A Cuckoo in Candle Lane (7 page)

‘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.

S
ally 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 … because 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.’

‘Ruth, don’t talk to her like that. It ain’t the child’s fault,’ Sadie admonished.

‘I know that, Mum. But I’m just so bleedin’ angry.’

Sally sat up reluctantly, cuffed her wet face on the sleeve of her cardigan, and dragged her legs over the side of the bed, too frightened to look at her mum.

‘Listen, ducks,’ her gran said, as she lifted Sally’s chin with her forefinger and gazed into her eyes. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong and I want you to remember that.’ She then gave her a quick hug. ‘Bye for now, sweetheart, and don’t you worry. I’ll see you soon, I promise.’

As they went downstairs Sally saw her mum glaring icily at auntie Mary as they passed her in the hall. She had a brief glimpse of her uncle, still sitting in the chair, and then they were outside, her mum slamming the door behind them.

She ran and stumbled, dragged up the street as her mother’s heels beat an impatient tattoo on the pavement.

‘For Christ’s sake, Sally, will you move yerself. Your dad will go mad if I don’t get something for his dinner and I haven’t done any shopping yet.’

In a daze Sally was hauled onto a bus where she huddled as far away from her mother as possible, gazing miserably out of the window. She shifted uncomfortably, sore from where her uncle’s fingers had probed. Why had he touched her like that? He said he loved her, but he had hurt her, frightened her.

As they passed over the railway bridge at Clapham Junction a train chugged through the tunnel beneath them, belching out a cloud of smoke that momentarily engulfed the bus, giving the illusion of time suspending for a few seconds. Sally turned as the mist cleared, finding her mum glaring at her, tight-lipped.