Nightingales on Call (35 page)

‘Yes, I was. And, believe me, I’m bitterly ashamed of it now,’ Lucy admitted quietly. ‘We’ve both been spoiled, and let Father carry all the burden. I had no idea how hard it was for him. No wonder he ran away.’

‘He let us down,’ her mother insisted stubbornly. ‘He promised to take care of me . . .’

‘No, we let him down,’ Lucy cut her off. ‘And it’s about time you started taking care of yourself. Look at you. You’re a grown woman, and you have no idea how to make yourself a sandwich or even a cup of tea. You should be ashamed!’

‘Get out.’ Her mother’s voice was a low growl.

‘Oh, I’m going,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m sick of listening to you complaining all the time, and I’m sick of trying to protect you. You’re by yourself now, Mother. It’s about time you started standing on your own two feet!’

IT WAS STRANGE
to see Alf Doyle sitting at the kitchen table in Griffin Street again. Strange – and unnerving.

The atmosphere was strained. Nanna Winnie sat in hatchet-faced silence, the only sound the squeak of her chair as she rocked furiously back and forth.

But Bea and Little Alfie were all smiles. After a moment’s shy hesitation, Little Alfie was soon firmly ensconced on his father’s knee while Bea draped herself around his chair, never leaving his side.

‘Look at him,’ Nanna muttered to Dora. ‘He acts like he’s never been away.’

Dora glanced at her sister Josie. She sat on the opposite side of the fireplace, staring into the empty grate. She was smiling, but the way she picked at her fingernails betrayed her tension.

It was much harder to tell what was going on in their mother’s mind. Rose treated their guest with detached civility, fetching tea and making polite conversation as she would with any stranger visiting her home. But Dora noticed that she didn’t sit down or keep still once. She constantly found an excuse to be up and moving about the room, restlessly going from the scullery to the kitchen and back again. She seemed to be busy, but Dora guessed she didn’t want to sit down and look her husband in the eye.

Alf seemed oblivious to the atmosphere he’d caused as he played with Little Alfie’s toy cars, running them backwards and forwards on the table.

‘I can’t get over how much he’s grown,’ he said.

Rose smiled fondly at her son. ‘He’s a proper little bruiser.’

‘Like his dad, eh?’

‘Except he’s got a brain in his head,’ Nanna muttered.

‘Dad’s been telling us about his travels,’ Bea piped up. ‘He’s been all over the world, ain’t that right, Dad?’

‘So he says.’ Nanna addressed the empty grate.

‘Well, I dunno about the world.’ Alf shrugged. ‘But I’ve been to France.’

‘Can you speak French?’ Little Alfie asked.

Alf twirled an imaginary moustache. ‘
Mais oui
,’ he said in an exaggerated French accent that made Little Alfie and Bea fall about laughing.

‘Say some more!’ Little Alfie shouted, bouncing up and down on his knee.

‘I reckon he’s said enough.’ Nanna Winnie looked over at their visitor. ‘Ain’t you got somewhere else to go?’ she asked.

‘Mum!’ Rose turned on her. ‘Alf’s come for his tea, remember?’

‘Oh, I remember, all right. Though Gawd knows why you invited him, after what he did to this family. Have you forgotten what he did to you, Rose? How he humiliated you?’

‘Stop it, Mum.’

‘No, she’s right,’ Alf sighed. ‘I was a fool, Rosie.’

‘A fool! You were more than a fool, Alf Doyle. I can’t forget what you did, even if my daughter can.’ Nanna’s hands trembled in her lap, and Dora could tell it was all she could do to stop herself taking a swing at him. ‘You carried on with that young girl behind my Rose’s back. A girl young enough to be your daughter, I might add!’ Dora flinched at her grandmother’s words. ‘You got her pregnant and then ran off and abandoned us all. The poor girl nearly died getting rid of your kid. And my daughter ended up taking her in!’

Alf looked at Dora’s mother. ‘I never knew that, Rose. I’m sorry.’

‘Too late to be sorry now!’ Nanna’s toothless mouth trembled. ‘She cared for that girl for months, until she could get back on her feet. Even though it made us a laughing stock, Rose didn’t turn her back on her. And where were you when all this was going on? Gallivanting round France, I suppose, learning all your fancy French words.’

‘Nanna, don’t!’ Bea snapped. ‘Leave Dad alone.’

