Peppercorn Street (4 page)

He was about to leave for rehearsal when their father came home and stared at the mess, not moving for so long that Paul looked at his brother, who shrugged.

‘Isn’t your mother back?’ their dad asked at last. ‘Did she say she was going to be late?’

‘No, she didn’t. I’m off to rehearsal, Dad. Don’t forget to pick me up afterwards.’

‘All right.’

Paul watched his dad rub his head, as if it was aching again, then walk upstairs without saying anything. On an afterthought he scribbled a note about needing to be picked up from rehearsal and stuck it prominently on the fridge where his mother would see it. His dad had been very forgetful lately.

William called, ‘Hey, Dad. We’re out of bread and milk, and Mum’s not got anything in for tea.’

‘She’ll bring something home with her. She always does.’

Then his parents’ bedroom door closed and there was silence, punctuated by a groan of relief from his father and the creaking of the bed as he lay down.

Paul shook his head, feeling really worried about his dad’s behaviour, then caught sight of the clock and rushed out.

Nicole spent the rest of the afternoon at the cinema, because it had started to rain. She didn’t get much benefit from the film because she kept getting lost in her own thoughts.

When she came out, it was getting dark, but at least the rain had stopped. She walked slowly home, stopping to gaze in the estate agent’s window:
Flat to rent. Two bedrooms, Peppercorn Street, partly furnished
. She lingered for a moment or two, reading the details, dreaming of somewhere of her own, a peaceful orderly home where no one upset you. If only – no, she couldn’t do it to them. It was just an escapist fantasy.

She continued along High Street to her end of town, stopped outside the house, took a deep breath and went in.

Not only had they not cleared up, they’d added to the mess, not even putting their crockery in the sink. Taking her favourite beaker, which no one else was supposed to use, she washed it out carefully and made a cup of coffee. She didn’t feel at all hungry.

Footsteps thumped down the stairs. William. She could always tell.

He stopped in the doorway to look at her warily. ‘Oh, there you are, Mum. What’s for tea?’

‘Nothing. I’m not cooking in this mess.’

‘Huh?’ He looked around as if searching for something. ‘You usually go shopping on your afternoon off. We’ve not got much food left.’

‘You didn’t feel like helping round the house yesterday. Today I don’t feel like shopping.’ She went across, flipped open the dishwasher door and stood very still for a moment to hold in the anger. ‘This hasn’t been emptied yet. We’ll be running out of clean crockery soon.’

‘But what about tea? I’m famished.’

‘What about it? I can’t cook in a pigsty.’ She left him standing with that sulky expression on his face that said he knew he was in the wrong but wasn’t going to back down. But at least he hadn’t threatened her today. Perhaps he realised he’d stepped over the line there.

In the bedroom she found Sam lying on the bed.

He sat up, looking dazed. ‘Sorry. I must have fallen asleep. Did you work extra hours?’

‘No. I just didn’t want to come home. Comfy, are you?’

‘I had a headache.’

‘And did you have a headache last night too?’

‘Come again?’

‘No one cleared up the kitchen. And
you
didn’t support me with the boys. William’s still refusing to lift a finger.’

‘Give it a break!’

‘I am. A complete break. I am
not
doing all the clearing up after you three.’

‘You always have done before.’

‘More fool me. And actually, you used to help around the house quite a lot. You’ve hardly lifted a finger lately.’

‘Since I got this job, I’m too tired with all the commuting.’

She glared at him. ‘Has it escaped your notice that I work full-time too?’

‘You’ve got an easy job compared to mine.’

‘So I suddenly became the housemaid as well? No, thank you. Didn’t apply for the job and I’m not being conscripted.’ She began to tidy one of her drawers, not sure what to do next.

‘Look, we’ll get a takeaway tonight.’

‘Not till that kitchen’s cleared up, we won’t. If you and the boys don’t do that, I’m going out for a meal somewhere clean.’

He got up off the bed, frowning at her. ‘Where? Maybe we could all go.’

‘You lot have got clearing up to do at home.’

‘Well, if you’re going out, Paul needs picking up from rehearsal.’

‘Glad you remembered. Don’t forget to do it.’ She ran down the stairs, expecting Sam to call after her, say he’d organise the clear-up, but he didn’t. She drove off slowly, tears blurring her eyes and making the street look surreal.
She didn’t know what to do, where to go, just that she couldn’t bear to stay in. Surely, surely, they’d clear up now?

The only thing she was certain about was that she wasn’t going to touch the mess. She’d reached her sticking point. If she didn’t stand firm, she’d lose all self-respect.

