A Family’s Heartbreak

When they arrived at their gran’s, Jenny pushed open the shared street door and stepped into the communal hall. The house was divided in two, her gran’s flat on the ground floor. Jenny had a key and let herself in and Pamela followed. The flat had one bedroom, a small lounge, a tiny kitchen and a toilet separate from the bathroom. It had recently been updated with modern conveniences, but her gran said she preferred it as it had been. She’d lived there for the past twenty years, ten of them alone since her husband had died.

The smell of freshly baked bread greeted them, making Jenny’s nostrils twitch. She breathed in the aroma and her mouth watered. Her gran’s eyesight was failing, probably caused by cataracts, but she still managed to bake a loaf every Saturday and treat them all to jam tarts.

‘Hello, love, you’re early,’ her gran said warmly when she saw Jenny in the lounge doorway.

‘Hiya, Gran. I’ve got Pamela with me today. How are you?’ Jenny asked as she bent to kiss her grandmother’s wrinkled cheek. She visited her as often as possible, always on a Saturday, and during the week when she could. It wasn’t easy, what with working full-time in Mullard’s factory and her younger siblings at home.

‘I’m all right, love,’ the old lady answered, ‘but I miss the Stewart family from upstairs. It used to be handy to bang me broomstick on the ceiling and Moira would pop down, but that new chap up there, he’s as deaf as a bleedin’ post. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a lovely young man and nice enough, but it ain’t no good to me if he can’t hear me when I need something.’

‘What do you need, Gran?’ Jenny asked. She missed the Stewarts too. It had given her peace of mind to know they were keeping an eye on her gran, but they’d moved back to Scotland.

‘Nothing, but I had the fright of my life the other evening. I was sat here, minding my own business, and I’m sure a mickey ran over my feet.’ Edith shuddered at the memory. ‘I can’t stand the little blighters, ergh! Trouble is, my eyes ain’t what they used to be, and I can’t see ’em. Moira would have come down and checked the room for me.’

‘We’ll have to do something about them, Gran.’

‘Yeah, I know. Pamela, take some coins out of my purse, it’s in my bag on the sideboard. Be a good girl and pop to the shops for a few of them mice trap things. I hate the snapping noise they make, but I’d prefer ’em with broken necks rather than running riot in my flat.’

Pamela fished out a few coins, quietly left and Edith frowned. ‘Is she all right? She ain’t said two words since she’s been here. Has your father been kicking off again?’

Jenny sighed. She didn’t like telling her gran about the unbearable situation at home, but Edith had always been her confidante and she’d found solace in her gran’s small but homely flat. ‘Yes, he went berserk this morning after Mum called in to see the boys.’

‘Oh, Jenny, who got it this time?’

‘Me … again. The rest of them were hiding upstairs, and Gloria told me that Pam had her hands over her ears from the minute Mum and Dad started arguing.’

‘Oh dear, you poor loves. I wish I had the strength to go round there and give him a piece of my mind! Did he hurt you?’

Before they’d left the house, Jenny had run a brush through her hair and found a sore place on her head where her dad had punched her. ‘No, not really,’ she fibbed, ‘sometimes his bark is worse than his bite. It puts us all on edge though, Pam especially. She’s always been a bit more sensitive than the rest of us.’

‘Yes, she has, bless her. Is she still wetting the bed?’

‘Occasionally, but don’t mention it in front of her ’cos she gets ever so embarrassed about it. I’ve tried putting plastic bags under the sheets, but Gloria moans that they make a crinkling racket when she turns over. I don’t know what to do for the best, Gran. They need a new mattress, but I can’t afford one and I daren’t ask me dad.’

‘Have you tried getting her up in the night and making her use the loo?’

‘Yes, but all that achieved was wearing myself out for work the next day. I’m hoping she’ll grow out of it soon.’

‘You said your mother called in earlier. How is she? I know she’s me daughter, but you wouldn’t think so! She ain’t been in to see me for weeks now.’

‘It’s the same for us. She doesn’t come to see us regularly, and sometimes it’s months before she turns up again. I didn’t get a chance to speak to her this time, but I think she’s split up with Lesley,’ Jenny said, glad about that. She’d only met him once but had taken an instant dislike to the man.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised. They never seem to last long with your mother. Anyway, I’m parched, so make us a cup of tea, love. You’ll find jam tarts in the usual place. I’ve made enough to sink a battleship, but I don’t suppose they’ll last two minutes with the boys.’ Edith chuckled. ‘You should’ve brought them to see me too.’

