A Daughter's Disgrace (15 page)

Fred sat in one of his two new armchairs, the untouched Dundee cake in front of him. Alison had been asleep for two hours. He wondered if he ought to send a message to Cora to let her know her daughter was all right, but he didn’t want to leave in case the girl woke up. He was afraid that if she came to and saw she was alone she might take off again and harm herself. He couldn’t live with himself if that happened. For the time being she was his responsibility and he had to look after her.

It didn’t mean he had to starve though. He reached out and picked up the knife he’d taken out to cut the cake, and the noise of blade on china made her stir. Slowly she sat up, confused and disoriented.

Trying for normality again, Fred asked, ‘Do you fancy that slice of cake?’, cutting into it and helping himself to some.

Alison wasn’t totally sure where she was but Fred seemed to be there so it was probably all right. Groaning then she remembered what had happened. She’d tried to kill herself but had failed. She couldn’t even do that right. ‘Where am I?’

‘In my living room above the butcher’s,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, you can stay here till you’re ready to leave. You’ve slept for ages. You must be hungry.’

Alison realised he was right. She’d had nothing since the half of a ham sandwich hours before. Now there didn’t seem to be any good reason not to eat, as the bump wasn’t a secret any more. ‘Thanks, I’ll have some.’

‘Good, you’ll like it,’ Fred beamed, passing her a slice on a delicate plate. ‘Now you’re awake I’m going to get a note to your mum to say where you are. She’ll be concerned.’

‘She won’t,’ said Alison. ‘You don’t know her like I do. She won’t care.’

‘I’m going to do it anyway,’ said Fred. ‘There’s a young lad who lives opposite who’s always glad of an extra bob to take a message. Many’s a time I’ve thought of a delivery I need after the post has gone and he’s always happy to help. So I’ll ask him. Won’t be a mo.’ Quietly, he slipped out.

Alison finished her cake, and eating for comfort too now, cut herself some more. She didn’t think he’d mind. As she ate it, she took in the room where she was sitting. Even though she was tired and distressed she was surprised at what it was like.

The furniture was sparse but looked new. It was obviously not utility, the only modern type she had ever come across. It had spindly legs and shiny surfaces, and there were cushions with very strange shapes printed on the fabric. It all felt a bit empty, as if there had once been more things there but they’d been taken away.

She puzzled at this new side of Fred. This must have all cost a lot. He was careful with his money in the shop and always happy when they made a good profit but he never seemed to have much more than anyone else she knew. He certainly never said anything about furniture or fashion. She decided she quite liked it but couldn’t understand why he’d got it. Maybe he shared the flat with someone? Did he have a lady friend she didn’t know about? It didn’t seem likely – he could never have kept that a secret from her, as whoever used the flat would have to come and go right by the shop window. She had never given much thought to what the flat upstairs was like but she hadn’t imagined it would be like this.

The downstairs door banged and Fred’s footsteps echoed on the stairs. ‘That’s all sorted out,’ he wheezed. ‘He’ll go round and if your mum wants to send a message back, she can. If she doesn’t then no harm done. Ah, I see you enjoyed the cake.’

‘Thanks.’ Alison looked round. ‘Fred, your living room … it’s not what I thought it would be like.’

Fred seemed embarrassed, shuffling as he returned to his armchair. ‘The new stuff, you mean? Do you like it?’

Alison paused for a moment. ‘Yes. Or at least I think so. I haven’t really seen anything like it. It was just a bit of a surprise.’

He nodded. ‘When Mother died, I decided to have a good old clear out. We had things she’d got from her parents and grandparents and it was all dark and miserable. This is a big room but you’d never have known it with all that in it. So I thought, Fred my lad, you can make a new start. I haven’t got very far yet. It needs more to make it like a home, but it’s a beginning.’

Alison nodded. She felt like that about the grim and worn-out items at home. She’d have chucked out the lot if it was up to her – and if she had the cash to get replacements. That wasn’t likely to happen now.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind me being here?’ She realised how late it was. ‘Aren’t you going out? Or expecting company? It’s Saturday and I don’t want to be in your way.’

Fred laughed. ‘No, I’m not going anywhere. I hardly ever do. And I’m not expecting any visitors. So don’t worry.’

‘Don’t you?’ Alison thought she was the only single person in London who always stayed in and spent Saturday night on their own, from what her sisters and everyone at the factory said. ‘What about the cinema? You’re always telling me I should see this film or that. You must go out then.’

‘Sometimes I do,’ Fred admitted, ‘but not very often. Not at the weekend anyway. People think you’re strange if you’re on your own on a weekend evening.’

