Lost & Found

They were home and in the kitchen before her mother opened her mouth, but only to say gruffly, ‘I expect you’re hungry. I’ll bank up the fire first and then heat up some stew.’

Mavis wanted to ask questions, to understand how babies were made, but was too scared to bring up the subject again. She took off her coat, hung it up on the hook behind the back door, and then she sat at the table, still looking warily at her mother.

‘Mrs Pugh said you did well today.’

‘You … you’ve seen her?’

‘Yeah. I went round there looking for you. Don’t you ever do that again, my girl. When you’ve done your hour for Mrs Pugh, I want you to come straight home.’

Mavis nodded, unable to ignore the growl of hunger coming from her stomach. She’d been too scared and upset to eat the stew her grandmother had offered, but now watched avidly as her mother brought the fire to life before going to light the gas under a saucepan. On the few occasions she’d eaten school dinner, she got just a bit of bread and jam or dripping for her tea, but now she’d have two hot meals in a day.

Of course, it was down to the five pounds her dad had left, and Mavis prayed he’d keep his promise. If he did, she wouldn’t have to take the pram out any more, and with less time on the streets it would be easier to keep out of Larry’s and Tommy’s way. But what about Larry’s threats? One hadn’t worked. Thanks to Gran, her mother didn’t believe him, but there was the other one looming over her head, making her stomach clench with fear. He said he’d make it worse for her if she opened her mouth and she’d done just that. Mavis felt a wave of nausea. What would Larry do now?

‘Here, get that down you,’ Lily said as she put bowls of stew on the table.

Mavis picked up her spoon, but her hand was shaking and as she took her first mouthful she found it difficult to swallow. Should she tell her mother? ‘Mum, I’m scared.’

‘Scared of what?’

‘Larry said that if I told anyone, he’d make it worse for me.’

‘He said that, did he? Well, don’t you worry about him, my girl. I’ll sort him out in the morning, and his friend Tommy. I’ll also have another few choice words to say to their mothers.’

On hearing this Mavis slumped with relief. But, just to be on the safe side, she’d be extra vigilant when she went out. She tucked into her stew again, looking up when her mother spoke.

‘After I’ve had a word in their ears, I doubt those boys will have the nerve to come near you again, but if they do, make sure you tell me. You should have come to me in the first place, and from now on, no more secrets, Mavis. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Mum,’ Mavis agreed.

There was silence for a while as they both continued to eat, but then Lily said, ‘I must say, from what I saw of it, Edith Pugh has got a nice place.’

Mavis found her eyes widening. Her mother was talking again, but this time making conversation. She never did that! ‘Yes, but she’s really fussy,’ Mavis said eagerly. ‘She’s got cream furniture in her living room and I had to wash my hands before I started work.’

‘Did you now? And what cleaning did you do?’

‘Mostly hoovering, but then I made a cup of tea and peeled some potatoes before I left.’

‘Gawd, Mavis. Did you break anything?’

‘No. I was really careful.’

‘Thank Gawd for that, but you know what a clumsy cow you are. If you start smashing her china the job won’t last five minutes.’

Mavis again found her throat constricting again. Yes, she was clumsy, useless, and how would Mrs Pugh react if she broke one of her precious ornaments? Would she go mad like her mother? Would she sack her on the spot? Yes, probably, and then her mother would be furious.

Lily was so full of guilt that she was glad when Mavis went to bed at nine o’clock. Without bothering to hear her side of the story, she’d thought the worst of her daughter. She’d believed those two little sods! What sort of mother was she? Lily didn’t like the way she was feeling and fought to find excuses. With a daughter like Mavis, was it any wonder? No, of course it wasn’t. The girl should’ve had enough sense to know it was dangerous to be alone on the common with boys, but unlike other girls of her age she was as daft as a brush.

There was a knock on the door and, sighing heavily, Lily went to answer it. ‘Kate, come on in.’

‘I know it’s a bit late, but Sandra’s still upset about Mavis. I said I’d come round to see how things are going.’

