Dream On (7 page)

By the time Ginny eventually got back to Bailey Street she was cold, wet through and thoroughly miserable; but even though all she felt like doing was going indoors, slipping into a warm dressing-gown and sitting in front of the fire with a nice, hot cup of tea, she couldn't bring herself to walk past Violet Varney's without at least knocking on her door to see how she was getting on.

In the four months since the poor woman had heard of her husband's death, Ginny had called on her most evenings, although Violet usually found a reason not to let her over the street doorstep. It was obvious, even from the brief glimpses Ginny had of her, that she was not doing very well.

Ginny rapped on the glass panel in the door. ‘Violet? You there?'

Violet's youngest, a skinny, hollow-eyed child of about ten, opened the door just wide enough to peer through the crack. ‘Who is it?'

‘It's me, babe. Ginny, from over the road.'

The little girl opened the door wider. ‘Me mum's in the kitchen,' she said, nodding along the passage.

‘You sure it's all right if I come in? Mummy usually talks to me out here.'

‘Mum only said I was to say she wasn't in if it was the rent man, or the bloke for the tally money. She never said nothing about you.'

Ginny nodded, but she wasn't actually listening to what the child was saying, she was far too preoccupied with the look of her. There had been talk that Violet was neglecting the kids, giving them a beating even – something that nobody would ever have thought of accusing her of before – and here, right in front of Ginny seemed to be proof that the gossips were right for once. The child's cheek had a series of wounds across it that certainly hadn't come from any playground rough and tumble; she had been cut with something a lot sharper than a stone or a hopscotch marker.

As soon as she noticed Ginny looking at the red, angry slashes, the little girl instinctively raised her hand to her face and dropped her chin, making Ginny flinch at her victim's shame.

‘She's in the scullery,' the child muttered, then turned on her heel and fled.

It tore at Ginny's heart as she watched the poor, scrawny mite disappear up the unlit stairway. She felt as though she could cry out loud with pain, but not only for the desperate youngster.

Ginny had seen herself reflected in the look that had clouded the child's pale, careworn little features. It was a look that Ginny sometimes glimpsed lately, when she sat in front of the mirror. No matter how she tried to deny it – to brush it away, refuse to acknowledge it – it was a look that had stained, and that told anyone who chose to see that Ginny was a woman who knew what it was like to have her dreams shattered.

When Ginny eventually went home she found Ted sitting at the kitchen table eating his tea, with the evening paper propped up in front of him against the sugar bowl.

‘Where d'you think you've been?' he asked, flicking over the page.

Ginny took off her sopping wet coat, draped it over the back of one of the chairs and stood it in front of the gas stove to dry. ‘I popped in to see Violet Varney, on me way back from work,' she said shaking out her hat and combing back her damp hair with her fingers. ‘She wasn't very happy at first that her little one had let me in.'

Ted looked up at her with disgust. ‘Well, while you was over there chatting, me mum had to do me tea for me. And now she's so whacked out, she's had to go up and have a lay down. Satisfied, are you?'

Ginny thought about her spoilt, idle mother-in-law snoring her head off upstairs, and she thought about how exhausted Violet Varney looked and how skinny and unhealthy the child had been.

She would have liked to have gone up and dragged Nellie out of bed and across the street to see what being whacked out really meant. She'd have liked to have rubbed her self-regarding nose in it, and she'd have liked to have told the lazy old bugger – and Ted – exactly how she felt.

Instead, Ginny said nothing. She knew there were lines she shouldn't cross, so, as always, she acted the appeaser. ‘I wasn't chatting, Ted,' she said defensively, as she filled the kettle at the sink. ‘And I only meant to go in for a couple of minutes. You know, to see if there was anything I could do. But when I saw the state she was in—'

‘What state d'you expect her to be in?' Ted interrupted. He tore a chunk of bread from the loaf, mopped up the gravy from his plate and shoved it in his mouth.