‘I will next time,’ Jenny told her.

She went into the kitchen and filled the kettle. The walls were painted bright orange, and the four cupboards chocolate brown. As she waited for the water to boil, she took a biscuit tin from the larder cupboard. It was filled to the brim with the home-baked jam tarts. Her gran was right, Peter and Timmy would gorge on them later and make themselves sick if she didn’t ration them.

A few minutes later, with a pot of tea beside them, she sat on an armchair next to her gran. She studied the woman’s face. Her eyes looked cloudy but, despite her poor sight, her grey hair was neatly pinned up in a bun, and her clothes were freshly laundered and ironed. Jenny was pleased to see her gran was still managing to take good care of herself. ‘How’s your hip, Gran?’

Her gran rubbed her left side. She was a wide woman, small-busted but with thick thighs. ‘Not too bad, love. It’s a lot better now the weather is warming up. What about you, have you found yourself a nice young man yet?’

‘Oh, Gran … no. I’ve told you, I’m not interested in meeting blokes. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.’ Jenny could feel her cheeks had flushed at the mere mention of a man.

‘You’re a pretty little thing and I’d hate to see you become a washed-up old spinster. You should go out more. There’s always a fancy dance going on at the ballroom above the ABC.’

Jenny sat back in her chair and heaved a sigh. Just the thought of walking into the ballroom made her heart race. A few of the girls at work went regularly and had encouraged her to join them, but she couldn’t pluck up the courage to go. ‘No, Gran, I prefer being here with you, or at home looking after the boys.’

‘Oh, get orf with you! You’re a young woman in your prime. You shouldn’t be sat with an old woman or babysitting your brothers. Gloria and Pamela are old enough to do that, and anyway, they’re your dad’s responsibility, not yours. You should be out enjoying yourself. So next Saturday, just to please me, I want you to get spruced up and go to the dance.’

Jenny would do anything to please her gran, but she could feel her face burning again. She reckoned her cheeks were probably as red as her hair and was grateful when she heard a knock on the door. ‘That must be Pam back with your mousetraps,’ she said as she got up, avoiding answering her gran’s request.

‘That was quick,’ Jenny said as she opened the door, but was surprised to find a man on the doorstep. He looked young, possibly about the same age as her or maybe a few years older. He had light brown eyes and longish sandy-coloured hair. Flushing, she lowered her eyes, and was surprised to see that he was wearing slippers.

‘Hello, I’m Craig from upstairs,’ he said.

That explains the slippers, Jenny thought, too shy to look up at him again. ‘Oh … erm … hi,’ she managed to stutter.

‘Is that Craig?’ Edith shouted.

Jenny spun around towards the lounge. ‘Yes, Gran.’

‘Bring him in … tell him you’ve just made a pot of tea.’

Jenny slowly turned back to face Craig and looked at him through the hood of her amber lashes. ‘You’d, er, best come in.’

Craig followed Jenny through to the lounge. She could feel his eyes on her back and felt very self-conscious.

‘Hello, sit yourself down, and Jenny, fetch another cup,’ her gran instructed in her usual friendly manner.

Jenny was pleased to be away from the lounge and out of Craig’s sight. She found his long gaze intimidating, and as usual didn’t know what to say. Unfortunately, with no excuse to dawdle, she was soon back in the lounge and pouring Craig a cup of tea.

‘So you’re Jenny,’ Craig said, smiling warmly. ‘You’re Edith’s eldest granddaughter. I’ve heard lots about you.’

‘Don’t worry, girl. I’ve only said nice things,’ her gran said, chuckling.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Craig agreed. ‘She told me you work at that electrical component place. A fiddly job that. I’m quite handy with my hands too – I make small items of furniture.’

It was obvious he was trying to make conversation, and, much as Jenny would have liked to participate, she was finding it very difficult. It didn’t help that her gran seemed to be scrutinising her, though Jenny doubted the old woman could see very much. ‘Would … would you … like a jam tart?’ Jenny offered quietly.

‘I’m sorry, can you repeat that please?’ Craig asked.

Edith interrupted. ‘I’ve already told you he’s deaf, Jen. You have to make sure he can see your face when you talk to him, and then he can read your lips.’

‘Oh! Sorry,’ Jenny said to Craig, more embarrassed than ever, and slowly repeated her question.

‘Yes, please. I love your gran’s cooking,’ Craig replied with gusto.

