A Hopscotch Summer (24 page)

A few days later, Em went to Dot’s after school as she usually did, for a drink of milk and a slice of bread, before going back to cook the tea.

‘I’ve done yer some scrag end,’ Dot said. ‘Look, I’ll bring it round and all you need to do is put the spuds on.’

It was a gloomy evening and Joyce had come straight home as well, instead of playing out for a while.

‘Now you stay out of my way in the back, Joycie,’ Em bossed her, but amiably, as they went inside number eighteen. ‘You can play by the fire but you’ve got to let me get the tea on.’

Joyce took advantage of Em’s good mood and said, ‘Can I play with Princess Lucy?’

‘Yes, all right, so long as you’re careful with her,’ Em said.

Things were more relaxed. There had been tearful goodbyes when it was time for Cynthia to return to the hospital on the Saturday. Dot had almost had to wrestle Sid away from his mother’s arms, where he was clinging as if he would never let go.

‘It’s all right, son,’ she’d tried to reassure him as Bob led Cynthia out of the house, away from the sound of the children’s crying. ‘Your mom’ll be back. She just needs a bit more of a rest, that’s all.’

Cynthia had said goodbye bravely. ‘They’ll let me come again,’ she told them hesitantly. ‘I don’t know when exactly, but I’ll see you all soon.’ By the time she left she had gone very pale and seemed so drained that she could hardly speak, but she did manage a wan smile for Jenny Button, who waved across the road at her and called out, ‘Nice to see you home, bab!’

She also left the children with hope that the separation would now be temporary.

The visit made all the difference to Em. It was terrible seeing Mom walking away from them again, but now they had hope. Soon she’d be coming home! Em no longer minded all the drudgery of the house, and she vowed that when Mom came home she would always be a help to her and not let her get overtired. Sid and Joyce were much happier as well and the days passed in much lighter spirits. Even school did not seem so bad. She had settled into being one of the mousier members of the class, playing with anyone who would let her join in. All she wanted was a quiet life.

Em put the scrag end on the heat and started peeling potatoes. Joyce had run upstairs for the doll and settled herself on the mucky rug near the range as it was the warmest spot. She was soon lost in her game. Em saw that as well as Princess Lucy she had brought down some socks and gathered together several empty cotton reels and clothes pegs and an old magnifying glass with a cracked handle. She held the glass up to one eye so that it looked enormous and distorted.

‘Now,’ Joycie said to the rows of cotton reels, ‘you’ve all got to do as you’re told cos your mom’s ’ad a babby and she’s feeling poorly. And you – ’ Princess Lucy was scooped up by the hair – ‘you’re the mom and you’re in the hospital but you’re coming back soon.’ She got up and placed Princess Lucy in a far corner of the room, still with the magnifying glass pressed to one eye.

Em giggled at the sight of her. ‘Your eye’s all big – like a giant’s!’

Joyce came right up close to her and the girls stared at each other through the bulging glass, pressing their noses together. They were giggling so much that at first they didn’t hear the tapping at the back window.

‘Who’s that?’ Em said at last.

‘Sid,’ Joyce said. ‘Being silly. He’s always silly.’

But the thought that entered Em’s head was: Maybe it’s Mom? Maybe she’d run away from the hospital to be with them and crept round the back so they wouldn’t see her?

Cautiously she opened the back door. It was pitch black out in the yard and for a moment she couldn’t see, only hear the husky voice that whispered out of the darkness.

‘Em? Em – it’s me.’

‘
Molly?
’

‘Quick – let me in, will yer? It’s freezing out ’ere.’

The smiles dropped from Em’s and Joyce’s faces as Molly stepped into the light. They stared at her in horror. Molly looked down, seeming ashamed. Her face was a mess of bruises and swelling. The skin round her right eye was so swollen that the eye was a shrunken slit. Her face showed signs of other bruising and there was a bloody wound on her lower lip.

‘Who’s hit yer?’ Joyce asked.

‘Can I stay here?’ Molly said. She didn’t cry but there was a bleak desperation in her voice. ‘I’ve run away. I ain’t never going back there . . .’

Em’s instincts told her not to go and get Dot, or anyone yet, until they’d had time to think. They must find out what had happened and deal with it themselves. She closed the back door, thinking of what the grown-ups did whenever there was trouble.

‘You come in by the fire, Moll,’ she said. ‘I’ll make yer a cuppa tea. Our dad won’t be in for a bit yet.’

Molly meekly did as she was told and sat at the table.

‘Who did that to yer?’ Joyce persisted. ‘Was it your mom?’

Molly nodded, dabbing her weeping eye cautiously on her sleeve.