‘Don’t you have any friends?’ The question was out before Alison realised what she’d said.

Fred shook his head ruefully. ‘I suppose that makes me seem like a sad old sod but I got out of the habit. I had plenty when I was younger – like your dad, for instance. He was a good lad. We used to go out and get up to all sorts. But then there was the war, and then Mother was ill and needed me around all the time. Before I realised it everyone I used to know was either dead, moved away or stuck at home for one reason or another. Anyway, I’ve got the business to think of. That takes up all my time. Sometimes I’m up here doing the books into the small hours.’

‘You should have said!’ she burst out. ‘I could do more in the shop and then you could do the books in working hours. You don’t need to work all night on them.’

‘I don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I like it. They keep me company.’ He shuffled his feet again. ‘That’s enough of my lack of social life. I can’t last all evening on a piece of cake. I need some proper food. What do you say to a meal and a glass of beer? Sorry, you probably don’t drink it. Ginger beer? Yes? Good. You make yourself comfortable and I’ll get busy. Here, let me turn the radio on for you.’

He began to potter around the kitchen, taking out pans and finding glasses. All the while he kept an ear open for the messenger boy in case he brought word from Cora. He had been certain she’d reply. But as the time wore on, there was nothing.

Some hours later, Fred sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on his accounts. Usually he found it soothing but tonight he couldn’t seem to think straight. He was too unsettled by the strange events of the day.

He and Alison had eaten and she’d insisted on washing up, so he let her. She was clearly worn out so he’d shown her to one of his spare rooms and said she could stay as long as she liked. She’d seemed surprised again by the modern style of the furniture and décor, which pleased him even though he was worried about her. He was very embarrassed to lend her a T-shirt to sleep in, but she’d been too tired to care. He’d made her promise to call out for him if she needed anything, then left her to sleep.

There was still no word from Cora. He couldn’t understand it. If it had been him … He laughed grimly to himself. He wasn’t likely ever to be in such a position. But what did this make him now – would people talk if they realised she had spent the night in his flat? Not that he could have done otherwise, but would it sully her reputation still further? Then again, the gossips would really have their work cut out to imagine any scandal between the awkward girl and her short, balding boss. He felt responsible because of his friendship with her father, and that was good enough. He wouldn’t allow her to roam the streets, especially in her condition.

What she said had hit home. It was true that he didn’t really have friends. He’d convinced himself he was happy enough, building up the business, content to spend his evenings with his accounts. But now he could see it through someone else’s eyes, it did strike him as sad. What sort of man preferred lines of figures to human company? There was nothing wrong with him – he was free to do as he liked once the shop was shut. He knew his looks weren’t up to much and he’d never been very popular with the girls even when he was young, but he’d stopped trying. Years of dealing with his difficult mother had led him to retreat into his shell, glad of the peace and quiet. Yet she was dead now. He’d managed to throw out her cluttered old furniture but he hadn’t done anything about his habits.

Now he could see how sad he must appear to the outside world. If he admitted it, he was lonely. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with just his accounts to turn to. He’d enjoyed this evening in a funny sort of way, having someone there to cook for, to fuss over. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that.

He also had to admit he liked having Alison around. She was the opposite of his mother, who had thought she knew everything and shouted her views at anyone daft enough to come near. Alison was quiet until you got to know her but then she turned out to be smart and funny. He was sure there was still more to her, but she was so unused to having anyone take her seriously she kept much of her personality under wraps. Even in the current circumstances she managed to be good company, amusing and observant, asking the sort of questions that nobody else would. In fact, she reminded him of her father – she had all the qualities of a good friend. If things had been different maybe that’s what she would have been. He realised just how much he would have missed her if she’d succeeded in her tragic plan to kill herself. His life would be darker, duller and lonelier without her.

He closed the accounts book in front of him as the idea struck him. At first he dismissed it as plain crazy. It would never work. But once it was hatched the idea wouldn’t go away. He tried to forget it as it was so ridiculous. As the minutes went by he began to ask himself if it was really possible. It would be risky even to contemplate it and he might be laughed at for the very suggestion. And yet … and yet … It would solve everything, for him, for Alison and the baby, and for Cora. If only they’d agree.

It might seem mad, but the solution was simple: he would marry Alison. She and the baby could live with him here in this flat. It was too big for one person and he rattled around in it, wondering how to fill the space he’d made. She would help him, and the baby could have its own room. He could take care of her, as her father would have wanted him to do. Then she wouldn’t have to face the scandal of being an unmarried mother and the baby wouldn’t be called a bastard. It would be better for both of them, if he could make her see it that way.

