A Broken Family Read online

  Phyllis ignored the comment, only saying, ‘At least we don’t have to spend time grating our soap now. I think this new washing powder that’s come out is marvellous.’

  ‘Yeah, it is, but I must tell you what I heard this morning.’

  Phyllis was used to this. Mabel thrived on gossip, but Phyllis knew why and understood. It was something that kept Mabel’s mind occupied; a tool she used to shut out the grief that still tortured her. She and Jack had lost their only child, a little boy, to measles when he was only three years old. They hadn’t had any more children, and though no reason could be found, it was as though something in Mabel had died too.

  Phyllis had always wanted another child too, but though trying, Amy had remained the only one. At least she had her daughter, while poor Mabel had been left childless. Few remained on Lark Rise who remembered what Mabel had been through, or if they did, any sympathy they had once felt had long been forgotten.

  With a sigh, Phyllis just wished Mabel would find something else to do with her time, something that could be meaningful, but after all these years she’d run out of suggestions. ‘All right, Mabel, as you’re keen to tell me, what have you heard?’

  ‘That cousin of yours, Rose, has got her eye on someone.’

  Phyllis’s lips tightened. Rose was always the subject of local gossip and she said, ‘Don’t tell me it’s a married man again.’

  ‘To be honest it was only a snippet and no names were mentioned. Of course she’s had her eye on the landlord’s agent for ages, so it might be him. If it is, I don’t know what she sees in the ugly sod. I told him that my roof is leaking ages ago, but he still hasn’t got the landlord to sort it out.’

  ‘Keep on at him,’ Phyllis advised.

  ‘Yeah, I will. My back bedroom is in a right state and every time it rains I have to put a bucket under the leak. It’s just as well I don’t use it,’ Mabel said, her expression saddening.

  As it had been the one that Mabel’s little boy had slept in, Phyllis understood, but it also gave her an idea. ‘If you can get the agent to have a word with the landlord about fixing the roof, you could let that room. It would give you a few extra bob a week.’

  ‘It’s an idea,’ Mabel mused, ‘but to be honest, I don’t think my Jack would stand for it. You know how he likes his privacy, and anyway, with him being a railway guard, we ain’t too bad off.’

  Phyllis’s suggestion hadn’t been to do with money, though she had passed it off as such. A lodger might have given Mabel something to focus on, someone else to look after instead of spending all her spare time watching all the comings and goings on Lark Rise to feed her insatiable need for gossip.

  They continued to chat and when the pot had been emptied, Mabel rose to her feet. ‘I’d best get my washing in. Do you want me to give you a hand with yours in the morning?’

  ‘Thanks for the offer, but I can manage.’

  ‘Right then, I’m off. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Bye, love,’ Phyllis called as she left. She knew that few of their neighbours could stand Mabel, that they found her harsh and opinionated; but Phyllis would always stand by her friend, no matter what.

  Amy and Carol were on their way home, Carol going on and on about her date on Friday. ‘Did I tell you that Roy’s got a car?’

  ‘Yes, several times. Tommy can drive, but his dad won’t let him use the firm’s van out of working hours.’

  Carol gave a little skip. ‘I’ve never been asked out to dinner before and I want to find something special to wear. What about my hair? Do you think I should wear it up, or down?’

  ‘I like that French pleat, it makes you look older, sophisticated, but it looks nice when you curl it onto your shoulders too.’

  Carol didn’t think that was much help, and her mind drifted to what she was going to wear again. It still seemed ages to Friday, but if she went to the Nelson Café for lunch tomorrow, she could see Roy again before that. The idea was appealing at first, but then she decided against it. After all, she didn’t want it to look like she was chasing after him.

  As they turned into Lark Rise, Carol saw that Amy was looking at Tommy’s house, and said, ‘Why don’t you go and see if he’s any better?’

  ‘If I didn’t have to face the dragon, I would. Mrs Frost made it clear on Sunday morning that Tommy wouldn’t be up to seeing anyone for a good few days.’

  Carol frowned. ‘Hang on, you told me you were with him last night.’

  Amy’s face went bright red and she stuttered, ‘Yes … yes … I was.’

