Kay Brellend 3-Book Collection: The Street, The Family, Coronation Day

‘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.

Finally Danny looked up. Geoff realised from his bleak expression that his brother had already guessed he was in for it and it was too late to try and scarper.

Margaret Lovat swung back to glower at her oldest son, her face taut with disbelief. She’d just caught a glimpse of Tilly Keiver’s savage features and Sophy’s beetroot-red face before they disappeared from view into the hallway below. No explanation for such a scene was needed. Not when Danny was looking cornered and had an odd, apologetic expression hooding his eyes. There was only one reason she could think of why a mother would drag a howling teenage daughter towards the house where the girl’s sweetheart lived.

‘The Keivers are on their way looking like they’re on the warpath. Sophy’s with ’em. You want to tell me why that might be?’ Margaret whipped at Danny.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ Bert Lovat asked, looking puzzled as he limped back to the table to get his cup of tea.

Margaret shot her husband a despising look. Already she could hear the tramp of boots on the stairs. The next moment the door was taking a hammering fit to have it out of its frame. ‘Got anything ter say?’ Margaret asked Danny, her eyes bulging furiously at him, her lips a thin white line.

Danny did have one word to say. ‘Shit!’ It exploded through his teeth and his eyes closed.

‘I reckon that’s what you’re in alright,’ his mother told him. ‘But remember this … you’re stopping here with us. Your family here needs you more’n them next door. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.’

‘Danny Lovat, come out here now,’ Jack shouted through the door.

Without allowing her husband’s demand time to work Tilly followed up with, ‘Open the fuckin’ door, or it comes off its hinges.’ She rattled furiously at the doorknob.

‘Get the kids in the back room,’ Margaret said to Geoff as she went to the door and unlocked it. She was sent stumbling back as the Keivers burst in.

Jack held his arms out to either side in a futile attempt to keep Tilly in check behind him. ‘I’ll see to it,’ he snapped at her from a corner of his mouth as she banged forcefully against his restraint.

‘You know why I’m here, don’t yer?’ he said to Danny.

Danny pushed himself up from the table and nodded. His eyes darted to Sophy’s blotchy, puffy countenance. It was obvious she’d taken a lot of stick already. He knew he ought to act the man, say something to protect her, but all he managed to mutter was, ‘I thought we was always careful.’ He frowned apology at Sophy.

‘You weren’t careful enough, were you, yer bastard,’ Tilly thundered. ‘She’s three months gone ‘n’ been bringin’ up her guts every morning this past week.’ After a small pause to suck in breath she roared, ‘And what d’you mean by getting her gin? Daughter of mine knows better’n to start drinkin’ at her age …’

‘Pity she didn’t know better’n to keep her legs closed at her age, ain’t it,’ Margaret retorted sourly.

Jack caught Tilly under the arms and dragged her back as she lunged towards Margaret. ‘Everyone calm down,’ he said through his teeth then followed that with a heavy sigh.

Margaret slammed the door shut in the faces of the gawping neighbours who’d been steadily gathering on the threshold to listen. Entertainment such as this was enough to give the pubs a run for their money on a Sunday dinnertime.

‘Danny says he was careful,’ Margaret said, pushing forward and planting herself in front of her son as though to shield him. ‘Perhaps he ain’t the culprit. You thought to ask her who else might be responsible?’

With a roar Tilly had dodged past Jack and caught a fistful of Margaret’s lank hair. She yanked her face close to her own. ‘You saying my Sophy’s been knockin’ about with other boys?’ Tilly dragged Margaret’s head about so she was looking at her eldest son. ‘There’s yer culprit. The dirty little bleeder.’

It seemed Bert had nothing to say. He simply gaped at Margaret, waiting to hear what she’d come out with next in the Lovat family’s defence.

‘They’re young but if they’re old enough to bring a kid in to the world I reckon they’re old enough ter get wed.’ Jack swung a bleak look between the downcast couple.

‘He ain’t getting wed,’ Bert said with dull finality when he realised his wife was momentarily lost for words. ‘He’s stopping right here where he’s needed. And you lot can do what yer like about that.’

Margaret vigorously nodded her agreement to her husband’s announcement whilst glowering at Tilly.

‘He’s needed by Sophy ’cos he’s got her in the family way,’ Jack argued back. ‘It ain’t good and it ain’t right for either of them. But that’s how it is as far as I can see. They get wed and we’ll have to club together ‘n’ do what we can for them to start ’em off in a room of their own. Won’t be no fancy celebration …’

‘Won’t be no celebration fancy or otherwise,’ Margaret declared bluntly. ‘He’s going nowhere. You take him … what’ve I got left to keep us lot fed ‘n’ a roof over our heads? Ain’t fair.’

Tilly threw back her head and barked a harsh laugh. ‘Life ain’t fair,’ she blasted. ‘But there it is. He’s taken advantage of our Sophy and now she’s having his kid. That ain’t fair if it comes to it.’

‘Little whore … I knew you was trouble from the start, the way you was always throwing yourself at him.’

As Tilly surged forward Margaret tried to rake her nails down her opponent’s cheek.

