KITTY NEALE
A Daughter’s Disgrace

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2015

This ebook edition 2015

Copyright © Kitty Neale 2015

Cover design © Debbie Clement 2015

Kitty Neale asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Source ISBN: 9780007587933

Ebook Edition © April 2015 ISBN: 9780007587926

Version: 2017-10-11

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Battersea, 1957

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Keep Reading …

About the Author

By the Same Author

About the Publisher

BATTERSEA, 1957

Chapter One

‘Mum, I’ve got something to tell you. Neville has asked me to marry him.’ Hazel stood in the doorway, ready for an argument.

Cora Butler wasn’t surprised at the news. Her middle daughter had been courting Neville Parrot for a year, but as she didn’t think he’d make much of a husband, she said, ‘I hope you didn’t say yes. You’ll never be rich if you marry him.’

‘Money isn’t everything.’

‘It is when you’ve hardly got two pennies to rub together,’ Cora snapped. She knew what it was to struggle and wanted better for her daughter. After losing her husband during the war Cora had been left to raise three girls on her own. It had been so hard. She’d had to do anything to earn a few bob to feed them, and along with cleaning she’d taken in washing and ironing. Her back was permanently damaged from bending over the bath for hours on end, rubbing at the soaking laundry, and her knuckles were scarred from using a scrubbing board. Even though the war had ended twelve years ago she still felt the effects of it every day.

‘I don’t care about money,’ Hazel protested. ‘I love Neville and I’m going to marry him.’

Cora’s lips tightened and, gathering her thoughts, she walked across her tiny front room to the window. The room was as immaculate as she could get it, seeing as there were three of them living there, but nothing in it was new or close to it. She flicked back the lace curtain to gaze out onto another cold, miserable January day in Ennis Street. All the houses were the same, basically two-up, two-down, narrow, terraced, flat-fronted, and bleak. As bleak as her mood. She had hoped that her daughter would find a way out of this ugly working-class area, but Neville offered little chance of that. The streets were so close together she could hardly see the sky when she looked up. The houses opposite were a bit bigger because of the way the road curved but they were still nothing to shout about.

With a sigh Cora dropped the curtain and turned to her daughter again. Of her three girls, Hazel was the prettiest, with auburn hair that fell in natural curls to her shoulders. Her femininity was marred only by her big-boned build, making her look formidable, but with green eyes, a pert nose and full lips, she nevertheless turned men’s heads. Hazel could have taken her pick, but instead she’d fallen for Neville Parrot. His family lived in one of the houses opposite them, and they had moved in eighteen months ago when his father got a job on the railway. They seemed nice enough and Neville was a good-looking lad, but he probably earned a pittance in the local paint factory. ‘You’ve fallen for his looks, but looks ain’t everything. As I said, you’ll never be rich if you marry him.’

‘We’ll both be working, so we’ll be fine. I’m going to carry on at the café.’

‘Yeah, until kids come along,’ Cora commented. ‘You’ll feel the pinch then.’

‘Mum, stop going on about it. Can’t you just be happy for me?’

Cora saw that Hazel’s eyes were flooding with tears, something she rarely saw from her tough daughter, and though Cora was hardened from the life she’d had to live, she nevertheless felt a twinge of guilt. Hazel’s eyes had been bright with happiness when she’d announced that Neville had asked her to marry him, but now they were pools of pain. ‘Yeah, all right. I’m sorry, love. I just wanted better for you, but if you’re happy, then I’m happy,’ she said, and then, trying to lighten the mood, added, ‘Mind you, it’s just as well I didn’t name you Polly.’

‘Why’s that?’ Hazel asked.

‘Think about it. You’d be Mrs Polly Parrot,’ Cora said and chuckled.

Hazel laughed, happy again now, but as pain shot across Cora’s back, she hurried to sit by the fire once more where she could warm it a little, taking the chance to hold out her aching hands to the flames whilst she was there.

Alison Butler, Cora’s youngest daughter, scurried along Ennis Street, her shoulders hunched as though expecting an attack at any moment. It wouldn’t be physical – it rarely was, although she got the occasional shove or push from behind – but it would be verbal and hurtful. Hardly a day went by when something along those lines failed to happen. Her fears came to fruition as two boys of about eleven darted up in front of her.

‘Watcha, horse face,’ mocked Jimmy Small.

‘My dad said she’s got a face that could win the Epsom Derby,’ Ian Young said.

‘Yeah, that’s a good one,’ laughed Jimmy.

‘Come on. Gee up, horsey,’ Ian urged. ‘Let’s see how fast you can gallop.’

Alison kept her head down, hiding her pain. She had suffered name-calling all her young life, at school, on the streets, and it never seemed to stop. She knew only too well that her looks weren’t anything to write home about – growing up with such pretty sisters had made that only too clear – but she could never understand why so many people were so keen to point it out, with thoughtless cruelty. She picked up her pace and reaching her front door she dashed inside before closing it quickly behind her. Only then did she give vent to her feelings and was unable to hold back a sob of distress.