  ‘If you’re going to be a liar, you should make sure you’re a good one. You’re rubbish at it, Amy.’

  ‘I … I’m sorry.’

  ‘If you didn’t want to go out dancing with me, you only had to say no. You didn’t have to invent an excuse.’

  ‘I … I didn’t want to upset you.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have. I met up with some of the other girls at the club, though I would like to know the real reason why you didn’t want to come out with me.’

  Amy hung her head, saying nothing, and Carol urged, ‘Come on, spit it out.’

  ‘I was worried about Tommy. If he found out I’d been out having a good time, it might have upset him.’

  ‘Tough. He doesn’t own you.’

  ‘I know that. It’s just that I really like him,’ Amy said as they carried on down the hill.

  Carol just couldn’t understand what Amy saw in Tommy Frost. For her, Roy was all man, not a thin weakling, but she didn’t voice her thoughts, instead saying, ‘Look, Mabel Povis is on her doorstep again. I don’t know why she doesn’t put her bed on it. She’s more outside her house than in it.’

  ‘Mrs Povis is a bit nosey, but she’s all right really. My mum thinks a lot of her.’

  ‘Mine doesn’t,’ Carol said as she watched Mabel trotting up to them.

  ‘Amy, I’m glad I caught you,’ the woman said. ‘Your mum’s so worn out that she passed out this morning.’

  ‘What?’ Amy cried. ‘She fainted?’

  ‘Yes, but thankfully she’s all right now. You, my girl, should do more to help her around the house.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I will,’ Amy said, pale as she hurried indoors.

  Unlike Amy, Carol wasn’t scared of confrontation and she glared at Mabel. ‘You had no right to have a go at Amy. She works full time, and on top of that she already does a lot to help her mother.’

  ‘She can do more,’ Mabel snapped and turning, she marched back into her own house.

  Carol was left fuming, and her parents heard all about it as soon as she walked into the living room.

  Frank Cole was listening to his daughter as she ranted and raved about Mabel Povis. He wasn’t in the mood for this. After a hard day at work maintaining the noisy machines in the printing factory, all he wanted was a bit of peace and quiet. Daphne, his wife, was of course listening avidly while Frank wondered what it was with women and gossip.

  ‘She was obviously waiting for Amy and had the cheek to tell her to do more to help her mother,’ Carol said angrily.

  ‘Well, Phyllis does have it hard,’ Daphne mused, ‘and I’m a bit worried to hear that she fainted.’

  ‘You should have seen Amy’s face. She went as white as a sheet,’ Carol continued.

  ‘I’ll pop along to see Phyllis in the morning,’ said Daphne, ‘though I doubt I’ll get in the door before Mabel turns up. It’s like the woman has some sort of radar system.’

  Frank sighed and tried to divert his wife. ‘Daphne, what are we having for dinner?’

  ‘What we always have on a Monday,’ she replied. ‘Meat left over from the Sunday roast with bubble and squeak.’

  Frank licked his lips in anticipation of a nice tasty dinner. To his relief, Daphne headed for the kitchen with Carol close behind her. He could still hear them talking about Mabel, but at least he’d get his dinner soon.

  His sons hadn’t turned up, but looking at the clock Frank knew that there was still time yet. It annoy
ed him that Dave and Paul often came round at meal times expecting to be fed, and not only that, Daphne still did their washing. His boys had done all right for themselves in the building game, with Paul a carpenter, and Dave a plasterer. They earned good money, rented a two-bedroom flat above a shop on Lavender Hill, and as far as Frank was concerned, it was about time they looked after themselves.

  Frank would never admit it, but though he loved his sons, his daughter was the most precious to him. He also knew that Daphne favoured the boys, who both looked more like him, whereas Carol was so like her mother, both beauties and both his.

  He’d never worried about the boys when they went out at night, but it wasn’t the same with Carol. He insisted she was home by ten thirty and though she railed against it, she was rarely late. She’d had a fair few boyfriends, but if any of them had dared to take liberties with her, he’d have wrung their bloody necks. Carol wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment, and that suited him just fine.

  ‘Dinner’s ready,’ Carol said, laying two plates on the table.

