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

‘Yeah …’ Alice chuckled wryly. ‘Mum’ll make sure of that alright.’ She looked at her dad intently as though imprinting his beloved features on her mind. A surge of adoration prompted her to hug him round the neck. Before he could return the embrace she just as quickly let him go. Slowly she raised a finger and tickled the mark on her father’s jaw. ‘Freckles!’ she teased him.

‘Monkey!’ he mocked her back and dropped a kiss on the top of her dark, silky head. ‘Come in the other room,’ he urged her again. ‘Come ‘n’ join in a song with your old dad.’ Jack winced as a few off-key notes were strung together making a discordant noise. ‘That’s old Prewett havin’ a turn on the pianer. He’s a cack-handed sod, I’ll give him that!’

He lifted Alice off the bed and onto her feet. ‘Come on, Monkey. You and me’ll show him how it’s done.’

The front room was crowded, musky with the aroma of ale and tobacco smoke. Tilly immediately gave her husband a tipsy smile. Jack slid onto the piano stool, good-naturedly butting Bill Prewett off the end with his hip. Before Alice could sit beside him Tilly had plonked down close to her husband and leaned her head on his shoulder.

As Alice watched her parents tears needled the back of her eyes again but she blinked them away. Her mum was keen to show her dad how much he meant to her. The fond display seemed sweeter for being so rare. It reinforced Alice’s fears for her dad’s safety. Normally her mum was sparing with her affection. But the arguments between them over him joining up had now stopped.

Tilly had accepted Jack was going; she’d had to, for when Jack made up his mind on something, that was that. All Tilly could do now was wring every last drop of enjoyment from the time remaining to them. Even the presence of Jimmy Wild, sitting with an arm around his wife, all cosy and quiet like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, couldn’t rile Tilly today. She wouldn’t let it. So, as her sister Fran gave her a tentative smile that begged her tolerance, Tilly raised her glass in a salute and smiled right back.

Geoff strolled over to Alice, a bottle of beer in his fist. ‘Alright?’ he asked, tactfully avoiding staring at her bloodshot eyes fringed by clumpy wet lashes. ‘Want a drop?’ He offered the bottle.

‘Ain’t allowed,’ she told him with a wrinkled-nose smile. Lucy had trotted up and clutched her about the knees. Alice swung her little sister up in her arms and began to dance with her despite that at three and a half years old she was now quite a weight to carry. They swirled around laughing to their dad’s gay tune. Round and round they went in uninterrupted rhythm till Alice felt quite giddy and nauseated and Lucy was shrieking in delight.

Geoff took a step forward and steadied Alice as she stumbled. ‘Daft … you’ll drop her.’ The chiding was kind. Then with the child between them he lightly held Alice and they adopted Margaret and Bert’s posture. Quite sedately they followed their elders’ steps and executed an approximation of a waltz whilst dodging the furniture.

Jack unobtrusively watched his tipsy wife watching their daughter as she danced. ‘New start for Alice at Turner’s engineering come next week.’

Tilly nodded. ‘Good job she’s making her way ’cos I’m gonna need the extra money once you’re gone.’ Her voice was thick with alcohol and emotion.

Jack turned and pressed his lips to his wife’s temple. ‘Won’t be gone long, love,’ he crooned, rubbing his cheek against hers to comfort her. ‘When I come back on leave I’ll fetch you something fancy from France,’ he promised. He looked back at Alice and Geoff. ‘Won’t get no better than him,’ he said quietly to Tilly. ‘That’s a good lad.’

‘Yeah … I know,’ Tilly slurred and, after a deep sigh, she snuggled up to Jack again. ‘She’s found someone like her dad.’ Tilly tilted her head, gave her husband a searing look. ‘Don’t want no fancy French stuff brought back. Just want you back. You come back home in one piece!’ she whispered, her fierce whiskey breath burning his cheek. ‘Don’t you dare leave me on me own, Jack Keiver!’

