A Daughter’s Ruin
‘It happened a long time ago, and at the time I thought I was doing the right thing. It wasn’t, but I’m not saying any more about it so don’t ask questions.’
‘Was it because she wouldn’t let me be evacuated during the war? I know it was dodgy with the bombing raids on London, so did you have a go at her for that?’
‘No, it was her decision and though I didn’t agree with it, I didn’t interfere.’
‘So why did you fall out?’
‘Albie, that’s enough. I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Bloody hell, you’re as bad as my mother.’
‘Language,’ Ethel admonished.
‘Sorry, but you and Mum are enough to make a vicar swear. I hate it that you don’t talk to each other. It means we never get together as a family and that ain’t right, especially as there’s only the three of us, what with Dad getting killed during the war, and Granddad gone.’
‘I know, love. I’ve tried to talk to her but Dora can’t forgive me.’
‘I’ll sort her out, tell her she’s out of order.’
‘No, Albie. What I did to your mum was unforgivable, so please don’t blame her. Stirring things up will just make things worse. You never know, one day she might soften. It’s the best I can hope for. Now, enough said on the matter. I don’t know about you but I could do with a nice cup of tea.’
As though on cue the back door opened and Mary poked her head inside. ‘Is it all right to come in now?’
‘Yes, love, and you can make us all a drink,’ Ethel said, relieved to bring the conversation with her grandson to an end. She had treated her daughter harshly, and was thankful that Dora had never told Albie the truth. If she did, Ethel knew she would probably lose Albie too. He was a bit of a rogue, but she loved him dearly and couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again.
Albie stayed for a little while longer and, as always, his gran began to reminisce, her happiness remaining in the past.
‘Do you remember when me and your granddad lived close to you and your mum during the war?’
‘Yeah, vaguely, on the next street, I think. It was such a long time ago, but I know granddad used to bring me to your house.’
‘That’s right, and do you remember the toys he carved for you?’
‘Not really, though I think there was a car.’
‘Yeah, that’s right. You loved that little car.’
Albie had been born in 1940 and had mixed emotions about his childhood. He knew from talk of the war that there’d been air raids and bombs falling, but he had little memory of them. Maybe it had been so horrific that his brain had shut out the sights and sounds. Other memories remained though, and he said, ‘More than the car, I can remember that I loved being with you and Granddad.’
‘We loved having you. You were our only grandchild, and still are, so we cherished any time spent with you.’
‘I didn’t know what happened at the time, or why things changed, just that you moved here and I saw a lot less of you.’
‘As I’ve told you before, it wasn’t out of choice. We were down the local pub when a doodlebug took out our house. We were left with nothing, not even a pot to piss in, so seeing a job offered with accommodation was like a godsend.’
‘A pot to piss in,’ Mary said and giggled. ‘I ain’t heard that one before.’
‘Well, you have now, but it doesn’t sound very ladylike and I shouldn’t have said it.’
Albie smiled. He didn’t care if his gran sounded ladylike or not. He loved her just as she was. ‘I suppose I must have been about three years old when your house was hit.’
‘Yes, that’s right, and then once a month, on his day off, your granddad would bring you here. The Burton Blakes were kind enough to let you visit us as long as it didn’t cause them any inconvenience.’
‘Huh, big of them,’ Albie said sarcastically. One day off a month, and his gran talked about the Burton Blakes being kind. He wondered if Constance was as bad as them, stuck up and considering herself a cut above those who worked below stairs. Maybe she was different – at least he hoped so – because now that he had met her, Albie intended to find a way to see her again. The attraction didn’t come from her looks – with straight, shoulder-length, mousy brown hair and a face devoid of make-up, she wasn’t his type. It was the way she spoke, her posh voice and demeanour, that fascinated him. Even the way she dressed was different. There had been no pencil skirt, or the Capri pants that all the girls were wearing now. Instead she wore an old-fashioned dress and wrinkled stockings that made him smile.
Thought not strictly the truth, it was as he’d told his gran. He’d always fancied a bit of posh totty, and though Constance didn’t fully fit the bill, she seemed ripe for the picking. Albie wanted to better himself, to rise above his roots, and he could learn a lot from Constance Burton Blake.