Fred’s thoughts continued to turn. Cora would surely be delighted. She’d get rid of the daughter she plainly had little time for and the family name wouldn’t be disgraced. Hazel’s wedding could go ahead with no cloud hanging over it. So she would be easy to persuade.

Alison might not be so keen though. Perhaps she had dreams of a romantic wedding and a gorgeous young husband, and he knew he was far from that. But given what had happened to her she wasn’t in a position to choose. He’d offer her security and a roof over her head, even if it wasn’t exactly a love match. He could provide for her and the baby. He wasn’t sure how he felt about having to raise another man’s child but that would be the price he paid.

He thought he’d enjoy getting to know her better. He admired her strength of character, knowing what she’d had to cope with, and it would be a joy to see the lighter side of it when the time was right. As for the physical side of marriage, there would be nothing going on while she was pregnant. He wasn’t so cruel as to imagine there would be. Yet he hoped that after the baby was born they would grow to care for each other. He missed the sensation of a woman’s arms around him. Those encounters during the war were all a long time ago, but he’d enjoyed them while they lasted, even though he’d known they were only temporary comfort. He remembered the women had seemed happy enough. Maybe he could show Alison he wasn’t such a sad old sod after all.

On Sunday morning Cora decided she had better show her face at church. Now that they’d booked the hall for Hazel’s reception she wanted to make sure she kept in the stewards’ good books. It also wouldn’t hurt to have some of the congregation on her side when the news about Alison got around. The daughter might be a disgrace but the mother was a fine church-going woman. That was the impression she wanted to give. So she put on her best coat, found her one good hat and set off.

If anyone asked her how her family was doing she’d just talk about Hazel and all her plans. There was no need to mention Alison. No point in inviting trouble, she thought grimly. It would be upon them soon enough. So the girl had taken refuge with Fred yesterday, and he’d been soft enough to let her. More fool him. He’d only be tainted by sheltering a fallen woman. If he wanted to help her, that was his lookout. She didn’t intend to make that mistake.

After the service Cora exchanged pleasantries with a handful of people she barely knew and then left, figuring that she’d done her duty. She’d said only enough to appear polite, and that would just have to do. At least she had a nice piece of beef to roast for Sunday lunch. It might be her last one for a long time if Alison wasn’t going to be bringing home the offcuts any longer. The selfish girl hadn’t thought about that either. It was one more reason not to let her come home again.

When Cora returned home from church, Hazel was still in her dressing gown, sitting at the kitchen table. ‘Fred was here,’ she said, spreading butter on her toast.

‘What did he want? If he’s come to ask me to forgive your sister and take her back, he’s got another thing coming.’

‘He didn’t say,’ Hazel replied. ‘Just that he wanted to speak to you. I told him you were at church and would be home later so he’s going to come over in half an hour. I’ll leave you to it. I want to paint my nails.’

‘Waste of time, you only chip them working at the café,’ Cora pointed out. ‘If you had a nice office job like Kathy you could keep your nails looking beautiful but when you’re in and out of that kitchen all day they don’t stand a chance.’

Hazel shrugged. ‘That’s why I want them looking right on my one day off. I’m seeing Neville this evening. At least I’ve got a gorgeous boyfriend unlike Kathy. Men hear what she does for a living and they get scared off. They don’t want a career girl. So who’s having the most fun?’ She grinned. ‘A typewriter won’t keep her warm at night, will it?’ Hazel liked Kathy well enough but she was getting fed up of the way her mother always compared them. Kathy had neat hair, nice clothes, good job prospects, and could do no wrong. Hazel knew she’d be bored stupid in an office and didn’t envy her future sister-in-law, she just wished her mother would shut up about her.

‘Go on then.’ Cora took off her coat and hat, hung them up and started to prepare the vegetables to go with the roast as her daughter ran upstairs. She sighed – Hazel wouldn’t want to help with the cooking if she’d just done her nails. So it was all down to her, as usual.

She’d almost finished peeling the carrots when Fred arrived. Wiping her hands, she showed him to the armchair in the front room and waited to hear what he had to say. She wouldn’t offer him tea until she learnt the purpose of his visit. She adjusted the lace curtain to make sure nobody could see them.

Fred wondered how to begin. He’d had it all prepared in his mind but then when Cora wasn’t in he’d been thrown. Now he couldn’t remember how he’d planned to broach the subject. He hadn’t seen Alison that morning so she had no clue what he was doing. If it all went wrong with Cora then she need never know. But he was struggling to find the right words.