  Daphne followed behind with her own plate, and at last it seemed the subject of Mabel had been exhausted. He sat down, relieved that the boys hadn’t turned up, his plate piled high.

  ‘I’m popping round to see my mother after dinner,’ Daphne said.

  Frank couldn’t stand his mother-in-law and knew the feeling was mutual. She lived a few streets away, hated living alone since her old man kicked the bucket, and Daphne often went round to keep her company. He didn’t mind, and more often than not he went to the pub where he enjoyed a game of darts. ‘I’m going out too. I’ve got a match on tonight.’

  Frank tucked in, mostly a contented man; little knowing that there would come a time when his satisfaction with life was going to turn to ashes.

  Chapter Five

  Amy had dashed indoors to find her mother in the kitchen preparing dinner. She’d looked all right, albeit a bit pale, but after hearing what Amy had to say, she was now red-faced with temper.

  ‘Mabel had no right to tell you that I fainted!’ she snapped yet again. ‘Look at you, all upset and for no reason.’

  ‘Mum, I’m more upset that you won’t go and sit down. I can finish making our dinner.’

  ‘I don’t need to rest. I was just tired, but now I’m fine. Go and get your work clothes off and this will be ready by the time you come downstairs again.’

  No matter how hard Amy tried, her mother wouldn’t give in and defeated, she went to change her clothes. It didn’t take long and five minutes later Amy was back in the kitchen where her mother said, ‘If your dad doesn’t get a move on, dinner will be ruined. I’ve only got an hour to spare before I have to leave for work.’

  ‘Mum, no, surely you’re not up to going out cleaning again?’

  ‘Of course I am.’

  Before Amy could protest further, she heard her father coming in and then his voice calling, ‘Where are you, woman?’

  ‘Where do you think?’ Phyllis called in reply.

  ‘Probably in the kitchen where you belong,’ he said, grinning as he appeared in the doorway.

  ‘It’s a wonder you haven’t chained me to the sink.’

  ‘Now then, don’t go putting ideas into my head.’

  Amy usually loved to hear her parents’ banter, but there wasn’t a smile on her face this time as she said to her father, ‘Mum fainted this morning.’

  He frowned worriedly and asked, ‘Phyllis, what made you pass out?’

  ‘I was a bit over-tired, that’s all.’

  ‘Dad, I don’t think she should go to work tonight,’

  Amy said, relieved that her dad was home to back

  her up.

  ‘Amy’s right, Phyllis. You’d best stay home,’ he agreed.

  ‘Now look, I told Amy and now I’m telling you. I’m fine and don’t intend to lose an evening’s pay over nothing. Now get out from under my feet while I dish this dinner up.’

  ‘I’ll do it, Mum. You go and sit down.’

  ‘I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself, and you, Stan, go and have a quick wash. Your hands are filthy.’

  ‘Yes Boss,’ he said, disappearing.

  Defeated, Amy tried another offer. ‘I’ll give Winnie her dinner if you like.’

  ‘Yes, all right, and tell her I’ll pop in after I’ve finished work to help her into bed.’

  ‘I could do that, Mum.’

  ‘No, love. Winnie can be a bit funny and I doubt she’ll undress in front of you. There’s her commode to sort out too so you’d best leave it to me.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘That’s enough, Amy. I said I’ll deal with it and I will. Now get this round to Winnie before it goes cold,’ she insisted, handing Amy a plate, covered with another.

  With no other option, Amy did as she was told, but she was still worried about her mum and couldn’t believe that tiredness alone had caused her to faint.

  Celia had seen Amy with her friend as they passed her window on their way home from work. She had held her breath, and was relieved that Amy hadn’t knocked on her door. Of course she’d told the girl that Thomas wasn’t well enough to see anyone, and thankfully it had worked.

  With her son’s dinner on a tray, Celia took it up to him. Thomas’s fever had gone down overnight and he looked a lot better, but she’d insisted that he remain in bed. ‘Here you are, darling,’ she said. ‘Now do try to eat it all.’

  ‘I thought Amy might call in on her way home from work.’

  ‘I saw her passing with her friend, the two of them chatting and giggling, but she didn’t stop to ask how you are.’