She was not only tired of what was happening at home, she was bone tired, period, and desperately needed a break.

She wandered round the shopping centre buying a snack for herself from a café, a piece of rather stale gâteau. Feeling defiant, she bought a glass of wine too. Why not? One small glass wouldn’t put her over the limit.

Not until it was nearly time for the shopping centre to close did she go home.

Sam looked at her reproachfully as she announced that she’d be sleeping in the spare bedroom again.

‘That isn’t necessary.’

‘I think it is necessary until we sort this out. I’m angry at all of you. And I’m not giving in.’

The boys rolled their eyes at one another but said nothing. They didn’t go into the kitchen, though, just up to bed.

Sam went straight to bed as well.

She lay on the hard bed in the spare bedroom and cried into the pillow.

The kitchen stayed dirty the following morning. Sam must have bought some bread and milk the night before when he picked Paul up from rehearsal, but at the rate her sons ate, they’d soon run out of butter and jam.

William gave her a sneering smile before he left, gestured to the mess and said, ‘The earth hasn’t fallen in, has it?’

She was still gasping with indignation at his insolence as the door slammed behind him.

Sam had already left.

How long could this continue? Would she manage to hold out against them? Should she just give in and do the minimum? After all, boys of William’s age were noted for their macho behaviour.

No! She’d never forgive herself if she gave in. A saying someone had shared with her years ago popped into her mind:
If you want people to walk all over you, just lie down and become a doormat
.

She wasn’t going to do that.

One of Millie’s cheeks was bright red again and she winced when Janey put a spoonful of food in her mouth. When Janey put her to bed on Wednesday night, she didn’t settle for ages. Then, at two-fourteen exactly, she began crying loudly. Janey jerked awake, terrified the noise would disturb the other tenants. She tried everything she knew to comfort her baby, but Millie refused to be comforted.

The hours of the night seemed to pass very slowly with darkness outside shutting her into a tiny, fraught world. Millie alternated her bouts of crying with shallow sleep, during which she whimpered and moved restlessly. Janey was so worried about her she didn’t dare go to sleep.

There were gels you could rub on a baby’s gums to help the pain, she knew, but she couldn’t afford them unless a doctor gave her a prescription. She had trouble managing on social benefits without needing to buy extras, though she was better than she used to be.

She’d have to take Millie to the doctor’s when they opened, just in case it was something more serious than teething. Pam had pointed out a medical centre just off High Street and said they had an excellent health visitor who also ran the Child Health Clinic. Surely they’d let her see a doctor without an appointment if Millie was still unwell?

Just before nine, Janey bundled her daughter up warmly and put her in the buggy, worried because the poor little thing was still crying, though in an exhausted way now. She hurried down High Street to what she thought was the turn-off, relieved when she saw the medical centre ahead, because she was so tired she wasn’t sure she’d remembered it correctly.

Inside she tried to explain to the receptionist what she wanted, but Millie suddenly started screaming so loudly it was hard to hear what the woman was saying.

‘I’m sorry. She’s been crying like this for half the night.’ Janey tried to disentangle her daughter from the buggy to give her a cuddle, but had trouble with the fastenings.

‘Here. Let me help you. I’ll deal with the baby. You bring the buggy through.’

Janey stepped back, soothed by the calm voice. Capable hands soon undid the safety straps.

Millie was soothed too, because she stopped screaming as soon as the stranger picked her up.

The woman led the way into a consulting room to one side. ‘My name’s Sally Makepeace. I’m a nurse and I’m the health visitor for the practice. Good thing I was here to help you today. She’s in a right old state, isn’t she? And you look exhausted. Been up all night?’

‘Yes. She’s teething, I think, but she’s never been like this before and I’m worried sick. She’s been crying since two o’clock this morning.’ And it wouldn’t take much more to make Janey cry too.

‘I haven’t seen you here before, have I? Are you registered here?’

‘Not yet. I’ve just moved to the area and my social worker, Pam Foster, suggested I come here. I don’t know if she’s sent the paperwork on yet.’ She took a deep breath and steeled herself because she hated explaining this. ‘I’ve just turned eighteen and I’m on my own, because my parents threw me out when I got pregnant. I moved into a flat in Peppercorn Street this week.’

‘What about the child’s father? Does he help you?’

‘I don’t talk about him, not to anyone.’

Sally’s voice became gentler. ‘That bad, was he?’

‘Worse.’

‘Well, if you ever want to talk …’

‘I don’t. Not about him, anyway.’ She didn’t dare. He’d threatened her if she revealed who he was, what he’d done.

Millie began to cry loudly again.