Cora broke the silence. ‘Out with it, Fred. If you’ve come round here to ask me to let Alison come home, you’re wasting your time. I meant what I said. She ain’t bringing her disgrace to our door. That’s final.’ She folded her arms, determined not to weaken. It was all right for him – he wasn’t family. He could walk away and carry on as if nothing had happened. He wasn’t facing the ruin of everything he’d worked so hard for.

‘Well, Cora …’ Fred shook his head, hesitating. ‘That wasn’t quite what I was going to say.’ What was wrong with him? He did business deals all the time, negotiating prices and deliveries and with far tougher figures than Cora Butler. He forgot his prepared speech and came straight out with it.

‘What if I marry Alison?’

For once Cora was at a loss for words. This was the last thing she’d been expecting. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. Finally she said, ‘What?’

‘I want to marry Alison. That way we all win. She gets a roof over her head and the baby’s. Your family doesn’t have its name dragged through the mud. I get a wife and maybe a business partner too.’ Fred nodded. That last bit sounded good.

‘Has she put you up to this?’ Cora demanded. It was such an outlandish idea that she couldn’t believe Fred had come up with it voluntarily.

‘No, of course not. I haven’t asked her yet. I thought it proper to ask you first,’ Fred said, disappointed again at Cora’s reaction. She was always determined to think the worst of her daughter. The years of hardship had evidently changed her from the fun-loving young woman he’d once known.

‘You actually want to marry Alison? When she’s carrying another man’s child?’

‘Cora, I know it’s not the ideal start to a marriage,’ Fred said. ‘It’s not the way I’d have chosen. But that’s how things are. I can’t stand by and watch her life ruined. She deserves better than that. This way she gets a ring on her finger and she can carry on working for as long as she’s able, if she would like to. She’ll want for nothing, I’ll promise you that.’

Cora was slowly realising that he was serious. It began to dawn on her that this really would be a way out of an impossible situation. ‘You’d marry her, knowing about her like you do?’

‘She’d be doing me a favour,’ he insisted. ‘An honour. I know I’m not the husband she’d have dreamed of but I can give her a comfortable life.’ Even now he didn’t spell out to Cora how well his business was doing and how he’d be able to spoil Alison. He was too cautious to boast. ‘She’s a hard worker and we get along fine day by day in the shop. So I have every hope we could do so as husband and wife.’

Cora wondered if he could possibly find her youngest daughter attractive but didn’t want to risk him changing his mind by asking. ‘You’re sure? You aren’t pulling my leg?’

‘You know I wouldn’t do that,’ he said. ‘Not about an important thing like this. I’m serious, Cora. All I need is your agreement and then I’ll go back to ask Alison, to see if she’ll say yes.’

‘You have my permission, and she’ll say yes all right,’ said Cora instantly. ‘She’d better bloody well agree. It’s far more than she could expect. You are a good man, Fred Chapman. I only hope you don’t live to regret it.’ Her eyes shone. Fred had his own business and nobody to spend his money on – it was respectability far beyond anything Alison could have hoped for. Cora could have hugged herself in delight. As the smell of her Sunday roast wafted through to the front room, she imagined having succulent beef every time she felt like it. They’d all benefit from this, as long as Alison said yes.

‘I won’t regret it,’ Fred said with certainty. ‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Now I have your permission I’ll go back and ask Alison to be my wife.’

‘Then bring her back here,’ said Cora. ‘This changes everything. She can’t stay under your roof if she’s to be a respectable wife. She’ll have to come back home, but we’ll let everyone know that you’re engaged. Then even if her bump starts to show they’ll have less to gossip about. When are you thinking of getting married?’

‘I’ll have to discuss that with Alison,’ said Fred, feeling that the situation was rapidly slipping away from him. Cora had gone from angry suspicion to planning the wedding in less than five minutes. He felt it might not be quite so simple. There was still a lot to sort out but at least he’d got Cora’s blessing.

‘Keep your fingers crossed for me, then,’ he said, now anxious to leave. ‘I’ll be off.’

‘Bring her round as soon as you can,’ beamed Cora as she watched him go down the street, keeping an eye out for any movement of the net curtains at her neighbours’ windows. They’d have something to stare at soon enough, she thought happily. And not what she’d been afraid of yesterday either. This was going to give everyone the surprise of their lives.

‘Bring who round?’ asked Hazel, coming down the stairs, her nails gleaming a dramatic dark red. ‘You haven’t given in, have you? She’s not moving back in after all she’s done, is she?’

‘Wait till you hear the news,’ Cora told her excitedly. ‘We’re going to be made for life.’

