A Mother’s Sacrifice. Kitty Neale

twisted ankle. So instead he remained a short distance behind her whilst he re-thought his plan.

      Suddenly, Glenda was waving and to Billy’s horror he saw his brother running up to her. Frank kissed her affectionately on the cheek then embraced her in a way that looked far too friendly. The cheeky swine, Billy thought, no wonder he’d been acting so cagey lately. He was secretly meeting Glenda! Jealousy coursed through Billy’s veins and an angry knot grew in his stomach. It was bad enough that he had Harry to contend with when it came to Glenda’s affections, but now there was Frank too. What was wrong with Glenda that she could see anything in his skinny runt of a brother? Hatred for Frank surged through him and he ground his teeth. Billy pictured Harry kicking Frank’s head in. He wanted his brother to suffer big time.

      Billy hated seeing them together, yet something kept him following the couple, unable to take his eyes off Glenda as she headed towards the park café, happily nattering away to Frank.

      ‘No, this won’t do. I ain’t having it,’ Billy muttered over and over, ‘I’ll put a stop to this! Just you wait and see, Frank. Yeah, you’re gonna pay for taking my girl!’

      He took Glenda’s stolen knickers from his pocket, twisted the material tightly and watched as his knuckles went white, imagining that those knickers were around Frank’s neck.

      Frank’s mother, Joyce, was draining some boiled cabbage as he came through the front door of the prefab, whistling the same happy tune as he had that morning. Even his mum’s stinking veg couldn’t ruin his mood, Frank thought, clicking his heels as he skipped up the hallway to his bedroom.

      Then Frank heard his mother call out.

      ‘Where ’ave you been, Frank? I thought you had the day off and you was gonna clean me windows?’

      Bugger, he’d forgotten. He walked back to the kitchen, taking his braces from his shoulders and letting them fall to his sides.

      ‘Yeah, sorry, Mum. The window cleaning went clean out me head, ha ha, get it, clean out me head? Never mind,’ he said, looking at his mother’s blank expression. ‘I went up Charing Cross way. I fancied a mooch around them old bookshops.’

      ‘Charing Cross! Books? You ain’t blinkin’ normal, Frank. Do you think any blokes around here ever got anywhere on books! Your father would be turning in his grave … bloody books my arse! Typical of you though. You’ve always thought you’re a cut above the rest of us, but just remember, son, you ain’t! You’re just like the rest of us, so forget those fanciful ideas of yours and worry about how we’re gonna get a proper house. Your brother never seems to bring home a full pay packet and you, pushing them invalids around, well, you should be out there looking for a real man’s job!’

      ‘Leave it out, will ya, Mum? I’ve got a “proper” job. Just ’cos I don’t come home every night covered in muck doesn’t mean I’m not working. And as for my books, I enjoy reading them!’

      ‘The only thing those bloody books are good for is fuel for the fire! Now cut out the backchat and get washed up for your tea. Where’s that brother of yours? The lazy sod didn’t go to work again today so he should be home by now. He thinks I’m stupid and didn’t suss it out, but as he was dressed up in his best white shirt it was a bit of a giveaway. I dunno what he’s been up to, but you can bet your life it involves a woman.’

      It was gone ten that night when the front door opened and Billy staggered in, the smell of beer billowing from him.

      ‘About time too. Where the hell ’ave you been? Spending my house money down the Castle again, no doubt?’ Joyce spat.

      ‘Don’t bloody start, woman,’ Billy slurred as he bounced off the kitchen door frame, ‘I’ve had it up to here today.’

      ‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’ Joyce snarled at her younger son. ‘I’m your bleedin’ mother so show me some respect. Don’t take me for a fool neither. I know you haven’t been to work.’

      ‘No, I ain’t, and so what! Shall I tell you where I went earlier today?’ Billy glared at Frank. ‘I went to Battersea Park, and do you know what I saw? Eh? I’ll tell you, shall I, Mum? I saw our Frank with a woman, but you’ll never guess who she is. No, of course you won’t so I’ll tell you –’

      ‘Billy!’ Frank yelled, panicked. ‘Shut your mouth! Come on, let’s go outside for a little chat.’

      ‘I don’t think so, Frank. I reckon Mum should know what’s been going on. After all, we both know there’s gonna be trouble, and trouble that will end up on her doorstep.’

      Joyce was suddenly standing between the two men, her eyes dark with anger as she pushed the sleeves of her cardigan up to her elbows, which was a sure sign she meant business.

      ‘Billy! Frank! The pair of you, sit at that table, and you had better tell me what’s going on!’

      Frank went to speak but Billy got in first.

      ‘Frank has been seeing that Glenda Jenkins – you know, the one who is married to Harry.’

      ‘It’s not what you think, Mum, honest. We’re just friends,’ Frank quickly protested. He wasn’t prepared for this. Apart from Harry, the last people he wanted to know about him and Glenda were his mother or his brother. He knew his mother would give him an ear bashing about having anything to do with a married woman and as for Billy, well, it was none of his business.

      ‘From what I saw, it looked like more than that,’ said Billy sarcastically.

      ‘I don’t know what you think you clocked, Billy, but I’m telling you, there’s nothing more to me and Glenda than friendship.’

      ‘So you’re saying that you have a “friendship” with Glenda Jenkins, one that I don’t suppose her old man knows anything about. Is that right?’ asked Joyce.

      ‘Yeah, but that’s all there is to it, Mum. Like I said, we’re just mates.’

      ‘Not any more you ain’t! I know all about them Jenkinses, bloody gyppos, the lot of them. He’s a nutter, that Harry. If he finds that you’re seeing his missus he’ll be straight round here and he’ll have your guts for garters! You’ve got to stop seeing her,’ Joyce warned.

      Frank looked at his younger brother, who was smiling slyly, before turning to his mother again. ‘I don’t see why. We’re doing nothing wrong. We just talk, that’s all.’

      ‘In that case, if it’s so innocent, how come her old man knows nothing about it?’

      Frank sighed and said heavily, ‘Because, like Billy, he might get the wrong idea.’

      ‘Anyone would. She’s a married woman and you’re meeting behind her husband’s back. You’ve got to knock it on the head, Frank. If you don’t and Harry Jenkins gets wind of it, as I said, he’ll be round here to give you a kicking. From what I’ve heard about him he might give me a slap too, so stop seeing her, Frank. She ain’t worth it.’

      Frank saw that his mother was wringing her hands in fear and knew that she was right. If Harry found out, he would go berserk and he’d be vying for Frank’s blood. However, his mum was wrong about one thing. Glenda Jenkins was worth it.

      Billy woke up the next morning with a thumping headache. He’d drunk far too much beer the day before, but had felt the need to drown his sorrows after the shock of finding his brother with Glenda. Though his memory was a bit fuzzy, Billy recalled the conversation at the kitchen table with Frank and his mum. He knew that Frank wasn’t prepared to stop seeing Glenda. Nothing his mother had said would change Frank’s mind, so if she couldn’t make him stop, Billy was left with no option other than go to the one person who could – Harry.

      He really didn’t feel like going to work today, not with this stinking hangover, and the cold October morning wasn’t doing anything to encourage him out of the warmth of his bed, but he suddenly felt invigorated and spurred on at the thought of grassing Frank up to Harry.

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