no more men about the place, that’s fer sure,’ Ruby said. ‘Peter’s already getting his father’s swagger about him … he’s only eight ’n’ all.’
‘Will you come to the antenatal clinic next time for a checkup at the surgery? It’s on Wednesday afternoons at two o’clock.’
‘If I can,’ Ruby said, as she always did.
Kathy knew that she wouldn’t turn up. If the pregnant women in the dilapidated cottages around Fairclough Street would just attend the local clinic for a quick checkup, it would save her the job of home visits.
Kathy gave Pansy a wave as she went towards the door. Glancing over a shoulder, she saw that Ruby was, head in hands, sipping the weak cup of tea that had been left untouched on the table. She felt a surge of hatred for Charlie Potter and all his like. It was wasted passion. The women would never leave. As Ruby had pointed out, they had no choice but to stay with the brutes and take a bit of happiness where they could with other men.
‘What have you done to your hair?’
Blanche Raven turned her head, inspecting her new hairstyle in the hallway mirror. She was pleased with the permanent wave she’d had put in, even if her mother wasn’t, and she guessed from the tone of her voice that Gladys didn’t like it. But then her mother could find fault with anything, and sound sour when discussing the weather on a fine day.
‘Is Dad in?’ Blanche asked, ignoring her mother’s question. She was after a sub off her father, having just spent all her wages at the hairdresser’s. She knew asking her mother for a few bob would be a dead loss, even though Gladys was flush, having just got paid for her job as a machinist.
‘Your father’s gone out. I think he’s meeting Nick, ’cos he heard he might have a job for him, but of course, I don’t get told all of it.’
The mention of her estranged husband made Blanche prick up her ears. She’d only been in minutes but she buttoned her coat ready to leave the house again.
Gladys Scott eyed her daughter grimly. ‘Thinking of going chasing after Nick again, are you? Won’t do you no good, my girl. He still won’t take you back, and you know it.’
‘Oh, shut up, Mum,’ Blanche muttered, crashing the front door shut behind her. She hunched her shoulders against a sense of dejection and the bitter February wind. She feared her mother was right. Nick had given her the brush-off earlier in the week when she’d turned up at his place with seduction on her mind. She’d felt humiliated when he’d practically bundled her out of the door and told her to go home. He hadn’t even offered her a lift in his flash car and she’d had to catch the bus.
Hearing a bus wheezing to a stop at the corner of Bethnal Green Road, Blanche trotted towards it and managed to jump on just before it pulled off. She settled down on a seat next to a fat woman with a basket on her lap. The woman gave her a glare, even though she was taking up most of the seat with her porky backside.
When it reached her stop, Blanche got off the bus and walked briskly in the direction of the Grave Maurice pub. She was hoping that Nick would be in his local, as he usually was at dinnertime, and that her dad would be with him. Nick was more tolerant of her company when her father was around because the two men liked one another. If only she’d listened to her father’s advice rather than her mother’s, she’d never have let Nick Raven slip through her fingers.
Blanche dawdled outside, peering through the pub windows. She was itching to creep inside and see if Nick and her father were propping up the bar, but she had been brought up right – as her mother would term it – and knew it wasn’t nice for a young woman to enter such a rough house on her own. Besides, Nick didn’t like pushy women – he’d never got on with her mother – and wouldn’t appreciate Blanche marching in on him now if he was with pals. But Blanche didn’t fancy loitering outside freezing to death so she had a decision to make.
‘Who you after, then?’ A burly fellow had just emerged from the pub and seen her on tiptoe, trying to peer into the saloon bar over the frosted-glass pane. He gave Blanche an appreciative top-to-toe look. She was a pretty brunette, and her ample bust and curvy hips were undisguised by the heavy winter coat she wore. He thought she seemed familiar but couldn’t bring to mind where he’d met her before.
‘Me dad and me husband, Nick Raven,’ Blanche answered. She was always proud to let people know who she’d married. ‘I think they might be having a drink inside.’ Despite the fact he looked like a low-life navvy, Blanche preened beneath the fellow’s leer, unconsciously patting her crisp dark waves.
‘Yeah … they are in there.’ Charlie Potter gave her a grin. Now he knew why he’d not immediately recognised her. Blanche Raven had cut her long hair short and put on a bit of weight since the days when she’d been Wes Silver’s bit on the side. ‘Well, depending on which old man you’re after, could be you turned up just in time, luv. Nick’s got an admirer moving in on him.’
‘Oh, has he!’ Blanche snapped and, chin high, stormed past, bristling as she heard laughter following her.
She pushed open the pub door and, once her eyes adjusted to the smoky interior, spied the men she was after. Her husband was leaning on the bar just yards away. The place was crowded but his height and fair hair made him easily recognisable. Her short, balding father wasn’t quite so quickly located at his side. Blanche heard his gravelly laugh before she spotted him perched on a stool. She was relieved to see that there didn’t appear to be any women with them. Not that she’d have been surprised to see Nick with somebody else. He made no secret of the fact that he’d had affairs since they’d split up.
Blanche pursed her lips indignantly. Perhaps the navvy had thought he was being funny trying to rile her. She reckoned he’d known her identity even before she told him she was Nick’s wife, although she couldn’t place him. Nondescript old scruffs like him were ten a penny round these parts. Blanche was glad people knew of her association with Nick, despite the fact they’d been separated now for over three years.
Her father had turned and spotted her. He gave her a frown but raised a hand in greeting. The movement drew Nick’s attention. Blanche noticed he didn’t seem so pleased to see her; nevertheless, she weaved through the crowd to join them.
‘What’ll you have, Blanche?’ Nick asked mildly.
Blanche had to give it to her husband: even though she’d done the dirty on him, he’d always remained generous and polite to her. In fact, she knew if she had an opportunity to ask him for money before they parted, he’d probably hand over a note to her.
‘Gin ’n’ orange, thanks.’ Blanche gave him a coy smile.
‘What you doin’ here?’ her father demanded in a whisper when Nick turned away to get her drink.
‘Mum said you was with Nick … getting a job … so I thought I’d come and see you both,’ Blanche muttered defiantly.
‘Well, I’m more likely to get me job if you ain’t around,’ Tony Scott retorted, but not too unkindly. He knew his daughter had a renewed hankering for Nick, and he knew why that was. He feared she was wasting her time, but nevertheless wished the couple would get back together. At least then he’d have a bit of a peaceful home life.
Nick Raven was doing all right for himself now. He might not have been when he did the decent thing and married Blanche, having got her pregnant. Then Nick had been driving a lorry for a pittance and his son-in-law’s lack of cash and prospects had been the problem where Tony’s wife and daughter were concerned. Blanche had acted as though she was doing Nick a favour by agreeing to marry him rather than the other way around.
Nick was now on his way up and Blanche would have been going places with him but for her greed and her mother’s influence. Tony knew that it had been with his wife’s encouragement that their daughter had started an affair