  Thomas looked forlorn, but Celia hardened her heart. If Thomas became serious about a girl, she wanted her to come from a good family, not unlike the Willards who lived next door. They were members of the Conservative Club too and had a daughter, Melissa, but having seen her all his life, so far Thomas hadn’t noticed that she had now grown up. Of course Melissa wasn’t a beauty, with a rather large nose and long, thin face surrounded by mousy brown hair, but she was poised and intelligent. Celia wanted to encourage Thomas to notice Melissa, and if he was well again by Saturday night, she intended to invite the Willards to dinner.

  ‘That’s your father,’ Celia said as she heard George arriving home. She had grown used to his irregular hours. George could arrive late if an urgent job came up, but not so this evening. She left Thomas to eat his dinner and went downstairs.

  George had taken off his coat and was hanging it on the hall rack. Celia knew his routine. He would now go upstairs to have a wash and change his clothes before sitting down to dinner. ‘How’s Thomas?’ he asked.

  ‘A little better,’ she replied, her back stiffening at his terse tone and lack of greeting. There had been a time when George would kiss her on his return home, but those days were long gone. They were now like cold acquaintances, Celia thought as she walked through to the kitchen.

  By the time George came downstairs again, Celia had their dinner on the table, and pulling out a chair he sat down, looking at his food as he said, ‘I’ll be going out again in an hour or so.’

  ‘What, again? You’re out more evenings these days than you are in.’

  ‘It’s work, Celia, I’m not going to turn it down.’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ she conceded, ‘and no doubt your profits are up?’

  ‘Yes, they are.’

  ‘In that case, I’d like to buy a new dinner set. Last time we had a meal with the Willards, Libby was showing off her recently acquired Crown Derby. It’s our turn to entertain them on Saturday and I’d like to have something equally nice.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with the stuff we have now.’

  ‘George, it’s cheap rubbish in comparison to Libby’s china.’

  ‘Celia, I’m sick of hearing about Libby Willard and the things she’s got. You wanted a television as soon as they got one, then it was new crystal glasses, and now you want another dinner set. I don’t know why you think y
ou have to keep up with the woman. It’s getting bloody ridiculous.’

  ‘And I’m sick of hearing your bad language!’ Celia snapped, her temper rising.

  With that George reared to his feet and leaning across the table he hissed, ‘Well you won’t have to hear it any more, Celia. I’m going out!’

  ‘Good! I’ll be glad to see the back of you,’ she shouted in reply.

  ‘And I’m glad to hear you say that,’ George said enigmatically before marching off, the front door slamming behind him while Celia was left to ponder on his words.

  George wished he had kept his mouth shut and as he walked down the hill to the bottom of the Rise he was kicking himself. He wasn’t ready to make his move yet and hoped he hadn’t given the game away.

  It was only six thirty, too early, so with half an hour to kill he headed for the pub. A few blokes were propping up the bar, but George wasn’t in the mood for chatting so after ordering a pint, he sat down at a table. He took his time, just sipping the beer, after all, he didn’t want to arrive tipsy and ruin the evening.

  At seven fifteen the door opened and Stan Miller limped in. George wasn’t surprised, the man was a regular, and spotting him Stan called, ‘Watcha, George. Can I get you another pint?’

  ‘No thanks, mate. I’m only having this one then I’m off.’

  ‘Yeah, you don’t want to upset the wife. Mine’s gone off to work so I’m all right.’

  George had heard that Phyllis Miller did evening cleaning at a local factory and cynically he wondered if Celia knew how lucky she was. Since their marriage he had been the provider and she’d never had to work, yet despite that Celia had become more and more demanding. It was one thing after another, new this, new that, while he had to work his guts out to provide them.

  Stan had gone to the bar, and was soon chatting to another bloke, while George continued to think about Celia. It really riled him that she looked down on people, especially the Millers. Stan had been reduced to poorly paid factory work since he’d been wounded during the war, and Phyllis had to work to supplement their income, yet Celia had never taken that into consideration.

  A grim smile of satisfaction crossed George’s face. If things worked out the way he hoped, Celia had a shock coming. He finished his pint and rose to leave. It was time for his next port of call, and he couldn’t wait to get there.