and killed, and she still believed in God and was terrified to do what the priests said was wrong. How the hell would they know anyway? she thought.
Aloud she said, ‘Don’t tell me you believe it’s a sin, or I’ll fall about laughing.’
Betty was silent.
‘You do, don’t you?’ Breda cried. ‘How can it be anyone else’s business how many children people have?’
Betty didn’t know. She was hazy over the reasons why the Church was against birth control; she just knew they were. The hooter went before she could think of an answer. Break was over and it was back to work for the rest of the shift, her thoughts whirling in her head.
She was on the capping machine and so was working on her own, with no opportunity to talk to Breda, or anyone else either. It was as they walked home together that Breda suddenly said:
‘What did your Bert say when you told him?’
‘I haven’t told him,’ Betty said.
‘Why not?’
‘I’ve only just missed. I mean, it could all be a false alarm.’ But she knew it couldn’t be. This would be her fourth pregnancy, and the bodily changes, though minimal so far, were definite enough.
‘Is that the real reason?’
Betty hesitated, and then said, ‘Part of it. I want to keep it a secret a bit longer anyway. I mean, he’ll hardly be pleased. We have enough of a struggle to manage now, and there’s this business of our Janet wanting to sit the eleven-plus.’
Breda was impressed, but not totally surprised. ‘Mam mentioned something about it,’ she said. ‘Your Janet always was bright, though.’
‘The teacher thinks so too,’ Betty said. ‘And she thinks Janet has a good chance of getting through the exam, but …’
‘Bert’s not keen,’ Breda put in.
‘He doesn’t think it’s necessary,’ Betty said.
‘Course it isn’t necessary,’ Breda said sarcastically. ‘Not for him it’s not. As long as he has someone to cook his dinner, wash and iron his clothes, clean up after him, look after his kids and be ready to accommodate him in bed, he’s happy. He goes to work, and on Friday he tips up the amount of money he thinks you should manage on, and if you can’t it’s your fault. The rest is his, to spend at the club, or betting on a horse, or going to football, or any other bloody thing he likes.’
‘He’s not like that,’ Betty protested. ‘He’s a good man, he cares for us.’
‘He is like that,’ Breda replied, ‘but it’s not his fault. It’s been that way for years. Your Bert’s not used to any other way, and he’s better than many. But do you think Janet will be happy with a life like that?’
Betty knew she wouldn’t be. Breda didn’t need an answer; Betty’s silence spoke for her.
‘You needn’t wait for men to change things and fight for an independent life for women. It’s women have got to do it for each other, or condemn our daughters to looking no further than the kitchen sink and having a baby every year.’
‘It’s down to me, then, to fight for our Janet?’ Betty said.
‘Too right,’ Breda replied. ‘But don’t waste your ammunition. Don’t fire till you see the whites of his eyes.’
‘You are a fool, Breda,’ Betty said, but even in the dark, Breda could tell she’d made her sister smile, and she was glad. She was sorry Betty was pregnant again. She really had enough to do now. The birth of the twins had really dragged her down. She’d not been the same since. She should have put her foot down long ago, as Breda had done with Peter.
Peter hadn’t believed his luck when Breda agreed to marry him after the war. He’d adored her before he went, but she’d kept him at a distance and he hadn’t even felt able to ask her to write to him. On the rare occasions he was home on leave, Breda always seemed involved with another man. But when he was demobbed, he came home to find her still single. He couldn’t understand why no one had snapped her up. She even seemed pleased to see him, and told him how glad she was he’d survived the war.
In Peter’s opinion, she was the most stunning-looking woman for miles, with her mane of auburn curls cascading down her back and her flashing green eyes. When she insisted that he tip his wages up every Friday and they’d work out a budget for everything – personal pocket money for each of them and a bit saved – it seemed sensible. When Linda was born and Breda said that one was enough, Peter agreed that since she’d carried the baby and given birth to it, and had the major job of bringing it up, it had to be her decision. He wasn’t keen on taking precautions himself, but was quite prepared for Breda to go and get something. He also appreciated the fact that she left his dinner ready, just to heat over a pan, when he came home from work. First, though, he fetched Linda from the neighbour who looked after her for them, and put her to bed. He always had the tea mashed and a snack meal in the making for Breda when she got in. He said it was only fair.
Breda knew that Betty had a different life, because she’d seen Bert’s chauvinistic attitudes. He was typical; it was Peter who was different. Breda knew it would be the next generation of women who could change things for the majority.
‘When are you going to tell Bert then?’ she asked Betty.
‘I’m trying to keep it till the exams are over,’ Betty said.
‘When’s that?’
‘The first is in November, the second in early February.’
‘You’ll never keep it till then,’ Breda said. ‘Not February you won’t. Christ, Betty, you swelled up like a bleeding elephant last time.’
‘I was having twins then,’ Betty reminded her sister. ‘You’d hardly remember how I was with the other two.’
‘Maybe it’s twins again,’ Breda said cheerfully.
‘Don’t. I’d go mad if I had two more like Conner and Noel,’ Betty said. ‘I love them, don’t get me wrong, but they have me run off my feet.’
‘Don’t tell me, it’s bad enough with one.’
‘Anyway,’ Betty said, ‘if I can get Bert to change his mind about the first exam, before he knows about the baby and the additional expense that’ll mean, it’ll be something. If she passes, she automatically goes through, and if she fails, well, that’s that, isn’t it?’
‘She won’t fail,’ Breda said. ‘I know she won’t. I’ve got faith in that girl.’
Betty kept that in mind as she faced Bert. She was unaware of her daughter trembling on the stairs; unaware that her words sent a shiver of icy fear down Janet’s spine.
‘I went to see our Janet’s teacher today,’ Betty said. ‘That Miss Wentworth.’
‘Oh, aye.’ Fuddled by beer, Bert wasn’t even on his guard.
‘Thinks our Janet has a good chance of getting this eleven-plus.’
