Kate, don’t say that.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I know it’s none of my business, but I just felt you needed to know.’
‘Kate, there’s no need to apologise. We’ve been friends for years and there ain’t much about me and mine that you don’t know.’
‘How do you feel about Ron working away?’
‘To be honest, I’ll miss him. Though God knows why. Oh, sod it, me stew’s boiling over.’
They rose to their feet at the same time, Kate saying, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ Lily agreed as she hurried over to the stove. Kate called a quick goodbye as she showed herself out, and after turning the gas down under the pot, Lily once again slumped at the table. Recalling the conversation, her face darkened with anger. Why hadn’t Mavis told her about those two little sods? Instead she’d told Sandra, who had passed it on to her mother. She liked Kate, but knew she was a bit of a gossip. Now the whole bloody street would know. Wait till Mavis came home. She’d have a few words to say to the girl. Not only that, she had to talk to her daughter about blokes, and the dangers. Yet what if she couldn’t get it through her thick head?
The thought of her daughter getting pregnant, of the shame it would bring, made Lily feel sick. It was bad enough that everyone in Cullen Street knew Mavis was backward, but if she became an unmarried mother Lily knew the gossip would be unbearable.
Why me? Why couldn’t I have a normal child? It wasn’t fair—it really wasn’t.
At last the English lesson was over, and though Mavis had missed her favourite art class yesterday where they used oils, the next class focused on charcoal drawings and sketching. Though she preferred painting, Mavis enjoyed this class too. Her mother refused to buy not only paints, but pencils and paper too, telling her that it was a waste of time and that she had more important things to buy, food being top of the list. There had been a time when she used to grab any scrap of paper she could find to draw on, but that had annoyed her mother too. It seemed to incense her that she could draw but not write, and she would snatch the paper to tear it up. Learn to write, not draw, Lily used to scream, but always finding it impossible, and afraid of her mother’s anger, Mavis had stopped drawing at home.
Today, Mavis was unable to concentrate and her mind churned as she sketched. Why had she done it? Why had she blabbed to Sandra? Terror of her mother finding out made her hand shake and she was unaware of Miss Harwood coming up behind her. It was only when the teacher spoke that Mavis realised all she had drawn was little more than a frenzied doodle.
‘Mavis, what’s the matter with you today?’ she asked. ‘It’s unlike you to do such sloppy work.’
‘Sorry, miss.’
‘You have talent, Mavis, and you’re usually wonderful with perspective, but this isn’t good enough. Start again.’
‘Yes, miss.’
Miss Harwood had moved away out of earshot when the girl beside her hissed, ‘She’s right, Mavis. You’re usually good at art.’
Mavis smiled at Maureen, who, unlike some of the other girls, was kind to her. ‘I was miles away and wasn’t concentrating.’
‘Mavis was in cloud cuckoo land as usual,’ Patricia Fenwick hissed.
‘Leave her alone, Pat. You’re just jealous because your artwork is rubbish.’
‘Jealous of her! You must be joking.’
‘Quiet,’ Miss Harwood shouted.
Pat shot Mavis a look of disdain, but obeyed the teacher, her eyes going back to her work. Silence descended again, only broken by the sound of Miss Harwood walking along the rows between desks, commenting now and then on one of the girls’ work.
Mavis started a new sketch, but it was little better than the first one, and for the first time she was relieved when the class came to an end. She knew that Miss Harwood was disappointed in her work from her curt dismissal and, head down, Mavis left the room.
After the lunch break it would be arithmetic, another subject that was almost incomprehensible to Mavis. She had tried and tried to write the numbers down, but was told that most were backwards and in the wrong order. Mental arithmetic wasn’t too bad, but since junior school the lessons had become different, harder, with algebra, among other things, becoming impossible to learn.
‘You weren’t teacher’s pet today, Mavis,’ Pat called as she walked arm in arm with her best friend to the canteen.
Other girls were doing the same, but Maureen who lived close to school and went home for lunch, paused to say, ‘Take no notice of her, Mavis.’
‘It’s all right. I’m used to it,’ Mavis said bravely.
‘Well, I think they’re mean. See you later,’ she waved as she hurried to the gate.
Alone as usual, Mavis joined the queue in the canteen, thinking the other girls were mad to moan about the food. She didn’t always have the money for school dinners and was sometimes left hungry, so as she held out her plate Mavis looked at the ladleful of stew with relish. Next to it was placed a dollop of lumpy mash and, finding a seat as far away from Pat as possible, she sat down.
The first few mouthfuls of food tasted fine, but as her thoughts returned to Sandra, Mavis lost her appetite. She had to get to Sandra, beg her to keep her mouth shut—but what if she was too late?
‘Mum, come on, you’ve got to eat,’ Lily ordered.
‘I ain’t hungry now. I’ll heat it up later.’
‘What about the jellied eels? Do you fancy them?’
‘Nah, not really. Anyway, girl, how’s things?’
‘Mum, don’t try to change the subject. I’m worried about you.’
‘Gawd, give it a rest. I’m fine. Is Mavis at school today or have you sent her out with the pram again?’
‘She’s in school.’
‘Not for much longer. I can’t believe she’s nearly fifteen—I’ll have to think about something for her birthday. What are you getting her?’
‘I dunno. It depends on whether Ron sends me any money.’
‘Sends it. What do you mean?’
‘He’s gone to work out of London and reckons he’ll be away for at least six months.’
‘Good riddance to bad rubbish. I should think you’re glad to see the back of him.’
‘I suppose it’ll be easier with one less mouth to feed. Ron reckons that while he’s away, he and Pete are going to save up enough to start up on their own.’
‘If
