his three pennies into 12, all thanks to his bet with Mr Cappovanni, though it was money he’d not have to worry about hiding; he’d have it off him at a more sensible time. But there would be a price to pay for his dad’s loss, even though it wasn’t him that was responsible, and as they walked up the path he could tell even without looking that his mam would be watching his dad, trying to gauge his mood.
He glanced up to see Margaret peering hopefully out of the window, knowing she’d work it out for herself even before he shook his head. It was the same every time his dad had a fight, always had been. If he won, they’d be linking arms, giggling and stupid – blind drunk, the pair of them, but in a good way. Those times the kids would all get a treat, too. If he lost, though, they would still be blind drunk, but scowling at each other and usually arguing all the way home. The kids knew there’d be no treat on those occasions.
This was one of those occasions. ‘Why are you all still up?’ Reggie roared as he staggered into the front room. He lunged at Margaret and tried to grab her but she ducked. ‘Come here, you little get!’ he yelled. ‘I hope you’ve made us some tea, girl – and get these bleeding nippers up to bed!’
Margaret kept her composure. She always did. Charlie imagined she always would. ‘There’s some dripping in the back room, dad,’ she said, ‘and some tea on the range. Shall I get you some?’ she ventured, trying to pacify him.
Annie, being drunk, was less civilised. ‘Oh, so you’re a big man now, are you, Reggie Hudson? Not so bloody big in the club, were you? Don’t you dare take it out on these children!’
Reggie spun round and landed a slap on the side of Annie’s head. ‘Keep it shut, Annie, I’m warning you,’ he growled. ‘You’re a wicked woman. Always was, always will be.’
Annie drew herself up, just as she always did, and Charlie knew what was coming. ‘I promise you on my life, Reggie, I’ll leave you, I will! I’ll pack my things and take the kids and go back to my mother’s. I’m not standing for this every bloody week.’
Charlie’s heart sank. He knew what was coming next as well. As did the others. You could see it on their faces. Little Eunice quickly scooped up baby Annie and backed away towards the fireplace. ‘It’s all right, Dada,’ she said. ‘We’ll be good an’ we’ll all go to bed now. Look, Dada – our little Annie is smiling at you.’
‘No!’ Reggie yelled, glaring at Annie. ‘It’s bloody not all right! Come on, the lot of you, line up. Your mother is leaving, is she? Well, let’s just see, eh? Come on – you too, Charlie. You get over here right now. Right. One at a time, then. Come on,’ he roared. ‘Who are you going to live with?’
It was the same almost every weekend. Were they going to pick him or were they going to pick her? Too much beer and not enough to eat – that was what Agnes next door always used to say. All this nonsense for a bit of bread. And she should know, Charlie thought miserably, as he took his place in line. She heard every word, every time.
The outcome never differed, either. The young ones would cry and refuse to answer, which would only make their father worse; he’d take his belt off and would wave it around, sometimes clipping one or two of them, threatening them with it till they’d all made their choice. And between them, the kids tried their best to make it fair. One by one, they’d alternate, half choosing Annie, the other Reggie, but whatever they did, and whoever they chose, it still earned all of them a crack. Still saw them sent off to bed without any supper. And in Charlie’s case, without any tea either.
‘Stop that snivelling,’ Charlie ordered as his brothers and sisters clambered across the freezing cold mattress. ‘It’ll do you no good and it won’t get you any supper either. Listen,’ he added, lowering his voice, just in case the rowing downstairs stopped, ‘I’ve earned some wages tonight, so if you shut up and be good, I’ll get you all some sugar and cocoa tomorrow.’
The grins on his siblings’ faces felt like riches to Charlie. Even Margaret smiled – something she didn’t do often, especially when her mam and dad started up the way they had. Charlie felt happier now. Tomorrow, like he’d promised, he’d treat them – make them all cones out of some folded-up bits of newspaper, share the spoils and watch them lick their fingers in and dip to their hearts’ content.
Then tonight, just like always, would be forgotten.
1940
Annie lit a cigarette and drew deeply on it as she sat down on the doorstep for a moment’s rest. It had been an exhausting morning and would be an equally exhausting afternoon, and as she watched Reggie and the boys disappear round the corner with the last of the family’s belongings, all she could think of was the mess that she’d be faced with when she got to the other end.
They were moving today, after 22 years. To the brand new estate that was currently being built in Little Horton, to provide homes for the growing population. And they’d been lucky, in a way – the Broomfields estate was going to be being demolished over the next couple of years and, as a growing family, they’d got priority for getting the first of the built homes.
‘You all set then, fanny Annie?’ Agnes Flanagan asked as she stepped out of her own door. ‘Sure, you and your tribe won’t want to know us now you’ve got yourself a three bedroomed.’
Annie blew out smoke in a thin stream and shook her head. She must be getting old. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d last felt so bone-weary. ‘I’ve nothing to brag about, Agnes,’ she said, pointing down to her pregnant belly. ‘Nine children now, one in the graveyard and this one on its way. A three bedroomed might give us a bit more room, but once this one shows up I doubt we’ll even notice.’
Annie smiled at her neighbour of over two decades. They’d rubbed along okay, all told, she and Agnes. Many didn’t. And as for the house itself, they went back even longer. She remembered back to that first night – her first as Mrs Hudson, and how she’d turned up at it without Mr Hudson even in tow. Him passed out at her mother’s, her alone in the cold bed, all teary – so frightened about what the future might hold.
The future had certainly brought plenty of children. Child after child, each leaving Annie more weathered and weary than the last. Hundreds of scraped knees to be kissed, and as many set-tos with the neighbours’ kids … And their parents, too, when fights had broken out …
She felt tearful again all of a sudden. ‘I’m going to miss this place, Agnes. I don’t know …’ She shook her head. ‘It might be grand and that up there, but I’m worried I won’t settle. I belong here. It’s all I’m used to.’
Agnes climbed over the sagging fence and joined Annie on the step. ‘Ah, go on with you, Annie. It’s no use getting all maudlin, is it? I hear Canterbury estate is fit for the toffs, and the houses have all you could wish for. Does yours have a fixed-in bath? Doris Coulson said hers had a bath. Fixed to the floor, she said, with running water. Think of it! Mind you,’ she said, after a moment’s pondering, ‘Doris Coulson also said her old man had joined the war, didn’t she? Bloody liar she is. Everyone knows he ran off with a scarlet woman!’
Annie laughed. For all their spats, Agnes could always cheer her up. All those years. All that history. She was going to miss her. ‘Yes, Agnes,’ she said, ‘we’ll be having a fixed-in bath. We have our own toilet too.’ This was a detail that did make her happy. She’d spent 22 years using a toilet in the block down the back – each block serving four of the terraced houses. To not
