A Family’s Heartbreak. Kitty Neale

with you.’

      Jenny could feel herself blushing again, but she felt the same. In fact, she missed Craig when she was at work and was always eager to get home to be with him. Still embarrassed by his comment, she said, ‘And we could pick up some fish and chips for supper tonight.’

      ‘Smashing,’ he replied, ‘I’ll get this set up and then we can go.’

      He lightly brushed his lips on hers before turning his attention to the television. Jenny was left feeling like an electric current was buzzing through her. Even the slightest of touches from Craig excited her and there were times when she dreamed about creeping to be beside him on the sofa at night. Of course, she wouldn’t dare and Craig had kept his promise about no funny business, so they hadn’t done anything more than kiss. She would have liked to go further and she thought Craig would too, but it wasn’t possible, not unless they were married.

      It was odd, living together but separately, but she was so glad Craig had talked her into it. He’d rescued her, saved her life, and she’d never been happier. If only Gloria could be happy too, then everything would be perfect.

      Henry woke up. Though his children had left home over a month ago, he hadn’t adjusted to the silence. The house felt empty without them. He’d thought about finding them to bring them back but Jenny and Gloria were old enough to leave home and would probably refuse. That meant there’d only be Pamela to do the cooking and cleaning, along with looking after the boys, and he doubted the jumpy cow was up to it.

      So far he hadn’t seen Lizzie, but like a bad penny he knew she’d eventually turn up. When she did, he’d take great pleasure in telling her that all the kids had buggered off and there was no need to show her face at his door again.

      Henry put the kettle on the gas to boil and decided that once and for all, he was better off without the lot of them. He had more money in his pockets, and though the house might feel empty, it was nice and quiet. He looked at his watch. He’d have to get a move on or he’d be late for work, but his stomach growled. As he removed the lid from the bread bin, Henry recoiled in disgust at the green, mouldy loaf. The milk was no better – it had curdled – and he doubted the last remaining egg would be fresh enough to eat.

      Frustrated, he slumped on a chair, then kicked the one in front of him. His eyes roamed the room and he realised how much he’d let the place go. It was filthy. Plates and cups filled the sink, and flies were buzzing around. He couldn’t stand it, but he had no intention of cleaning it. That was women’s work, and with no daughters at home and a tart for a wife, he decided he’d have to find himself a new one. This time, though, he’d make sure she was barren and wouldn’t be the sort to answer back.

       Chapter 9

      Jenny walked towards the factory gates still on a high from the day before. They’d had a lovely day, she and Craig, but the time had flown by so quickly. He’d taken her down Carnaby Street, which had been amazing. A new restaurant had just opened that Craig told her was vegetarian. She thought that was very peculiar and couldn’t imagine a dinner with just spuds and veg.

      She wished they could have more days like yesterday. She’d been so carefree with Craig and all her worries had felt far behind her. She’d laughed when he’d splashed her with water from the fountain at Piccadilly Circus, and she’d giggled when he’d chased her up and down the steps of Nelson’s Column, threatening to squidge an ice-cream cone in her face. Today, though, it was back to reality and Jenny prepared herself for another tedious day on the factory line.

      She didn’t mind the work; it was easy enough, and the factory were fair employers. The women she worked alongside were nice enough, though Jenny often found them brash and loud. They enjoyed a good gossip, but she rarely joined in. Now she hoped they wouldn’t discover that she was living with Craig as she would surely become a topic of their conversation.

      As Jenny approached the gates, she heard the sound of a large vehicle trundling down the road and glanced over her shoulder. She was suddenly struck with fear when, to her horror, she realised it was a dustcart. She had no idea if her father was on the truck and panicked. Instead of darting for cover, she stood transfixed, staring at the cart as it drew closer. Her breaths became fast and shallow and the world began to spin. Run, Jenny, run, she told herself, but her trembling legs wouldn’t budge.

      As the truck slowly passed, Jenny turned her head and followed it with her eyes. Her father wasn’t riding on the back and Jenny’s body slumped with relief. She took a few deep breaths and tried to calm herself. That had been close, far closer than she felt comfortable with. She had no idea how her father would have reacted if he’d seen her, but it was something she’d rather not discover.

      Jenny resumed walking but picked up her pace. She was safe in the factory, out of harm’s way. She was safe at home too, thanks to Craig, and wished she was back there now, secure in his reassuring arms. He knew what she’d been through and had sworn he’d always look after her. She believed he would, but he couldn’t be with her every minute of every day, and moments like just now made her realise how much she still lived in terror of her father.

      Gloria detested every minute of living in Craig’s flat. Being in such close proximity to everyone drove her mad and she began to dislike them all. Jenny was a goody-two-shoes, Pamela was a wimp, the boys were irritating and Craig, well, Craig was deaf and as far as she was concerned that was a good enough reason not to like him. At least she could make scathing remarks about him behind his back and he couldn’t hear her. It was something she did regularly to amuse herself, much to Jenny’s disgust.

      Gloria grimaced. Then there was her gran living downstairs and too close. She was always spoiling the boys and singing Jenny’s praises. Gloria couldn’t stand listening to her, so she’d stopped popping in to see the old woman. She didn’t miss her.

      She’d also defied Jenny and was now working part-time in Queenie’s. She refused to hand over any of her wages, using the excuse that she didn’t eat at Craig’s so why should she contribute? Craig didn’t have to pay extra rent because they were living there. And what Jenny gave him would cover any larger bills. The sooner she got out of there, Gloria thought, the better.

      That morning, she stood behind the shop counter and smiled wryly when she heard Dennis’s footsteps above. He was out of his bed at last, and Gloria knew he’d be down to see her soon. She quickly grabbed her handbag to pull out a compact and her red lipstick, making the effort as always to look nice for her man. They’d been seeing each other for three weeks now, since the morning when he’d called into the shop and she’d caught his eye. Gloria would often slip up to his room after work. It made working in Queenie’s far more enjoyable.

      ‘Hello, gorgeous, how’s my favourite girl this morning?’ Dennis drawled as he sauntered into the shop.

      ‘I’m not just your favourite girl, I’m your only girl,’ Gloria said, and slipped him a packet of cigarettes. She had no intention of putting the money for them in the till. She would often pinch a bob or two as well. She reasoned it was no more than she deserved, since Queenie paid such crap wages.

      ‘Are you coming up to mine later when you’ve finished?’

      ‘Yeah, but can’t you stay down here for a bit and keep me company? It’s quiet today and I’m bored,’ Gloria asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

      ‘Queenie doesn’t like me hanging about in the shop.’

      ‘Well, Queenie isn’t here, is she?’

      ‘All right, but only for half an hour.’

      ‘Thanks, Dennis. That’s cheered me up.’

      ‘Why, what are you unhappy about?’

      ‘Everything! You’re the only good thing in my life. I hate living at Craig’s. Can you imagine what it’s like? Six of us all crammed into a one-bedroom flat. Every time I go in the bathroom, someone starts hammering on the door for me to hurry up. There’s