A Daughter's Disgrace (2 page)

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?

‘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.’