Alison stared at Fred, thinking she’d misheard him. She thought he’d just asked her to marry him. That couldn’t be right.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘I know it’s a bit out of the blue but like I said, this way we all win. Think about it, Alison. I can see it’s come as a shock and I don’t blame you. You don’t have to answer right away.’

She’d been standing in his kitchen, wearing yesterday’s clothes and wishing she could sneak home for a fresh shirt and then come back here. She’d made herself at home while he’d been out and used the brand-new kettle and toaster, so different to the battered old things she was used to. Now it seemed she could wake up to this every day if she wanted to – but she’d be married to Fred.

‘I … I don’t know what to say.’ She couldn’t say yes. He was old enough to be her father. Worse, he’d been her dad’s friend. He was her boss. He was kind to her but she couldn’t imagine being married to him. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful; he’d saved her life and taken her in when her own family had thrown her out and turned their backs on her. But that didn’t mean she wanted to wake up next to him every morning. Yet what choice did she have?

‘Take your time,’ he said reassuringly. ‘It’s a big decision, I know.’

Alison stared at him, noticing his balding head, his portly stomach, his podgy face that made his eyes look too small. He was still wheezing slightly from having climbed the stairs. Would she really be able to marry this man? She knew she was no great looker herself but she couldn’t imagine him touching her, or worse, trying to touch him back. She shuddered but tried to hide it, not wanting to offend him. From his face she thought he’d seen it though.

‘I’m going to go for a walk,’ she told him. ‘This is all too sudden, I’ve got to think it through.’ She managed a small smile and then bolted through the kitchen door, down the newly painted corridor and down the stairs to Falcon Road.

Fred watched her go. Had he frightened her, asking her so directly, he wondered. Maybe it was all one big mistake. He could tell she found him repulsive and supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He was over twice her age. Yet she didn’t have many options. He wouldn’t pressurise her into anything. He could only hope that she saw the merits in his plan. He would have to be patient.

As if by instinct he went to the little room he used as his office, sat down at the desk and pulled the account books towards him. They never let him down.

Alison hardly knew where she was going, her mind was whirling so fast. She couldn’t quite believe what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Her mother had discovered she was pregnant and thrown her out. She had tried to kill herself. Fred had rescued her and taken her back to his home. Now he’d asked her to marry him. She kept thinking she’d wake up and none of it would be real.

Looking down at her oversized creased shirt, she knew that at least the bump was real. However hard she’d tried to imagine otherwise, it wasn’t going to go away. She’d heard that shock could make women miscarry but the bump must be immune, as the events of the last day had held more shocks than the rest of her lifetime put together. So she was stuck with it.

She realised she was at one of the gates into Battersea Park, which was buzzing with people out enjoying the Sunday afternoon sunshine. There was a bench free a little way along the path and she sat down, shielding her eyes from the glare. Everyone around her didn’t seem to have a care in the world. What would they think of her if they knew the truth? She’d just got used to the idea of being an outcast when suddenly she’d been offered a way out. But which would be worse – being reviled or ignored, or married to someone she didn’t love? At least she was used to being the butt of everyone’s jokes and being on the receiving end of abuse. She didn’t enjoy it but she didn’t expect any better.

A group of young women wandered past, in bright sundresses, some with their hair tied back in patterned scarves. Alison had never owned a frock like that; she was too tall for the ones on sale at the market, and she hated showing more of her body than she absolutely had to. A few of them had bobby socks rolled around their tanned ankles. Others had smart sandals, the sort that didn’t fit her own long feet. One of them was waving at her. Alison squinted harder and saw it was Vera. Surprised, she waved back.

‘Isn’t it a scorcher?’ Vera came across to the bench, fanning her face with her hand. ‘I don’t know what to do with myself. Budge up,’ she added, calling out to her friends that she’d catch up with them. ‘Ta. How are you? Haven’t seen you for a while.’

‘I was going to pop in to see you yesterday,’ Alison said. ‘But then it all went wrong. I know it had to happen but I was hoping to get away with it for a while longer. Anyway Mum’s found out about the baby and thrown me out.’

‘Oh no!’ Vera’s hands flew to her face. ‘What happened exactly? What did you do?’

Alison explained, leaving out the part about wanting to kill herself, and then laid out her dilemma. ‘What would you do, Vera? You’re braver than me. Would you risk having the baby out of wedlock and never seeing your family again? I can’t see you settling for marrying someone old enough to be your dad.’

‘Don’t you believe it,’ said Vera. ‘I know they all used to call you names and you never complained. You’re tougher than you think. But what’s he like, this boss of yours? I know my mum thinks he’s a good butcher but that’s not telling me much.’