A Girl Can Dream (12 page)

However, Gerry had killed someone in a drunken brawl and had taken off into the night, leaving her with the dead body and the knife. She had been taken into custody. There was no evidence to charge her – her fingerprints were not on the handle of the knife – and she was released. However, witnesses said she had been as drunk as a lord herself and, rather than trying to stop the fight, she had egged them on, calling on Gerry to ‘stab the bastard’. She couldn’t remember whether she had said that or not, but she knew the family of the dead man were gunning for her and that if she stayed around they would find her.

Her troubles were compounded when she arrived at her flat to find her landlord had moved all her belongings onto the pavement, piled into a variety of containers, and while she was deliberating about her next move, a group of heavies approached to extract the gambling debts Gerry had run up. She had little money of her own – Gerry took care of that and she hadn’t a hope in hell of paying the debt – but she managed to stall the men and agreed to meet them the following week when she would give them all the money she owed. Instead she immediately registered for war work, claimed to be a widow and a trained seamstress wanting work away from the North because it held too many memories, and two days later she had gone south to Birmingham.

However, Gerry’s debts were considerable and Doris knew the type of men to whom he owed money didn’t give up easily; their nets were wide. Though she had covered her tracks well, she really needed to change her name, and the easiest way to do that was to marry someone – and preferably someone respectable. The fact that she was already married didn’t worry her one jot. She doubted she’d ever see Gerry again because he was wanted for murder, and if he was stupid enough to put his head over the parapet he would hang if he was caught.

That first night in the Swan she’d noticed Charlie Hallett straight away and recognised him as a malleable man, one she could manage easily enough, and so when she heard he was a widower with his own house and in good steady employment she made a play for him. It was her chance to be respectable and could work as long as Charlie Hallett did not learn of her past life. She had been a good judge of his character because Charlie seemed remarkably uninquisitive about the life she had led before she’d arrived in Birmingham and, being an easy-going sort of chap, he had been like putty in her hands.

She knew Charlie’s brothers didn’t like her – not that she cared; she had overheard them talking to Charlie outside the pub one night. ‘Look, have your fun,’ she’d heard the elder one, Robert, say. ‘Just don’t marry her, that’s all I ask. I think that woman is bad news and I’d hate to see you chained to her for life.’

‘She’ll suck you dry if you do,’ the other one, Alec, had warned. ‘I’ve met her type before as well.’

Doris didn’t care because the more they said against her, the more Charlie defended her. She had slept with a great many men, so she knew how to please, though she had held him off at first. She allowed only chaste kisses so that she always left him wanting more, especially as she teased and tormented him.

Eventually, though, she allowed further liberties, so their lovemaking grew more ardent and exciting. He saw her almost every day; everything else took a back seat as all he could think about was Doris and how she made him feel. She could and often did take him to the peak of desire, and in that state nothing else mattered to Charlie, not his brothers’ disapproval, nor even his children’s unhappiness. He was enthralled by Doris and the heights of sexual gratification he never knew existed.

She told him that she wouldn’t totally submit to him until she had the ring on her finger; she wasn’t that type of girl. He believed and respected her, and felt bad for pressing her, despite the fact that he was often almost consumed with craven lust as the blood pounded round his veins. Even his sleep was punctuated with sexual and lurid dreams. He was a virile, red-blooded man who missed sex a great deal, and though he had truly and deeply loved Maeve, by the time he was ready to take Doris home to meet his children, he knew he needed her in a base and carnal way and he would never be able to let her go.

As soon as Charlie left the house to fetch Doris, Terry was dispatched to take Ruth and Billy for a walk as arranged, and, Jenny and even young Sally helped Meg to prepare the table. First they draped it in the white lace cloth their mother had used on special occasions, and then brought in the dishes and plates and laid them out. There was one filled with slices of ham and a dish of tomatoes and a larger one filled with green salad. Beside it was a plate of salmon paste sandwiches and another of crusty bread and a tub of butter. On the sideboard, laid on a folded tablecloth, was a trifle and some little choux buns dusted with sugar, which had been Maeve’s speciality, and which she had taught Meg to make.

Meg was proud of all she had done and thought the room looked inviting with the easy chairs drawn up to the fender, gleaming in the light of the glowing fire that she had lit to take the chill from the room, even though it was the last week of April.

