under the railway bridge into Chestnut Grove and stopped at the sweetshop to buy Roy’s favourite, Barratt’s Sherbet Fountain. It amused her that he liked the childish sweet, and that he liked to share it with her. She took pleasure in seductively teasing him. He would react to anything suggestive and watch with desire as she’d suck the sherbet from the liquorice stick. They’d met in the ABC Café where she’d been sipping a glass of Coca-Cola. She’d spotted Roy watching her from a table opposite, and as she had lifted her lips from the glass, she’d lasciviously licked them. Roy’s jaw had dropped, and a few cheeky grins later he’d joined her. Soon afterwards he asked her out.
It was past noon, and the High Road was busy with shoppers milling around, though she guessed Roy would probably be just about waking up. They’d had a late night, and she smiled at the memory of their lovemaking when they’d returned home. Despite that, Lizzie had woken early, and if Roy questioned where she’d been it would be an easy lie to tell him she’d been up the market.
‘It’s me,’ Lizzie called as she let herself into Roy’s flat above the ironmonger’s. All the curtains were drawn, blocking out the bright sunshine and leaving the place in darkness.
‘Come and give me a cuddle,’ Roy shouted from the bedroom.
Lizzie smiled wryly. She knew what he wanted. His appetite for her was insatiable, and she couldn’t wait to climb between the sheets and feel his smooth, muscular body. He was like a finely tuned sports car, unlike the old jalopy she’d left a couple of years ago. Huh, she thought, Henry couldn’t even raise a smile, let alone anything else.
Gloria had moaned about it but stayed home to look after Peter and Timmy whilst Jenny and Pamela headed off to see Edith, their elderly gran. Jenny had left specific instructions with Gloria. She’d said that if their dad came home and he wasn’t drunk, she was to take the boys to Tooting Bec swings and not come home until teatime. The boys liked it there as they could wave to the trains as they passed. Gloria had agreed it was probably best to stay out of his way, though she’d said it was unlikely he’d come home sober. They all preferred it when their dad was drunk. He’d usually pass out.
When they arrived at their gran’s, Jenny pushed open the shared street door and stepped into the communal hall. The house was divided in two, her gran’s flat on the ground floor. Jenny had a key and let herself in and Pamela followed. The flat had one bedroom, a small lounge, a tiny kitchen and a toilet separate from the bathroom. It had recently been updated with modern conveniences, but her gran said she preferred it as it had been. She’d lived there for the past twenty years, ten of them alone since her husband had died.
The smell of freshly baked bread greeted them, making Jenny’s nostrils twitch. She breathed in the aroma and her mouth watered. Her gran’s eyesight was failing, probably caused by cataracts, but she still managed to bake a loaf every Saturday and treat them all to jam tarts.
‘Hello, love, you’re early,’ her gran said warmly when she saw Jenny in the lounge doorway.
‘Hiya, Gran. I’ve got Pamela with me today. How are you?’ Jenny asked as she bent to kiss her grandmother’s wrinkled cheek. She visited her as often as possible, always on a Saturday, and during the week when she could. It wasn’t easy, what with working full-time in Mullard’s factory and her younger siblings at home.
‘I’m all right, love,’ the old lady answered, ‘but I miss the Stewart family from upstairs. It used to be handy to bang me broomstick on the ceiling and Moira would pop down, but that new chap up there, he’s as deaf as a bleedin’ post. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a lovely young man and nice enough, but it ain’t no good to me if he can’t hear me when I need something.’
‘What do you need, Gran?’ Jenny asked. She missed the Stewarts too. It had given her peace of mind to know they were keeping an eye on her gran, but they’d moved back to Scotland.
‘Nothing, but I had the fright of my life the other evening. I was sat here, minding my own business, and I’m sure a mickey ran over my feet.’ Edith shuddered at the memory. ‘I can’t stand the little blighters, ergh! Trouble is, my eyes ain’t what they used to be, and I can’t see ’em. Moira would have come down and checked the room for me.’
‘We’ll have to do something about them, Gran.’
‘Yeah, I know. Pamela, take some coins out of my purse, it’s in my bag on the sideboard. Be a good girl and pop to the shops for a few of them mice trap things. I hate the snapping noise they make, but I’d prefer ’em with broken necks rather than running riot in my flat.’
Pamela fished out a few coins, quietly left and Edith frowned. ‘Is she all right? She ain’t said two words since she’s been here. Has your father been kicking off again?’
Jenny sighed. She didn’t like telling her gran about the unbearable situation at home, but Edith 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