As the door opened directly into the front room, she could see that her mother was sitting on one side of the fireplace, her sister on the other. Both stared at her. It was her mother who spoke, though her tone was uncaring. ‘What’s wrong? Don’t tell me. I can guess. Someone’s been calling you names again?’

Alison nodded, finding that her throat was too constricted to speak.

‘With a face like that, it ain’t gonna stop and you should be used to it by now,’ Hazel said scathingly.

Alison knew that Hazel was right. It was what her sister had told her for as long as she could remember. She should be used to it and did her best to ignore the name-calling, but today, with cramping pains in her tummy signalling her time of the month, the two boys had got to her. But she wasn’t about to tell Hazel. She knew better than to expect any sympathy from that direction.

‘Anyway, wait till you hear my news,’ Hazel went on. ‘This’ll stop you looking so miserable. You’ll never guess.’ She looked expectantly at her younger sister.

Alison shook her head, still unable to speak.

‘Neville’s only asked me to marry him!’ Hazel exclaimed. ‘And of course I said yes. What do you make of that? Aren’t you pleased for me?’

‘That’s … that’s … lovely,’ Alison stuttered. She wasn’t surprised. Hazel had been going on and on about Neville ever since they’d started going out together and never missed a chance to remind her younger sister that she stood no chance of getting herself such a good-looking boyfriend – or any boyfriend at all. Alison secretly longed for a boyfriend of her own but as she was too shy to have real friends of any kind she didn’t see much hope for the future. Hazel had no false modesty about her own good looks and never failed to point out that Alison had drawn the short straw in that department. True to form she made the most of the moment now.

‘You might at least try to look happy for me,’ she said. ‘It isn’t as if you’re going to be getting married any time soon yourself. Look at you – who’d have you? Long streak of misery that you are. Well, you can buck your ideas up and help me when I need you. There’s going to be loads of preparations to sort out for my big day.’ She beamed in delight. ‘We’re going to have a do that everyone’ll remember for years to come.’

‘Now hang on a minute.’ Cora sat up straight, ignoring the painful twinge in her back. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ve only just got engaged. Plenty of time to talk about what sort of wedding you’ll be having. You don’t need no big do. Just think what that’ll cost. You won’t want to be wasting money when you’re starting out. Setting up a home sets you back a fair bit, I can tell you.’ Privately she was already dreading Hazel moving out and losing the wages she brought to the household. Every precious penny counted.

‘Don’t be like that, Mum.’

Hazel could always win her mother round in a way that Alison never managed. Somehow she always knew what to say to get her own way – it was second nature to her, and Alison couldn’t work out how she did it. Once Hazel made up her mind about something there was usually no stopping her.

‘You wouldn’t want me to skimp on my wedding, would you? You want to be proud of me, don’t you? You want me to be happy? And we’re both working so we’ll save towards it, starting today.’ She turned to her sister. ‘Everyone will have to muck in to help as much as they can. No excuses, Alison, you’re doing this for me and I don’t want no lip from you.’

Blimey, thought Alison, that was rich coming from her bully of a sister. She had never dared give her any lip. She didn’t give anyone lip, it wasn’t in her nature. Hazel stood up. Although she was tall, she was still a good way shorter than her younger sister, who always tried to hide her embarrassing height by rounding her shoulders and looking down. Hazel did the exact opposite, standing straight and proud and flaunting her assets for all they were worth. ‘I’ve got to get ready. Me and Neville are going out to celebrate. Don’t wait up.’ She ran up the narrow staircase that led off the front room, with just a curtain to hide it from the living area. The stairs led to a tiny landing, with doors to two small bedrooms, one for Hazel and one for Cora. A third door opened into a box room which Alison used as a bedroom, in which there was scarcely room enough for her to lie down.

‘Looks like it’ll be just you and me stuck here together, then,’ said Cora. The idea depressed her. Try as she might she just could not bring herself to love her youngest daughter. The very sight of the girl reminded her of all the trouble she’d been through, the hell of losing her husband in the war and then the nightmare when she found he’d left her pregnant after what turned out to be his final leave. Her other two daughters had been old enough to go to school and she’d have been able to get a decent job to keep them all if it hadn’t been for the unwanted arrival of this last girl, who’d been nothing but a disappointment and a burden from the word go. She’d been a sickly baby and couldn’t be left alone for a minute. She’d been the wrong shape for hand-me-downs from her sisters almost from the start – where did she get that stupid height from? Looking at her daughter now, Cora sighed. She’d loved her husband but struggled to find a trace of him in Alison. The girl had ugly buck teeth, a long face, and plain mousy hair that hung in rats’ tails. There was no sign of her father’s looks, still less of his good humour and high spirits. Back in the days when they’d been courting, Cora had been swept off her feet by Jack Butler’s charm and determination to make the best of things no matter what, and she’d responded in kind. It was only what had happened after he’d been killed in action that had turned her bitter and exhausted. Deep down she knew it was unreasonable but she couldn’t help blaming Alison for all of it. Groaning at the pain in her back and the arthritis in her hands, she pushed herself to her feet.