Lily didn’t want to paint herself in a bad light, so instead of telling Kate the whole story she said shortly, ‘It’s all right. She’s fine.’

‘Did you sort those boys out?’

‘Yeah, but the little sods have convinced their mothers that Mavis led them on.’

‘Huh, well, I’ll put them straight. According to Sandra they tried it on with her too. If my Bill finds out he’ll kill the pair of them.’

Lily stared at Kate, her mind in turmoil. Sandra was a sensible girl, a clever girl, but it hadn’t stopped those two little buggers. Any lingering doubts that Mavis had led them on were now swept aside in another wave of guilt.

‘What is it, love?’ Kate asked. ‘You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’

Unable to hold it back, Lily said, ‘I … I believed them. I went for her, Kate. I gave Mavis a good hiding.’

‘Oh, the poor kid.’

Once again Lily didn’t like the way she was feeling, and said in defence, ‘Yeah, well, she shouldn’t have been on the common with them. Maybe a good hiding is the only way to make her see sense.’

For a moment Kate looked annoyed, but she only bit on her bottom lip momentarily before saying, ‘Have you spoken to her about the dangers now?’

‘Yeah, and I just hope she took it in.’

‘I’m sure she did.’

Lily lowered her eyes. Kate was always saying that she didn’t give Mavis enough credit, but at least she could say something in her favour now. ‘I must admit that Edith Pugh was pleased with her work today.’

‘Work! Mavis is working for Edith Pugh? Since when?’

‘She’s just started and is doing an hour’s cleaning for her after school.’

‘Blimey, how did that come about?’

Lily told her, and then said, ‘You never know. It might lead to something when she leaves school.’

‘I think Mavis can do better than cleaning, especially for an uppity cow like Edith Pugh.’

‘Now you sound like Ron and, as I told him, there isn’t much Mavis can do. At least the woman thinks she can train her, and if she can do that, it could lead to other work.’

‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ Kate said doubtfully, but then she stood up. ‘Sandra will be waiting to hear so I’d best get back.’

Lily stayed where she was, just calling goodbye as Kate left. God, what a day. She felt worn out and decided on an early night. Her mind shied away from Mavis and the unjust punishment she’d meted out, instead turning to her mother. Indigestion my arse, Lily thought. There was more to it than that and, like it or not, she was going to make sure that her mother saw the doctor.

It wasn’t until Lily walked into the bedroom that it hit her. Alone! She’d be sleeping alone. With all the nights down the race track or the pub, she was used to going to bed before Ron, but this was different. There wouldn’t be the feel of his body climbing into bed when he came home, his arms wrapping around her as he snuggled up for warmth. ‘Oh, Ron,’ she whispered. ‘I miss you already, but, please, let it be worth it. Don’t let me down.’

Ron sat propped up, a pillow behind him as he rolled a cigarette, his eyes scanning the hut with disgust. God, it was like being back in the army training camp with a row of beds on each side of the room. Even the orphanage he’d grown up in had more comfort. ‘Blimey, Pete, when you said the contractor would arrange lodgings, I wasn’t expecting this.’

‘I know it ain’t much, but it’s been done up, and if that dinner was anything to go by, we’re bound to get a decent breakfast.’

‘Yeah, it was all right, but what about this dump? What was it? The cow shed?’

‘I dunno, mate, but it’s dry, cheap and warm. Anyway, what does it matter? With the hours we’ll be working, it’s just a place to crash at night.’

Four other men were sitting at a table close to the stove, one letting out a loud fart as he shuffled a deck of playing cards. He laughed, but then turned his head to call, ‘Sorry, boys. It’s that bloody cabbage the old girl gave us for dinner.’

‘Yeah, Gerry, I know what you mean,’ Pete called back.

‘Fancy a few hands of poker?’

‘No, thanks,’ Pete replied. ‘Maybe some other time.’