‘What did her do that for?’

Molly shrugged. Normally things seemed to wash over her, but this time Em had never seen her so subdued and defeated-looking.

‘Where’ve yer been?’ she asked. ‘Why did you go away?’

‘We’ve got another house, in Aston.’ All the expression seemed to have drained from Molly’s voice. ‘But the landlord’s been round carrying on already. Mom says we’ll ’ave to move on. I didn’t want to go to the school there but she made me, so I ran off. I want to come back ’ere.’

Em and Joyce stared at her, full of sympathy and worry. Em cut Molly a slice of bread. Thanks to Mrs Button they didn’t go short of it.

‘Ta.’ Molly took it and started eating ravenously. Through a bulging mouth, she said, ‘I ain’t going back. Never.’

She didn’t need to explain any more. Even the thought of Molly’s mom scared the wits out of Em and Joyce.

‘You can come and sleep in with us,’ Joyce said, stricken at the sight of her. ‘We won’t tell no one.’

Molly’s swollen face puckered into something like a smile. ‘Ta, Joycie. You’re my best friends.’

The children agreed that Molly should hide in their bedroom for tonight while they thought what to do. Bob scarcely ever went in there.

‘You go up now,’ Em said. ‘Dad’ll be home soon and I’ll bring you up a plate of tea when he’s not looking. We’ll have to think what to do after that. And you go out and find Sid, Joycie. He won’t be far away but we’ll have to tell him and get him to keep his mouth shut.’

The girls spent a cramped night together on the same bed. Joyce refused to be turfed out to sleep with Sid.

‘He wees in the bed, I’m not going with him!’

In the night, Em woke several times to find Molly getting up and sitting on the po’. She wondered sleepily why Molly needed to go so many times.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked the third time.

‘Nothing. I just need to go. You go back to sleep.’

But Em lay worrying about what they were going to do. It was no good telling Dad, he’d just order Molly to go home, and she didn’t like to trouble Dot. Dot had done so much for them, and she didn’t want to get her into any trouble. But how could they just hide Molly here? They’d be found out sooner or later, and what if Iris Fox came looking for her? It chilled Em’s blood just to think about it.

She had an argument with Molly the next morning because Molly wanted to go to school.

‘You can’t!’ Em objected. They were having a whispered argument because Bob had not yet left for work. ‘They think you’ve left and everyone’ll see you. What’re we going to say?’

‘I dunno,’ Molly said sulkily. ‘I just want to go back to normal.’

‘Well, you can’t. You’ve got to stay here for today.’

Em racked her brains all day long and still couldn’t think what to do. In her desperation she almost thought about asking Miss Lineham, but she didn’t think she’d get any sympathy there. It was only when she stopped off to pick up the bread on the way home from school that she had a stroke of luck.

Jenny Button was her usual cheerful self and greeted Em kindly.

‘How’s Mr Button?’ Em asked politely. ‘Is he feeling better?’

‘Oh yes, he is, ta,’ Jenny Button said. ‘He did have a bit of a temperature and he doesn’t throw anything off easily, you know. But he’s up again now, tucked up by the fire with his paper.’ She gave a brave smile. ‘Now, bab, here’s your bread and I’ll see if I’ve got anything else for you.’

‘I’ve got an extra mouth to feed tonight,’ Em blurted out.

‘Oh?’ Jenny Button grunted, her head invisible behind the counter. ‘Who’s that, then?’

‘Molly Fox.’ It was a relief when the story came tumbling out. ‘She’s run away from home and she says she ain’t going back and she wants to stay with us. Her mom keeps hitting her and her face is all swollen up and it looks bad, but I don’t know what to do in case our dad finds out.’

Jenny Button’s head popped up again and she stared in consternation at the anxious child before her, fully aware of the fragile state of the Brown family.

‘You mean that mother of hers doesn’t know where she is? Well, I can’t say I blame the child, the state of that woman. I shouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her even when she hasn’t had a skinful.’ Mrs Button’s eyes narrowed. ‘So where is she? Iris Fox, I mean?’

‘Aston, Molly says.’

‘And she doesn’t want to go back?’

Em shook her head. Jenny Button’s mind seemed to be going through a process that Em didn’t understand at all. She was surprised that she had not told Em to send Molly home straight away. She thought that was what any grown-up would do. Instead she stood balanced on the stool, hands on hips, scratched her head, then said, ‘Well, now, what’re we going to do?’

‘I don’t know.’ Em poured out all the worries that had kept her awake half the night. ‘She can’t stay on with us cos our dad won’t have it, and I don’t like to ask Mrs Wiggins . . .’