Constance sat on her window seat, twirling a strand of hair out of habit, as she waited to see Albie leave. He’d said that she was a sight for sore eyes, and she’d been unable to believe her ears. Constance knew she was plain, her mother had told her often enough, and Albie was the first boy who had spared her a glance. Of course, she realised he was just being kind, and that had been sweet of him, but he still fascinated her. He was tall with vivid blue eyes and blond hair that flopped onto his forehead, and she thought him very handsome. Ethel often talked of her only grandson, who was a long-distance lorry driver, but this had been the first time they’d met.
She recalled Albie’s remark about posh totty and, unoffended, she smiled. She hadn’t heard that said before, and hoped it meant he would try to see her again. Maybe she could ask Ethel when he was likely to visit next, and then make sure she was there at the same time.
It was dark outside now, but by the light of a street-lamp she saw Albie leave. He looked up at the windows as though aware he was being watched, and she quickly moved back, her face flushing. As he turned to saunter off, raising an arm to wave, Constance heard her mother shouting from below.
‘Constance, where are you, girl?’
She ran onto the landing and from the top of the stairs called, ‘I’m up here, Mummy, in my room.’
‘I’m not feeling well.’
Used to this, Constance ran down to help her mother. Despite the way she was treated, she longed for her mother’s love and craved her affection, but it had never been forthcoming. Now, with an arm around her mother to give support, she guided her to the first floor and into her large and luxurious bedroom at the front of the house. Her mother was leaning on her, legs wobbly, as Constance led her to the large double bed. ‘There you are,’ she said gently as she sat her down. ‘Would you like me to help you to undress?’
‘Certainly not. Go now. I can manage.’
Though her mother was attempting an imperious tone, her words were indistinct. Constance did as she was told and left the room. She knew from experience what would happen now. Her mother would lie down, fully dressed, and when her father came home he would see the state of her and sleep in another room. In the morning her mother would wake up, bathe and dress, and then come downstairs for breakfast as if nothing had happened. Constance knew that nothing would be said, and their breakfast would be perfectly civilised, as always. She could never understand why her father tolerated this behaviour.
Back in her room, Constance undressed and slipped into bed. No wonder her father spent most evenings at his club, she thought – he was driven from his own home by a drunken wife. Constance wished she too could escape, permanently, and prayed that one day she would be able to do just that.
Chapter 3
Despite intending to keep Eric Dobson at arm’s length, Jessica had found him impossible to resist and had been seeing him for the past two weeks. After so many years keeping an old man happy in bed, it was nice to feel a young man’s body and to be brought to a climax.
Jessica had escaped her parents’ home in Hackney, running away when she was sixteen. She’d lied about her age and had found cash-in-hand work as a barmaid in Fulham. For three years, she’d lived there in a tiny bedsit. Working behind the bar all that time, she was used to men ogling her, and had been out with many of them, but was sick of being wanted for just one thing – her body. She’d been a fool, mistaking sex for love, but as she’d never known affection before, it had been a trap she’d stepped into. It had caused her to gain a reputation and she soon found that decent men didn’t want anything to do with her.
At nineteen, she’d moved to Battersea and, hoping to make a fresh start, she had changed her name to Jessica Cottle. Shortly after, she’d got a job in a pub frequented by city fellows, and almost immediately met Charles. He’d been different, a proper gent, and in a very sweet way he’d courted her. He’d taken her to nice restaurants, given her lovely gifts, and almost from the start he’d been honest, telling her that he was married. It hadn’t stopped her seeing him. She wanted a better life, so when Charles had asked her to be his mistress, she’d agreed. He had purchased this luxury flat for her to live in and, with her generous allowance, she’d never before known such riches. Charles had made only one stipulation – that she remained exclusively his – and until now Jessica had been happy with the arrangement.
‘Come here, my beauty,’ Eric said huskily, gathering her into his arms. ‘I’ve only got a few more days on shore before my next trip, so let’s make the most of them.’
‘We’re lucky that Charles is at work, but it worries me that he might be due to retire soon. When that happens, he’s sure to visit me during the day, as he does at weekends.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Sixty-four, and I think he’ll retire at sixty-five.’