‘I’ll leave him alone, all right! Just like he left your mother on her own, with all you kids to bring up and hardly a penny coming in. You can sit there making faces, Beatrice Doyle, but do you remember when we nearly froze to death ’cos we didn’t have enough coal for the fire? Do you remember when we had the Means Test man knocking on the door, taking away all our furniture? I didn’t see your precious father showing his face then, did you?’

Alf put his son off his lap and stumbled to his feet. ‘I should go—’

‘No, Alf. You stay where you are.’ Rose Doyle’s voice was firm and calm. ‘You’ve come for your tea, and that’s what you’ll get. And you can be quiet, Mum.’ She raised her hand to silence Nanna Winnie. ‘Alf is still my husband, and he’s a guest in this house. So I’ll thank you to say no more about it.’

She turned on her heel and walked into the scullery, letting the curtain drop behind her. They all looked at each other in shocked silence. Alf stared at his boots, looking awkward.

‘That’s told you, Nanna,’ Bea muttered.

Dora got up and followed her mother into the kitchen. Rose stood at the sink, her head in her hands.

‘Are you all right, Mum?’ Dora asked.

Her mother looked up at her, her expression despairing. ‘Oh, Dora, I dunno what to do for the best,’ she confessed. ‘It’s been such a shock, seeing Alf here. And there’s your nanna having a go at him on one hand, and the kids so pleased to see him on the other . . . I dunno whether I’m coming or going, I really don’t.’

‘I know, Mum.’ Dora put a comforting arm around her mother’s shoulders. ‘But Nanna’s right, you know. He doesn’t deserve to be here, not after the way he treated you.’

‘But did you see the kids’ faces? I haven’t seen them so happy in a long time. Bea’s been such a mare lately, this might be just what she needs. And as for Little Alfie—’

And what about Josie? Dora wanted to ask. Surely her mother had seen the shocked, vacant look on her middle daughter’s face when Alf had walked in? Josie hadn’t spoken a word since.

But then, hadn’t Rose gone for years without noticing the pain either of her elder daughters was in? Dora subdued the unworthy thought. It wasn’t her mother’s fault. No one would ever suspect something so dreadful was going on under their own roof, in their own family.

‘What about you?’ Dora asked. ‘Are you pleased to see him?’

Her mother sighed. ‘I don’t know, love,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if I could ever forgive him, after what he did. I’m not sure if I could trust him either. But I suppose everyone makes mistakes, don’t they? Everyone deserves a second chance.’ She put her hand up to her face. Seeing Alf again seemed to have put years on her. ‘And he has changed, I’m sure of that. You can see he’s been through some hard times.’

Her mother actually felt sorry for him, Dora realised. Alf had been very clever, winning her over with a sob story or two. He knew as well as anyone that Rose Doyle couldn’t resist looking after any waif or stray who came her way.

‘Anyway, it’s not about what I want, is it?’ Rose went on briskly, pulling herself together. ‘It’s about what’s best for everyone else. The kids need a father, when all’s said and done.’

‘I don’t know if him coming back is best for . . .’ Dora started to say, but they were interrupted by Alf sticking his face around the curtain.

‘Can I give you a hand, love?’ he offered. ‘I could mash the potatoes for you, or fry the sausages?’

Rose smiled thinly. ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you offer to lend a hand in the kitchen!’

‘I told you, I’m a changed man!’

‘And you’re also a guest in this house. So you go and sit down.’

‘Typical Rosie. You always did spoil me.’

Dora saw the look they gave each other, and felt sick. He was going to win her mother over, she was sure of it. Much as Rose disliked Alf at the moment, she had loved him once. And Dora knew her mother missed having a man in the house to fuss over. Little by little, Alf Doyle was going to reclaim his place in the house again, she was certain.

The thought made her feel so ill she could barely eat. She noticed Josie was the same, pushing the food around on her plate with no enthusiasm.

Dora left as soon as she could after tea. ‘I’ll walk with you to the end of the alley,’ Josie offered straight away, jumping up to fetch her coat.

‘I was going next door to see Danny . . .’ Dora started to say, then she noticed the desperate look on her sister’s face. ‘Why don’t I see if he fancies a quick stroll in the park with us?’ she suggested.

Danny was delighted at the chance to get out of the house. His face lit up as Dora helped him into his coat, watched by his mother. June Riley puffed on a cigarette as usual, watching her son through narrowed eyes.

‘I’m glad you came round. Little bugger was starting to get on my nerves, always under my feet,’ she said.

Dora said nothing. She understood why Nick had so little time for his mother. June Riley had never paid either of her boys much attention.