Meg thought that though Doris Caudwell’s clothes were lovely, especially her hat atop her beautifully waved hair, her face was caked in powder with pink rouged cheeks, so different from the her mother’s natural beauty. The smokiness around Doris’s eyes and the fluttering ridiculously long lashes did not hide the fact that those black eyes were as hard and cold as steel, and her lipstick was like a crimson slash across her face. Meg didn’t like what she saw and she castigated herself for not giving the woman a chance. She remembered her manners and turned to greet her, trying to push down her uncomfortable feelings at seeing another woman by her father’s side and in her mother’s home.

Charlie was aware of the slight silence. He smiled encouragingly at Meg and all the children and said, ‘Where are your manners, children? Aren’t you going to welcome Mrs Caudwell, our guest?’

Rather than even try to put the fear of God into her siblings for their behaviour towards Mrs Caudwell, Meg had appealed to their better nature, stressing again how alone in the world she was. ‘And she might be a bit awkward with us because she isn’t used to children,’ she’d added, so now the children looked to Meg for direction. She gave an almost imperceptible sigh. God, sometimes it was hard to be the eldest, she thought as she nailed a smile to her face and offered her arm outstretched. ‘We’re pleased to see you, Mrs Caudwell,’ she said. ‘Would you like to take off your hat and I’ll put it upstairs until you leave?’

Doris smiled and despite herself Meg thought it was like the leering sneer a crocodile might give before he takes your head off, for it didn’t touch her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said in clipped tones. ‘But I prefer to keep my hat on.’

Meg gave a brief nod and chivvied her brothers and sisters, and one by one they moved forward and shook hands. Doris turned her leering smile on them too and Meg knew that they didn’t care for her much either. But to be fair she realised they would like nobody who might come into their home and, as they saw it, take the place of their mother.

To cover the awkward silence that fell after Billy had shaken Doris’s hand, Meg scooped the drowsy Ruth from the pram and planted her in Charlie’s arms, saying to Doris as she did so, ‘This is the youngest member of the family.’

Her father looked awkward holding Ruth, and as Meg made tea she thought it strange that Doris seemed ill at ease with her too. But she didn’t have children of her own, so probably that was the reason. ‘Her name is Ruth,’ Meg said, and Doris patted the baby awkwardly on the arm.

To Meg’s dismay, Ruth burst into tears and struggled in her father’s arms. ‘Hey, hey, there’s no need for that,’ Charlie chided, setting Ruth on the floor where she continued to cry. ‘What’s the matter with her anyway?’

Meg swallowed her irritation and put the teapot on the table before picking Ruth up, stopping the tears in an instant. ‘Still tired, I imagine,’ she said and, to prevent her father saying anything else, she added, ‘Would everyone like to come up to the table?’

‘We’ll do that all right,’ Charlie said briskly, pleased to have a diversion. ‘Meg, you’ve done us proud. This all looks delicious. Come on, my dear,’ he said to Doris, and he pulled out a chair for her. Terry and Meg exchanged glances for they had never seen him do anything like that for their mother.

Charlie had told the children the tea table would be their chance to get to know Doris. Meg found that wasn’t going to be so easy, though, because any questions they asked her, she answered politely but briefly, so that it began to sound more like an interrogation than a conversation.

Doris had some questions of her own. ‘So you don’t go out to work?’ she asked Meg as she finished her last cup of tea, and Meg turned to her father for support.

‘It would have been difficult for Meg to go out to any sort of job with all the others to see to,’ Charlie said.

‘Yes, I see,’ Doris said to Meg. ‘Weren’t there relatives able to help, take a child or two off your hands?’ Her tone was courteous, but Meg’s hackles rose a little once more.

‘I had promised my mother to keep us all together,’ she explained.

‘That seems quite a burdensome, selfish sort of promise to extract from a young girl,’ Doris observed matter-of-factly.

Meg bridled again, perceiving criticism of her mother, and she faced Doris and said, ‘No, Mrs Caudwell, that’s not so. My mother never had a selfish bone in the whole of her body. It was a promise I willingly made.’

Charlie smiled gently and said conciliatorily, ‘I’m sure Doris understands that. Don’t you, my dear?’