‘I’m surprised he’s still got lead in his pencil. You’re too young to be an old man’s plaything. You should leave him.’
‘No, Eric. I told you from the start that I’m on to a good thing here and I won’t give it up.’
Eric’s expression darkened as he got out of bed and began to get dressed, his mouth twisting with disgust as he said, ‘So you’re happy to prostitute yourself for an old man’s money?’
‘How dare you! I’m not a prostitute. Charles is the only man I sleep with.’
‘Yeah, but you still get paid for it. Now that you’re sleeping with me too, will I have to fork out for the privilege?’
Jessica seethed, but she also felt sick inside. She really liked Eric and thought he felt the same way about her, but he clearly had no respect for her and had just used her for sex. ‘Get out,’ she said venomously, ‘and don’t come back.’
‘All right, but how about another freebie before I leave?’
‘I said, get out!’
‘Yeah, I thought you’d say that. I was hoping that we had something going, that you’d agree to leave the old git, but it seems that money is the only thing that’s important to you,’ Eric spat as he threw on the last of his clothes and left.
Jessica wanted to run after him, to ask him to come back, but as a merchant seaman Eric could never provide her with the life she had with Charles. There would be no luxury apartment, no designer clothes or expensive jewels. Yes, there would be great sex, but that didn’t pay the bills, or keep her company when Eric was at sea.
She slumped onto a chair, fighting to harden her heart. She’d been happy enough until Eric turned up, and surely she could be happy again?
‘Will Albie be coming to see you soon?’ Constance asked.
Ethel sighed. Miss Constance had been down twice this week and though she thought a lot of the girl, she didn’t appreciate the intrusion into her time off. ‘I don’t know, Miss. You asked me the same question the other evening, but nothing has changed. Albie just drops in now and again when he’s got a bit of spare time.’
‘I likes Albie,’ Mary piped up, wiping her nose on her cuff.
‘Yeah, a lot of girls do,’ Ethel told her. ‘He’s like a sailor, but instead of one in every port he’s probably got one in every delivery destination.’
‘I’d be his girl, and if he asked me to marry him I’d say yes,’ Mary said, hugging herself and swaying.
‘Huh, fat chance of that,’ Ethel snapped.
Mary looked hurt and, feeling that she’d sounded mean, Ethel said, ‘It’s not that there’s anything wrong with you, love. The problem is with Albie. He’s my grandson and I think the world of him, but I can’t see him settling down. He’s been out with more girls than I’ve had hot dinners, and left a trail of broken hearts.’
‘I still likes him,’ Mary said and wiped her nose on her cuff once again.
‘How many times have I told you to stop doing that?’ Ethel said. ‘Use a bloody hanky.’
‘Yeah, sorry.’
Ethel sighed. Where Albie was concerned she’d thought there was only Miss Constance to worry about, but now it seemed Mary had a crush on him too. Of course she could understand why: her grandson was a handsome bugger, but a heartbreaker, and she didn’t want to see either Miss Constance or Mary hurt, especially as she’d be the one who’d have to pick up the pieces. Not only that, she was worn out and in no mood for this. All she wanted was to put her feet up, have a nice cup of cocoa and read her book, the perfect way to unwind before she turned in for the night. ‘Mary, take my advice and forget about Albie, and, Miss Constance, I’m sorry, but I’m not fit company for you this evening. I’m feeling a bit tired.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Constance said, sounding concerned. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘No, love, I just need a bit of peace and quiet, that’s all.’
‘Right, I’ll leave and you have a nice rest,’ Constance said, and after saying goodnight she went back upstairs.
It was just in the nick of time too. There was a knock on the basement door, Mary opened it and in walked Albie, grinning widely. ‘Wotcher, Gran.’
‘Well, look what the cat dragged in,’ Ethel greeted him.
‘Yeah, me, and it’s just as well I’ve brought you a bottle of stout. You look like you need building up.’
‘Thanks, love. It’s good to see you. So, tell your old gran what you’ve been up to.’
‘I’ve been doing a lot of long runs, and taking on a bit of overtime too. I’m saving up to buy a car.’
‘What’s wrong with your motor scooter?’
