roast.’

  Constance gently held her son, and then with a last glance out of the window, she said, ‘Oh, look, talk of the devil, Melvin has just shown his face. I want to thank him for helping me again.’

  ‘Albie, maybe you should compensate him for his ruined jacket,’ Dora suggested.

  ‘Leave it out, Mum. I ain’t made of money.’

  Constance opened the door and called, ‘Melvin … Melvin, have you got a minute?’

  He walked up to her and she said, ‘Please, come in.’

  Melvin looked reluctant but stepped inside. Dora immediately said, ‘Thanks for what you did for Connie. You’re a diamond.’

  ‘It was nothing, Mrs Jones.’

  ‘Yeah, I should thank you too,’ Albie drawled, ‘and I hear your jacket got ruined in the process. I’ll pay for it to be dry-cleaned.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ Melvin said and then his eyes settled on Constance. ‘Can I see the little one?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, moving the shawl to one side, ‘and thank you again. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

  ‘As I said, it was nothing.’

  They stood smiling softly at each other, but then Dora broke the tableau by saying sharply, ‘Right, well, as I said, thanks, but I’m just about to dish up our dinner.’

  ‘Right, I’ll be off then,’ Melvin said and it was Dora who ushered him out of the door.

  As he left, Albie yawned, then said, ‘I’ll just pop back upstairs to have a quick wash.’

  Constance put William in his pram to help Dora and when they walked through to the kitchen, her mother-in-law said curtly, ‘I don’t like the way you and Melvin were looking at each other. You need to remember that you’re a married woman.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean. I’m just grateful that he helped me, that’s all.’

  ‘If you say so. I suppose I may have got it wrong. After all, Melvin is a funny-looking bloke and not a patch on my Albie. I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend and I ain’t surprised.’

  Constance thought that Dora was being cruel, but held her tongue. Looks weren’t everything. Albie had them, but he was unkind and a liar. Melvin, on the other hand, had been nothing but kind and comforting towards her. If she’d had a choice, which she didn’t, she’d have chosen him over Albie every time.

  Melvin headed for the park. He couldn’t stand the racket of his mother and Penny screeching at each other, the sound penetrating his room. It made it impossible to write so he had stuffed an exercise book in his pocket, deciding to find a quiet bench, maybe near the boating lake.

  He’d been surprised when Connie invited him in and had been embarrassed by their thanks. It had been nice to see Connie, and to hear her well-modulated voice again. He loved the soft tone of it and couldn’t understand how she’d ended up married to Albie Jones. He felt sorry for her. She had no idea what kind of man she’d married. Albie Jones presented himself as a womaniser, but Melvin knew something about him that he’d never revealed. Something that could blow the Joneses’ world apart.

  It was a nice day, but not quite summery enough to bring out many people, something Melvin was pleased about as he found a bench slightly sheltered by a weeping willow tree. He sat down, pulled out his exercise book and pen, looking out across the boating lake for inspiration. However, it was Connie that filled his mind. He’d never marry, but if he did he’d have liked a wife like her. And children, he would have liked children, and there was always adoption, but then his thoughts were interrupted by a dog that unceremoniously lifted its leg against the bench.

  ‘Toby, come here boy,’ a voice called.

  Melvin recognised it and turned his head. ‘Hello, Mr Jackson,’ he said to the man who used to be his boss until he retired from his job in the storeroom at work.

  ‘Hello, Melvin. Fancy seeing you here. I walk my dog every day but I haven’t seen you in the park before.’

  ‘I only come here occasionally.’

  ‘There’s nothing like a dog to get you out of the house. When my wife died I felt a bit lost, but then I got Toby and he’s made a huge difference to my life. He’s a wonderful companion and I wouldn’t be without him.’

  ‘I’d like one, but my mother would never stand for having a dog in the house.’

  ‘Well then, maybe you should think about finding a place of your own.’

  ‘Yeah, one of these days I might.’

  ‘Toby’s anxious to be off, so I’ll say cheerio.’

  ‘Bye, Mr Jackson,’ Melvin called as the man and his dog walked away. The conversation had given him food for thought, and he liked the idea of having a dog, along with his own home. However, he soon realised that he couldn’t leave a dog alone all day while he was at work, and he’d never learned to cook or do anything much for himself. His mother, with her old-fashioned ideas, had seen to that, insisting that the kitchen was no place for a man.

  Melvin’s thoughts turned to his sister, and the baby she was carrying. It would be his nephew or niece, but he’d never see it. His mother, with her prejudice, would see to that too. He hated her narrow-mindedness and those of her ilk in the area who judged people by the colour of their skin. With a heavy sigh he gripped his pen, and after reading through what he’d written before being driven from the house, Melvin began a new chapter.

  Chapter 29

  Constance placed William in his pram and then walked along to Jill’s house. She knocked on the door and it was immediately thrown open, her friend grinning widely. ‘It’s about time you got out of that house. Come in.’

  ‘It’s been good of you to call in to see me all the time, but I must admit it’s nice to come to you for a change,’ Constance replied.