‘Nick promised he’d look after us, and now he’s cleared off too,’ June went on, her voice an insistent whine. ‘God only knows why he had to give up his job and go off with a travelling fair, of all things. I suppose it’s the last we’ve seen of him,’ she said. ‘You know what they say – like father, like son.’

Nick’s nothing like his poor excuse for a father and you know it, Dora wanted to snap. And he will be coming back. He loves me.

But she had to admit to herself, she was worried. Nick still hadn’t written to her. And even thought she kept telling herself that Nick was not the type to put pen to paper, she was beginning to fear that he’d forgotten her.

June puffed viciously on her cigarette. ‘Knowing that little sod, I expect there’s a girl involved. That’s why he’s gone, to get away from someone. He’s always been one for running away from his responsibilities, my son.’

‘That’s not true!’ Dora couldn’t help snapping back, then wished she hadn’t when she saw the surprised look on June’s face. She had no idea about Dora and Nick. If she did, it would be all over Griffin Street in no time.

‘Nick’s never run away from anything,’ she defended him stoutly.

‘He walked out on his missus, didn’t he? And he’s walked out on us, too.’

‘H-he’s gone to America,’ Danny said. ‘To f-fight Max Baer.’

June gave a harsh laugh. ‘Listen to him! Still reckons his brother’s a bleeding hero. I’ve tried telling him Nick’s done a runner and ain’t coming back but he won’t believe me.’ She shook her head pityingly.

Dora caught Danny’s look of wide-eyed distress. The boy doted on his brother, as much as Nick did on him. ‘He’ll be back, Dan,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t you go filling his head with ideas, Dora Doyle,’ June snapped. ‘The sooner he gets used to the fact that his brother’s gone for good, the better.’ She took another puff on her cigarette. ‘Talking of coming back – did I see Alf Doyle turning up a while ago? What’s he doing round here? Don’t tell me he’s come back?’ She blew a thin stream of smoke out of the corner of her mouth, towards the ceiling. ‘You wait, next thing my old man will come crawling out of the woodwork, too. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?’ She laughed so much she brought on a coughing fit.

Dora left her wheezing for breath and ushered Danny outside to where Josie was waiting for them in the back yard, scuffing the toe of her shoe mindlessly against a chipped paving slab.

It was early evening and the park gates were still open. It wasn’t the best day for a stroll – the sun had been cowering behind a heavy veil of dirty grey cloud all day, threatening rain. But Dora and Josie barely noticed the spitting drops as they sat on a bench overlooking the boating lake. Danny stood at the water’s edge, watching the ducks.

‘Alf’s staying, isn’t he?’ Josie said in a flat voice.

‘Not if I can help it.’

‘But you can’t, can you? There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing any of us can do.’ Josie aimed a pebble at the water. ‘I can see it in Mum’s eyes. She wants him back.’

‘I don’t think she does,’ Dora said. ‘But she’s confused. She just wants to do what’s best for the children.’

‘He’ll win her round in the end.’

‘Nothing’s been decided yet,’ Dora insisted. ‘Try not to worry.’

Josie was silent for a long time, aiming pebbles into the water. ‘It was here,’ she said, finally. ‘Right here that we first talked about it. Do you remember?’

‘I do.’ Up until that point, Dora had thought she was the only one to suffer Alf’s vile abuse. Until the day she realised it was happening to her younger sister too. It was then that Dora had made up her mind to stop their stepfather.

She looked at her sister. Josie was now seventeen and a young woman. But at that moment she looked just like the frightened little girl who’d plucked up the courage one day to whisper her tale of abuse.

Josie let out a long, shuddering sigh. ‘Oh, Dor, I don’t know if I can live under the same roof as him. Not again. What if he tries to – you know . . .’

Dora read the panic in her sister’s face. ‘He won’t,’ she said. ‘I won’t let him. Not this time.’

‘What can you do about it?’

I’ll kill him, Dora thought. She’d threatened him once before, but this time she would have no hesitation.

She paused for a moment, already knowing what Josie’s reaction would be to her next words. ‘We could tell Mum the truth,’ she said

‘No!’ Josie cried.

‘But if she knew what Alf was really like, there’s no chance she would ever let him back.’

‘Dora, we couldn’t. I couldn’t stand for her to know. I’d be so ashamed . . .’

‘You’ve got no reason to be ashamed, Josie. It wasn’t your fault what that monster did to you – to both of us.’ Dora put out her hand to calm her agitated sister. ‘He’s the one in the wrong, not us.’