Jenny went through to the kitchen and fumbled in the biscuit tin. Pull yourself together, she thought. Not only was she incredibly shy, she’d never met a deaf person before, though if her gran hadn’t told her she’d never have guessed that Craig was hard of hearing.

There were only two armchairs in the lounge, bottle-green fabric with wooden armrests. Craig was sitting in one and her gran in the other, but when Jenny came back into the lounge, he was quick to offer her his seat. She politely declined, and instead sat at a small table tucked up against the wall.

‘These are delicious, Edith, melt in your mouth,’ Craig said as he swallowed the last of his tart.

‘My granddaughter’s a good cook too, ain’t that right, Jen?’

Jenny’s heart sank as she realised her gran was playing Cupid. If that was her game, she could think again and re-aim her crooked arrow, Jenny thought. She wondered if Craig had cottoned on.

‘Well, she’s had the best teacher.’

‘’Ere, I’ve just had a thought,’ Edith said, and moved to the edge of her chair. ‘Why don’t you take Jenny to the dance in the ballroom next Saturday?’

Jenny could feel herself squirming and wanted to tell her gran to shut up. She lowered her head, not daring to look at Craig, wondering if he felt just as embarrassed.

‘I’d love to, Edith, but I’m not a good dancer. I can’t hear the music and I’ve got two left feet. But there’s a St Trinian’s film playing at the cinema. It stars George Cole, he’s a right funny one. Do you fancy coming with me to watch it, Jenny?’

Jenny looked up but couldn’t find her voice. Craig was good-looking, and she liked him, but he was probably only asking her out because her gran had put him on the spot.

‘Yes, she’d like that, wouldn’t you, Jen?’ her gran said, answering for her.

‘Er … yes … I suppose,’ Jenny eventually stuttered.

‘Great,’ Craig said, smiling.

To her relief, Jenny heard another knock on the door and jumped up. ‘I’ll get it. It’ll be Pamela,’ she said, relieved to escape for a moment to gather her thoughts. Craig had a relaxed, easy-going air about him, but she’d never been on a date before and the thought terrified her. Maybe she could say that she’d just realised that she was busy and couldn’t go.

‘You look at bit pale. What’s wrong?’ Pamela asked worriedly as she stepped into the flat.

‘Nothing,’ Jenny whispered in reply. ‘Gran has a visitor.’

‘Oh, who?’

‘The bloke from upstairs, Craig. He’s deaf but he can tell what you’re saying by reading your lips.’

‘Deaf? What, he can’t hear anything?’

‘Not a word, so when you talk make sure you’re facing him.’

‘Blimey, I’ve never spoken to a deaf person before. I wouldn’t know what to say.’

‘Don’t worry, other than his hearing he’s just like anyone else. Just be yourself,’ Jenny answered, thinking it ironic that she was giving advice to her younger sister, yet she herself was struggling to communicate without blushing.

‘This is Pamela, another of my granddaughters,’ Edith told Craig as they walked into the lounge.

‘Hello, Pamela,’ said Craig, smiling warmly.

Pamela managed to stammer hello, and then Craig rose to his feet. ‘I’d best be off, but before I go, is it all right if I pick you up next Saturday, Jenny, or I could meet you here?’

‘You can meet her here,’ Edith said quickly.

‘Right, see you next week. Nice meeting you, Pamela, and see you soon, Edith. Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.’

Pamela waved in slow motion, seemingly fascinated and in awe at meeting a deaf man. As the front door closed, she asked, ‘What did he mean about next week?’

Jenny let out a long-held breath, and slumped onto a chair, and her gran chipped in before she could answer. ‘Your sister’s got a date.’

‘With Craig? But … he … he’s …’

‘Deaf, Pamela, yes,’ Jenny told her. ‘Craig can’t hear, but as you just saw for yourself, it doesn’t hold him back.’

‘Where’s he taking you?’

‘To the cinema,’ Jenny replied coyly.

‘That’s nice. What are you going to see? What will you wear? Do you want me to help you with your hair?’

‘Whoa, slow down, Pamela,’ Edith urged. ‘Give your sister a chance to breathe! But you’re right about her needing some help with her hair.’

Jenny patted her frizzy ginger curls. Her hair was unruly and could do with some taming, but the hot blower or curling tongs could do nothing to style it. Instead they made it look even wilder than normal, so now Jenny normally tied it back. She doubted her thirteen-year-old sister could do anything with it either, but it was nice to see her looking animated and, for now, not looking nervous.

‘I don’t know where you get that red hair from,’ Edith mused. ‘Must be from your father’s side.’

