Mermaids Singing (2 page)

‘Oh, Jem!’ Betty said, taking off her spectacles and wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron. ‘You’re a good boy. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.’

‘I’ll send you postcards and write you letters.’

Kitty shook her head at him. He might at least try to sound sorry he was leaving.

‘I’ll get my gear and be off,’ Jem said, making for the door.

‘You’ll say goodbye to your sister first,’ Betty said, rising unsteadily to her feet. ‘You’ll tell our Polly face to face. I’m not going to be the one to break her heart.’

‘She’ll understand.’

Exchanging anxious glances, Kitty and Betty followed Jem up the narrow staircase. A huge brass bedstead dominated the sitting room on the first floor. The walls and every available surface were covered with mementoes of Captain Scully’s voyages and a watercolour of his ship, the
Belvedere
, hung over the bed. It made Kitty shudder to look at a painting of the ship that had gone down in the China Seas, taking the captain and the whole ship’s complement to a watery grave. It was hard to imagine how Mrs Scully and Polly could fall asleep beneath such a grim reminder.

Polly lay on the sofa, her wasted limbs covered by a crocheted blanket. She opened her eyes as Jem sat down beside her.

‘I’ve got to go away for a bit, Poll,’ Jem said, stroking her hair back from her forehead.

Polly made a guttural noise in her throat and rolled her eyes.

‘I knowed you’d understand, Poll,’ Jem said, planting a smacking kiss on her cheek. ‘I’ll be back soon and I’ll bring you lots of presents.’

‘Poll is going to miss him ever so much,’ Betty said, clutching Kitty’s arm. ‘You will come and visit often, won’t you, ducks? You’ll help to keep her mind off things.’

Kitty swallowed hard and nodded. If she stayed much longer she was going to bawl her eyes out. ‘I’ll come when I can, but I got to go now or Maggie will be after me.’ Awkwardly, she laid her hand on Jem’s shoulder. ‘Bye Jem,’ she said, choking on a sob. ‘Come home safe.’

Kitty didn’t stop running until she skidded on the wet cobbles of Sugar Yard. Mrs Harman, who lived on the ground floor, and the Widow Blacker, who had one room for herself and her six children in the attic, sat on upturned beer crates, smoking roll-ups and chatting. Maggie’s boys and the Blacker kids were rolling on the ground, play-fighting, snapping, snarling and yelping just, Kitty thought, as Mr Rudyard Kipling had described the lion cubs in
The Jungle Book
, a story that Miss Draper had read out loud to the class at school. Maybe it was stories of India and far-off places that had given Jem the wanderlust; sighing, Kitty crept past Mrs Harman and the Widow Blacker. They were too busy gossiping to notice her and Kitty was glad of that; her heart was too full of sadness to want to speak to anyone.

‘Where’ve you been?’ demanded Maggie. ‘I got to go to the corner shop for some tea and sugar. Violet’s gone down with a bit of a fever and I need you to keep an eye on baby.’

Kitty was suddenly nervous. ‘You won’t be long?’

‘I’ll be as long as it takes. What’s the matter with you?’

‘Nothing,’ Kitty said, looking away. If she told Maggie that she didn’t want to be here alone when Sid got back from work it would only make her angry.

‘Good, then I’ll be off,’ Maggie said, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders. ‘If Violet wakes up, give her a drink of water.’ She went out, slamming the door behind her.

As soon as the door shut, Harry began to howl and Kitty picked him up, walking him up and down until he fell asleep against her shoulder. She laid him gently in his bed and was about to check on Violet when she heard the creaking protest of the bottom stair tread. Feeling her hackles rise in fear, she held her breath, her ears pricked like a hunted animal, listening for the telltale clumping sound of booted feet and the thud of a drunken body lurching from wall to wall. Frozen to the spot, her heart racing, Kitty stood poised for flight but it was too late; the door burst open, screaming on its hinges, and Sid staggered in.

‘Where’s Maggie?’

‘Gone to the shop,’ Kitty said, swallowing convulsively. He’d been drinking – she could smell it from here – but how much? It was hard to tell, as he never seemed completely sober these days. ‘She’ll be back in a tick.’

‘I want me dinner.’

‘I’ll do it.’ Kitty reached into the bread crock, taking out the stale crust of yesterday’s loaf. She could feel Sid watching her as she sliced the bread, scraping on dripping with a shaking hand. Just lately, even when he was comparatively sober, Sid had been looking at her funny, and last week he’d made her sit on his knee. She’d been too scared to refuse, even when he put his hand under her skirt, running his fingers up the inside of her leg. Maggie had come into the room just then and Sid had pitched Kitty onto the floor, saying it was just a game. Kitty knew it wasn’t a game and she had desperately wanted to tell Maggie, but somehow she couldn’t. What he’d done was wrong, she knew that, but her shame was mixed with terrible guilt.