‘Right, I reckon I’d better write to our Linda to let her know the news. Don’t suppose she’ll be visiting to hear it for herself seeing as she was only here last week. We’ll just have to hope I catch the last post.’

‘Maybe she’ll come again when she hears,’ Alison said, her eyes lighting up. She loved her eldest sister, who’d always stood up for her against her mother’s indifference and Hazel’s constant bullying. ‘We can’t expect her to make the journey all the time. Not when she’s so far away down in Kent and she’s got little June to look after.’

Cora’s expression softened. Her three-year-old granddaughter was the apple of her eye and could do no wrong. Linda had done well for herself, marrying truck driver Terry Owens and moving from the crowded terraces of Battersea out to the wide spaces of Kent, but the icing on the cake was the arrival of June. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to protect the little girl.

‘Well, maybe Hazel’s latest will bring them back here sooner than usual,’ Cora said. ‘Right, enough of you standing around doing nothing. Go and take those filthy factory overalls off and then get yourself in the kitchen to help with the dinner. Those spuds won’t peel themselves and my poor hands won’t stand it, so it’s all down to you.’

Chapter Two

The factory wasn’t far away but Alison always arrived tired and out of breath from scurrying along the street trying not to be noticed. It never worked. The following week, on Friday morning, two of the paperboys from the local newsagent-cum-corner shop had been the ones to torment her. The fact that her mother worked in the same shop didn’t deter them.

Now she made her way to the small canteen to grab a warming cup of tea before starting her shift. It was freezing outside and her own house was little better, as Cora always said there was no point in lighting the fire if nobody was going to be home. ‘Look who’s here,’ called Ron Small as she approached. She forced herself not to turn and run away. Ron was the father of young Jimmy Small and had an even crueller way with words than his son. ‘Watch your milk, folks. One look from her’ll curdle it.’ He laughed at his own joke, though some of the women standing around the tea urn glanced at him sharply. ‘Cheer up, love, it might never happen.’ He gave a heartless chuckle and moved off.

‘Don’t you pay him no mind,’ said Betty Shawcross, handing Alison a cup. ‘Not exactly God’s gift himself, is he?’ She buttoned her overall. ‘Empty vessels and all that. Nobody takes him seriously and neither should you.’

‘Thanks,’ said Alison nervously. Even though many of the women she worked with were kind to her, she couldn’t help feeling that this might change at any moment, although she’d been working with them for several months. She just wasn’t used to it. The only person who’d ever been nice to her was her big sister Linda, and these women hardly even knew her. She found it hard to know what to say to them, as she’d always felt safer staying in her shell. She sometimes wondered if she should try to make friends with them but as she’d never really had any she wasn’t sure how to start.

‘Come on, we’ve been called to a meeting outside the foreman’s office,’ said Marjory Weekes. ‘All of our section is to report there in five minutes. So give me a cuppa sharpish. If this is about laying people off then I’m going to get one last drop of tea out of them.’ She pulled off her bright headscarf and dug in her pockets for her factory regulation cap.

‘Don’t say that, you’ll frighten the girl,’ said Betty protectively, noticing how alarmed Alison looked, and hoping Marjory was talking her usual nonsense. None of them could afford to lose their job. They weren’t that well-paid but it was regular work, nine to five. It was typical Marjory, speaking before she thought.

Alison shuddered. She dreaded what her mother would say if she came home without work. The best day of the week was when she brought back her wages and handed them over to Cora, who was always so pleased to see the money that she’d almost be pleasant to her youngest daughter. It was the only thing that didn’t make her feel completely worthless, and she knew how much her mother relied on her contribution.

There was a commotion at the door as a young woman rushed in. Vera Jewell was cutting it fine as usual, shaking out her shiny curls and unbuttoning her fashionable mac in one fast and fluid movement. She caught Alison’s eye and grinned. They were almost the same age and Alison had managed a few conversations with her without being rebuffed, which was a welcome novelty. She wondered if she might be able to make a proper friend of her if she could only hold her nerve.

Vera joined the group of women as they made their way along to the meeting. Alison was trying to look on the bright side. Maybe it was a new rule they all had to know about, or a change to the machinery. She hoped it wasn’t going to be something difficult. Learning something new always made her extra clumsy. Once she got the hang of something she was fine but the thought of everyone looking at her for the first few goes made her nervous, then her hands would shake and she’d make a mess of it.

‘Morning, ladies,’ said the foreman, even more careworn than usual. ‘I won’t keep you waiting. Some of you will have heard the rumours going round that we’ve lost the Pagett’s contract. I’d love to be able to tell you it’s a load of tosh but sad to say, it’s true.’ There was a gasp at this. Clearly it was news to most of them. ‘Right,’ he went on briskly, obviously keen to get it over with. Sweat was beginning to appear on his balding head. ‘You’re not daft. You’ll have worked out what that means – we can’t keep all of you on without those orders coming in. So it’s last in, first out.’ He glanced at a piece of paper he’d been holding. ‘Mrs Tullis, Miss Jewell, Miss Butler. That’s you. Come into my office, please. The rest of you – back to work.’ He turned and opened his office door.

