Secrets to Keep (7 page)

‘I don’t mind admitting I was very wrong about Claudia. She paid her dues on time, never missing once, and sometimes even bunging Jessie a few shillings extra at Christmas and such like, and she never caused yer mam one minute of bother. She brought fun back into yer mam’s life and she worshipped you, treated you like the daughter she never was to have. I’d often call in and find Claudia reading you a story or helping put you to bed, or you sitting at the table with her while she put on her make-up before she went out. And she’d give you some of her old make-up to play with, and what a mess you used to make! On her afternoon off … Wednesday, I’m sure it was a Wednesday she had off … well, she’d take you out, rain or shine. When you started school, she’d meet you at the gates and take you out then. She took you to all sorts of places. The museums, parks, rides on trains … During the school holidays she once took you on a trip to the country so she could show you real animals, not just pictures in books.

‘Not that she begrudged Claudia any happiness, but your mam was always secretly worried that she would meet a man and marry him and then she’d lose her as her lodger. But Claudia never met anyone so special she wanted to settle down with them. She told me once that she didn’t mind spending their money, but washing their dirty underpants was an
entirely different matter. I always hoped yer mam would meet someone else herself, but she used to say, “once bitten, twice shy”, and besides, she couldn’t get married again while she still was to your dad, and Jessie wouldn’t even contemplate living in sin as she had you to consider.

‘Ten years Claudia lived with Jessie. It was a dreadful thing what happened to her. That run-away dray cart ploughing into her like that, killing her outright. Shame too that virtually at the same time Mrs Crabtree’s husband gets moved down south with his job, so that meant yer mother lost hers. Biggest shame of all was that that was the time, out of the blue, when yer dad decided to make his return.’

Aidy’s mind flashed back in time to the day her father had come home. Having been only three when he had first disappeared, she’d had no recollection of him, only knew what he looked like from the few photographs her mother possessed of him. She’d been told nothing bad about him. Only that he was a kind, loving man, but that unfortunately some men and women might love each other but could not live together, and that was why her mother and father didn’t. He didn’t come to visit Aidy because he’d had to move to another town far away with his job, she was told.

She was thirteen when he returned out of the blue and she discovered that he wasn’t at all the kind,
loving man her mother had portrayed him to be. Oh, at first he appeared to be to his daughter, in front of his wife, but behind Jessie’s back he made Aidy very aware that he found her a nuisance, as he did George and Betty too when they came along. He failed to wait around long enough to meet Marion. His favourite saying to Aidy was, ‘Get lost, kid.’ Her home before his return had been her sanctuary, a place where she felt comfortable and welcome. It had been a happy place, full of laughter, the sight of her mother’s ever-present smile, and the sound of her singing as she went about her household tasks, a delight to see and hear. Only a very short while after Aidy’s father’s return that was all to change as he asserted his position as head of their household again, and couldn’t be bothered any longer hiding his true colours. He hadn’t changed at all. But the atmosphere in the house did, and so did her mother. Tension filled the air. Jessie’s smile faded, she never sang any longer, and her eyes lost their shine.

It was a happy day for Aidy when they got up one morning to find her father had disappeared again, taking all his belongings and any money he could lay his hands on besides anything saleable too. Life was harsh for the family, money so tight that sometimes a scrape of marge on their bread was looked upon as a luxury while Jessie strove to support them all on what she could earn, taking in laundry, mending,
minding children … anything, in fact, that made her a few coppers. She worked at home until her children were of an age where she could safely leave them. But almost immediately her father departed Aidy was to see the smile return to her mother’s lips, her eyes shining, and to hear her singing again.

Aidy’s thoughts returned to the present and she realised her grandmother had fallen silent. ‘You all right, Gran?’ she asked.

Sighing, the old lady nodded. ‘I was just thinking of the day Arnold Greenwood came back into Jessie’s life. At the time she was grieving over the loss of Claudia and for the job she had loved so much with Mrs Crabtree. Worried too about losing the house as she was getting behind with the rent. She’d been for several interviews for jobs but for one reason or another never took or was offered one. You’d gone off to school and she was just leaving to continue with her job search when the back door opened and in he walked, bold as brass, plonked his bag on the floor and announced to her he was back. Arnold didn’t even say he was sorry for leaving her high and dry. Didn’t offer any explanation for where he’d been in the meantime or what he’d been doing, just expected to carry on like he’d never been away.