Ron stood up and ignoring the warning shake of Pete’s head he strolled down to that end of the room. He’d met the four blokes when they’d returned to the farm after work, all of them sitting round a large, wooden, well-scrubbed table in the farmhouse kitchen. They didn’t seem a bad bunch and he and Pete would be joining them on site in the morning. Gerry was another bricklayer, Eric his hod carrier, Martin was a plasterer and his younger brother, Andy, was there to learn the trade and knock up.

‘What about you, mate?’ Gerry asked. ‘Do you fancy a game?’

Ron eyed the money on the table. He could only see small coins and was tempted. It would give him a chance to see how they played, and, if they weren’t up to much, on payday he could up the stakes. He was about to answer, but then Pete called from the other end of the room.

‘Ron, can I have a word?’

‘Maybe later, Gerry,’ he said, annoyed at the interruption as he walked away.

‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ Pete hissed as soon as Ron reached his side.

‘Playing at? What are you on about?’

‘Poker! Gambling!’

‘Leave it out! They’re only playing for pennies.’

‘Yeah, now maybe, but I know you and it’ll soon turn to pounds. You’re supposed to be giving it up, or have you forgotten that already?’

‘It’s only cards, Pete. It ain’t the dogs.’

‘It’s still gambling and if you lose your money as usual, don’t expect me to pick up the pieces.’

‘That won’t happen. I’m good at poker and I can take them.’

‘Yeah, like you’re good at picking out winners down the dog track.’

‘Bloody hell, Pete, it sounds like you’re gonna turn out to be a bigger nag than Lily.’

Pete’s eyes narrowed with anger. ‘That’s it, Ron. I’ve had enough. You’ll never change and our first night here has proved that.’

‘Look, if it upsets you that much, I won’t play poker.’

With a shake of his head, Pete said, ‘Please yourself, Ron. I ain’t here to be your keeper and if you want to gamble your wages away every week, that’s up to you. I’m here to work, to earn enough to set up a decent future. I need a partner who’ll be reliable, one with a bit of ambition, and that obviously ain’t you. I’ll find someone else.’

Bewildered, Ron slumped onto the side of his bed. All this bloody fuss about a penny card game! Yet even as this thought crossed his mind, Ron knew that Pete was right. As soon as he had a few bob, he’d planned to up the stakes, so sure that he could win. With a wry smile he looked up. ‘I don’t blame you, mate. I know I’m a lost cause, but I really do want to change.’

‘Yeah, so you’ve said, and so many times that I’ve lost count.’

‘Don’t give up on me, Pete. Give me one more chance.’

Pete gazed back at him, about to answer when Gerry called out again. ‘Ron, do you want in on this game or not?’

‘Nah, sorry, mate, leave me out. Gambling’s a mug’s game.’

There was a choking sound and then Pete began to laugh, doubling over with mirth as he gasped between guffaws. ‘A mug’s game. You said it’s a mug’s game. Blimey, Ron, you’re priceless.’

Ron joined in his laughter, but as they sobered he appealed, ‘Don’t start up a business with someone else, Pete. We’re partners, you and me. Come on. Give me one more chance.’

Their eyes met, Pete’s hardening as he said, ‘Yeah, all right, but it’s your last one.’

He meant it, Ron could see that. This really was his last chance—he’d have to make sure he didn’t blow it.

Chapter Ten

Mavis wasn’t sure what was wrong with her mother. Last week, when she’d told her that Miss Harwood wanted to talk to her at the parents’ meeting, she’d been snappy, saying that she didn’t have time to go. Mavis had been crushed. Miss Harwood still insisted that she could go on to art college and if her mother had spoken to her it could have made all the difference.

Dad had been true to his word, sending a fiver every week, and with money coming in the rent was paid, with food on the table too. On her fifteenth birthday he’d sent her a present, and Mavis had been thrilled with the watercolour paints and thick paper. Gran had given her a lovely new pink hat and scarf and, for just that one week, her mother had let her keep two shillings of the money she earned at Mrs Pugh’s.