‘Gran, a Vespa is hardly conducive to courting. A car offers much more scope,’ he said with a cheeky wink.
Ethel shook her head, but had to smile. Albie always had this effect on her, the ability to lift her spirits, but nevertheless she chastised him. ‘I hope you’re not going to get up to mischief in this car when you get it.’
‘Who, me?’ Albie said, rounding his eyes in innocence. ‘Of course not.’
‘Yeah, and pigs might fly.’
Mary giggled, and Albie turned to look at her, saying, ‘Yeah, my gran’s funny. She makes me laugh too.’
‘Albie, I’m being serious,’ Ethel said. ‘I don’t want you getting a girl into trouble.’
‘Gran, I’m not stupid, and I’m always careful.’
‘Good. Now let’s change the subject. I don’t think this conversation is appropriate, especially with a young girl in the room.’
‘Yeah, sorry, Gran.’
‘How’s your mum?’
‘She’s all right, the same as ever.’
‘Is she still working in that paint factory?’
‘Yeah, but I don’t know how she stands it. I’d hate to be cooped up in there all day.’
‘She must like it, or she’d leave.’
‘I think it’s just familiarity. Mum likes routine, and she’s a stickler with the housework, everything done on its designated day. She’s a bit obsessive about it, and woe betide me if I move something out of its place, even the food in the larder.’
‘It’s good that she keeps a nice house, and you should be thankful. Surely it’s better to come home to a clean and tidy home than arrive at a dump?’
‘Of course it is. I just wish she’d lighten up a bit, that’s all.’
‘Maybe she needs another interest.’
‘Like what?’
‘I dunno, Albie, but I think it would be nice if she met someone, a chap who could take her out and about, instead of being stuck in at home.’
‘There’s no chance of that. She’s told me enough times that my dad was the only man for her and that no one can ever take his place.’
Ethel hung her head as again she was swamped with guilt. She’d done this – she was to blame – but there was nothing she could do to put it right.
Constance couldn’t settle when she went back upstairs. Her mother had been drinking heavily and was now asleep on the sofa, snoring, and her father was out, as usual. The house was so quiet, too big for just the three of them, with eight bedrooms on the first two floors, another four small ones in the eaves, and only a few of them in use. And of course there was the basement flat too. They had no other family; her parents were both only children. She had vague memories of grandparents, especially a jolly grandfather, but sadly both sets had died far too young. She sometimes longed for siblings, brothers or sisters, to hear the house ringing with noise and laugher, but sadly she too was an only child.
For a while Constance tried to read, but the story failed to hold her attention. She untucked her legs from under her and wandered over to the window, looking outside to see a Vespa scooter parked against the wall at the top of the basement steps. Her heart skipped a beat. There was Albie! Her first instinct was to run downstairs but, worried that it would annoy Ethel, she decided to go outside and sit on the steps that led to their front door. When Albie left he was sure to see her and maybe he’d talk to her. At least she hoped so.
It was half an hour later when Albie appeared, and Constance held her breath. If he didn’t see her, she’d have to call out to him, but what if he just waved at her before driving off?
Albie saw her and a wide smile appeared on his face. ‘Hello, Constance, I was hoping to see you again,’ he said, striding up to the steps and sitting down beside her.
‘Hel–hello, Albie,’ she said shyly.
‘What are you doing sitting out here?’
‘I … I’m just getting a bit of air,’ she said and, finding the courage to look at Albie, caught her breath. He was so close, so handsome, and she swayed towards him involuntarily.
Albie’s arm immediately went around her shoulders, and she pulled away, startled. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind.’
‘I … I don’t. I was just surprised,’ she said, amazed at her bravery as his arm went around her shoulders again.
‘It’s nice, sitting here like this,’ Albie said, ‘and don’t worry. I don’t bite.’
Constance fought for something to say, something interesting that would keep him there, but instead found herself tongue-tied.
‘You must like living opposite the common,’ Albie said.
At last she found her voice, ‘Err … yes … and sometimes if feels as though we’re in the country instead of London.’
‘Yeah, it must do. You’re lucky – all I see from my house is the ones on the other side of the street.’