  ‘You haven’t been well, so I didn’t mind.’

  ‘I know, but luckily I’m feeling much better now.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Sit yourself down and I’ll make us a drink.’

  Constance gratefully sat on the sofa. She’d been ill for a week with a bladder infection, but now she was feeling back to normal she was going to see Ethel the next day. However, other than maternity clothes, she had nothing to wear. The clothes she had brought with her were all ruined, stretched out of shape with many of the seams gaping. When Jill returned with a tray she said, ‘Jill, I need to buy some new clothes, but I don’t want to pay a lot for them. Can you recommend anywhere?’

  ‘If you don’t mind secondhand, I know a place along Battersea High Street.’

  ‘I’m not sure about secondhand if I don’t know where they came from.’

  ‘You’ll be surprised. All the stock is clean, and very good quality. The woman who owns the shop only buys good stuff. Look, drink your tea, and then I’ll get Andrew ready and we can go and take a look. If you don’t like anything, fine, but it’s worth checking out before you spend your money on cheap new clothes.’

  It wasn’t long before they were pushing their prams side by side to the shop. Constance doubted she’d find anything, but when they arrived and went inside, she was pleasantly surprised. She searched the racks, finding labels she recognised, and soon had a small pile of clothes. She hated breaking into her savings, but she had no other choice, and asked, ‘Can I try these on, please?’

  ‘Of course you can, ducks,’ the small, neat, woman said.
‘There’s a changing room over there.’

  For the next twenty minutes Constance paraded the clothes she’d selected, Jill giving the thumbs up or down, and then replacing the discarded ones with others. Finally, she settled on two dresses, a couple of just-above-the-knee skirts and two blouses. It wouldn’t give her a large wardrobe but she was reluctant to spend any more money, so she paid for the goods. ‘Thanks, Jill,’ she said on their way back home. ‘It’ll be good to get out of my maternity clothes.’

  ‘I’ll give your hair a bit of a trim too.’

  ‘Well, now, what have we here?’ Susan Porter said as they were about to pass her on Kibble Street. ‘The new mum. Let’s have a look at the sprog then.’

  Connie didn’t want to antagonise the woman, so pulled back the blankets covering William. ‘He’s asleep,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, I can see that, and at least he’s white. Which is more than you can say for another baby that’s going to be born from this street.’

  ‘The colour of its skin shouldn’t matter,’ Constance snapped curtly.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Jill urged.

  ‘Yeah, go on, bugger off, you stuck-up cow.’ Susan scowled.

  ‘You’ve no right to call her that, you nasty-minded bitch,’ Jill retorted.

  ‘I speak as I find.’

  Constance had felt the sting of nasty remarks from Susan Porter and was annoyed that she’d now turned on Jill. ‘You might call us stuck-up, but if we’re up, that makes you beneath us, down in the sewers where you belong.’

  ‘You … you … I’ve a good mind to give you a slap,’ Susan ground out.

  ‘Mrs Porter, if you continue to make slanderous remarks to myself and my friend, along with threats, I will have no other recourse than to consult a lawyer and you will find yourself in court. Now good day to you.’

  With that, Constance marched off, Jill beside her almost choking with laughter. ‘My God, did you see her face when you talked about a lawyer? She actually looked worried.’

  ‘Good, and with any luck she’ll leave us alone for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘I doubt anyone has put the wind up her like that before, so you never know. Now come on, let’s get indoors and have something to drink before I trim your hair.’

  Constance smiled at Jill, loving having her as a friend. Tomorrow she’d go to see Ethel looking presentable in one of her new outfits. She still wasn’t happy being married to Albie, but at least living on Kibble Street was bearable now, though one day she still hoped to escape.

  It was after one in the afternoon. Albie tossed and turned, finding it difficult to sleep. He’d over-indulged last night and was now suffering for it. He was living in two worlds: one that he loved, where he enjoyed his job in the club and the rest of the time he spent in Soho, and the other that he hated, where he was expected to pay attention to a baby that did nothing but suckle and fill his nappy. It turned his stomach, but his other world offered him pleasure. If it wasn’t for his expectations, he’d leave Battersea and his life here for good. However, for Burton Blake’s house and the money that would one day be his, he’d stay. He just hoped the man wouldn’t live to a ripe old age.

  Albie heard Connie pottering about downstairs, and he decided to get up. She could make him a cup of tea and something to eat, which, with any luck, would then help him to sleep. However, when he walked into the front room, his eyes widened. Connie was wearing a pale blue dress he hadn’t seen before and it suited her. Her hair was shining and framed her face. Her eyes looked skilfully made up, and her lips were painted pink. She actually looked a lot nicer, but even if she was a doppelgänger for Marilyn Monroe, he wouldn’t fancy her. ‘Where the hell are you going dressed up like that?’

  ‘To see your grandmother.’

  ‘I don’t know why you bother but you can make me a cup of tea and a sandwich first.’

  ‘Surely you can do that yourself?’

  ‘I can, but I won’t. Why have a dog and bark yourself?’