Chapter Eighteen (#ulink_af4e90cb-fd0e-5acc-ad49-8ac69cfec37d)

‘You should’ve stopped home today,’ Alice said to Sarah Whitton. Gently she drew her sobbing friend into her arms to comfort her.

‘Ain’t stopping home with me mum, the wicked old cow,’ Sarah choked. ‘She laughed when Louisa told us about dad. Wicked old cow, she is,’ she repeated forcefully. ‘Ain’t surprised he ran off and left her when he did. Told her so ‘n’ all.’ She scrubbed a hand over her streaming eyes. ‘Rather be with the women at work than with her. At least they said nice things like sorry to hear about your dad, and so on.’

Alice had just discovered from her friend that this morning Sarah’s sister Louisa had called round to Campbell Road to break the awful news that their dad had been killed in the fighting. Despite her grief Sarah had gone to work as usual and come to meet Alice at one o’clock as they’d arranged, outside Alice’s workplace.

The two girls were stationed outside the gates to Turner’s engineering factory in Blackstock Road. Sarah now worked in Kemp’s biscuit factory despite her mum’s initial objection to her taking on full-time. The amount of broken biscuits that found their way home in Sarah’s bag had helped sweeten her attitude to her youngest daughter becoming independent.

‘Do you still want to go to the caff?’ Alice asked quietly. ‘We could just take a walk about instead if you don’t feel up to eating anything.’

Sarah gulped an agreement to a walk and, shoving an arm through one of Alice’s, they turned and began to proceed along the road.

Alice glanced at her friend’s bent head. Dread rolled in her stomach as she thought about her own dad, and the danger he was in. He’d been gone so long and just once had he had home leave so far. It had been so good to see him! But that visit had been months ago and they must wait many more months before he came home again.

Sometimes Alice wondered if she’d forget what her dad looked like, and she’d panic and grab from the top of the piano the photo of him in his uniform. She’d stare deep into his eyes as though he could see her too and she’d reassure herself he was smiling. She’d written him a letter two days ago. Would he ever read it? Had he been injured or killed?

A few little cards had arrived from him posted from France. On those he would always write that he was thinking of them all and hoping soon it would be over so he could come home for good. When he’d come back on leave, she knew he’d deliberately avoided truthfully answering probing questions about the peril all the troops were facing. There was no complaint; nothing at all that might have worried them about his safety. But Alice read the newspaper every day and scoured the columns for news of the war. She knew how dreadful were the conditions for infantry soldiers in the trenches. As a private in the Fusiliers her dad was no doubt right in the thick of things. She closed her eyes and a soundless prayer trembled over her lips. Please God, take care of Jack Keiver and soon bring him home safe.

Feeling a bit guilty at allowing horrible imaginings make her forget Sarah’s real distress Alice squeezed her friend’s arm in sympathy. ‘Does Connie know?’ she asked quietly. ‘Did Louisa go and see Connie too and tell her about your dad?’

‘Dunno,’ Sarah whimpered and cuffed her nose. ‘Since she broke up with the rozzer and moved out of his house nobody sees much of her. Don’t even know where she’s living now or what work she’s doing.’

Alice murmured a neutral response. She knew that Constable Franks had broken off the engagement to Connie because Sarah had told her at the time it’d happened. Nobody seemed to know why the engagement had come to an abrupt end. Alice had also heard quite recently – from Annie Foster who’d got it from her sweetheart, Tommy Greenfield – that Connie had been seen with a fellow who looked old enough to be her father, but who’d acted more like a sugar daddy. Had his hands all over her, he did, and she didn’t seem to mind, had been the way Annie had recounted it.

Alice hadn’t passed that on to Sarah. It was only gossip after all that Connie Whitton had been spotted acting like a pro.

‘Who’s that over there with Geoff?’

Alice immediately looked in the direction that Sarah had indicated. They’d just turned the corner and on the opposite side of the street was Geoff and with him was a petite blonde-haired girl.