‘Let’s look at the poor little thing. The tooth is nearly through but her gums are very swollen. Some babies have it harder than others when they’re teething. Do you have any soothing gel?’

Janey could feel her cheeks burning. ‘No. I can’t afford it without a prescription. I’m not extravagant but it’s really hard to manage on benefits as well as setting up a home.’

‘Don’t your parents help you
at all
?’

She had to swallow hard before she could say it. ‘They walk past me in the street as if I’m a stranger.’ She felt
comforted when the nurse laid a hand on her arm for a few seconds.

‘That must be hard.’

‘Yes. But I couldn’t give my baby away like they wanted. And I’m getting better at managing, though I do worry about Millie. I’ve never had anything to do with babies before, you see. There weren’t any others in our family. I’ve read some books about babies and
Just Girls
is helping me. I stayed in their hostel after Millie was born and they’ve given me a cot and all sorts of bits and pieces for the flat.’

‘They’re great. Look, I’ll come and visit you, if that’s OK, to see if you and Millie need anything else. I’m here to help, not criticise, so look on me as your support system in emergencies not an enemy. Right?’

Janey nodded. She trusted Sally instinctively, was relieved to have someone to turn to.

‘Will you be at home tomorrow morning’ – Sally consulted a list – ‘say about eleven o’clock?’

‘Yes. I take Millie out for walks in the mornings when it’s fine, but we can just as easily go out in the afternoon.’

‘Walks are good. You both need to get plenty of fresh air and exercise. And did they tell you about the meetings at
Just Girls
? You should go. You need to make some friends.’

‘I will once I’ve settled in.’

Sally opened a cupboard and got out a sample of gel. ‘Let’s rub some on her gums now. If that doesn’t do it, we’ll give her some baby paracetamol. Can you wait here till this takes effect? There’s a room you can sit in.’

‘I’ll do whatever’s best for Millie.’

‘Good. And I’ve got a great book about babies that I give to new mothers. Want a copy?’

‘Yes, please.’ Janey was well aware that she was being observed and checked out, as well as Millie, in case she was a bad mother but she was cool about that. She didn’t think she was doing too badly, actually. But just occasionally, when Millie cried on and on, she felt a failure or at best, a fumbling amateur.

Best of all, she left the clinic with a number to ring if she needed help outside working hours. It was such a relief to know she’d have someone to turn to if she was worried about Millie during the night.

It started raining as she was walking home, but strangely that seemed to soothe Millie rather than upset her and Janey didn’t care if she got wet now that the screaming had stopped.

When she got back to the flats, she saw that someone else was moving in. She stood in the car park watching with interest as a scowling man with a pronounced limp opened the front door to two removal men, who at once started carrying his possessions into the ground floor flat underneath hers.

He had a lot more things than she did, that was certain, and what looked like a computer. How she envied him that!

She went into the building, intending to introduce herself to him, but after one quick nod to her and Millie, he started talking to the men again, so she left him to it. She carried Millie upstairs first and as she was opening the door, one of the removal men dumped the buggy on the landing with a grin.

‘There you are, love.’

Even that small act of kindness made her feel weepy.

She hoped the flats were better soundproofed than the B&B had been. Millie could cry very loudly.

She’d not seen anyone around yet and if it hadn’t been for that washing on the lines at the back, she’d have thought she was the only one here. The car park had remained empty, though that was nothing to go by because she had a parking bay too, only she didn’t have a vehicle to put in it.

Please Millie
, she prayed as she put her daughter down in the cot,
don’t wake the man below tonight or he’ll think we’re the neighbours from hell
.

When her daughter fell asleep, Janey lay down on the bed nearby. She was so worn out she could feel herself falling asleep and didn’t fight it.

During her lunch hour, Nicole went for a walk along High Street. She hadn’t intended to succumb to temptation, but found herself stopping outside the estate agent’s to read the
To Let
notices again. The flat was still being advertised. No, what was she thinking of? She already had a home. You couldn’t just walk out on your family, however tempted you were.

She glanced at her watch and took a sudden decision to go and see whether the mess in the kitchen had been touched at all, because she’d been worrying about it all morning. If they’d just left it, she’d ask to see the flat. Just to have a look at it, see what you could get for your money. She kept dreaming of peace and it’d give her a threat to hold over their heads.

Surely Sam would have done something, at least? He couldn’t just have gone to work and left the kitchen like that, with rubbish overflowing from the bin. And surely he’d said something to the boys about pulling their weight in future, as she’d asked him to do?