‘When Jessie came to tell me and yer granddad of his return, I asked her what she was playing at, just letting him back in after all these years with not even
a word from him. She said, “Mam, I’m in arrears with the rent, can’t seem to get a job for love nor money – his return is like a Godsend to me. Don’t matter whether I want him back or not, I’ve no choice but to have him back, ’cos you’ve no room to take me and my daughter in, and having him back is better than the workhouse or walking the streets.”

‘Whenever me and yer granddad dropped in Arnold was civil to us, and from what we saw he seemed to be being a decent husband to Jessie and a father to you. Whenever I asked her how life was, she’d just say, “Fine, Mam,” and change the subject. Within a matter of months of him coming back she fell pregnant with George. Then Betty came along just over a year later, and only four months after giving birth to her, she fell for Marion. She was about seven months gone when, out of the blue, Arnold disappeared one night, again without any warning, and we’ve never seen nor heard anything of him since. That was when Jessie opened up to us and told us that not long after he’d returned he was back to all his old ways, but by then she was pregnant. Turned out he gave her Betty and Marion too before he finally abandoned her.’

Bertha’s eyes narrowed darkly and she hissed, ‘How the hell any man could abandon his pregnant wife and kids, not just once but twice, and think it right to do so … Well, I hope he’s gone to hell and rots there!

‘Yer granddad had retired by then and we were struggling to make ends meet on just the bit I made from me potions ourselves, so we couldn’t help Jessie moneywise. Thank God you were earning by then, and what you handed over helped enormously even though you were only training in your job. Along with the pittance she made from taking in washing and ironing and another lodger, Jessie just about scraped though, but there was nothing left over for any luxuries. If it hadn’t been for the neighbours passing her hand-me-downs from their own kids, I dread to think how she’d have dressed you all.’ Bertha’s face puckered, the glint of tears in her aged eyes, and she uttered, ‘Oh, Aidy, if only me and yer granddad had been able to help Jessie more maybe she wouldn’t have put such a strain on her heart with all that hard work. Maybe she’d still be with us now.’

Aidy reminded her, ‘But you
did
help her, Gran. You and Granddad both. Granddad used to come around each morning at six and light the fire under the copper while me and Mam got the kids up and dressed before I had to rush off to work and she saw to the lodger’s breakfast. Then, when Granddad went off down the allotment that kept us all in veg, you would arrive and help Mam with what washing and ironing she had to do that day. And I know you wouldn’t take any payment ’cos Mam told me you
wouldn’t, even though you could have put good use to a few coppers extra. And I know you used to share your potion money with Mam when you were able to because she told me you did.’ A worried expression clouded Aidy’s face then. ‘Maybe she’d still be alive if I hadn’t got married and left home, Gran.’

Bertha sighed heavily. ‘We could sit here all night worrying that something we didn’t do for her contributed to her death. Anyway, I told you, if anyone’s to blame it’s Arnold Greenwood. And, as we both know, your Arch wanted you both to get married years before you did. It was only through yer mam overhearing you arguing with him that you wouldn’t get married until all the kids were working that Jessie herself made you see reason and set a date. Of course, you being you argued the toss with her, but finally Jessie won out. Thankfully she did else you would have denied her seeing at least one of her children married and settled.’ Bertha’s eyes glazed over. ‘I never saw her look so happy as she did that day. So proud. She kept saying to me, “Look at my girl, Mam, doesn’t she look beautiful? Like a princess.” And you did. Such a handsome couple you and Arch make. It’s just sad for the others that they won’t have their mam there on their own big days.’

They both jumped at a thump on the back door,
then it immediately burst open and a booming voice announced, ‘I came as soon as I found out, to see what I could do.’

Both Aidy and Bertha looked at each other in a way that voiced ‘oh, no’, then both stared at the newcomer who had burst into their back room. As far as they knew no one could possibly have learned yet of Jessie’s death. Arch was the only one who had, but he had promised Aidy he wouldn’t say anything until tomorrow – especially to the person who had just arrived.