Ginny didn't reply immediately. She lit the gas and sat down at the table to wait for the water to boil. Ted liked to have a cup of tea after he had finished his meal. She herself had no appetite after what she had seen across the road, but even if she had, she knew it would have been pointless to ask if Nellie had made anything for her to eat.

‘I didn't expect her to be as bad as she is, to tell you the truth, Ted,' she said eventually. ‘She was going on about all sorts. Kind of rambling. She was talking about this place, Southern Rhodesia, wherever that is. A welfare lady went round to see her the other day and said they was offering places at some college over there. And parents who ain't managing very well can send their kids. Their older ones like. It's because they need more people in their country or something. I didn't really understand what Violet was going on about, but she reckoned it sounded like a good thing.' Ginny sighed loudly. ‘Can you imagine being that desperate that you'd let some stranger take your child?'

She waited a moment to see if Ted had anything to say about such a terrible decision for someone to make. When he said nothing, she continued with her story. ‘You see, this welfare lady turned up because of the school.' Ginny got up and warmed the pot and began slowly spooning in measures of tea. ‘They was worried Violet's been beating the kids. Not giving them a smack, I don't mean, but really hurting them. She's been driven off her head I reckon, since she heard about her Bert.'

Ginny filled the pot with the boiling water and carried it back to the table. ‘I think she's gonna do it, you know, Ted. See, she's really in trouble.'

Ted snorted derisively and forked in another mouthful. ‘What, one of her punters put her in the club, has he?'

Ginny almost dropped the teapot. ‘You
know
what she's been up to?'

‘Don't everyone? She's been hanging around outside the billiard hall down Chris Street for months now, waiting for customers.'

Ginny shook her head. ‘I never knew. In fact, I didn't even know whether to believe her when she was telling me just now. It's not like her to say much at all, especially about personal things. So when all that came pouring out, well . . . I didn't know what to say. But she said it was a relief to have someone to talk to about it.'

She poured Ted's tea, added sugar and milk and automatically stirred it for him, before setting it down next to his plate.

‘And d'you know what else she told me?' she continued in a low voice. ‘She thinks she's got a dose.' Ginny shuddered. ‘VD. Can you imagine? Said she's been going with all sorts of men, just to get a few bob for the kids. She was so scared they'd put them in a home if she wasn't feeding them right and dressing them decent. But the poor little devils was more at risk in their own flipping house. She was so upset when she saw how one of the blokes she brought home the other night looked at her youngest that she went sort of barmy.'

Ginny took a gulp of her scalding hot tea as Violet's horrific words replayed in her head. ‘She held her down and cut her little face. With the bread knife. Said she was trying to make her look ugly.'

‘Silly whore.' Ted threw down his knife and fork, and shoved his plate away from him.

‘I don't understand it either, Ted. I can't imagine how desperate you'd have to be to go and do something like that. How anyone could sell their body . . .' Ginny shuddered again. ‘But at least she's gonna try and do her best for the kids. She's gonna send the oldest two to this Rhodesia place. And the others are gonna live with her sister. Until she can find a way to get herself straight. She feels so guilty about what's been happening. But I said to her, it's not your fault, I said. Well, what else could I say? But honestly, Ted, fancy doing that. It's horrible. If only she'd have said something. If only she'd have let people help her.'

Ginny picked up Ted's plate and carried it to the sink. She turned on the tap and looked over her shoulder. ‘I suppose it'll be easier to understand when we've got kids of our own.'

Ginny winced as she realised, too late, that she'd gone and blurted it out. Instead of preparing him gently as she had intended, of speaking to him about her dreams of them having a baby, a proper family of their own, and getting him used to the idea, she'd just gone and said it. She could have bitten her tongue off. She'd mucked it up. She was
so
stupid.

Ted picked up the paper and folded it neatly. ‘What did you say?'

‘I never meant—'

‘Look. You've got on me nerves enough tonight already. Now what did I tell you?'

‘I'm sorry, Ted, I—'

‘Don't sorry me.' Slowly, he rose to his feet and walked over to her. ‘I asked you a question. What did I tell you?'