Vera turned and pulled a face but Alison shut her eyes in horror. This couldn’t be happening. What was she going to do now? It was all she could do not to cry out in despair.

‘You all right, love?’ asked Betty, briefly touching her arm in the kindly way she had with everybody. ‘You’ve gone all pale. Don’t take on. You’ll be fine, a hard worker like you, young, fit and healthy. You’ll have no problem getting something else. An’ anyway, you’ll be better off away from the likes of that Ron Small.’

Alison made an effort to pull herself together and nodded grimly. But a little voice inside her head told her it wasn’t going to be quite as simple as that.

‘I might’ve flamin’ well known it was too good to last,’ snapped Cora as she came through the door. ‘Useless lump like you. What was it you did to get the sack? Knock something over, clumsy great thing that you are?’ Cora hadn’t had to wait until she got home to hear the news. One of the blessings of working in the newsagent’s was she managed to pick up all the gossip as soon as it started, and Vera Jewell’s mother had been straight in there the moment she learnt her own daughter was out of a job. Winnie Jewell had been incensed on Vera’s behalf, wanting to make an official complaint, claiming the foreman had been unfair and that her daughter was an innocent victim who deserved to be taken back. But Cora wasn’t having any of it. Secretly she was surprised Alison had lasted as long as she did. She was also sure that Vera Jewell, whose lipstick was always bright scarlet, couldn’t be described as innocent in any way.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Alison protested, going to put the kettle on in the vain hope a cup of tea would keep her mother quiet. ‘It was last in first out. Betty Shawcross said I was a hard worker. I’ll get a good reference. I didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘Well, you needn’t think you can sit around here on your arse all day,’ Cora warned her. ‘You’ve got to earn your keep and more besides. I’ll need your wages more than ever if that sister of yours insists on marrying that good-looking layabout across the road. She says she’s in love! What’s that got to do with anythin’?’ she snorted in derision as her youngest passed her a cup.

Alison raised her eyes to the ceiling but said nothing. Even if she did get another job, and that would be a miracle, she’d have to shell out towards Hazel’s wedding. As if her cruel sister deserved any help towards her perfect big day.

‘Neville works hard, Mum,’ she pointed out. ‘And he’s really keen on Hazel, anyone can see that.’ She might not like the idea of helping towards the wedding but she had nothing against the young man himself – at least he was never mean to her.

‘He works in the paint factory,’ Cora said. ‘Where’s he going to go with that? He’ll be stuck in the same place on the same pay year after year, and your sister won’t like that one bit. I raised her to expect more. Course, you can expect that, but Hazel …’ Cora broke off, gripped with disappointment for her beloved middle daughter. She could have done so much better for herself. Cora knew that Hazel’s expectations were high and feared Neville Parrot was never going to be able to make her happy, whether she loved him or not. Clearing her throat, she pulled herself together. ‘She could have done like our Linda. Look what she’s managed – to get away from here, out into the fresh air, husband who could run his own business one day. That’s what I scrimped and saved for. To give you girls a better start.’ Grimly she set her cup down on the chipped Formica table and slumped back, fearing the future.

Early on Saturday morning there was something to cheer Cora when she heard a knock at the door and, opening it, in stepped Linda, holding her daughter by the hand. Cora gasped in amazed delight. Unplanned visits from her eldest were few and far between.

‘Say hello to Granny and Auntie Alison, Junie!’ Linda smiled at the effect her arrival had had. ‘Isn’t it lovely to see them so soon after our last visit?’ She began to take off her new winter coat. ‘Sorry to just drop in on you but I had to come as soon as I heard Hazel’s news.’

Cora leaned over to kiss the little girl on her head of golden curls. ‘This is a nice surprise for Granny! Didn’t think I’d be seeing you for ages.’ Slowly she arched herself back upright, struggling to hide her pained expression from her granddaughter. She didn’t want to let on just how difficult it was to bend to greet her.

‘We couldn’t stay home after getting your letter,’ Linda assured her mother. She smiled brightly at Alison. ‘Is that kettle on? I’d love a cuppa.’

Alison quickly refilled the battered old kettle and set it to boil once more. Having her big sister drop by was a real pleasure. Smiling back, she took in her eldest sister’s appearance. Even though Hazel was the prettiest of them, people always noticed Linda. Her thick brown hair was in a long bob, and her warm brown eyes sparkled at seeing her younger sister. She had on a neat twinset with pearl buttons that clearly hadn’t come from the local market, which was where the rest of the family were forced to buy their clothes.

‘So tell me all about Hazel’s news!’ she demanded. Alison obligingly filled her in on as many details about the engagement as she could, and Linda nodded approvingly. Finally she was satisfied.

‘How are things otherwise?’ she asked, setting down her cup. ‘What’s changed round here since last week?’

Sighing, Alison knew she had to confess her latest disaster and decided she’d better get the announcement over and done with before her mother could give her version of events. ‘Bad news yesterday,’ she said sadly. ‘I lost my job. They had to lay three of us off because our biggest customer cancelled their order.’

