The Street

Sophy nodded miserably, her eyes darting about as though she feared they were being watched. But at the moment the Fonthill Mews, where she and Danny had stationed themselves to talk in private, seemed to be quiet enough. ‘Sure as I can be. I know me aunt Fran was being sick when she was first expecting though she’s alright now she’s big as a house. Her baby’s due in a couple of months, me mum says.’

‘Can’t see nuthin’.’ Danny eyed Sophy’s belly. ‘Just ’cos you’ve been sick a few times don’t mean yer in the family way.’ He sounded desperate to believe his own reassurance and he scraped the fingers of one hand agitatedly through his hair.

‘’S’not just that. Me monthlies haven’t come for ages . . . must be almost three months now.’

‘Can’t be,’ Danny said then followed it up with, ‘Shit!’ He looked bleakly at Sophy. ‘Ain’t getting trapped in to stayin’ round here,’ he warned her through gritted teeth. ‘Ain’t ending up in some poxy room in a dump like this with no money and whining kids. Already got that back there and it’s driving me nuts.’ He jerked his head towards Campbell Road.

He raised a hand to touch Sophy’s face as he watched her lower lip wobble. ‘Love you, Sophy, honest I do, but we can’t get tied down yet or we’ll have nuthin’, just like the rest o’ the sad gits here. Be trapped in The Bunk forever, we will, if we can’t get decent jobs and get a few bob behind us before we get wed.’

Sophy nodded and bit her lip. She knew Danny was right, but she knew too she was pregnant. She felt different, she was getting fat, so a baby must be growing inside her.

It was mid December and many weeks had passed since her mother had interrogated her that morning and made her late for school. Tilly had managed to wangle her a good job at the Star Brush factory because she’d called in a favour from Kitty Drew, one of the supervisors. Sophy was only making tea and doing a few odd jobs but she liked it and the wages at eleven shillings were better than she’d expected to start off with. Not that she got to keep much of it. Her mother soon had her pay packet off her on a Friday and woe betide if she tried to slip a bit out before handing it over. Sophy knew that to lose such a good job would be a disaster. She knew she would lose it if she were pregnant. She glanced at Danny; he was still staring at her, white-faced and frowning, as though he was desperately trying to think of a reason why she might be wrong.

‘Can’t you do something?’ Danny burst out and then relief lifted his countenance. ‘You’re supposed to drink gin, or something like that,’ he rattled off. ‘I remember now when one of me friend’s brothers got a girl knocked up he got her a bottle o’ gin.’

‘Did it work?’ Sophy asked, brightening a little.

‘Dunno . . . we’re here now, ain’t we, not in Essex. It don’t notice,’ Danny added quickly as Sophy looked as though she might burst in to tears. ‘You can get rid of it before anyone knows . . . only us’ll ever know.’

‘Me mum’s gonna kill me if she finds out.’ Sophy snuffled on her sleeve.

‘I’ll get you a bottle of gin soon as I can,’ Danny promised. He leaned forward and pecked at her lips.

‘Gedoff!’ Sophy shoved him away. ‘’S’how I got in trouble.’ She pushed him more purposefully as he persevered in trying to kiss her. ‘Got to get back to work anyhow. Me dinnertime’s over.’ They walked to the end of the Fonthill Mews. ‘You’d best get me that gin then,’ Sophy ordered grumpily before they turned in opposite directions.

‘Fuckin’ fine New Year this is goin’ to be.’ Tilly’s shrieked exclamation reverberated about the room. It had been loud enough for every person in the tenement house to know something bad had happened to the Keivers.

Sophy cuffed her wet face and tried to escape her mother’s swinging fist by dodging behind her father.

‘Get off her and calm yourself down,’ Jack bawled at his wife as Tilly lunged at Sophy again. He grabbed at Tilly and, planting his palms on her shoulders, shoved her down on the edge of the bed.

Sophy was sobbing quietly, one of her palms fastened to a cheek reddened from her mother’s hefty blow.

‘You stupid little cow,’ Tilly spat between her thin lips. ‘I warned you . . . I warned you what’d happen if you let him . . .’

‘Shut up,’ Jack snarled at her. He might have seemed more in control of his temper than his wife but he was equally shocked and angry. ‘If I’m going to cause a war . . . and it will be a hell of a war,’ he stressed to his oldest daughter, ‘I need to know I’m doing it for a real reason.’ A paternal eye examined Sophy’s body. He noticed the thickening about her usually skinny hips and the buttons stretched across her bosom. ‘You sure, Sophy?’ he asked unnecessarily; his eyes had told him the awful truth.

‘She’s just been sick again,’ Tilly pointed out, kicking at the bowl on the floor that held the vomit and sending it over. ‘That’s the third time this week. She’s missed three monthlies. What more proof d’yer need that she’s knocked up?’

Jack swiped up the half-empty bottle of gin that Tilly had found hidden under the mattress in the back room. ‘’Course she’s been sick if she’s been downing this stuff.’

