A Cuckoo in Candle Lane Read online

  Chapter Six

  Ruth was on her hands and knees, vigorously scrubbing the kitchen floor. Palms flat, she pushed herself up, resting on her heels, back arched as she massaged the base of her spine. Phew, she thought, I could do with a break. Hearing a sudden rat-a-tat on the dividing wall she smiled at Elsie’s signal that the kettle was on, and bent forward with renewed vigour.

  The last few months had brought many changes in her life and she had become close to her next-door neighbour, making it a habit to pop round for a cup of tea after her morning chores were finished. Life had become so much easier since Ken’s boss had put him on long-distance driving. Somehow, being away from home for one or two nights a week had softened him, and it had been a while now since he had given her a clout.

  Thankfully rinsing the last strip of lino, she stood up, pursing her lips as she rubbed her sore knees. Now for a cup of tea, she thought, returning Elsie’s knock to let her know she was on her way.

  ‘Wotcher, Elsie, is the tea made? I’m spitting feathers,’ she called, stepping through the back door into the kitchen.

  Elsie paused in the act of lifting the teapot. ‘Yes, it’s ready,’ she said with a grin. ‘You and your tea – I should have brought an urn when I moved next door to you.’

  Ruth chuckled as she sat down at the table. ‘How’s things?’

  ‘Fine, but did you hear the almighty racket my Arthur made this morning? He was in such a hurry to get downstairs for his breakfast that he slid the last five steps on his bottom. The whole street must have heard him yelling and he did his best to get out of going to school. We weren’t fooled though, and it didn’t stop him stuffing his face. I don’t know where he puts all the grub. Bert said he must have hollow legs.’

  ‘No, I didn’t hear him, but I did notice your husband leaving early. Has he got another removals job?’

  Spooning sugar into the cups, Elsie slid one across the table towards Ruth. ‘Yeah, a family moving to Devon, lucky devils. The firm’s doing well and Bert said if things keep up like this, they might be able to buy another van next year. Not that I see any benefits yet, as most of the money gets ploughed back into the business. Still, I mustn’t complain. At least I get my housekeeping money every week.’

  Ruth picked up her tea and took an appreciative sip. ‘You’re lucky, Elsie, you get a darn sight more money than me.’

  ‘I know, but your husband’s started doing long hauls so he must be earning more. Why don’t you ask him for a rise?’

  ‘You must be joking! I wouldn’t dare do that. Anyway, now that he’s away a couple of nights a week I don’t have to buy so much food, so I’m that much better off.’

  Elsie bit her lip, a strange expression on her face, but before Ruth could ask her what was wrong, she said, ‘By the way, me and Peggy Green are going for a game of Bingo this evening. Do you fancy joining us?’

  ‘I can’t, Ken’s due home tonight.’ Ruth drank the last dregs of tea. ‘In fact, I had better be off, I’m all behind today. I’ve got a stew to put on and there’s still the ironing to do. I’ll see yer tomorrow, Elsie.’

  After seeing Ruth out, Elsie returned to the kitchen and sank onto a chair, her mind distracted. She had sensed for some time now that Ruth had trouble coming, and only last week, when her husband was supposed to be on a delivery job in Portsmouth and staying overnight, Bert had seen him in Balham. She suspected he was up to something and perhaps had another woman, but how could she tell Ruth that, and anyway what if she was wrong?

  Elsie was so deep in thought that she jumped when there was a loud knock on the front door. Her brow creased, wondering who it could be as she hurried to answer it. Opening the door, she saw Arthur standing on the step, a policeman behind him.

  ‘Mrs Jones?’ he asked, resting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

  ‘Oh God, what is it? What’s wrong?’ she cried, gawking at the policeman, her knees turning to jelly.

  ‘I would like to talk to you about your son,’ he told her, sternfaced.

  ‘You had better come in,’ she said weakly.

  He followed her into the kitchen, removing his helmet and tucking it under his arm as he stood officiously in front of her. ‘Mrs Jones, did you know that your son wasn’t at school today?’

  ‘No, of course not. What’s going on, Arthur? What have you been up to?’

  His face crumbled. ‘It’s this rotten place, Mum. I hate living here. I hate my new school too, so I went back to Wimbledon.’