‘Oh, that’s really bad luck.’ Linda went round the cramped kitchen table to hug her sister. ‘You must feel terrible. But it can’t have been your fault, so nobody can blame you.’

‘No, I know, and that’s what everyone at work said,’ Alison replied. ‘But I can’t help feeling I’m to blame.’

Nobody had heard Hazel coming downstairs, but now she stood on the threshold of the room, her expression thunderous. ‘Blame?’ she repeated. ‘Blame for what? What’ve you done now?’

‘Nothing, I’ve done nothing,’ said Alison desperately, knowing what was to come. ‘But as I was last to join the factory, I’m out of a job.’

Hazel stood stock-still and silent but her eyes were flashing.

‘Hazel, we came all the way to congratulate you as soon as we heard your news,’ Linda said hurriedly. ‘Didn’t we, June? Say congratulations to Auntie Hazel.’

‘Con … con …’ the little girl began, moving across to her aunt, confident of another hug.

But Hazel barely registered her niece, or her big sister. She stared in disgust at Alison. ‘God, you really are useless,’ she hissed. ‘How dare you? You bloody well knew that we need every penny for my wedding. You did this on purpose, didn’t you? That’s exactly the sort of spiteful thing you’d do. Well, I’m not standin’ for it.’ She started to edge her way across the kitchen.

‘Hazel!’ Linda cried. ‘Don’t be like that. It’s nobody’s fault. You leave Alison alone. Really, stop it, you’re frightening June.’ The little girl had backed away and was now cowering behind a chair, unable to understand why everything had gone so wrong so quickly.

‘Now, Hazel, we know you’re disappointed,’ said Cora, unable to be cross with her middle daughter. ‘Alison will get another job and we’ll sort things out. Don’t be such a daft mare and calm down.’

But there was no stopping Hazel when she was in a temper, and this time she felt she had just cause. She flew at her younger sister, and if Linda and Cora hadn’t been there to hold her back she would have knocked her to the ground. ‘You make me sick!’ she shouted. ‘All you had to do was hang on to that flamin’ job for a few more months but you couldn’t even do that, could you? What’s the point of you? Why are you even alive? We’d be better off without you!’

An ear-piercing cry filled the air as June began to howl, not sure what was going on, but deeply upset that the people she loved most in the world were so angry with each other.

Alison made good her escape while she could, before Hazel broke free and came after her again. She knew from plenty of past experience that this was the safest thing to do. If only she could escape, like Linda had. She often dreamed of someone sweeping her off her feet, like in the magazines some of the women had brought to work. But what man would ever rescue her?

Chapter Three

‘You should’ve seen her,’ said Hazel later that evening. She sat up straight against the faded velvet banquette. ‘Standin’ there saying she wasn’t to blame. Honestly, you’ve no idea what it’s like livin’ with her, puttin’ up with her day in day out.’

‘We’re going to be fine,’ said Neville, trying to calm Hazel down. He’d dressed up for his night out, in his most stylish shirt and jacket. He was a good-looking young man with thick dark hair and laughter in his eyes. He didn’t mind that he was shorter than Hazel – most men were. ‘We’ve been through all this. I’ll get some extra shifts. Nobody likes the night shift, they’re always asking us to sign on for extra hours then. Pay’s better an’ all. You’ll have your big day.’ His eyes shone at the idea of the most gorgeous woman in Battersea walking down the aisle to marry him. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe his luck. The moment he saw Hazel he knew she was the one for him and now she’d agreed to be his wife. Life didn’t get any better than this.

‘I know.’ Hazel made an effort to calm down. Neville loved her, and that was what mattered. He was the best-looking man she knew and even better, his family were new to the area so didn’t know what sort of childhood she’d had. She shivered at the memories of hand-me-downs, always being short of food, always cold, her mother permanently pinched from worry about the rent and whether they’d be evicted. All the kids she’d been at school with knew about it and would have teased her more if they’d dared, but she’d always had a fierce temper and nobody tried it twice. The worst thing was when one of the girls in her class recognised Hazel wearing one of her own dresses that had been given away as jumble. Hazel had had to put up with weeks of snide comments, bringing home the truth that while her classmates weren’t well-off, she was the lowest of the low. She dreaded it when these scenes from the past forced themselves into her mind and the feelings of shame came rushing back. She hated this; she liked to be in control of events and the recollections of that childhood when she’d been ashamed so often threatened to overwhelm her. She remembered how it was only when she’d started to grow up and fill out a bit that the jibes stopped. Suddenly everyone wanted to get to know her – or at least the boys did. But Hazel wasn’t stupid. She knew she’d be better off waiting for the right one and didn’t allow any of the others to take liberties. Now she’d found him, and she was going to put the misery of her past behind her. Neville was exactly what she’d been waiting for.

She took a sip of her sherry as she glanced around. ‘Are you sure this is all right, me being seen out in a pub? I don’t look like a tart in here, do I?’

‘You never look like a tart,’ Neville said. ‘You look like a proper lady. And that’s what a lady would drink. Why, don’t you like it?’