‘Why do you think she’s been downing that stuff?’ Tilly bawled scathingly. ‘To try and get rid of it, that’s why.’ She shot to her feet. ‘If you ain’t goin’ after Danny Lovat, I’ll do it meself. If those bastards think they’ve got a roof over their heads after today they can think again. They’re out on the streets and I’ll make sure nobody else round here takes them in. They’ll bleeding well suffer fer doin’ this to us.’

Jack again slammed a hand on Tilly’s shoulder and pushed her down. He swiped fidgeting fingers over his bristly jaw. ‘No need to be spiteful, Til. Seems it’s as much Sophy’s fault as his. Sophy ain’t accused Danny of forcing himself on her.’

‘He didn’t . . . I swear . . .’ Sophy squeaked from behind her father.

‘Keep quiet,’ Jack barked at her and continued reasoning with his wife. ‘I’d say Bert ‘n’ Margaret are going to be as done in as we are when they find out. They’re not going to want this trouble any more’n we do. They don’t need another mouth to feed any more’n we do.’

‘There ain’t gonna be another mouth to feed,’ Tilly spat out. ‘She’s only fourteen ‘n’ she’s getting decent wages down at Star Brush. Whatever needs to be done’ll be done.’

‘If you mean what I think you mean,’ Jack said through gritted teeth, ‘you’ll do it over my dead body.’ He glared ferociously at Tilly. ‘Abortionist ain’t getting nowhere near her, and that’s the end of it.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ Tilly muttered.

Tilly got up and this time when Jack made to push her back down she thumped him in the chest double-handed. ‘I’m going round to see the Lovats. If you think you can stop me, just try. I’ll have you first if yer like.’

‘Can’t always sort out everything by lashin’ out, Til,’ Jack said quietly. ‘This is our daughter and our first grandchild we’re talking about here. Danny might do his duty by her. They’re both old enough to be wed, if not wise enough.’

‘Stupid, sentimental git!’ Tilly exploded. ‘What they supposed to do fer money? Neither of ’em’s got a pot to piss in. We got no room to have them here and the Lovats are worse off’n we are.’

Tilly transferred her glare to Alice, who had been standing still and silent in a corner of the room, watching and listening in fascinated dread to this latest upset in the Keiver household. Alice had been awaiting this showdown. For weeks past she’d feared it to be looming menacingly just a few days away.

‘You know anything about all this?’ Tilly demanded.

Alice shook her head and her anxious gaze darted back to Sophy. It wasn’t wholly a lie. She’d guessed, of course, at the awful truth as soon as she’d noticed Sophy’s belly getting bigger. But Sophy had said nothing and acted quite normal. She hadn’t confided in her even when she’d hidden the bottle of gin under the bed. Alice had just thought she’d started to drink because she was showing off now she’d got a good job.

So all the time Alice had hoped and prayed that she was wrong and Sophy was right: her sister might be getting a fat boozer but she couldn’t possibly be pregnant because she’d always done it standing up with Danny, so that was alright.

It was a Sunday afternoon in late January and despite the freezing cold weather a lot of people would be about in Campbell Road. That wouldn’t stop Tilly causing a rumpus out there in front of them. You kept to yourself and dealt in private with what you could, but when you couldn’t you might as well let the whole world know what you were up to, and why. That way they’d know you weren’t a mug and easily messed with. Tilly started for the door, rolling up her sleeves to her elbows as she went.

‘I’ll go next door. You stay here,’ Jack directed her grimly and stepped in front of her. It wasn’t that he feared for his wife’s safety. He knew she could look after herself, as did most people who’d been about The Bunk long enough to get on the wrong side of her. But he was still head of the household and as such it was his place to confront Danny.

‘I’ll be right behind you then,’ Tilly said forcefully. She let Jack go out then grabbing Sophy by the wrist she jerked her forward. ‘You can come ‘n’ all,’ she barked. ‘You’ve had your fun, now see what it cost. After that I’m gonna pay you fer this.’

Chapter Eight (#ulink_abf806c7-934e-5d91-9633-2873e3f9f6ed)

‘Looks like trouble’s on its way.’

Geoff Lovat had made that muttered observation before turning from the window and staring meaningfully at his older brother. Unfortunately Danny missed his warning. He seemed to be lost in a world of his own and continued gazing at the cold tea cupped between his palms.

Their parents, ever alert to the word trouble, had both shot up from the table and elbowed Geoff out of the way. His mother had got there first. She was faster on her feet than his crippled father. Soon Bert had caught up and was squirming for a space at the window so he could peer out.

Moments before Geoff had been watching the street scene, yawning. Then he’d spotted the Keivers and his jaw had clacked shut. Jack Keiver was marching ahead with his wife right on his heels, dragging Sophy by an arm.

Instinctively Geoff had guessed what the problem was. He knew that when their parents had been getting a skinful on a Saturday night in the Keivers’ place Danny had been getting to grips with Sophy in their place. It hadn’t happened for a while now, probably because Sophy had panicked when she’d guessed she was up the duff and put a block on it. Often on a Saturday evening Geoff had been obliging enough to take himself off to give the lovebirds more time alone. Geoff had been glad to get out of the fleapit and hand over responsibility to Danny for their young brothers and sisters while he met a few mates for a crafty drink and smoke.