had always been her confidante and she’d found solace in her gran’s small but homely flat. ‘Yes, he went berserk this morning after Mum called in to see the boys.’
‘Oh, Jenny, who got it this time?’
‘Me … again. The rest of them were hiding upstairs, and Gloria told me that Pam had her hands over her ears from the minute Mum and Dad started arguing.’
‘Oh dear, you poor loves. I wish I had the strength to go round there and give him a piece of my mind! Did he hurt you?’
Before they’d left the house, Jenny had run a brush through her hair and found a sore place on her head where her dad had punched her. ‘No, not really,’ she fibbed, ‘sometimes his bark is worse than his bite. It puts us all on edge though, Pam especially. She’s always been a bit more sensitive than the rest of us.’
‘Yes, she has, bless her. Is she still wetting the bed?’
‘Occasionally, but don’t mention it in front of her ’cos she gets ever so embarrassed about it. I’ve tried putting plastic bags under the sheets, but Gloria moans that they make a crinkling racket when she turns over. I don’t know what to do for the best, Gran. They need a new mattress, but I can’t afford one and I daren’t ask me dad.’
‘Have you tried getting her up in the night and making her use the loo?’
‘Yes, but all that achieved was wearing myself out for work the next day. I’m hoping she’ll grow out of it soon.’
‘You said your mother called in earlier. How is she? I know she’s me daughter, but you wouldn’t think so! She ain’t been in to see me for weeks now.’
‘It’s the same for us. She doesn’t come to see us regularly, and sometimes it’s months before she turns up again. I didn’t get a chance to speak to her this time, but I think she’s split up with Lesley,’ Jenny said, glad about that. She’d only met him once but had taken an instant dislike to the man.
‘I can’t say I’m surprised. They never seem to last long with your mother. Anyway, I’m parched, so make us a cup of tea, love. You’ll find jam tarts in the usual place. I’ve made enough to sink a battleship, but I don’t suppose they’ll last two minutes with the boys.’ Edith chuckled. ‘You should’ve brought them to see me too.’
‘I will next time,’ Jenny told her.
She went into the kitchen and filled the kettle. The walls were painted bright orange, and the four cupboards chocolate brown. As she waited for the water to boil, she took a biscuit tin from the larder cupboard. It was filled to the brim with the home-baked jam tarts. Her gran was right, Peter and Timmy would gorge on them later and make themselves sick if she didn’t ration them.
A few minutes later, with a pot of tea beside them, she sat on an armchair next to her gran. She studied the woman’s face. Her eyes looked cloudy but, despite her poor sight, her grey hair was neatly pinned up in a bun, and her clothes were freshly laundered and ironed. Jenny was pleased to see her gran was still managing to take good care of herself. ‘How’s your hip, Gran?’
Her gran rubbed her left side. She was a wide woman, small-busted but with thick thighs. ‘Not too bad, love. It’s a lot better now the weather is warming up. What about you, have you found yourself a nice young man yet?’
‘Oh, Gran … no. I’ve told you, I’m not interested in meeting blokes. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.’ Jenny could feel her cheeks had flushed at the mere mention of a man.
‘You’re a pretty little thing and I’d hate to see you become a washed-up old spinster. You should go out more. There’s always a fancy dance going on at the ballroom above the ABC.’
Jenny sat back in her chair and heaved a sigh. Just the thought of walking into the ballroom made her heart race. A few of the girls at work went regularly and had encouraged her to join them, but she couldn’t pluck up the courage to go. ‘No, Gran, I prefer being here with you, or at home looking after the boys.’
‘Oh, get orf with you! You’re a young woman in your prime. You shouldn’t be sat with an old woman or babysitting your brothers. Gloria and Pamela are old enough to do that, and anyway, they’re your dad’s responsibility, not yours. You should be out enjoying yourself. So next Saturday, just to please me, I want you to get spruced up and go to the dance.’
Jenny would do anything to please her gran, but she could feel her face burning again. She reckoned her cheeks were probably as red as her hair and was grateful when she heard a knock on the door. ‘That must be Pam back with your mousetraps,’ she said as she got up, avoiding answering her gran’s request.
‘That was quick,’ Jenny said as she opened the door, but was surprised to find a man on the doorstep. He looked young, possibly about the same age as her or maybe a few years older. He had light brown eyes and longish sandy-coloured hair. Flushing, she lowered her eyes, and was surprised to see that he was wearing slippers.
‘Hello, I’m Craig from upstairs,’ he said.
That explains the slippers, Jenny thought, too shy to look up at him again. ‘Oh … erm … hi,’ she managed to stutter.
‘Is that Craig?’ Edith shouted.
Jenny spun around towards the lounge. ‘Yes, Gran.’
‘Bring him in … tell him you’ve just made a pot of tea.’
Jenny slowly turned back to face Craig and looked at him through the hood of her amber lashes. ‘You’d, er, best come in.’
Craig followed Jenny through to the lounge. She could feel his eyes on her back and felt very self-conscious.
‘Hello, sit yourself down, and Jenny, fetch another cup,’ her gran instructed in her usual friendly manner.
Jenny was pleased to be away from the lounge and out of Craig’s sight. She found his long gaze intimidating, and as usual didn’t know what to say. Unfortunately, with no excuse to dawdle, she was soon back in the lounge and pouring Craig a cup of tea.
‘So you’re Jenny,’ Craig said, smiling warmly. ‘You’re Edith’s eldest granddaughter. I’ve heard lots about you.’
‘Don’t worry, girl. I’ve only said nice things,’ her gran said, chuckling.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Craig agreed. ‘She told me you work at that electrical component place. A fiddly job that. I’m quite handy with my hands too – I make small items of furniture.’
It was obvious he was trying to make conversation, and, much as Jenny would have liked to participate, she was finding it very difficult. It didn’t help that her gran seemed to be scrutinising her, though Jenny doubted the old woman could see very much. ‘Would … would you … like a jam tart?’ Jenny offered quietly.
‘I’m sorry, can you repeat that please?’ Craig asked.
Edith interrupted. ‘I’ve already told you he’s deaf, Jen. You have to make sure he can see your face when you talk to him, and then he can read your lips.’
‘Oh! Sorry,’ Jenny said to Craig, more embarrassed than ever, and slowly repeated her question.
‘Yes,