  The Constable cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid there’s more, Mrs Jones. He was also caught trying to steal sweets.’ He forestalled Elsie’s retort, adding, ‘However, your son has been lucky. The shopkeeper doesn’t want to take the matter any further so he’s been let off with just a caution.’

  Elsie felt as if all the air had left her body. God, my son bunking off school and stealing, she thought. What on earth is his dad going to say?

  ‘Right,’ the policeman said tersely. ‘I’ll leave you now. I’m sure the lad has learned his lesson and won’t do it again.’ He turned to Arthur. ‘I hope I’m right, young man.’

  Arthur, looking shamefaced, just nodded and hung his head.

  Once they were alone Elsie gazed at her son, unable to find words to convey her distress. She just couldn’t believe it of him. ‘Arthur … why?’ was all she could manage.

  ‘I just miss everything, Mum. My mates, playing on Wimbledon Common, climbing trees, fishing in the ponds – and how can I play football on my own?’

  ‘But why haven’t you made friends at your new school?’

  ‘Oh Mum, the other boys have always lived around here. They all know each other and don’t want me muscling in on their gangs.’ He stuck out his lower lip, adding despondently, ‘I’m just the new boy, the odd one out, and they’re always picking on me.’

  Her heart swelled when she saw his unhappiness. He stood before her, socks bunched round his ankles, knees dirty and grazed, grey eyes shadowed. His thick, dark hair, so like his father’s, was sticking up like a brush and she felt a surge of maternal affection. She just wanted to grab him, to hold him in her arms and protect him. ‘Come here, son,’ she appealed, but as her arms reached out, he backed away.

  ‘Get off, don’t be daft, Mum,’ he protested indignantly. ‘I’m not a baby, you know. I’m nearly eleven and a half.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she floundered, her empty arms falling back to her sides. ‘We can’t go back to Wimbledon and you’ve just got to accept that. We have to make the best of it here.’

  ‘I know, Mum, but I still hate it.’

  ‘What about the stealing, Arthur, how could you do that? I thought we had taught you right from wrong.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I spent all my school dinner-money on the bus fare and I was starving,’ he wailed.

  Elsie just couldn’t bring herself to punish him; he looked so miserable and somehow she couldn’t blame him – she missed her old home too. This was such a heavily industrialised area with huge factory chimneys etching the skyline, belching out thick smoke that tainted the air. If she hadn’t met Ruth and some of the other women in the Lane, she would have gone mad in this dismal area. Surely Arthur would settle down too if he could make some new friends.

  It was then that a thought struck her and she lifted her head in silent thanks. The Boy Scouts! She had seen a lad further up the road in uniform so there must be a local troop nearby.

  ‘I think I’ve got the answer, son,’ she said, jumping up with excitement and chuckling at his bemused expression. ‘You could join the Boy Scouts.’

  Arthur frowned, staring at his mum doubtfully.

  ‘Think of all the things the Scouts do, love,’ she urged, ‘and you know you’ve always wanted to go camping.’

  His face lit up at that. ‘Yeah, you’re right, Mum. How do I find out about joining?’

  ‘We can sort that out later, but first you must promise me that you’ll stop bunking off school and that you will never, ever steal
anything again.’

  After gaining his promise, Elsie sent him to his room. What a strange day, she thought. There she was worrying about Ruth’s problems, when trouble had come to her own door.

  Yet later as she stood at the sink peeling the potatoes, her hands immersed in cold water, she again felt a shiver of intuition. A picture of Sally flooded her mind, and somehow she felt that it wasn’t just Ken that Ruth had to worry about – it was her daughter too.

  Chapter Seven

  Sally was pulling on her mum’s hand, urging her along and skipping beside her with excitement.

  ‘Slow down, love, I’m going as fast as I can,’ Ruth complained.

  ‘I can’t wait to see me Uncle Harry. He’s lovely. Do you remember the last time he was home? It was ever so funny when I sat on his back and he pretended to be a horse.’ She frowned suddenly, peering up at her mum. ‘Why don’t me dad play with me?’

  Her mother’s face tightened with annoyance. ‘Will you stop asking questions, I’m fed up with it! Now move yourself, there’s a bus coming and if we run we may be able to catch it.’

  Sally sat beside her mum on the bus, looking disconsolately out of the window, wondering why she would never answer her questions.