‘Well.’ Jenny Button decisively wiped her floury hands on her apron. ‘You can tell Molly to come over here. There’s only the two of us and there’s plenty of room upstairs, so she can stay here, that she can, and welcome. And if I get any trouble . . .’ she finished darkly.

Em gaped at her. ‘You mean Molly can live with you?’

‘Send her over here and we’ll see how it goes. But I could do with some young life about the place and she needs a place to go – so, Bob’s yer uncle.’ She grinned, realizing what she’d said. ‘Well, yer dad in your case, bab!’

For a few days there were questions.

‘What’s that Fox girl doing here?’

‘Isn’t that Molly Fox? Where’s the rest of ’em, then?’

Some of the neighbours recognized Molly and wanted to know what was what. Others didn’t particularly care, and very few had any time for Iris Fox.

‘She’s just stopping here for a bit,’ was all Jenny Button said in explanation.

‘Well, I shouldn’t blame her for running away,’ one customer observed. ‘How anyone could live with that harridan Iris is a mystery. Poor old Joe Fox ain’t nothing but a wreck. I dunno what done ’im in worst – the war, or living with her!’

Quite soon everyone got used to Molly living with Jenny and Stanley Button. She went back to school, played out in the street and soon the ripples of gossip settled down.

Jenny Button was in her element.

‘We’ll have to get you some clothes sorted out,’ she told Molly. As soon as she had time she was off down the Rag Market, selecting a few things to alter for Molly. Her old treadle sewing machine click-clicked away in an upstairs room while Stan watched her eagerness, both amiable and sad. He had never been able to give his energetic wife a child and he saw the passion with which she turned to looking after Molly.

‘Poor little wench,’ she confided in Stan one morning when Molly had gone to school. ‘’Er bed’s wet every night, soaked through, and at her age! There’s summat not right there.’

‘Living on her nerves,’ Stan commented kindly.

‘Hmm,’ Jenny said grimly. ‘Well, whatever’s been going on, at least we can feed her proper and teach her some manners.’

Molly, shy and awkward at first, began to blossom in the peace and kindness of the Buttons’ home. It was rough and ready, but compared to what she was used to it felt like the lap of luxury. Jenny Button had even stitched her a couple of cotton slips to go to bed in – something Molly had never known before. She was so ashamed of the fact that each morning they were almost always drenched in urine. She would try and wake herself and get up onto the po’, but as often as not she was fast asleep and when she woke it was too late. Jenny Button didn’t comment or ask questions. If it went on, she thought, she’d take Molly to the doctor, but for now she saw to it that the sheets were washed through and a clean one put on the bed every day.

‘D’you miss your mom and dad?’ Jenny asked her after a few days.

Molly thought about it. ‘A bit, I s’pose. But it’s quieter here and I like it.’ So far she’d been as good as gold, going off to school and coming back after playing out with the others and eating her tea. Apart from the sheets and having to get her to hold her knife and fork properly, not to wipe her nose on her sleeve and to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, Jenny and Stan Button had no major complaints. The three of them even sat and played cards of an evening sometimes and Stan was teaching Molly to play dominoes as well and was glad of the company in his slow life. Molly had settled in miraculously well. But there was always a nagging worry in her mind, and now her round face creased with anxiety. ‘What’m I going to do if our mom comes?’

Jenny Button’s curranty eyes looked kindly at her. ‘Well, bab, we’ll ’ave to cross that bridge when we come to it.’

‘Our mom’s coming home for a visit tomorrow,’ Em said excitedly to Molly, ten days after Molly’s arrival. The two of them were walking home from school together.

‘That’s nice,’ Molly said as they turned the corner into Kenilworth Street, dodging round the lamp post which was being used as a swing by two boys.

‘Watch it!’ they yelled.

‘You watch it yerselves!’ Em shouted back. She realized she wouldn’t have done that before. Even Molly looked surprised.

Em was in really good spirits. Molly’s coming back had cheered her up, the weather was becoming more spring-like now February had turned to March and there were daffodils and crocuses in the parks. Best of all, it looked as if Mom would be back at home for good. Em had a spring in her step now.

‘’Ere, let’s have a game,’ Molly said, producing a frayed, grey piece of string from her pocket. The marbles craze had given way to a rash of hand-clap games and cat’s cradles for the girls, while the boys were tearing round with whatever they had in the way of footballs, even if they were made of newspapers tied with string.

The two of them were soon involved in their cat’s cradle game, with furrowed brows, hands burrowing into the twists of string, groaning when it didn’t come right. Em was absorbed with her fingers nipping the string when she felt Molly jump violently.