Her mouth was so dry she could barely get the words out and the cold, hard edge of the sink was digging into her back. ‘Not to talk about having kids.'

‘And what did you just do?'

‘I didn't mean—'

‘You didn't
what
?' Ted grabbed hold of a handful of her hair and jerked her head back.

‘I didn't mean anything,' she gasped through the pain, desperate not to let the plate slip between her fingers and drop to the floor. That would only make him angrier.

Ted drew back his fist and slammed it full into her cheek. ‘I told you last time. Why don't you just keep that mouth o' your'n shut? That's another black eye you've made me give you.' He stared at her already swelling face and blinked rapidly as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. ‘Look what you've made me do, you stupid cow.'

Ginny opened her mouth to apologise, but said nothing when he yanked her hair even harder.

‘Now, you ain't gonna start making no noise and wake me mother up an' all, are you?'

Ginny gave a tiny shake of her head. Why
was
she so stupid? She felt so ashamed of herself. She'd done it again. Why did she have to go upsetting him all the time?

Careful not to pull away from him, she stretched her arm behind her and put the plate gently on to the wooden draining board. Then, biting her lip to stop herself screaming out in agony, she let him drag her out of the room and up the stairs by her hair.

‘TED . . .'

‘Yeah?' He sounded bored. He could never see the point in talking after sex.

‘Have you read about them GI brides?' Her voice was soft and cajoling.

‘What about 'em?' Ted stretched his arms above his head and drummed his knuckles rhythmically on the headboard. Here we go.

‘They're going to special camps to learn about what it's gonna be like in America. Before they leave to go over to be with their new husbands.' She sighed longingly. ‘Can you imagine what it must be like? Fancy having to learn about a whole new way of life because it's so different from this rotten hole. They've got everything over there. Just like you see in the films. It must be smashing.'

‘You got something to complain about, then?'

She gasped at the stupidity of his question. ‘Are you kidding? With this new rationing lark it's as bad as it was during the sodding war. It's freezing cold out; there's no coal; and I'm telling you, I'm sick and tired of bloody queuing for every single thing I want. And at least when the war was on there was a bit of fun.'

A slow smile spread over Ted's face. ‘I thought we just had a bit of fun.'

Dilys snuggled up to him. ‘We did, but . . .'

‘But you want some more little presents?'

‘Well . . .'

Ted threw off the covers and, unselfconsciously naked, he walked over to the wardrobe he shared with Ginny and pulled open the door.

‘There's no rationing when you're with me, darling. Help yourself.'

He picked up his jacket from the floor and patted the pockets to find his cigarettes and matches. ‘But don't be too greedy, eh?'

Ted hadn't even finished speaking when Dilys, also naked, was beside him on her knees, raking through the pile of things that had been half hidden by the hems of her supposedly best friend's dresses.

‘These are lovely, Ted,' murmured Dilys, tearing open a packet of stockings and draping the shiny lengths of nylon over her arm. ‘Really lovely.'

Carefully she put them to one side and dived back into the treasure store.

Her face was glowing with covetousness as she reappeared with a square-shouldered bottle of scent. ‘Is this really the proper gear?' she breathed.

‘What else would you expect me to have?' he asked, flopping back on to the tangle of bedclothes. ‘Dig a bit deeper, there's some chocolates in there and all.'

Dilys was in heaven. Sitting there, rooting through the packets and cartons, she was the picture of a spoilt child on Christmas morning, unwilling to share her booty with her less pushy brothers and sisters.

‘Oi, Dilys! Watch how you handle them boxes,' Ted warned her, his eyes narrowed against the smoke from his cigarete. ‘I've gotta sell that lot.'

She flashed a worried look at him over her shoulder. ‘Not all of it?'

He laughed, recognising his own greed in hers. ‘No. But don't go too mad. I've got a living to make, remember.'

Dilys held up the nylons again, admiring their sheen against the pale March sunlight that was filtering through the freshly laundered lace curtains – the same lace curtains that, only a few days before, she had stood on her street doorstep watching Ginny rehang after she had washed them and cleaned the windows.