  When they arrived at her aunt’s house, she ran across the sitting room, yelling, ‘Uncle Harry!’ and throwing her arms around his waist.

  ‘Hello, princess,’ he grinned. Then, taking her hand he sat down on the armchair, pulling her onto his lap. ‘How’s my favourite girl then?’

  ‘I’ve got a new friend and her name’s Ann.’

  ‘That’s nice, dear,’ he said, smiling indulgently.

  ‘Where’s me gran?’ Sally asked, looking at her empty chair.

  ‘She’s got a nasty cold and is upstairs in bed. But don’t worry, you can pop up to see her when she wakes up.’

  ‘Harry, do you mind staying in and keeping an eye on mum while we go to the market?’ Mary asked anxiously.

  ‘No, of course not. I’ll keep Sally company.’

  As the door closed behind her mother and aunt, Sally sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to her uncle. It was lovely to have him all to herself. ‘I wish you was me dad,’ she told him wistfully as he stroked her hair.

  ‘Now then, Sally, your father wouldn’t like to hear you saying things like that,’ he gently admonished.

  ‘He wouldn’t care. He doesn’t like me,’ she told him sadly.

  ‘Of course he does. You’re a lovely girl and I’m sure he’s very proud of you.’

  She nibbled her thumbnail. If only I could tell him what me dad’s really like, she thought. He would never let me sit on his lap like this. ‘Uncle Harry, will you tell me a story?’

  ‘All right, darling,’ he said, giving her a fond squeeze. ‘Once upon a time …’

  The warmth of the fire, the gentle ticking of the clock and her uncle’s soft voice soothed her, and as she lay curled in his lap, her eyelids grew heavy.

  ‘Hey, are you going to sleep?’ he joked, sitting forward and tickling her playfully under the arms.

  She chuckled, wriggling away from his touch, arms tight to her sides. ‘No, no, I was listening, honest. Oh don’t, Uncle Harry, don’t tickle me.’

  He stopped abruptly and she frowned, sensing his change of mood. He wasn’t laughing now as he clutched her around the waist, pressing her down and writhing beneath her, groaning softly. She stiffened with fear when his hand went under her skirt, moving up her leg, touching her.

  ‘What are you doing? Stop – I don’t like it!’ she cried, closing her legs tightly together.

  ‘Come on, princess,’ he urged. ‘You love me, don’t you?’

  Terrified, she tried to squirm away from his probing fingers. ‘Ouch! Let me go! Please, let me go,’ she begged. This was wrong, her uncle was doing naughty things, hurting her, and she fought to get off his lap.

  He suddenly removed his hand and shuffled to one side. Then, before she had time to react, he picked her up and abruptly crammed her into the small space beside him. ‘It’s all right, darling, I’m just showing you how much I love you,’ he panted, his hands fumbling with the front of his trousers.

  She sat rigid with fear, staring with wide-eyed horror as he got his thing out, holding it clenched in his fist as he thrust it towards her.

  ‘Here, Sally,’ he urged, his eyes glazed and dark. ‘You hold it.’

  ‘No!’ she yelped, frantically trying to move away, but finding herself trapped as he leaned over her.

  ‘Come on, Sally,’ he cajoled, while his other hand began to travel up her leg again.

  She opened her mouth to scream – and the door opened.

  Ruth stood rooted in the doorway, frozen in disbelief. No, it couldn’t be, her eyes were deceiving her. A surge of hot, intense rage suddenly infused her mind, freeing her feet and propelling her across the room. She grabbed Sally’s arm, yanking her out of the chair with such force that she landed in a heap on the floor.

  ‘You dirty bastard, you animal, she’s only ten years old!’ she cried, as her hands lashed out, beating Harry again and again around his face and head, while he cowered, his arms held up protectively.

  ‘Ruth, Ruth, stop it, what on earth are you doing?’

  Mary’s voice penetrated her wall of fury and she could feel hands tugging at her clothes. ‘Get off me!’ she yelled, arms flailing. ‘I’ll kill him!’

  ‘That’s enough, Ruth. For God’s sake, what’s come over you?’ Mary demanded.

