“What’s to become of Carrie and Sonny?” she asked.
“I’ll get the cash together tomorrer and send them back to London. Perhaps I can pawn me hats. Once the war’s over, I’ll have to support Sonny. That seems only the right and proper thing to do,” he finished virtuously.
“And you’ll never see them no more?”
“As if I would, Bren!”
Brenda let out a long, shuddering breath. “In that case, I forgive you, Xavier.” But if he ever did anything like this again . . .
“Oh, Bren!”
She slid off the chair into his arms and, by the time Brenda returned to bed half an hour later, the headache and the tic in her cheek had completely disappeared.
There was a thud, and Brenda woke up with a start out of the first deep and relaxing sleep she’d had in months.
“What’s going on?’she muttered.
“Sorry, gal, I was trying not to wake you.” Carrie seemed to be struggling with something in the corner of the room. “I was just getting me suitcase down, that’s all.”
“Your suitcase! Why? I thought you were going to work today.”
“I’ve decided to go back to London, instead.”
“What time is it?” Brenda sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“Six o’clock.”
Brenda felt muddled, but then she’d rarely felt anything else for months. “Has Xavier had a word with you already?”
“I
“What d’you mean?” Carrie asked sharply.
“What d’you mean, what do I mean?”
“Just a minute.” Carrie lit the gas mantle and turned it low. She sat on the edge of the bed, and Brenda saw she already had her coat on. “What d’you mean, has Xavier had a word with me already?” she demanded.
“Well,” Brenda stammered, not wishing to hurt Carrie’s feelings and appear to crow because it was she, Brenda, whom Xavier wanted, “it’s just that I went downstairs in the middle of the night and me and Xavier had, well, we had a little chat, like, and he thought it would be best if you and Sonny went back to London, that’s all. I didn’t think he’d say anything till tonight when you got home from work. Unless—is this all your own idea?” Perhaps Carrie had seen the writing on the wall and decided to return to London of her own accord.
“No,” Carrie said briefly. “I woke up early, and Xavier had a word with me, just like you thought. I didn’t realise you and he had already had a talk. He’s been a busy little bee tonight, hasn’t he?” She reached in her pocket for her ciggies. “Want one?”
“No, ta. I think I’ll stop smoking from now on. With you not here, there won’t be the temptation.”
“It’s a terrible drain on the pocket.” Carrie threw back her pretty head and emitted a long drawn-out puff of smoke. She looked very sad.
Brenda reached out impulsively and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry, girl. I’ll miss you something awful. I hope you don’t feel too upset, like.”
“I’ll miss you, too, Bren.” Her gruff voice broke. “And don’t worry about me. I’m not upset at all.”
There was something wrong! The alarm bells Brenda had first heard when Carrie put in an appearance last November began to ring again and the sound was ominous. Why wasn’t Carrie mad? Why was she taking it all so calmly and not using her wide and colourful vocabulary to curse Xavier to high heaven and beyond?
Brenda chewed her lip thoughtfully and gradually everything fell into place. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
“No, gal,” Carrie said gently.
“He hasn’t broken off with you at all!”
Carrie didn’t answer for a long while. When she did, her voice was low and subdued. “He suggested next time he was on leave he’d come and see me and Sonny in London.”
“And I wouldn’t have known anything about it?”
Carrie shook her head.
If Brenda thought she’d been angry before, it was as nothing to the anger she felt now. This time, it wasn’t just her cheek, but her entire body that began to twitch. “Some friend you turned out to be,” she spat. “Xavier intended to carry on double-crossing me, but this time, there’d be the two of you at it!”
“Christ Almighty, gal, what d’you take me for?” Carrie flung her cigarette across the room into the empty fireplace. “I told Xavier to go and piss up his kilt.”
“You did what!”
“You heard. And I gave him a black eye, an’ all. He’s probably still bathing it.”
Every shred of Brenda’s anger dissipated. “You’re much stronger than me,” she said, ashamed, “I took him back. I took him back like a shot. Not only that, I insisted he never see you again.”
“Well, that’s only natural. I’d probably have done the same if he was my husband. Not only that, you love him. I did once, but not any more. And, unlike you, I know a bit about men. Once bitten, twice shy, as they say.”