‘Not sure.’ Hazel thought it tasted like woodchips soaked in sugar but wasn’t going to say so. She knew Linda had sherry at home, and she was doing all right for herself, so this is what she would have to learn to like. She’d always refused to go into a public bar, but this was a secluded little snug. She couldn’t have sat at home after what had happened, and Neville’s family were lovely but there were a lot of them in a house not much bigger than her own. As well as his parents, he had a sister almost the same age as him and a younger brother who never shut up, and who shared Neville’s cramped bedroom. When she and Neville got married she had every intention of ending up somewhere better than either of their families. She wasn’t exactly sure how they’d do it but she had every hope that they’d get away and improve their lot. He’d promised her he’d give her anything she wanted and she trusted him to mean it. Somehow they would find a way to make it happen. Just because they were young and only starting out didn’t mean they’d live like their parents on Ennis Street for the rest of their lives.

‘Can’t beat a pint of beer,’ smiled Neville. ‘But when I start my overtime, I’ll cut down. That way we’ll save even more. You’re going to look like a princess.’

‘Really?’ Hazel suddenly felt like crying. He was so good to her.

‘My princess. You’ll knock ’em dead, you’ll be so beautiful, and I’ll be the proudest man in Battersea. Just you wait and see.’

‘Oh Neville, we’re going to be so happy.’ Hazel couldn’t help a sob. The events of the day had been too much, but soon she’d be married to this man who loved her and spoilt her, and she was going to have the sort of life she’d always dreamed of. The future was bright, and nobody was going to take that away from her.

Despite her aches and pains, Cora loved her job at the corner shop. It was the best she’d ever had. She could sit down behind the counter when they weren’t busy and best of all she got to hear every piece of gossip before anyone else. Her boss was delighted to have such a reliable employee and pretty well let her run the place as she thought fit.

This morning she’d made sure the paperboys left on time for their rounds with all the right newspapers and magazines, and was about to start on the ledger. If she didn’t keep it up to date, it took ages to add everything up at the end of the day, and she wanted to get home as soon as possible. She didn’t want any more fights breaking out between Hazel and Alison. Hazel had admitted she’d been overwrought, what with wanting all the help she could get to pay for the perfect wedding, but Cora knew it could all flare up again if she wasn’t there to keep the peace. For the hundredth time she cursed Alison under her breath for losing that factory job.

The bell over the door rang as Winnie Jewell came in, followed by a sharp gust of freezing wind.

‘Shut that!’ Cora exclaimed. ‘That’s coming straight from the Arctic, that is.’

‘At least you’re warm in here,’ shivered Winnie, rubbing her chapped hands. ‘What’ve you got round that counter, a heater? I can smell the paraffin from here.’

‘You need it, I can tell you.’ Cora was in no mood to take nonsense from the woman. ‘What can I do for you? Got your delivery all right, did you?’

‘I fancied something a bit extra,’ said Winnie. She patted her plaid headscarf. ‘Now our Vera’s at home in the daytime I thought I’d get her a Radio Times so she can have a bit of a treat, listen to programmes in the afternoon. Not that she’ll be doing that for long. She got herself a new job yesterday, up Arding and Hobbs. She starts next week. Cleaner place than that old factory and a better class of people.’ She stopped. ‘No offence, of course.’

‘None taken.’ Cora would bide her time and get the woman back for that one. Even if Alison left a lot to be desired, Winnie Jewell was hardly a cut above the rest. As for her daughter Vera, she wondered if Arding and Hobbs knew what they were in for.

‘Here you go.’ She reached across and took a Radio Times from the pile.

‘Thanks.’ Winnie began to flick through the pages. ‘Might as well take a look here where it’s warm. Vera’s favourite is “The Goon Show” but I think it’s a load of old nonsense. Here we are, there’s one this week. Don’t know what she sees in it but it makes her laugh.’

‘I have to agree with you there,’ said Cora. ‘Nothing but smut and stupid noises. You’d think the BBC had better things to put on. Not that my girls have much time to listen to such things.’

‘Oh?’ said Winnie. ‘I’d have thought your Alison would have all the time in the world these days.’

Cora hated it when anyone caught her out. ‘No, because we’re all going to be working every spare hour God sends to make sure our Hazel has a perfect wedding.’ She enjoyed the look of surprise on the other woman’s face. News must not have got round yet. ‘Yes, Hazel has got engaged to Neville Parrot, and we’re very happy for them.’

‘Oh, he’s a nice-looking bloke,’ said Winnie with approval. ‘Polite too. She’s a lucky girl.’

‘And he’s a very lucky lad,’ said Cora instantly. ‘Our Hazel could have had her pick, but it’s young love, and who am I to stand in their way.’

The two women fell silent for a moment. Then Winnie remembered something. ‘Where’s she getting her dress?’

‘We haven’t decided yet,’ Cora replied. She wasn’t about to start discussing the finances of the big day, or the fact that the dress would have to be home-made with material from the market.