Sensing that Sid was looking at her, Kitty glanced up nervously. His gaze was fixed on her chest at the exact spot where the top button was missing off her blouse. Her hand flew to her neck, clutching the material together, as she gave him his supper.

Dashing the tin plate from her hand, Sid caught her by the wrist, dragging her towards him. ‘You’re a good girl really, Kitty,’ he said in a strange, thick voice. ‘And you’re growing up fast.’

Finding strength in desperation, Kitty wrenched herself free. ‘You’ll be wanting a cup of tea,’ she said, backing towards the door. ‘I’ll go and see if Mrs Harman has got a drop of hot water to make a brew.’

‘Come here and don’t be a silly little girl,’ Sid said, baring his teeth in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’ll not hurt you, Kitty.’

Kitty made a dive for the door but Sid was too quick for her and, pinning her against the wooden panels, he caught her by the throat. ‘You be nice to me, Kitty, or you’ll be sorry.’

‘Let go of me.’ Kitty’s voice shook and she was trembling, but she raised her chin, glaring at him.

‘Didn’t know you had it in you, girl,’ Sid said, with a feral snarl. ‘I like a bit of spirit.’

Kitty spat in his face.

‘Bitch.’ Sid slapped her cheek, snapping her head back against the door panel. Kitty opened her mouth to scream but Sid shoved his shoulder against her face, pinning her to the door as he ripped her blouse open to the waist. His work-roughened hand groped beneath her skirt, raking his fingers up her thigh, probing into the soft, secret place between her legs with savage thrusts that sent daggers of pain shooting through her body.

Kicking and struggling, Kitty gasped for air. ‘Get off me.’

‘Shut up, whore. You know you want it.’ Sid struck her across the mouth.

Tasting blood, Kitty thought for a moment that she was going to faint but Sid was forcing her legs apart. She could feel him fumbling with the buttons on his trousers; the bristles on his chin scraped down her neck and his tongue rasped the soft flesh of her breasts. Rage and revulsion replaced terror and, acting purely on instinct, she drew up her knee and caught him hard between his legs. Sid let out a howl of agony and doubled up on the floor, groaning. Harry was bawling but Kitty was too panic-stricken to go to him and, wrenching the door open, she fled down the stairs.

Stumbling blindly out of the building, Kitty was grabbed by the scruff of the neck. Sobbing and clutching the torn shreds of her blouse in a feeble attempt to cover her naked breasts, Kitty found herself looking into Mrs Harman’s pale, coffee-coloured eyes. Mrs Harman barked an order at the eldest boy to keep an eye on the younger ones and half dragged, half carried Kitty into her own living room.

‘I could see it coming,’ Mrs Harman said, slapping a wet rag over Kitty’s blackened eye. ‘I tried to warn Maggie but she wouldn’t have none of it.’

Shivering uncontrollably, Kitty couldn’t stop crying; couldn’t speak for pain and shame.

Mrs Harman cocked her head on one side, listening. ‘Let’s hope that’s your sister coming. I got a few words to say to her.’ She marched to the door and wrenched it open. ‘Maggie! Come in here!’

‘What’s up?’

Mrs Harman stood aside, jerking her head in Kitty’s direction. ‘See for yourself.’

‘Kitty! My Gawd, who done this to you?’ Maggie cried, dropping her packages on the floor as she ran to Kitty, falling on her knees beside her.

‘Don’t be a fool, Maggie Cable,’ Mrs Harman said, closing the door with a bang. ‘You know very well who done it.’

Maggie turned on her. ‘I dunno what you mean.’

‘Only one man went up them stairs and it weren’t the tallyman. Your Sid half killed the girl, by the looks of her.’

‘My Sid’s got a weakness for the drink but he’d never lay a finger on Kitty or the nippers.’

‘And I suppose she done that to herself, did she?’

Maggie caught hold of Kitty by the shoulders. ‘Tell me who done this to you. It weren’t Sid. You tell her, Kitty.’

‘He done it,’ Kitty said, and began to retch.

‘She don’t know what she’s saying,’ Maggie said, jumping to her feet. ‘You tell me the truth now, you wicked girl.’

‘Hey, there,’ Mrs Harman said, grabbing Maggie’s arm. ‘Leave her alone. Can’t you see she’s telling the truth? Why are you standing up for him, Maggie, when you know he’s a drunken sot?’

‘I ain’t got no choice.’ Maggie broke away from her, trembling visibly as she snatched up the brown paper packets. ‘If they put Sid in the clink, me and the nippers will end up in the workhouse.’

‘Maggie!’ Kitty struggled to her feet, but a wave of dizziness swept them from beneath her, and she slumped back on the stool, holding her head in her hands. ‘I never did nothing wrong, I swear it.’

‘You was the youngest,’ Maggie cried, tears welling in her eyes. ‘You don’t remember, but I seen our five little brothers taken off by want and sickness afore they was out of petticoats. They’re lying in the churchyard, buried alongside our mum and dad, with not even a headstone to mark their graves. I’ll not let that happen to my babies.’