As Alice watched them an odd, unpleasant sensation flipped her insides. Geoff was gazing intently at the girl and the two of them seemed to be standing very close together whilst talking.

‘D’you know who she is?’ Sarah asked with a frown. ‘Not seen her about before. She’s pretty, ain’t she?’

‘Might be a customer out of his shop,’ Alice mumbled unconvincingly and urged Sarah to walk on. If she was a customer it didn’t explain why the girl looked to be upset. Now they were closer Alice could see that the blonde was dabbing at her eyes as though she might have been crying. Immediately Alice was reminded of Sophy’s tears when Danny had got her in the family way and she turned cold. A moment later she was inwardly chiding herself for jumping to conclusions about them.

Geoff noticed Alice and Sarah and raised a hand in greeting but he kept on talking to the girl he was with and made no move to leave her side. In fact he moved a little closer to her, inclining his head as though listening intently.

‘Best be turning around in a minute,’ Alice said gruffly to Sarah. She felt piqued that Geoff hadn’t immediately rushed over to her. She also felt determined to discover who the girl was and why she seemed to have so much to say to Geoff, who was her … Alice’s thoughts petered off. Geoff was just her friend, she realised. She’d never let him be more than that. She knew he’d like to be. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again, nor had he so much as given another hint that they were sweethearts walking out. So if he found another girl he liked, why shouldn’t he get close to her and pay her attention? ‘Got to get back to work,’ Alice said huskily. ‘I’m only taking a short break today.’

They turned about and started walking back the way they’d come. A few minutes later Geoff caught up with them and fell into step.

‘On yer dinner breaks?’ Geoff asked airily and cast a curious look at Sarah’s red and blotchy face. ‘I am ‘n’ all.’

‘Just heard this morning that me dad’s got killed in the fighting.’ Sarah croaked an explanation for her appearance for she could sense Geoff’s unspoken question. She’d always had a soft spot for Geoff and she’d rather tell him why she looked a mess than have him ask.

‘Bloody hell … not another one!’ Geoff exhaled loudly in sympathy. ‘I was just talking to Peter Slater’s fiancée. She just told me that they heard a few days ago he’s got reported missing, presumed dead. In a right state, she is.’

‘Peter Slater’s fiancée?’ Alice sent him a sharp sideways glance. ‘Is that who she is?’

‘Yeah. You remember him, don’t you? Dan got his job training horses when Peter had a few too many bevvies one dinnertime and joined up. Poor sod. If he’d stayed out of the pub he’d probably still be alive and in Essex. He’d only just turned eighteen.’

A guilty sensation rolled in Alice’s stomach, making her feel quite sick. She’d felt annoyed on seeing Geoff talking to Peter’s fiancée and all the poor girl had done was to tell him she’d had bad news about her sweetheart.

They stopped at the corner and after a brief goodbye Sarah went off back to work at the biscuit factory.

Alice and Geoff continued on along the road towards Turner’s. Still Alice felt oddly unsettled. She slid Geoff a look. Having sensed her eyes on him, he turned his head. After a moment his quizzical expression altered and a glimmer of understanding replaced it. A corner of his mouth tilted in what could have been amusement or satisfaction.

Alice felt her face getting hot for she knew she’d betrayed her jealousy. She speeded up towards the gate of the factory. ‘See you later then?’ She swished past and kept walking towards the factory entrance. After a moment of silence she swung about to see if he’d rudely gone off without even bothering to reply to her mumbled farewell. He was standing watching her from behind the railings. For a moment they stood quite still, their eyes locked together.

‘Ain’t interested in her,’ Geoff said softly and planted a large hand on the iron bars.

‘Ain’t bothered if you are,’ Alice returned.

‘I reckon you are.’

‘You can reckon all you like, Geoff Lovat,’ Alice snapped. ‘We still ain’t walkin’ out.’

‘I reckon we are,’ he said and with a grin he pushed away from the railings and walked on.

‘Dad!’