Mavis knew that her mum didn’t have any money worries now, but she still wasn’t happy. She was quiet most of the time, distant, and when Mavis looked back it seemed that her mother had been acting strangely almost since Dad had left. Mavis had thought she must be missing him, just as she herself was, but her gran had laughed at that idea.

Her mother’s unhappiness couldn’t have anything to do with Gran. Yes, she was in hospital now, but it wasn’t anything serious. It had been an ulcer that prevented her from eating—no wonder she’d become so thin. She had been admitted to hospital four days ago, and now that she’d had the small operation, surely her mother would take her to see Gran that evening.

Mavis clutched the small, precious canvas as she made her way home, holding it against her chest to shield it from the rain. Today had been the end of term, mid April, and her last day at school. This was it! She was so proud of her painting and when her mother saw it surely it would change everything. She couldn’t wait to see her face and decided that she would show it to her now; she’d quickly pop in before she went to Mrs Pugh’s.

She passed an alley, yelping when hands came out to yank the canvas from her grasp. Mavis spun around, finding herself face to face with Tommy Wilson.

‘What have we got here then?’ he sneered.

‘Give it back! Oh, please, give it back!’

Mavis had carefully wrapped brown paper around the canvas, but Tommy ripped it away, laughing as he held up the picture. ‘Bloody hell. Look at that face. In fact, no thanks,’ and with that he lifted his leg to boot the canvas down the alley.

‘Oh, no … No!’ Mavis cried, pushing past Tommy to rush after it.

It had landed face down in a puddle, but, as Mavis bent down to retrieve it, Tommy was at her side, shoving her out of the way as his foot came out to stamp on the canvas.

‘Oh, don’t … don’t,’ she begged.

Still not satisfied, Tommy picked up the canvas again, this time slamming it down face up and, with one boot holding it in place, he used the heel of the other to gouge into the painting.

Mavis saw all her work destroyed, her dream disintegrating before her eyes. She sank down onto the wet ground, sobbing, hardly aware of Tommy’s hand when it touched her shoulder.

‘What’s all the fuss about? It’s only a daft painting.’

The contrition in his voice surprised Mavis, but she could only look up at him mutely, tears streaming down her cheeks.

‘Look, it’s your own fault,’ he said defensively. ‘Larry told you not to blab, but you didn’t listen and then that bitch, Sandra, opened her mouth too. Me and Larry were in right trouble and all for a bit of fun, that’s all.’

Still Mavis couldn’t talk. She could only shake her head, her eyes resting on the painting again. It was ruined, beyond repair, and once again she sobbed.

‘I only mucked up your picture, that’s all. You should think yourself lucky I didn’t take it out on you.’ And with that Tommy abruptly walked away.

Mavis didn’t know how long she sat on the ground, rain falling heavily and soaking her coat. At last she got up, and with one last look at the ruined canvas she desolately made her way home.

‘My God, Mavis. What happened to you?’

‘Oh, Mum …’

‘Get that coat off. You look wet through. Now tell me what happened.’

Mavis found her hands shaking so badly that she could barely undo the buttons. ‘I … I was on my way home, but then Tom … Tommy …’

‘Tommy Wilson! What did he do?’ she cried. ‘Did he touch you?’

‘He … he grabbed my painting. He … he ruined it.’

‘You wouldn’t be in this state over a flaming picture. Tell the truth, Mavis. What did he do to you?’

‘I am telling the truth. He didn’t touch me, but he … he destroyed my canvas. Oh, Mum, it was a good painting. Really good.’

‘For Christ’s sake, I don’t believe this. You’re supposed to be at Edith Pugh’s, but instead you turn up here like a drowned rat, crying about nothing.’

‘It … it isn’t nothing. When you saw my painting I thought you might let me go to art college.’

‘Art college! Are you out of your mind, girl?’

‘Mum, please,’ Mavis begged. ‘It’s the only thing I’m any good at. If you’d seen the portrait of Gran …’

‘Shut up! Your gran’s dying and you come grizzling to me about a silly painting.’ Lily threw a hand over her mouth. ‘Now look what you’ve done! She didn’t want me to tell you.’

