‘Can’t you see your dad’s tired.’ She glanced up at Ralph. ‘Can’t you all sit down. It’s crowded enough in here as it is,’ she said. ‘Elsie, lay the table.’
‘Elsie’s not ’ere,’ said Win.
His father then looked at Ralph with such hatred it frightened him.
‘Bad, was it?’ his mother said softly.
‘It’ll pass,’ snapped his father.
‘It’s not your fault,’ she said.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s yours.’
‘Mine?’
‘You shouldn’t have let him go to that grammar school. He don’t belong ’ere.’
‘Thanks,’ said Ralph sardonically.
‘Don’t give me none of your lip.’
He turned swiftly to Ralph’s mother. ‘He hand over his wages last Friday?’
‘Course he did.’
‘You hand over the same wages this Friday, lad, and no more fancy visits to that theatre.’
‘Joan goes to the cinema three times a week. Are you going to ask her to hand over all her wages?’
‘Joan works hard.’
‘So do I.’
‘Did, lad, did.’
‘Dad, they didn’t sack me because I wasn’t working hard enough.’
‘Don’t give me that. They need good workers.’
‘I’ll be a good worker, Dad,’ said Harry eagerly.
‘I was that ashamed today,’ he said angrily.
‘Why?’ argued Ralph. ‘Why didn’t you stick up for me? Isn’t that what real fathers are supposed to do?’
‘Are you telling me I’m not a real father to you when I get you a plum job?’
‘Doing what I hated doing!’
‘This is real life, sonny. Work’s work. You’re lucky to have it with so many ex-servicemen hunting for jobs.’
His mother began laying the table.
‘Elsie should be doing that,’ he said. ‘Where is she?’
‘In her room.’
‘I’ll get her,’ said Harry hurriedly and he dashed out.
There was a stony silence. His aunt sat back in her chair with a look as if to say, ‘Men, didn’t I tell you, Ellen?’
His mother stood helplessly, the cutlery still in her hand. The door opened suddenly and Elsie appeared. She looked pale. ‘What you bin doing?’ roared her father. ‘You know you’re supposed to be helping. I’ll not have two layabouts in this house.’
‘Sorry, Dad,’ she said quietly, and she took the cutlery from her mother.
‘You still haven’t answered my question.’ Elsie looked up startled. ‘I’ll ask you again. What have you been doing?’
‘Talking to Joan. She’s got another letter from Kay.’
Ralph groaned inwardly. That would be another evening of Joan looking like a wet weekend because she could have been living the life of a movie star like her friend, instead of selling ladies’ clothes in the High Street.
Elsie hastily finished putting out the cutlery.
It was when they were sitting round the table eating that his father noticed the trenchcoat. His father, as usual, sat at the end of the table near the hallway door. His mother at the other end, by the range. Ralph sat on the wall side by his mother and his aunt. Harry and Joan opposite. Elsie was sitting on the bed. True to form, Joan had been playing the ill-done victim to the hilt, while Harry chatted to his father, ignoring the atmosphere while his father ignored him. Then Ralph saw his father suddenly look up and his face change. ‘Where the hell did that fancy raincoat come from?’
‘Mrs Egerton-Smythe lent it to me,’ said Ralph quickly.
‘Well, you can take it back.’
‘I will be, Dad.’
‘I ’ain’t havin’ you being a parasite to other people.’
‘She lent it to me, Dad, because it was raining.’
‘Well, do without until you can buy your own.’
‘How can I if I have to hand over all my money?’
‘You can wear your grammar school raincoat,’ he said sarcastically.
‘I’ve grown out of it.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘So have they put anyone in Ralph’s place?’ insisted Harry.
Ralph had to smile. Persistence was his brother’s middle name.
‘Will you leave me be. A man’s entitled to eat his meal in peace.’
There was another silence.
‘John,’ began his mother tentatively, ‘ain’t you going to ask Ralphie about his new job?’
‘Job?’ he exploded. ‘Job! Go on then, surprise me.’
Ralph knew his mother wanted to help, but he’d much rather talk to her about Queenie and the shed and the room with the dust covers, later.
His father sat back in his chair and gloated. ‘He can’t think of anything.’
‘Ralphie, why won’t you tell your dad?’ asked his mother, coaxing him.
‘Because anything I say, he’ll find fault with.’
‘You won’t, will you, John?’
But his father remained silent.
‘Is my blue cardigan nearly dry?’ whined Joan.
‘I’ll shove it in the oven for a bit,’ said Ralph’s mother. ‘That’ll do it.’
‘I expect it will,’ she said sadly, and she sighed. ‘If only we had radiators.’
‘Like Kay,’ chorused Elsie and Harry and burst into fits of giggles.
‘That’s not funny,’ she protested.
‘I s’pose you’ll be wanting to borrow my umbrella,’ said Auntie Win.
‘Can