On many occasions, Jenny had heard her dad ask her mother the same question. She’d overheard his accusations and wondered if that was the reason he always seemed to beat her so severely. He didn’t believe he was really her father. And on days like today, when her head still pounded from the force of his fists, she wished he wasn’t.

Chapter 3

The following week, Craig looked out of the window and caught a glimpse of Jenny arriving at her gran’s. He thought she looked stunning and quickly checked his own reflection. ‘Who are you trying to kid?’ he asked himself. ‘A woman like her would never be interested in a bloke like you.’

Though Craig thought Jenny was accompanying him to the cinema out of sympathy, he still intended to make the most of the evening. It was only the second occasion he’d taken a woman out and he cringed at the memory of the first time. It had ended in disaster when he’d misread her words so when she’d said she played the guitar, he’d thought she said she peed in a jar. When he’d realised his mistake, he had roared with laughter, but unfortunately his date didn’t seem to have a sense of humour or the patience to understand the limitations of lip-reading.

Craig hoped this evening would go more smoothly. He’d been looking forward to this all week, but once again he reminded himself not to get his hopes up. Jenny could have the pick of blokes in Balham so was unlikely to choose him. He’d discovered that once women found out about his inability to hear, they normally did a runner. Granted, Jenny already knew he was deaf and had still agreed to go out with him, but he had to admit to himself that she hadn’t seemed very enthusiastic and he guessed she’d only said yes because she felt sorry for him. Still, it was nice to have someone to go to the cinema with for a change. At least he wouldn’t be sitting there alone, surrounded by couples. In fact, he’d have the best-looking girl on his arm, and even if they just became friends, it was better than being lonely.

‘Oh, Jen, you look a picture,’ Edith said when Jenny walked in.

‘Pamela helped with my hair. I’m amazed at how she’s styled it. Perhaps she could get a job as an apprentice hairdresser when she leaves school.’

‘You scrub up smashing. It’s nice to see you dolled up for a change. Are you looking forward to tonight?’

‘To be honest, Gran, I’ve been having second thoughts,’ Jenny answered, omitting that her stomach was in knots with nerves and she’d hardly slept because of worrying about it.

‘Why? Craig’s ever so nice. Yes, he’s deaf but you could do a lot worse, you know!’

‘It’s not him. I’m sure he’s great.’

‘So, what is it then? First date nerves?’

‘I suppose so. I’m not very good at talking to men.’

‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, everyone gets butterflies at first. You’ll soon relax, and then I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time. I reckon Craig will be feeling just as nervous.’

‘Do you think so? I wasn’t even sure he really wanted to take me out.’

‘Oh, he’s keen on you, I could tell. He couldn’t take his eyes off you and when I suggested the dance, he was quick to invite you to the cinema instead. Now stop worrying and just enjoy yourself.’

Jenny heard a light tap on the front door and her stomach flipped.

‘Go and answer it then,’ her gran urged.

She took a deep breath to compose herself but could feel her cheeks burning. Her pale skin made blushes really stand out, and she guessed her neck and chest would be red too. She opened the door but could hardly bring herself to look at Craig.

His voice upbeat, he said, ‘Hiya, Jenny. You look fantastic. Are you going somewhere nice?’

Jenny panicked. Had he forgotten about their date? She looked at him now, her eyes wide.

‘Only kidding,’ he said, grinning. ‘You do look fantastic though.’

‘Thanks,’ she muttered. ‘Come in.’

Craig followed her through to the lounge and stood by her side as he said hello to Edith.

‘Well, I say,’ her gran said proudly as she eyed them, ‘don’t you make a handsome couple.’

Jenny’s cheeks were already flushed and the last thing she needed was her gran making remarks like that. ‘We’d better go. We don’t want to be late,’ she said, trying to get them out of the door before her gran said anything else to embarrass her.

‘Righto. See you later, Edith. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Jenny and make sure she’s home at a sensible time.’

‘I’m sure you will, young man,’ Edith called, though Jenny knew Craig couldn’t have heard her.

Lizzie shoved her arm through Roy’s and reached up to kiss him on the cheek.

‘What was that for?’ Roy asked.

‘Do you really want to see this poxy film? I could think of better things to do than queuing up outside the Ritz.’

‘Oh yeah, like what?’

Lizzie stood on tiptoes and whispered in his ear, ‘Let’s go back home and I’ll show you. We can have an early night.’

‘You saucy little minx,’ Roy said, beaming. ‘Come on then.’