‘Well, you know that shop that does wedding dresses and evening wear down towards Wandsworth?’ Winnie asked. ‘Always got a lovely frock in the window? Well, they’re a girl short and Vera was going to see them about it, but then she got the job at Arding and Hobbs. That’s much closer of course. But would Alison be interested?’

‘She might,’ said Cora, trying not to seem too keen. ‘I’ll tell her about it. That’s if she hasn’t found something already, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Winnie, playing along. ‘Well, better not keep you. I’ll be off.’ She struggled to open the door against the freezing gale.

Cora sighed as the door slammed shut. Winnie could be irritating and she had a massive blind spot when it came to her wayward daughter but it was good of her to mention the job vacancy. She would definitely make sure Alison went to see about it tomorrow. Even if it was very different to what the girl was used to, it couldn’t be that hard. She might even get a staff discount. Now that would be very useful. Smiling with anticipation, Cora pulled the big ledger back towards her.

Next day Alison trudged down the hill towards Wandsworth, wondering if this was a good idea. She hadn’t had much choice. Her mother had come home full of Winnie’s suggestion and what a good thing it would be if she got the job at the dress shop. Hazel had leapt on it immediately, delighted at the idea of such elegant clothes at bargain prices.

‘But you don’t know that,’ Alison had protested. ‘They might not agree. They’d probably still be too expensive. And I haven’t even got the job yet.’

‘Don’t be such a killjoy,’ Hazel had flared. ‘Don’t you want me to look smart? I could get a wedding dress and a going-away outfit.’

‘Going-away outfit?’ This was the first Cora had heard of it. ‘Going away where? And why do you need a special outfit for it? You’ve got a perfectly good coat already.’

‘Oh Mum, that won’t be any good.’ Hazel pulled a face. ‘Everyone has a special suit to go away in. And of course Neville will take me somewhere, he just ain’t said where yet. I couldn’t possibly wear my coat. It’s not even new. I need something smarter. Did you see what Linda had on the other day? That was new this winter, and she didn’t even have anything special to wear it for.’

‘That’s because her Terry earns a decent wage,’ snapped Cora. ‘I keep telling you, but you don’t listen. When you get to Linda’s station in life, you can have all these luxuries. The rest of us have to get by as best we can.’

Alison cringed as she remembered how Hazel had flounced out, leaving her to deal with Cora, who of course said it was all her fault. So now the pressure really was on her not only to get the job, but to get a big discount as well. Anything less would leave her mother disappointed and her sister furious.

The hill down to Wandsworth was longer than she remembered. Maybe she should have taken a bus but until she knew when her next wage packet would be in, Alison didn’t want to spend anything more than she had to. She didn’t want to be accused of sponging off the household. At least she didn’t have to worry about the schoolboys around here, as it wasn’t likely she’d run into anyone she knew. She thought some people were looking at her oddly but couldn’t be sure as she avoided meeting their eyes. As usual, she withdrew into her shell, making no contact with anybody – the only way she felt safe. There was no point in going looking for trouble, especially when it seemed to find her so often.

By the time she reached the dress shop, she had blisters on both feet. She stood outside, mesmerised by the frock in the front window. She’d never seen anything like it. A slim mannequin was placed against a background of deep purple velvet, which made the silvery whiteness of the frock even more special. It had a full skirt and the bodice was embroidered with tiny white stars, only visible when she looked very closely. Glancing down at her own dull skirt poking out beneath her gabardine raincoat, she felt drabber than ever.

Gathering her courage, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The place smelt of flowers. Alison turned around and noticed a big display of roses arranged in a cut-glass vase.

‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ said a voice, and an extremely elegant woman came out of the back room, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from her dark sleeve. ‘Can I help you?’

Alison was at a loss for words. She tried to picture herself in the woman’s place, with eyebrows so finely drawn and hair sprayed into neat waves.

The woman tried again. ‘Can I help you?’

Alison wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Finally she said, ‘It’s about the job.’

‘The job?’

‘My mum was told you had a job going.’

‘Does she want to work in this establishment?’

‘No,’ Alison said. ‘It’s me. I need a job.’

The woman’s expression didn’t change but she looked her up and down, very slowly. The silence seemed to go on forever. Finally she said: ‘You?’

Alison nodded, blushing.

‘Have you any experience at this sort of thing? Are you familiar with this quality of product?’

‘No … not really,’ Alison stumbled, ‘but you see, my sister’s getting married, and she wants a wedding dress and we thought …’

‘I see,’ said the woman. She brushed her sleeve again, quite deliberately. ‘Well, I’m not sure that you’d be suitable. I don’t think you’re quite what my customers expect when they come for a fitting.’

Alison wasn’t sure what to make of that. ‘Why? What do you mean?’

The woman sighed. ‘We sell only the finest formal wear. Our customers expect to be assisted by someone who exhibits everything that is associated with such products – elegance, finesse. To be blunt, when I look at you, that is not what I see.’

Alison felt like running out there and then but forced herself to stand her ground. ‘I can get different clothes.’

‘No, no, no,’ said the woman. ‘Or rather, yes, that would help, but it’s what you do with what you wear as much as how you wear it. What would be the point of giving you a couture jacket? You’d never notice the shape of it if you stand like that all the time.’