The house was empty and the dirty dishes in the kitchen had been shuffled around a bit, but nothing had been washed. The rubbish bin was still overflowing and the dishwasher hadn’t been emptied, though there were a few gaps inside it where clean items had been taken out.

She walked round the ground floor, fighting tears, then stopped in shock in the living room. Her favourite ornament, which normally graced the window sill, lay in shards on the hearth. The little figurine had been all right when she left for work. It could only have got broken so badly by being hurled across the room.

She went across to look more closely. It had belonged to her grandmother and she’d counted it as one of her treasures. There were too many small pieces for it to be mended. It looked – as if someone had ground it under foot.

Surely not?

She backed away, not touching it.

William or Sam?

Without remembering leaving the house or walking back along High Street, she found herself going into the estate agent’s.

‘You’re advertising a flat to rent in Peppercorn Street.’ She was pleased at how steady her voice was. ‘I’d like to see it. Straight away, if possible.’

Winifred was glad it wasn’t raining on Friday morning because she enjoyed her stroll down to the shops in fine weather. Today she needed her wheelie shopping bag, which she didn’t really like using. It seemed to shout ‘old age, infirmity’. But it was necessary for hauling back her heavier shopping. She also took her library books to change.

After she’d bought some food, she went to the library, looking forward to a chat with Nicole, who was such a nice young woman and was very good at finding new authors for her.

But today Nicole was looking wan and unhappy, clearly not in the mood to chat, so Winifred had to do the best she could to find some new authors herself. She saw a big sign on the noticeboard for the Golden Oldies Club, which Nicole kept asking her to join, but she wasn’t the joining sort, never had been. She never knew what to say to strangers. The fairies who’d presided over her birth hadn’t included the gift of small talk.

On the way back she saw a notice in the window of a charity shop that there was a book sale on, hesitated and went in. She didn’t like using these places, knew her mother would have disapproved of ‘dirty’ books, but was desperate for some more reading material. Sometimes she ran out of new books before she could get to the library.

To her delight she found shelves of romance novels on offer cheaply at four for a pound, tatty and worn but perfectly readable. She bought a dozen and had trouble balancing the carry bag on top of her loaded shopping bag.

‘Shall I tie this on for you, dear?’ the woman behind the counter said, smiling cheerfully.

Winifred hated being called ‘dear’ by complete strangers, but she understood that sometimes, as now, it was done with the best of intentions. ‘Yes, please. I have a ten-minute walk to get home.’

‘Look, I finish here in five minutes. If you like, I could drive you home, then you could choose even more books, if you wanted.’

This offer was so unexpected Winifred couldn’t hide her surprise.

The woman smiled again. ‘My mum has trouble carrying stuff home too. I take her shopping every week for the big stuff.’

‘But you don’t even know where I live!’

‘If it’s a ten-minute walk, it’ll only be two minutes by car. No trouble to me.’

‘Oh. Well, that’d be very kind of you, very kind indeed. I live in Peppercorn Street.’

‘Oh, that’s easy to find.’

‘Thank you. I do miss being able to drive, but my eyesight isn’t good enough nowadays. And I
will
buy some more books, in that case. Most kind.’

‘There’s a chair in the corner, if you want to sit down. My name’s Dawn, by the way.’

Winifred introduced herself but was too busy choosing books to sit. She indulged in a perfect orgy of book-buying, and all for a ridiculously small amount of money.

Her new acquaintance stopped the car outside the house. ‘Do you live here? Lucky you. I’ve often admired this house and been glad it hasn’t been converted into flats. Some of those developers are philistines and ruin beautiful old buildings, even if they don’t knock them down. Come
on, I’ll help you carry your bags inside. You did go mad on the books, didn’t you? You must read a lot.’

‘It’s my favourite pastime.’

When they were inside the house, Winifred nerved herself to ask, ‘Would you, um, like a cup of tea?’

‘Not today. I have to get on. But maybe another day, if you’d like some company? I could bring Mum round with me. She’d enjoy a little outing. Her best friend just died and she’s lonely, poor thing. But I’ll perfectly understand if you don’t want to …’ She let the words trail away.

Winifred realised what Dawn was really asking and for once she let go of her mother’s deeply inculcated training to keep one’s feelings to oneself and said in a rush, ‘That’d be lovely. I’ve just lost my best friend, too. How about Monday afternoon? Or Tuesday? Any day, really.’

‘Monday, then. About three?’ Dawn left with a cheery wave.

When she’d gone Winifred sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. What had she been thinking to invite complete strangers to tea? Accepting pity, that’s what. Only … Dawn said her mother was also lonely, so that was probably why she’d made the offer.