Lizzie knew how to twist Roy around her little finger, and the suggestion of going to bed always worked when she wanted to get her own way. She wasn’t interested in seeing a film about a girls’ school. It sounded daft to her, so with an arm still hooked through Roy’s, they left the queue. To Lizzie’s horror, she spotted a familiar face in the line of people, and her eldest daughter had seen her too.

‘Mum, hello. I … I didn’t expect to see you here.’

Lizzie flashed a quick look at Roy. The man looked confused, but it wasn’t any wonder considering she still hadn’t mentioned any of her five children.

‘We’re not stopping. Gotta dash, see ya. Hope you enjoy the film,’ Lizzie said quickly and pulled on Roy’s arm, dragging him down the street and away from the awkward situation.

‘Did she just call you Mum?’ he asked, clearly perplexed.

‘Yes, but it’s not what you think,’ Lizzie answered, trying to buy some time to think of a good get-out.

‘So, she’s not your daughter?’

‘Well … she is … but—’ she stammered, unusually lost for words.

Roy tugged himself away from her grip, then angrily said, ‘For Christ’s sake, Liz, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Don’t be like that, Roy. It’s not like I lied to you or anything. I just haven’t got around to mentioning it to you.’

‘You’ve got a grown-up daughter who doesn’t look that much younger than me and you didn’t think to say something? As for not lying to me, how old are you really?’

‘For goodness sake, a lot of women tell fibs about their age, and anyway, what does it matter?’

‘It matters to me. I don’t want to be lumbered with some washed-up old tart! What are you, thirty-five … forty?’

Lizzie bristled, her temper rising, ‘I’m forty-two, as it happens,’ she snapped, ‘and I’ve got five kids who live with their father. You’ve just met my eldest, Jenny. She’s twenty-two, and yes, that’s right, just a few years younger than you.’

Roy fell silent, but Lizzie could see he was shocked by her revelations. She didn’t want to lose him and kicked herself for losing her rag. ‘Look, it’s not the end of the world. All right, I’ve got kids, but it doesn’t mean anything has to change between us. Come on, let’s go home and have that early night,’ she suggested, licking her lips suggestively.

‘You deceitful bitch!’ he growled, his eyes cold and hard. ‘What makes you think I want to be with a grandmother, eh?’

‘Leave it out. I ain’t a grandmother!’

‘Maybe not, but you soon could be. Blimey, it won’t be long before you’re tucking your tits into your knickers and walking with a stick! Nah, Liz, this ain’t on. You duped me into sleeping with you, but now you can get your stuff out of my flat and sling your fucking hook.’

Roy stomped on ahead, leaving Lizzie reeling. She hadn’t expected him to take it so badly and quickened her pace to catch up with him. ‘Roy … wait … Roy,’ she called, but he carried on marching ahead of her.

Finally, as he opened his front door, she caught up with him. ‘Please, Roy, let’s not be hasty. Come on, let’s go to bed,’ she purred, confident that she’d be able to seduce him, and he’d forget about her age. ‘We can talk about this again later.’

‘Ugh, no thanks. The thought of sleeping with you turns my stomach now. Bloody hell, Liz, it’d be like sleeping with my mother! You’re a looker, but I need a girl of my own age. Sorry, but we’re finished.’

Lizzie’s heart sank as she realised she wouldn’t be able to persuade him to change his mind. Worse still, she’d be homeless again. ‘Please, Roy. I understand but give me a chance to get myself sorted. I can’t go tonight. I haven’t got anywhere to go.’

Roy looked her up and down with disgust, then spat, ‘Tough. That ain’t my problem. Go back to your old man and look after your children – like a proper mother!’

He opened his door, walked in and then slammed it shut behind him, leaving Lizzie dumbfounded on the doorstep. She slowly lowered herself and sat on the cold concrete step as Roy’s words spun in her head. She couldn’t go back to Henry. Roy didn’t understand what her husband was like. Of course, she would have liked to take her children with her when she left, but where could she have gone with five kids in tow? Lesley hadn’t wanted them. Anyway, she reasoned, they were better off in their own home, and whatever Henry was or wasn’t, he was at least a good provider. But that didn’t mean she’d put up with his punches again. No, she would never go back to him, never. Though she might try and cadge a few quid out of him now.

Gloria had tucked the boys into bed, and when her dad had come home from the pub she’d warmed his dinner through. He hadn’t eaten it, but she was thankful that he was in a mellow mood. He’d stumbled up the stairs to his room, and now Pamela had taken herself off to bed too.