‘Oi, don’t!’ Em protested, but Molly was pulling the string off her hands in a desperate panic.

‘That’s Mom coming, I heard her!’ Her face was white with fear.

Another shout from the end of the road confirmed it.

‘Quick, she ain’t seen me yet!’ Molly tore off along the street and disappeared into the Buttons’ house almost before Em had turned round. She squinted, then made out the looming shape of Iris Fox in her big black coat. Everyone was turning to stare. Her voice, slurred with drink, boomed unmistakably along the street. Iris was tanked up and raging furious.

Em’s legs went weak but she managed to dash along the street to her own house, grabbing Sid along the way.

‘Get inside, quick!’

‘Ouch, Em, you’re hurting! What’re yer doing?’

‘Just do as I say,’ Em hissed urgently, pushing home the rusty bolt which was hardly ever used. ‘That’s Molly’s mom carrying on down there.’

Sid’s eyes widened. ‘No one’d better tell ’er!’ He and Joyce had been sworn to secrecy about where Molly was living.

The two of them waited, trembling, kneeling on the floor behind the front door as they heard Iris bawl and curse her way up the road. There was a brief quiet when, by the sound of things, she had disappeared into the old yard to look into the house, which soon led to an outburst of shouting between her and her old neighbours, then Iris erupted out of there again in full voice.

‘You— stinking heap of— bastards . . . !’ More curses followed as she wove her way across the road.

Sid’s eyes bulged. ‘Is she coming here?’

‘Sssh, I dunno, do I?’ Em snapped, frantically. The two of them curled up into frightened little balls on the floor, covering their heads as if Iris was an imminent explosion.

But the hammering on the door came anyway.

‘Open this— door! Come on – open it, you . . .’ Her voice fell to a mumble for a moment. ‘Molly! Molly, come out! I know yer in there! I’ll knock this cowing door down if I ’ave to.’

She gave up shouting then and just banged and kicked at the door like a crazed bull, grunting and muttering.

‘What the bleeding hell d’yer think
you’re
doing?’ They heard Dot’s voice outside. Dot wasn’t afraid of anyone. ‘Just pack it in! You’ll knock the door down going on like that.’

‘They’ve got my Molly,’ Iris whined. ‘I know she’s in there. She’s got to come home with me. Don’t want her living with no bloody loonies like ’er.’

‘She ain’t in there – I can tell you that for nothing,’ Dot said, holding on tight to her temper.

‘Yes she is!’ Iris started hammering again.

‘All right,’ Dot said, ‘I’ll show yer. Em, Sid – open the door!’

Em scrambled up and wrestled with the bolt again. Quivering, she opened the door to Iris’s mountainous figure topped by her swollen, angry face and bloodshot eyes. She was like a walking volcano in full eruption.

‘Molly!’ Iris barged in, knocking Em against the wall. ‘I know yer ’ere – it’s no good hiding from me. You got to come ’ome with me.’ She wheezed her way up the stairs. ‘I’m ’er bloody mother,’ they heard. ‘Taking people’s kids from them. I’ll ’ave the rozzers on yer . . .’

‘Best if she looks for herself,’ Dot said, rolling her eyes. ‘There’s no reasoning with her.’

They heard Iris lumbering about upstairs, cursing and searching under beds and in the cupboard in Bob and Cynthia’s room. There was a crash as something fell to the floor, but eventually she had to admit defeat and came roaring down the stairs again.

‘Where is she?’ Em thought for a moment she was going to punch Dot but instead she stood swaying and the whining tone came back. ‘You’d better tell me. In your ’ouse, ain’t she, you smug cow you, stealing people’s kids . . .’

‘You can look in my house if you want,’ Dot said. ‘But you won’t find anything. You ought to take better care of yer own daughter, that’s all I can say.’

This produced another outburst of language from Iris. She stormed her way through Dot’s house, then out into the street where she marched up and down for some time shouting and demanding that Molly come out and be handed to her. An audience gathered to watch the performance, some shouting back at her, telling her to clear off. Of the people who knew where Iris’s daughter was staying, not one gave Molly away, not even meddling Josie Donnelly.

‘She’s a bloody disgrace,’ Josie said to Dot as Iris raged up and down. ‘I wouldn’t hand a dog over to her, so I wouldn’t.’

Eventually Iris’s rage blew itself out and she had to give up, finally leaving with threats that she’d be back with the police.

‘I should think there’s a few questions they’d like to ask that shower,’ Dot said.

Em and Sid finally dared to come out of the house as Iris departed.

‘It’s all right,’ Dot said. ‘She ain’t found her little skivvy – not yet.’