‘Anyway, wait till you hear my news,’ Hazel went on. ‘This’ll stop you looking so miserable. You’ll never guess.’ She looked expectantly at her younger sister.
Alison shook her head, still unable to speak.
‘Neville’s only asked me to marry him!’ Hazel exclaimed. ‘And of course I said yes. What do you make of that? Aren’t you pleased for me?’
‘That’s … that’s … lovely,’ Alison stuttered. She wasn’t surprised. Hazel had been going on and on about Neville ever since they’d started going out together and never missed a chance to remind her younger sister that she stood no chance of getting herself such a good-looking boyfriend – or any boyfriend at all. Alison secretly longed for a boyfriend of her own but as she was too shy to have real friends of any kind she didn’t see much hope for the future. Hazel had no false modesty about her own good looks and never failed to point out that Alison had drawn the short straw in that department. True to form she made the most of the moment now.
‘You might at least try to look happy for me,’ she said. ‘It isn’t as if you’re going to be getting married any time soon yourself. Look at you – who’d have you? Long streak of misery that you are. Well, you can buck your ideas up and help me when I need you. There’s going to be loads of preparations to sort out for my big day.’ She beamed in delight. ‘We’re going to have a do that everyone’ll remember for years to come.’
‘Now hang on a minute.’ Cora sat up straight, ignoring the painful twinge in her back. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ve only just got engaged. Plenty of time to talk about what sort of wedding you’ll be having. You don’t need no big do. Just think what that’ll cost. You won’t want to be wasting money when you’re starting out. Setting up a home sets you back a fair bit, I can tell you.’ Privately she was already dreading Hazel moving out and losing the wages she brought to the household. Every precious penny counted.
‘Don’t be like that, Mum.’
Hazel could always win her mother round in a way that Alison never managed. Somehow she always knew what to say to get her own way – it was second nature to her, and Alison couldn’t work out how she did it. Once Hazel made up her mind about something there was usually no stopping her.
‘You wouldn’t want me to skimp on my wedding, would you? You want to be proud of me, don’t you? You want me to be happy? And we’re both working so we’ll save towards it, starting today.’ She turned to her sister. ‘Everyone will have to muck in to help as much as they can. No excuses, Alison, you’re doing this for me and I don’t want no lip from you.’
Blimey, thought Alison, that was rich coming from her bully of a sister. She had never dared give her any lip. She didn’t give anyone lip, it wasn’t in her nature. Hazel stood up. Although she was tall, she was still a good way shorter than her younger sister, who always tried to hide her embarrassing height by rounding her shoulders and looking down. Hazel did the exact opposite, standing straight and proud and flaunting her assets for all they were worth. ‘I’ve got to get ready. Me and Neville are going out to celebrate. Don’t wait up.’ She ran up the narrow staircase that led off the front room, with just a curtain to hide it from the living area. The stairs led to a tiny landing, with doors to two small bedrooms, one for Hazel and one for Cora. A third door opened into a box room which Alison used as a bedroom, in which there was scarcely room enough for her to lie down.
‘Looks like it’ll be just you and me stuck here together, then,’ said Cora. The idea depressed her. Try as she might she just could not bring herself to love her youngest daughter. The very sight of the girl reminded her of all the trouble she’d been through, the hell of losing her husband in the war and then the nightmare when she found he’d left her pregnant after what turned out to be his final leave. Her other two daughters had been old enough to go to school and she’d have been able to get a decent job to keep them all if it hadn’t been for the unwanted arrival of this last girl, who’d been nothing but a disappointment and a burden from the word go. She’d been a sickly baby and couldn’t be left alone for a minute. She’d been the wrong shape for hand-me-downs from her sisters almost from the start – where did she get that stupid height from? Looking at her daughter now, Cora sighed. She’d loved her husband but struggled to find a trace of him in Alison. The girl had ugly buck teeth, a long face, and plain mousy hair that hung in rats’ tails. There was no sign of her father’s looks, still less of his good humour and high spirits. Back in the days when they’d been courting, Cora had been swept off her feet by Jack Butler’s charm and determination to make the best of things no matter what, and she’d responded in kind. It was only what had happened after he’d been killed in action that had turned her bitter and exhausted. Deep down she knew it was unreasonable but she couldn’t help blaming Alison for all of it. Groaning at the pain in her back and the arthritis in her hands, she pushed herself to her feet.
‘Right, I reckon I’d better write to our Linda to let her know the news. Don’t suppose she’ll be visiting to hear it for herself seeing as she was only here last week. We’ll just have to hope I catch the last post.’
‘Maybe she’ll come again when she hears,’ Alison said, her eyes lighting up. She loved her eldest sister, who’d always stood up for her against her mother’s indifference and Hazel’s constant bullying. ‘We can’t expect her to make the journey all the time. Not when she’s so far away down in Kent and she’s got little June to look after.’
Cora’s expression softened. Her three-year-old granddaughter was the apple of her eye and could do no wrong. Linda had done well for herself, marrying truck driver Terry Owens and moving from the crowded terraces of Battersea out to the wide spaces of Kent, but the icing on the cake was the arrival of June. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to protect the little girl.
‘Well, maybe Hazel’s latest will bring them back here sooner than usual,’ Cora said. ‘Right, enough of you standing around doing nothing. Go and take those filthy factory overalls off and then get yourself in the kitchen to help with the dinner. Those spuds won’t peel themselves and my poor hands won’t stand it, so it’s all down to you.’
The factory wasn’t far away but Alison always arrived tired and out of breath from scurrying along the street trying not to be noticed. It never worked. The following week, on Friday morning, two of the paperboys from the local newsagent-cum-corner shop had been the ones to torment her. The fact that her mother worked in the same shop didn’t deter them.
Now she made her way to the small canteen to grab a warming cup of tea before starting her shift. It was freezing outside and her own house was little better, as Cora always said there was no point in lighting the fire if nobody was going to be home. ‘Look who’s here,’ called Ron Small as she approached. She forced herself not to turn and run away. Ron was the father of young Jimmy Small and had an even crueller way with words than his son. ‘Watch your milk, folks. One look from her’ll curdle it.’ He laughed at his own joke, though some of the women standing around the tea urn glanced at him sharply. ‘Cheer up, love, it might never happen.’ He gave a heartless chuckle and moved off.
‘Don’t you pay him no mind,’ said Betty Shawcross, handing Alison a cup. ‘Not exactly God’s gift himself, is he?’ She buttoned her overall. ‘Empty vessels and all that. Nobody takes him seriously and neither should you.’
‘Thanks,’ said Alison nervously. Even though many of the women she worked with were kind to her, she couldn’t help feeling that this might change at any moment, although she’d been working with them for several months. She just wasn’t used to it. The only person who’d ever been nice to her was her big sister Linda, and these women hardly even knew her. She found it hard to know what to say