  Her shoulders heaving, and gasping for breath, Ruth gawked at her sister in disbelief. ‘What’s come over me? It ain’t me, you soppy cow, it’s him!’ she shouted, her fingers stabbing at Harry. ‘The dirty bastard was trying it on with Sally. He should be locked up, the disgusting pig.’

  Harry buried his face in his hands. ‘I’m sorry, Ruth. Look, it wasn’t what you thought.’

  ‘What! Do you think I’m blind? I imagined seeing you with your dick in one hand and the other up my Sally’s skirt, did I?’

  ‘What was that you said, Ruth?’ Sadie croaked, standing in the doorway.

  Sally whimpered like a baby when she heard her gran’s voice. She crawled across the room on all fours to reach her, throwing her arms around one of her legs and clinging on like a limpet. ‘Please, Gran, get me out of here,’ she pleaded.

  Sadie threw a look of disgust at Harry before painfully reaching down to her granddaughter. ‘Come on, love,’ she urged. ‘Come upstairs with me.’

  ‘No, Mum, I’m taking her home, and I’ll call in at the police station on the way.’

  ‘No, no, don’t get the police,’ Mary begged. ‘Look, I must talk to you. Please, Ruth, come into the kitchen, let me explain.’

  ‘Explain what! No, there ain’t nothing you can say to make me change my mind. How can you even think of defending him, for God’s sake? Men who interfere with children are the lowest of the low.’

  Mary grabbed her arm. ‘Please, just five minutes, that’s all I ask.’

  ‘I’m taking Sally upstairs, Ruth, she shouldn’t be hearing all this,’ Sadie said.

  Distracted, Ruth nodded as her mum left the room with Sally clutching her hand. Then, throwing a look of scorn at Harry, and indicating that Mary should follow her, she marched into the kitchen. ‘Well come on then,’ she snapped. ‘Spit it out.’

  Mary closed the door and leaned against it, her hand on the doorknob. ‘Please, Ruth, don’t get the police involved, there’s no need. You see, Harry couldn’t have gone any further.’

  ‘There’s no way of knowing how far he’d ’ave gone.’ She swallowed rapidly, bile rising in her throat. ‘Bloody hell, Mary, we only came back because you forgot your purse!’

  ‘No – look, you don’t understand.’

  ‘What’s there to understand, you soppy cow? I know what I saw and I notice he ain’t rushing to defend himself.’

  ‘Please, listen to me, Ruth. Harry … well, he couldn’t have gone any further, because … becaus
e he’s impotent,’ she blurted out, her face flooding with colour.

  Ruth said disgustedly, ‘Don’t give me that. There ain’t nothing wrong with him, not from what I saw. How can you lie for that sick pig?’ Pushing Mary aside she yanked open the door. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this, and I’m still getting him nicked,’ she warned, stomping upstairs and thrusting open her mum’s bedroom door. ‘Come on, Sally, we’re going.’

  Sally had never seen her mum so angry and edged closer to her gran as they lay side by side on the bed.

  ‘Ruth,’ Sadie urged, ‘before you think about going to the police, ’ave you thought about a certain person having to give evidence?’

  Was her gran talking about her? Sally worried. Was her mum going to take her to the police station? She burrowed her head into her gran’s side as she listened to their conversation.

  ‘What do you expect me to do, Mum – let him get away with it?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I think you should sleep on it before you make any decisions.’

  ‘Oh, it’s no good, I can’t talk about it now. My head’s splitting and I can’t think straight. Look, I’ll see you next … Oh no, Mum! What are we going to do? I ain’t coming round here again.’

  ‘No, Ruth, please don’t say that. I couldn’t bear it if I didn’t see yer both. Can’t you come round when Harry’s away?’

  Sally lifted her head slightly, peeping up out of the corner of her eyes. Her gran sounded so sad and her mum’s face was stiff with anger. She held her breath, waiting for her reply.

  ‘It ain’t just Harry, it’s Mary too,’ she answered, her voice shrill. ‘For God’s sake, how could she stick up for him? No, I’ll never forgive her, and I don’t ever want to see her again.’

  Tears filled Sally’s eyes and she hunkered up closer to her gran, throwing an arm around her waist.

  ‘Look at this poor kid, Ruth. God knows what effect this will ’ave on her. I really think you should take her home now.’

  ‘Yeah, all right, Mum. Now come on, Sally,’ she added tersely, ‘get yourself up.’