Despite the attempts of their husbands to drag them apart, and disentangle their thrashing limbs from the toppling furniture and washing that’d fallen from chair backs, the fighting women continued to roll back and forth on the dirty boards. It was Sophy’s shrieking that finally got them apart. Tilly rose, panting, onto her knees and stared at her daughter, as did every other person in the room.

‘I ain’t getting married to no one.’ The look of relief that passed over Danny’s face made a sob swell in her chest. ‘I ain’t getting married,’ she repeated less vociferously as she realised she had everybody’s attention. ‘Ain’t being stuck with a skewer neither to get rid of it. Gonna have it then let the welfare take it away. That’s what I’ll do. If any of you try ‘n’ stop me I’ll go to the cruelty man and put meself in the workhouse till it’s over.’ With that she rushed to the door and yanked it open. Bursting a path through the knot of eavesdroppers congregated on the landing, she was soon down the stairs and out into Campbell Road.

As Sophy rushed towards home Alice rushed into the street and they met by the railings. ‘Mum still in there?’ Alice gasped as Sophy made to whisk past her. Obliquely Alice realised that her sister looked to be in a right old state. Her eyes and nose were dripping wet and her face was crimson from crying. But she couldn’t stop now to talk to her about any of it. While most of her family had stormed off to deal with one emergency another had started back home.

About ten minutes ago her Aunt Fran had let out a shriek fit to wake the dead. At first Alice had decided to mind her own business in case her aunt and uncle were having one of their usuals. When no other noise was heard, until a shrill scream a minute or two later, Alice had decided to leave her two younger sisters on their own. She’d flown down to Fran’s room in case Uncle Jimmy had killed her. He was nowhere to be seen. The baby was coming, her aunt had whimpered as Alice tentatively poked her head about the door. Fran had begged her to fetch her mum to her straight away because Jimmy had gone out and the boys were out in the street somewhere, playing.

Alice now flew into the dingy corridor next door and met her parents clattering noisily down the bare stairs. ‘Aunt Fran’s having the baby,’ she gasped. ‘She sent me to find you. Uncle Jimmy’s out …’ she finished in a pant. Her wide eyes took in her mother’s dishevelled state. Her blouse was gaping where buttons had been ripped away and her coarse, fiery hair was messed up and falling all over her face. It was obvious to Alice that she’d been scrapping.

Tilly gawped at Alice then pushed past, muttering, ‘Fuck’s sake! I hope she’s got it wrong. Baby ain’t due for at least a month, I’m sure of it.’ As an afterthought she turned back to Jack. ‘Better get that good fer nuthin’ home just in case the baby is coming. See if you can find him, Jack, will you?’

Once Tilly had headed home Jack drew Alice to him with an arm about her shoulders. ‘Have a look for your uncle Jimmy on the corner, Al, will you? He might be gaming. I’ll try the Duke. Best get him home in case it ain’t a false alarm.’

Alice nodded and trotted off towards Paddington Street whilst Jack went in the opposite direction to look for his brother-in-law.

Soon Alice’s questing gaze found the doggers out – kids who were stationed about here and there keeping an eye peeled for the law while a gaming session was on. Then she heard the croupier calling out numbers before she caught sight of about a score or so men who were hunched over the pavement watching rolling dice. Further into Paddington Street she saw her uncle lounging against the wall of the doss house with a fan of cards in one of his hands. Several other men were crouched down, encircling an upturned box with a mound of money on it.

‘Aunt Fran wants you to come home,’ Alice gasped out.

‘Alright, love.’ Jimmy gave Alice a crooked smile then ignored her and continued to play cards.

‘’S’important,’ Alice cried. ‘Baby’s coming.’

That got Jimmy’s attention, and that of the other fellows. Just for a moment they stared at her, then at him before their eyes returned to their hands. ‘Alright, Al …’ Jimmy said with another lazy smile that didn’t quite light his eyes. ‘Tell her I’ll be along in a minute. Off yer go, there’s a good gel.’ His tone had changed too. He was telling her to piss off.

Alice shrugged hopelessly and dashed back the way she’d come. Outside their house she found Bobbie and Stevie. Both the boys were shuffling about on the pavement, darting in and out of the hallway. As she came closer Alice noticed how scared they both looked. In a moment Alice knew why. A horrible moan issued forth from the interior of the building.

‘Aunt Til told us to come out.’ Bobbie explained their presence on the pavement.

‘She gonna die?’ Stevie asked Alice, his eyes huge in his thin, pale face.

‘Nah … ’course not …’ Alice reassured them. But she too had grown anxious on hearing that awful sound. She remembered when her mum had had Lucy that there’d been a lot of noise and mess. But her dad had been with her mum all the time and a great deal of help Alice thought. He’d only left her to boil up some water when old Lou Perkins had turned up and taken charge. She lived up the top of the road and apparently knew all about bringing babies in to the world. Alice wondered if perhaps she ought to go and see if Lou Perkins was in. If she wasn’t she’d probably be found in the Duke Tavern. On a Sunday dinnertime a good deal of the residents of The Bunk who had the cash to buy a drink or two could be found there, or one of the other pubs close by.