‘I know I’m too tall,’ Alison began, ‘but I can’t help …’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ cut in the woman. ‘Your height is an asset. Many would love to be as tall as you. But when you round your shoulders and stare at your feet all the time you ruin the whole effect. You must project style and poise. Style and poise.’

Alison looked at her as if she was speaking another language.

‘So you see, my dear,’ said the woman, moving towards the door, ‘until you understand what I’m talking about, and I can see that you don’t, this is not the place for you. I must detain you no longer. I wish you luck in your search for more suitable employment.’ With that, she ushered Alison back onto the freezing pavement and shut the door firmly behind her.

Alison was totally humiliated. It was one thing to be insulted by her family, the local children and the men at the factory. That was bad, but she was used to it. This felt different. She couldn’t help her height. She couldn’t help having ugly, worn-out clothes. Staring ahead up the hill, she knew she’d have no choice but to drag herself back up to the top, in the useless shoes that weren’t made for walking, and which had been a waste of time.

Close to despair, Alison knew that she should see if any other places around here had cards in the window advertising jobs, as she wasn’t down Wandsworth way very often, but she’d lost the will to search. She knew she couldn’t go straight home – even if Cora was still at work, her mother would be bound to hear from someone that her youngest had been in all afternoon and then there’d be a huge row and she’d be accused of not trying. Her mother and sister had a point – she was as useless as they said, and without the kind women at the factory nobody was going to make her believe otherwise. She couldn’t go to a café – she dared not spend the money for a cup of tea or a bun. There was nothing for it but to walk the chilly streets until it grew dark, and then she would have to face Hazel’s anger when she told her there’d be no cut-price wedding dress after all.

‘Drink up, Nev!’

The news had got out about his engagement and all his mates from the paint factory who weren’t on the late shift had insisted on taking Neville to the pub to celebrate.

‘Commiserate, more like,’ said Dennis Banks, one of the older ones, who loved to tell them all about his success with different women every weekend. Neville grinned. He didn’t believe half the tales – some of them sounded physically impossible. But he wasn’t going to turn down the offer of a free pint.

‘Yeah, what d’you want to get yourself shackled for so young?’ demanded Nobby. Nobby was prematurely bald and had slightly bulging eyes, so Neville reckoned he hadn’t had too many chances of being shackled himself.

‘Nobby, ain’t you seen her?’ said Bill Stevens. ‘You should be so lucky. She’s a real looker, is Nev’s bird. Oh, she’ll tire him out, she will. He’ll be a shadow of his former self. But he’ll be happy with it. Won’t you, Nev?’

‘Never happier,’ beamed Neville. It was true. He’d had two and a half pints, he was engaged to the most beautiful woman in Battersea, and here were all his mates, wishing him well. They were in the smoky public bar, and things were just beginning to get raucous, but he didn’t mind. He felt as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

‘Do you know what to do on the big night?’ Dennis went on. ‘Shall I give you some tips? I got lots of those …’

‘Yeah, like don’t let your sister go down a dark alley with Dennis,’ interrupted Bill, setting down his glass on the worn wooden counter. ‘Another, young Nev?’

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Nev ignored all the nudging and tried to focus on the pint before him as all the lights from the bar and brass from the surrounds seemed to be shining extra brightly. He wasn’t really worried about his wedding night, even though he hadn’t had much experience. His mates assumed because he was a good-looking bloke that he’d had plenty of women but it wasn’t true. He’d been cooped up sharing a bedroom with his younger brother for most of his life and there hadn’t exactly been many opportunities to break away, and God alone knew there wasn’t a spare inch of space at Hazel’s house. Even though she had a room to herself there was no chance of a bit of slap and tickle with her mother and sister living in such close quarters. Still, he loved her and she loved him, so what could go wrong? He certainly wasn’t going to be asking Dennis for tips.

‘Not in a hurry to get married, are you?’ Nobby asked. ‘No big rush, is there? You ain’t expecting the patter of tiny feet?’

‘Get away, Nobby.’ Nev pretended to be offended. ‘My Hazel’s a respectable girl. There won’t be no hurried wedding for her. She wants the best. And I’m going to give it to her.’

‘Oh, we’d all give it to her,’ Bill laughed. Some of the others joined in, especially those who appreciated Hazel’s finer points.

‘That’s enough, boys,’ said Frank Dalby, their foreman. ‘Leave the lad to have his drink. No call for insulting the lady. Time enough for insults when you’re married, and I should know.’

Frank’s wife was famous for giving as good as she got, but nobody really had a bad word to say about Marian Dalby, who had been known to bake fruit cakes for her husband to take in to the lads on late shift, in case they got hungry as the hours of the night wore on. Nev thought that if his marriage was as happy as Frank’s then he’d have no cause for complaint. Even so, he couldn’t quite see Hazel cooking for his workmates.

But that didn’t matter. Here was Dennis giving him a new pint, there were all his friends raising their glasses to him, and Hazel was going to be his wife. Neville Parrot was on top of the world.

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