“I think I’ll have that fag now,” said Brenda.
Carrie lit two cigarettes and poked one in Brenda’s mouth. “Here you are, gal. I wish I hadn’t woke you up.
You’d never have been any the wiser if I’d just disappeared, would you?”
“Actually, Carrie, I feel a bit hurt at the idea of you sneaking off without telling me, without even saying goodbye.”
“It seemed the best thing to do,” Carrie said sagely. “It ain’t often in my life I do nice things, but I’d never hurt you, Bren, not ever. I wanted you to think everything was tickety-boo with Xavier.” She looked at Brenda sideways.
“You never know, it could be with me out of the way.”
“No.” Brenda shook her head and there was an air of finality about it. “I could never trust him again. He’s shot his bolt as far as I’m concerned.”
“You don’t sound very upset.”
“I’m too angry, I suppose. I’ll feel upset later. By the way,” Brenda asked curiously, “did he say horrible things about me?”
“He didn’t mention you hardly.” Carrie examined her nails. “What did he have to say about me?”
“Not much,” Brenda lied. “I suppose he likes us both, that’s the problem.”
“His problem!”
They both began to laugh till tears ran down their cheeks. “He’ll hear us,” Brenda spluttered eventually.
“We’ve been talking for ages. He probably already realises the cat’s out of the bag.” Carrie got up and began to stuff her clothes in the suitcase. “I’ll wake up Sonny in a minute, then we’ll be off.”
“You’re not still going!”
Carrie stopped packing and looked at Brenda seriously.
“I think it’s best, Bren, don’t you? I think we should both start again, separately, without Xavier.”
“I suppose so.” Carrie was right. They couldn’t stay together, united in their hatred of a man who wasn’t worth the candle.
I’ll get another factory job,” Carrie said chirpily. “I’ll find someone to look after Sonny. As for you, you should be able to manage on the money from the Army. You could take up dressmaking again. That dance frock you made for me’s the nicest one I ever had.”
Brenda shook her head. “I’ll never sew another stitch,” she vowed.
“There!” Carrie clicked the shabby suitcase shut. “Now, shall we go downstairs together and have it out with Xavier? Or would you sooner do it on your own?”
“I’d sooner we did it together.”
But when they went downstairs, Xavier had gone.
Carrie left soon afterwards, with Sonny in the girls’ old pushchair, which had been second-hand when Brenda bought it and looked as if it had come out of a museum.
“Still, it’s better than carrying him. He weighs a bleedin” ton,” Carrie said, as pleased as punch. “I can fold it up and put it on the luggage rack on the train.”
Brenda felt far more upset over losing Carrie than losing Xavier. She’d even grown fond of Sonny, and could have cried when the the little chap was being strapped into the pushchair, and she realised she’d never see him again.
Monica and Muriel, who’d got up to see them off, both burst into tears.
“Well, cheerio, gal.”
“Tara, Carrie.”
They all waved until Carrie turned the corner of the street. Brenda went back indoors and made the girls a good breakfast for the first time in months, and even ironed their frocks for school.
It wasn’t until the girls had gone, and the house seemed particularly quiet, that she had a good cry. She found a single ciggie in a packet which Carrie had left on the mantelpiece and smoked it.
“That’s it!” she said, when she threw the stub on the fire.
Then Brenda put her hands on her hips, took a good look around the filthy room, and began to tidy up.
Chapter 14
It was a crisp, slightly blustery day with a definite touch of spring in the air. Great white clouds rolled majestically across the blue sky, obliterating the brilliant golden sun from time to time.
Sean Doyle came whistling round the corner of Pearl Street, a swing in his step and a smile on his face. He loved the RAF, he was popular with his new mates, and even the Flight Sergeant liked him. Not only that, the uniform suited him no end, which meant girls threw themselves in his direction with even more enthusiasm than they’d done when he was in civvies. Now, thought Sean happily, he was home on leave for the first time since Christmas and everyone would make a fuss of him: his dad, his sisters and all the pals he’d left behind. He’d take one of his old girlfriends to the pictures tonight, and a different one tomorrow. He knew that any one of them would drop everything the minute he showed his face. His little world was perfect, but then it always was.