  ‘How dare you,’ she hissed.

  ‘All right, don’t get on your high horse, I was only joking,’ Albie said placatingly, knowing that if he wanted Connie to stay he had to be nice to her. He forced himself to put his arms around her and as he’d come up with another excuse for staying out of her bed, he said, ‘I know I said I’d consummate our marriage after the baby was born, but I can’t. Not while you’re breastfeeding. The thought of copping hold of your breast and getting covered in milk turns my stomach.’

  ‘Albie, I don’t care if you never consummate our marriage. I don’t want you to make love to me. I’m happy to leave things as they are.’

  He was chuffed with that and said, ‘Fine, I ain’t going anywhere where I ain’t wanted. You can get off now, if you like. I’ll make my own tea and a sandwich.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Connie said, and wrapping William in a shawl she quickly left.

  Albie heaved a sigh of relief. He didn’t have to worry about getting it up for Connie any more. He’d married a cold fish, and that suited him well.

  Constance held William in her arms while she waited for a bus. She also carried a bag containing his spare nappies and cream. What she really needed was one of those folding pushchairs, but he wasn’t big enough to go in one yet. Thankfully she didn’t have long to wait for a bus, and was soon alighting at the market. The familiar sounds assailed her ears, but none seemed to bother William as he remained soundly asleep in her arms. She made the short walk to Ethel’s flat and rang the bell. The old woman’s eyes lit up when she saw her.

  ‘Constance, you’ve had the baby. Come in and let me take a look. Is it a boy or a girl?’

  ‘A boy. His name is William,’ Constance told her as they walked into the sitting room.

  For a moment Ethel’s eyes clouded, but as soon as she looked at the baby she recovered. ‘Oh, my great-grandson. He’s gorgeous.’

  ‘Sit down and I’ll hand him to you while I make us a cup of tea, if that’s all right?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Ethel said, taking a seat and holding out her arms.

  Constance left her smiling down at William while she went to the kitchen to fill the kettle at the Belfast sink. The window overlooked a yard, but they had managed to make it look cheerful with pots of colourful flowers. While waiting for the kettle to boil, her thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Albie. It was true she didn’t want to make love to him, but she still craved affection, someone to really care for her, and didn’t want to remain in a loveless marriage. There had to be a way out.

  ‘When we’ve had these drinks, how do you feel about going to see Mary in the café? I know she’d love to see the baby.’

  ‘That’s fine with me.’

  ‘How are you out and about already? Did you have William early?’

  ‘Yes, I did. The last time I visited you I had a bit of an accident and fell off a bus.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness …’

  ‘The fall brought the baby on but I only suffered a few bruises.’

  ‘Well, you were lucky by the sound of it. I’m glad you are both all right. And how are things at home?’

  ‘Albie is working nights in a factory and sleeps all day so I don’t see much of him. He’s not that interested in his son, but Dora adores him.’

  ‘I guessed she would, but reading between the lines you don’t sound any happier with Albie.’

  ‘I must admit I can’t forgive him for the way he treated me, or you, and the lies he’s told. I just wish I could get out of this farce of a marriage.’

  ‘You could try to talking to your father. When he sees the baby it might make a difference, soften him enough to allow you to return home.’

  ‘I suppose I could give it a try, but even if he refuses I could beg him to give me an allowance, enough to rent a small flat with a bit of an income to live on.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bank on it. Though I hate to say it, your father isn’t a generous man.’

  ‘You’re probably right, but I still ha
ve to ask.’

  ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as the saying goes. Now come on, Constance. If you’ve finished your drink let’s go and show my gorgeous great-grandson to Mary.’

  She leaned down to take the baby from Ethel, wrapped him in his shawl and realised again that when here she was Constance, her diction accepted along with her name. They walked along the market and one of the stall-holders shouted, ‘Wotcher, Ethel, nice to see you up and about again. Who’s that you’ve got with you?’

  ‘This is my grandson’s wife, and the baby she’s carrying is my great-grandson,’ Ethel answered proudly.

  ‘Blimey, gal, you don’t look old enough.’

  ‘Thanks, but you need to get your eyesight checked.’

  ‘No, I don’t. I’ve got twenty-twenty vision, but come over here, love, and let’s take a look at the nipper.’

  Constance walked up to the man and said, ‘How do you do, and this is William.’

  ‘Bloody hell, you sound like a duchess. Here, Ethel, I didn’t know you’re related to royalty.’

  ‘I’m not, you soppy sod. Constance just speaks nicely, that’s all.’

  Constance was smiling as they walked on. It seemed she was collecting titles. First the Queen of Clapham, and now the Duchess again. It was a shame she didn’t have the wealth associated with them; if she did, she’d leave Albie like a shot.

  Mary glanced round as the door opened, smiling widely when she saw Ethel and Constance walking in. She hurried up to them, her eyes on the bundle in Constance’s arms. ‘Oh, you’ve had the baby!’

  ‘Yes, meet William,’ Constance said.

  ‘Cor, what a smasher. Can I hold him?’