Constance wanted to tell him that she didn’t feel lucky, that most of the time she just felt lonely, but she didn’t want to frighten him away by being maudlin. ‘Do you live far from here?’
‘I live in Battersea, the next borough. Battersea Dogs Home is close by, and the park.’
‘It sounds nice.’
‘Nice! Blimey, you wouldn’t say that if you saw it.’
They heard the sound of voices approaching and a young couple walked past, hand in hand and laughing at something one of them had said. Constance envied them their happiness, but then inwardly chastised herself for being mean. It was as if seeing them broke the spell, and her heart sank when Albie spoke.
‘Well, I’d best be off. It was nice seeing you again.’
‘It … it was nice seeing you too,’ she said as they both rose to their feet.
For a moment they stood facing each and then Albie leaned forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. ‘Bye, Constance,’ he said softly, then lightly ran down the steps to his Vespa.
Constance stood, dazed but happy, her heart thumping in her chest and her hand raising to return Albie’s wave as he drove off. He had kissed her. Albie had actually kissed her. Did that mean he liked her? She dearly hoped so.
Chapter 4
The following week Constance spent every evening looking out for Albie, but it was eight days before he turned up to see his gran again. She waited until he’d been downstairs for some time before going outside to sit on the steps again, thankful for once that her mother was drunk and had passed out on the sofa.
‘Hello, Constance,’ Albie said, grinning when he at last left the basement and saw her sitting there. ‘We meet again.’
‘Hello, Albie,’ she returned, thrilled when he came to sit beside her. She turned to look at him, once again struck by his looks. She couldn’t believe that someone so handsome was showing an interest in her. Constance wasn’t blind, she knew from her mirror that she was nothing to look at, so it was silly to think that Albie was interested in her. Yet here he was, looking happy to see her, so dare she hope?
‘My gran’s legs look in a state again, and I keep nagging her to retire.’
‘Oh, Albie, I’d miss her so much if she left.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m just thinking about me gran.’
‘Yes, of course you are, and that’s commendable.’
‘I love your use of words. Commendable, what does it mean?’
‘I suppose “worthy of admiration or praise” would be the best way to describe it.’
‘So you admire me?’ Albie said teasingly as he raised his eyebrows. ‘I like that, and I admire you too.’
Constance felt the blush flooding her face and lowered her head, but then swiftly lifted it again at Albie’s next words.
‘I must go. I’ve arranged to meet someone. Bye for now, Constance.’
‘Bye,’ she said softly, wondering if it was a girl he was meeting and feeling a pang of jealousy.
Albie bent forward to kiss her cheek again and this time he also gave her a swift hug, leaving her reeling as he drove off. For a few minutes she just stood on the step, replaying the hug, before she ran happily indoors.
It was now close to the end of August, and though nearly nine-thirty in the evening, it was still warm. The drawing room felt stifling, the book she was reading failed to hold her interest again, and impulsively Constance decided to go for a short walk. If her mother was awake she probably wouldn’t allow it, but sick of the constraints put on her, Constance rebelled for once, deciding she’d enjoy the freedom of other girls her age.
The sun had set, but street-lamps offered ample light as Constance strolled along. She wished she could go dancing, to the cinema, or roller skating in the park – all activities she was usually denied. Instead she was over-protected and kept almost a prisoner in her own home, her only freedom when she was in college.
Constance continued to walk but after half an hour, worried that her mother might wake to find her gone, she turned back. It was then that her heart skipped a beat. Albie Jones was walking towards her and as he drew close, he smiled widely.
‘Well, well, fancy bumping into you. Are you on your way home?’
‘Yes, I am,’ she said shyly, desperately trying to think of something else to say. ‘Have … have you been to see your gran? I didn’t see your scooter.’
‘My Vespa is in for a minor repair so I came by bus. If you’re not in any hurry, we could go for a walk.’
Constance threw caution to the wind and surprised herself when she answered, ‘I’d like that.’
‘Come on then,’ Albie said, taking her hand and leading her across the road onto the common.
As they strolled along a narrow path, Constance looked up at the sky, and though there were a few clouds she could still pick out some stars. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I think I can see Orion’s Belt.’
‘I’m not interested in astrology. I think it’s a load of tosh,’ Albie said.