Being only half past two, he knew his dad would be at work, so he didn’t bother going home. He fancied a bit of grub, so made straight for his sister Sheila’s house. To his disappointment, there was no-one there when he let himself in. Sheila must have taken the kids to that clinic place, or perhaps there was something going on at church.
He closed the door and crossed over the street to Eileen’s, where he drew the key through the letter box and opened the door.
He was taken aback when he went into the living room and found a strange young girl ironing a pillowcase on his sister’s table. There was a tall clothes maiden in front of the fire, on which more snow-white clothes were drying. The mantelpiece was crammed with statues and there was a big wooden crucifix in the middle.
“Who are you?” the girl asked coldly, without looking the least bit put out. “Don’t you know it’s manners to knock before you come into someone’s house?”
Sean, accustomed to being welcomed with open arms wherever he went, sat down suddenly.
“It’s also rude to sit down before you’re asked,” the girl said even more coldly.
“Where’s . . . where’s our Eileen?” Sean actually stammered for the first time in his life.
She placed the pillowcase on a pile already ironed and reached for another. “D’you mean Mrs Costello?”
“That’s right.”
“She’s in Norfolk, isn’t she, in the Land Army. She’s been there for months.”
“Christ, is she?” Sean never bothered to read the numerous letters his caring family wrote him. There’d been letters from Eileen, but he hadn’t even noticed the postmark.
“Don’t swear,” the girl said brusquely. “You haven’t answered me first question. Who are you?”
“I’m Sean Doyle, Eileen’s brother. What are you doing in her house?”
“What are you doing in our house?” the girl countered, reaching for another pillowcase. She ironed swiftly, like a machine.
“Looking for our Eileen.”
“Well, you’re looking in the wrong direction, aren’t you? She’s miles and miles away. We’ve rented the house while our old one’s being put right. We were bombed out before Christmas. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”
“I’d forgotten,” Sean lied, not wanting the girl to think his family didn’t keep him informed on all matters of importance. He smiled brilliantly, rather aggrieved that the girl hadn’t immediately fallen for his obvious charm as girls usually did. He stared at her. She looked about seventeen and was rather a pale, insipid little thing with a tiny face and huge grey eyes. Her honey-coloured hair curled in wispy feathers onto her slender white neck. She was dressed very plainly, in a brown frock which was far too long, which meant he couldn’t see her legs when he peeped around the table. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing arms as thin as sticks. It was hard to believe she had the strength to pick up the big black iron she was maneuvering so briskly. He felt even more aggrieved that someone so ordinary didn’t look at all flattered at having him in her house.
“I’m sorry I barged in like that,” he said warmly, curling the corner of his mouth upwards, something which was usually enough to knock any normal girl flat out.
“And so you should be!”
She remained remarkably unimpressed by the smile and the curled mouth. Sean scented a challenge. He leaned forward in the chair, caught her grey eyes, and asked, “What can I do to make amends?”
“You can sod off, for one thing.”
She couldn’t possibly mean it! “Would you like to come to the pictures tonight?” he said coaxingly. “I’ve got forty eight hours’ leave.”
“No, ta. I’ve too much to do.”
Sean blinked, flabbergasted. It was the first time in his life a girl had turned him down. She picked up a sheet and began to fold it ready for ironing. “Here, let me give you a hand.” The sheet was about ten times bigger than she was.
He jumped up and took two corners. “Which way do you want it?”
“In a square, ta. Y’can make yourself useful and fetch in the fresh iron off the stove. Put this one in its place.”
Anxious to help for some strange reason he couldn’t quite identify, Sean went into the kitchen with the iron and brought the hot one back. The girl spat on it with gusto and began to iron the sheet.
“What’s your name?” Sean asked. It was a new experience to talk to a girl who wasn’t fawning all over him and he felt intrigued. Another thing, the more he stared at her, the more appealing she became in his eyes. She was almost ethereal, like a pretty moth which would crumble to pieces if touched. Yet despite the fact there was scarcely anything of her, she was getting through the ironing with the strength and determination of a woman twice her size.
“I don’t see as how it’s any of your business, but as you don’t seem to have any intention of sodding off as I suggested, I’ll tell you. It’s Alice Scully.”
“D’you belong to a big family, Alice?” He reckoned she must, considering all the bedding around.