Doris smiled pleasantly. ‘Of course I do, Charlie.’

‘Yeah,’ Sally put in. ‘Daddy didn’t want us to go anywhere, anyway.’

‘Like those horrible people from Ireland who wanted to take us to live with them,’ Billy said.

‘Billy,’ Charlie said sternly. ‘Those people are your grandparents.’

Billy shrugged. ‘Don’t care. Don’t mean they can’t be horrible. You didn’t let us go to them, did you?’

‘No, but—’

‘You said you loved us too much,’ Jenny reminded him. ‘And you do.’

‘Yeah,’ Billy said in agreement, but added, ‘’Cept for Ruth. You ain’t that keen on her.’

There was a collective gasp and Charlie’s cheeks were so red the scarlet stain had even spread to his neck. Billy, on the other hand, just looked puzzled. He looked around the people at the table and said, ‘What?’

Meg knew she had to say something so she said, ‘Billy, you shouldn’t say things like that.’

‘Why not?’ Billy asked. ‘You said I had to tell the truth and it is the truth.’

Doris smiled beatifically at their father and said, ‘Lots of men have no time for babies. Isn’t that right, Charlie?’

Meg watched her father nod and smile fondly back at Doris, and yet Meg knew as well as he did the true reasons for his finding contact with Ruth so difficult.

‘You see,’ Doris asserted with a smug smile.

Meg fumed inside at Doris’s proprietorial attitude towards her father, but she supposed there was no point in feeling angry. ‘Let’s change the subject, shall we?’ she said brightly. ‘Would you like any more to eat?’ she asked Doris.

‘I couldn’t eat another thing,’ Doris said to Meg. ‘It was delicious food.’

Charlie was relieved that Doris and Meg seemed to be getting on well because he knew that the younger ones took the lead from Meg.

‘Another cup of tea perhaps?’ Meg said.

‘Not even that,’ Doris said. ‘We will have to be making tracks, Charlie, if we are going to see that film.’

‘Oh, you’re right, my dear,’ Charlie said, glancing at the clock. ‘I will just go and get my good coat.’ And he made for the stairs.

With the tea party broken up, Sally and Billy were playing with Ruth in front of the fire and Terry was carrying the plates out to Jenny, who was washing them in the scullery, and so there was no one near Meg when Doris leaned towards her and hissed, ‘I would have thought it was your father’s place, not yours, to bring the matter to a close. I think you take far too much upon yourself.’

Meg was taken aback, for though the words were spoken quietly there had been real venom in the way they were said. But no one else had heard so what could she say in reply, especially as her father came bouncing into the room at that minute, smiling fondly at Doris as he said, ‘Are you ready, my dear?’

Meg swallowed her anger so that she could bid Doris a civil goodbye, but her sigh of relief was audible as she watched Charlie take Doris’s arm and set off down the road towards Bristol Street.

‘Thank you for introducing me to your family,’ Doris said as they walked along. ‘The tea, as I said, was delicious, but …’

Charlie turned to her quizzically. ‘What, my dear?’

‘Well, I know your children haven’t had a mother around,’ she began carefully, ‘but you really should keep an eye on them, especially the younger ones. They seem to think they can say what they want without any fear or favour.’

Charlie blushed and shrugged helplessly. ‘What can I do?’

‘Insist on better manners before the children are ruined altogether,’ Doris said. ‘In my day, children were seen but not heard.’

Charlie wondered if it was true that he had been too lax, had abdicated his role as a father. He knew he’d been neglectful for a while after Maeve’s death and probably he should have kept a firmer hand on the tiller. It was obvious the children needed more guidance. It was true they could be undisciplined and, small wonder: Meg hadn’t the authority of a parent. Not that he was much good in that department anyway. He had always left that type of thing to Maeve.

Back at the house, Meg looked at Terry. ‘Thank God that’s over,’ she whispered.

‘I know,’ Terry mouthed back.

‘I don’t like that lady,’ Billy said loudly.

‘Now that’s enough, Billy,’ Meg said. ‘It’s not up to you who Dad sees.’

She felt she had to defend her father in front of the younger children, but she knew that underneath the fixed smile was someone who could not be trusted and could be really nasty. Look at the way she had spoken to her, and over nothing.