‘It won’t,’ cried Kitty. ‘I’ll help. Don’t send me away.’

Maggie backed towards the door, clutching the packets to her chest. ‘You can’t never come home, Kitty. I done my best by you but you’re almost growed up now and you got to make your own way.’

‘I thought better of you, Maggie,’ Mrs Harman said, hooking her arm around Kitty’s quivering shoulders. ‘What’s to become of the poor little cow if you throw her out on the street?’

‘I c-can’t help it. I can’t risk having her under my roof a moment longer. I’m sorry, Kitty.’ Maggie ran from the room and her footsteps echoed up the staircase, followed by the thud of the door slamming behind her.

The sound echoed in Kitty’s head, every bone in her body ached, and the room was spinning around her. If Maggie had stuck a knife into her heart it couldn’t have hurt more. This couldn’t be happening, it was a nightmare, and any moment she would wake up on the crowded mattress with the children snuggled up beside her.

‘Kitty, d’you hear me?’

Mrs Harman was shaking her, heaving her up off the stool and wrapping something warm and tickly around her shoulders.

‘You can’t stay here, ducks, and you can’t go home.’

Kitty opened one eye but the other remained stubbornly closed. There was someone moving about the room and she was in a strange bed. Jack-knifing into a sitting position, Kitty opened her mouth to scream as the terrifying events of the previous evening came back to punch her in the belly.

‘Hush now, you’re all right, ducks.’

Wrapped in a motherly hug, Kitty was vaguely aware of the comforting scent of Sunlight soap, tea and hot buttered toast. ‘Betty?’

‘Yes, it’s me,’ Betty said, perching on the edge of the bed. ‘You’re safe here in my house. I won’t let no one hurt you.’

‘He’ll come and get me,’ Kitty whispered.

‘He won’t dare. You got to put it all out of your head now.’

‘It weren’t my fault, but Maggie said it was.’

‘Maggie knows what’s what, she just don’t want to admit it.’ Betty stood up, dropping a kiss on Kitty’s forehead. ‘Don’t cry, love, you’ll waken Polly.’

For the first time, Kitty realised that she was sharing the bed with Polly, who lay on her back, snoring gently. ‘You give up your bed for me?’

Pouring water from a jug into a flower-patterned bowl on the washstand, Betty smiled. ‘You was in such a sorry state, I thought you’d sleep best in the big bed. Now you get yourself cleaned up and don’t disturb Poll, or I’ll never finish getting my commercial gentlemen off to business.’

Kitty nodded, her lips were still swollen and her jaw ached, making it almost impossible to speak, but somehow she managed to slither off the bed and hobble to the washstand.

‘You’ll need something to wear,’ Betty said, bustling over to a chest and opening a drawer. ‘I had to burn those rags you came in. They was alive, God bless you.’

‘I don’t want to be no trouble.’

‘Lord love you, ducks. I’m only doing what any right-minded person would do.’ Betty riffled through the neatly folded garments and, taking out a faded cotton frock, she laid it on the bed. ‘This is one of Polly’s and it might be a bit short on you but it’ll have to do for the moment. D’you think you can manage to dress yourself?’

Kitty nodded, too choked by tears to answer. Betty’s motherly kindness was almost over-whelming, but it couldn’t erase the memory of the nightmare events of yesterday.

Betty gave her a hug. ‘Don’t take on so, Kitty.’

‘S-sorry,’ Kitty said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. ‘I c-can’t stop c-crying and y-you’ve been so k-kind to me.’

‘Stuff and nonsense, ducks! I love you like one of my own.’ Betty fumbled in the pocket of her apron and brought out a clean cotton hankie, handing it to Kitty. ‘Dry your eyes and you get yourself dressed while I go downstairs and make the breakfasts for my gentlemen.’

For the first few days, Kitty jumped at the slightest sound, hiding under the bed every time someone knocked at the front door in case it was Sid, come to get her. She kept well away from Betty’s commercial gentlemen; the mere sound of a male voice was enough to make her tremble from head to foot. Her cut lips made eating difficult but she had little or no appetite and Maggie’s furious, frightened face haunted her dreams. Above all, Kitty missed the children and somehow she couldn’t stop blaming herself for what had happened. Maggie had said it was her fault and she was lost in a pea-souper of guilt and shame. Betty had promised she would sort everything out but Kitty couldn’t see how things were ever going to come right again. She had lost her home and her family. Her sister might have a sharp tongue and a quick fist, but Maggie had brought her up like a mother, and now she must hate her. The future was a terrifying place, full of shadows and loneliness. Although Kitty’s bruises had begun to fade and her body was healing, no amount of kindness from Betty, or unspoken sympathy from Polly, could take the pain from her heart. Added to all this, her inability to contribute any money to the household made Kitty feel that she was a financial burden on Betty.