Aidy fixed her eyes on the huge woman before her and asked, ‘How did you find out Mam had died, Mrs Nelson?’

Pat Nelson looked visibly shaken to hear this. ‘Jessie’s dead!’ she proclaimed. In shock, she made her way over to join them at the table and sank down, the old chair she chose groaning in protest at the tremendous weight that had been placed upon it. ‘I didn’t know that! Mave Pollard called in to tell me she saw you hurrying in here with the new doctor so I assumed one of you was sick enough to have him called in. So Jessie’s dead, eh? How’d it happen?’

Muttering under her breath, Bertha grumbled, ‘Bloody busybodies around here. Yer can’t go to the lavvy without someone knowing.’

Although Pat appeared not to have heard what
Bertha had muttered, Aidy did and flashed her a warning look before she informed her mother-in-law, ‘Doc said her heart just stopped.’

Pat said bluntly, ‘Well, I suppose that’s as good a way to go as any. Right, after you’ve finished yer tea, you get round to Ivy Doubleday, Aidy, and tell her there’s a laying out to do. Don’t forget to tell her I sent yer. I suggest you use Snow’s for the funeral. They did my own mother proud when she went last year. Ask for Bill Chambers and tell him I sent yer. Use Worth’s for yer meat … tell him I sent yer too.’

A thought suddenly struck her and she asked worriedly, ‘Jessie did have a penny policy to pay for her funeral, I take it? Oh, yes, she did. I remember being here one night when the agent came to collect her dues. Now, we won’t have trouble getting pall-bearers. There’s my three lads, Gert Hoskins’ two boys and Jimmy Smith. Of course, they’ll expect you to bung them a couple of bob each … except for Arch, of course, him being yer husband. My Arch will be chief pall-bearer. As for the food, we’ll have ham on the bone, and tongue, sandwiches and sausage rolls. Barrel of beer for the men, sherry for the women.’

Despite the grief that had rendered her incapable of mustering the inner strength needed for a battle of wills with Arch’s bossy mother, Aidy wasn’t
about to have her own mother’s funeral railroaded. Taking a deep breath, she spoke up. ‘Now look, Mrs Nelson …’

Bertha immediately cut in. ‘I’m surprised at you, Aidy. You know it’s extremely rude to butt in when someone else is speaking.’ She then politely asked Pat, ‘I expect you could do with a cuppa, Mrs Nelson?’

Aidy looked askance at her grandmother. Why was she encouraging this overbearing woman to stay, instead of doing the opposite?

Pat responded, ‘I was beginning to think yer weren’t going to offer me one. Better make it a pot, Mrs Rider. Arranging a funeral is thirsty work.’

Appearing not to notice that her granddaughter was staring daggers at her, Bertha got up and went across to the stove to put the kettle on to boil, then disappeared into the pantry.

While the kettle was boiling, she poured Pat the dregs left from the pot made earlier which she put before her, saying, ‘The kettle won’t be a moment. In the meantime, this’ll keep yer going.’

Pat took enough time off from issuing her instructions on what route she had decided the funeral procession should take to pick up the cup of stewed tea and knock it back. After swallowing it down, she pulled a face. ‘Oh, that was a bit bitter! I’ll have a spoon more sugar in me next one. Now, where was I?’

Fifteen minutes later Aidy was having extreme difficulty controlling her need to tell Arch’s mother to at least afford her grandmother and herself the courtesy of having some opinions on Jessie’s funeral, when the woman suddenly stopped mid-flow and clutched her huge stomach, giving out a loud groan.

Looking at her worriedly, Aidy asked, ‘What’s wrong, Mrs Nelson?’

Her rotund face screwed up in agony, Pat bellowed, ‘It’s me guts. It’s feels like they’re dropping out. It must be that bleddy cod we had for dinner last night. I thought it looked a bit iffy when I bought it. I’ll give that ’monger what for, the next time I see him.’ Heaving her bulk off the chair, she announced, ‘I’ve got to go. Don’t worry, I’ll be back first thing to continue where we left off.’