Mavis stiffened in shock, hardly aware that her mother had collapsed onto a chair. Her gran was dying? No! No! It couldn’t be true. ‘Oh … Mum … she can’t be. You said she had an ulcer. That she was in hospital for a small operation.’

There was no answer, and then Mavis saw her mother lay her arms on the table, bending over to rest her head on them as sobs began to rack her body. She hurried forward, a hand hovering uncertainly until it came to rest on her mum’s head.

Lily reared up, eyes wild. ‘Don’t touch me! Get out! Go on, get out of my sight!’

Mavis grabbed her still sodden coat, crying too as she dashed out of the house. She began to run, faster and faster as though trying to escape the terrible news. Gran couldn’t be dying! She just couldn’t!

Lily heard the front door slam, but didn’t care. All she cared about was her mother. The past couple of months had been hell and almost more than she could bear. If it hadn’t been for the money that Ron sent and Mavis’s scant earnings, it would have been impossible. At least she hadn’t had to worry about finding stock and selling it. Instead she’d been able to spend every possible hour with her mother, looking after her, making sure her pain relief was increased, until four days ago when it had become impossible for her to remain at home.

Before she’d gone into hospital, how her mother had been able to put on such a front when Mavis called round was beyond Lily, but rally she did. And how her daughter could be so naïve was beyond Lily too. She must have seen her grandmother fading away before her eyes, but the stupid girl had believed their story of an ulcer. An ulcer! God, if only it was that! Oh, Mum, why did you leave it so long before you saw a doctor? Why did you wait until it was too late? And when you found out—why didn’t you tell me?

Lily knew the answer. As usual her mother had been trying to protect her. Misguided love, that’s what it was. If only her mother had told her when she’d been diagnosed. Lily groaned. She could have spent more time with her mother, but all she’d done was to pop round every day, too busy to make it a long visit. Yes, and if she hadn’t been so busy, so trapped in trying to make enough to pay the rent every week, maybe she would’ve seen what was right in front of her eyes. Why! Why hadn’t she taken more notice of her mother’s weight loss?

When she’d found out the truth, Lily had begged her mother to move in with her, but she’d stubbornly refused. It would have made things so much easier and she could have nursed her mother at night too, but she wouldn’t even allow that, nor her suggestion that she and Mavis move in with her. Instead her close friend and fellow widow next door had taken on that role, until, finally, she became so racked with pain that the doctor had insisted she be admitted to hospital.

Lily dashed a hand across her eyes. There was little time left, she knew that, and as soon as Mavis came home she’d go to the hospital again. Mavis, yes, she’d sent her daughter off with a flea in her ear, and now Lily felt a surge of guilt. She shouldn’t have taken it out on Mavis. It wasn’t her fault, but all that fuss about a silly painting had been the last straw.

Had Mavis gone to Mrs Pugh’s? Lily didn’t know, but seeing how devastated her daughter had been, she doubted it. Mavis knew the truth now, so maybe she should think about taking her to the hospital, but how would her mother react?

‘Mavis, what is it?’ Edith asked as the girl staggered over the doorstep. Her coat was wet, filthy with mud, and her hair hung around her face like rats’ tails.

‘Oh, Mrs Pugh. My … my gran’s dying.’

Edith placed an arm around Mavis’s shoulder, gently leading her through to the kitchen as she murmured, ‘How awful for you. I’m so sorry, my dear. Sit there and tell me all about it.’

Mavis slumped onto a fireside chair, and, though the spring days were warmer than the preceding harsh winter, Edith had a small fire burning. The cold was no friend to her pain and it would be a long time yet before her hearth was left empty of the comforting flames.

At first Mavis could barely speak, but gradually the story emerged. ‘I … I thought she was just in hospital for a small operation. Oh, Mrs Pugh, I can’t believe she’s dying.’

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