A Daughter’s Disgrace. Kitty Neale

      ‘That’s as may be,’ snapped Cora, ‘but it’s only offcuts. Fred couldn’t sell that stuff. So don’t you go getting above yourself, thinking you’re bringing us home something special.’ In truth she wouldn’t be without the extra supplies and she’d got used to them very quickly but that was no reason to be soft on her youngest. ‘See if you can get something this weekend. Linda’s bringing June up for Sunday tea. A bit of ham for sandwiches would be a start.’

      ‘I’m sure that will be fine.’ Alison couldn’t do enough for her big sister and niece. ‘Fred wouldn’t object to that.’

      ‘I suppose you’re going to measure Linda for a bridesmaid’s frock?’ Cora said, busying herself laying the table. ‘Here, Alison. Make yourself useful and do this.’

      Alison looked up from her seat by the fireplace. ‘And am I going to be a bridesmaid?’

      Hazel glared at her. ‘Why would I want you to spoil the wedding pictures? Linda’s different, she’ll look the part, but you’ll only depress people. Besides, God knows how much material we’d need to make you a frock. If you were normal height there’d be no problem and we could use the same pattern for both of you but no. You’re too tall and you’re a weird shape.’ She threw her handbag to the floor.

      ‘It’ll seem odd though, won’t it?’ Alison went on. She didn’t particularly want to be a bridesmaid, it would make her the focus of too much attention, but she knew how to rile her sister. A little spark of new confidence made her do so now. ‘Is Neville’s sister going to be a bridesmaid too? Cos if she is it’ll look a bit funny if I’m not one too.’

      ‘Of course Kathy’s being a bridesmaid. She’ll look really pretty. Which you won’t.’ However, Hazel hated the thought of doing the wrong thing in public. It didn’t matter how rude she was to her sister behind closed doors – she wanted to be seen to be respectable and nothing must spoil that impression. ‘I’ll think about it but don’t push your luck. And if – if – I say yes, you’ll have to stand at the back.’

      ‘Obviously,’ said Alison, setting down the salt and pepper. ‘As I’m going to be looking over all of your heads. Including Neville’s.’

      ‘Give it a rest,’ Cora shouted. She’d had enough. ‘I’m sick to death of hearin’ you go on. I don’t know what’s got into you. Don’t you dare ruin your sister’s big day.’ She almost groaned as her back gave her a painful twinge. Standing over the stove hadn’t helped. ‘Alison, you dish up while your sister puts away her work things. And less of your lip.’

      Alison dished up a meal for the second time that day, giving herself the smallest portion as she was still full from lunch at the butcher’s. She liked eating in the middle of the day – it gave her energy to work hard all afternoon. She found herself enjoying it more and more, as long as she didn’t have to cut up offal. She had at least stopped being sick at the sight of it or the smell of blood, and now her appetite was back with a vengeance. She had also started to chat to the customers and found herself even bantering with some of them – she couldn’t have imagined doing that a few weeks ago. It made it more difficult to put up with her mother and sister, though. She was more and more tempted to answer back, which she’d never have done before. Still, Linda and June were going to be here on Sunday. She could look forward to that at least. And maybe, just maybe, she would see Paul again tomorrow.

      ‘I don’t know what you think you’re smilin’ at,’ Cora snapped, seeing a dreamy look pass across her youngest daughter’s face. But Alison didn’t care. There was no way she’d mention him to her mother, but already she was thinking of what items they might be short of so she could make an excuse to pop in to the hardware store as soon as possible.

       Chapter Eight

      ‘It’s your round, Paul,’ said Paul’s best friend, Kenny Parker. They’d been in the pub since six o’clock and this would be their third pint. Paul was in no hurry to go home. He shared his flat with his father and two older brothers, and it was a tip. He hated the place but his father was adamant they couldn’t afford anything else, even with all of them working. Paul guessed that was because his father spent everything at the dog track, or if he couldn’t go there in person, at the bookies. It had been the same ever since his mother had died. This was the fourth place they’d moved to since then and each had been worse than the last.

      ‘Same again, mate?’

      Kenny nodded.

      ‘Here you go.’ Paul set the drinks down on the sticky table-top. ‘How’s work?’

      ‘Same old,’ said Kenny, sipping the bitter and smacking his lips. ‘Turn up at nine, leave at five, paid on Friday. Not much more to it. How’s yours? Been there a few weeks now, ain’t you?’

      ‘It’s all right,’ Paul said. ‘The boss is ancient and he can’t see what I’m doing half the time. Can’t say it’s anything to get excited about.’ He raised his glass and drank. ‘I might get some fun out of the girl who works in the next shop though.’

      Kenny looked up, interested. ‘What’s she like? Should I be jealous?’

      Paul wondered whether to wind his friend up and make Alison sound more than she really was but decided he would get caught out in the lie too easily if Kenny decided to pay Falcon Road a visit. ‘Nah, probably not. She’s not much of a looker.’

      ‘Then why are you bothering?’ Kenny asked. ‘What else has she got going for her?’

      ‘She’s got good tits,’ said Paul, which he hoped was true, although her mac hadn’t given him more than a rough idea. Still, he’d passed away several boring hours in the hardware shop imagining what might lie beneath. ‘And I reckon she’s got really long legs. She’s tall, see. But her face … no, you don’t want to know about it. Her teeth are horrible and so’s her hair.’

      ‘Bit of a mare then,’ said Kenny. ‘So you better keep yer eyes on her tits and legs if you don’t want to be put off.’

      ‘Well, I can do that easily enough,’ laughed Paul. ‘She’ll be desperate for me, you wait and see. She’ll be begging me for it.’

      ‘Bet you she won’t,’ said Kenny. He’d heard all this before and to the best of his knowledge no girl had ever begged Paul for anything.

      ‘Bet you she will,’ said Paul, suddenly serious. ‘It’s February now and I bet you five bob that before March is over I’ll have had her.’

      ‘You’re on.’

      ‘I shouldn’t even accept that as it’ll be like taking candy from a baby,’ said Paul, finishing his pint with relish. ‘But I know you’ll be offended if I say no. Five bob, end of March, she’ll have been begging me for weeks.’ He was certain he was right. And if she didn’t beg him, he’d have her anyway.

      ‘Nice sandwiches, Mum,’ said Linda. ‘June, have you tried one? Eat something so Granny can see you like her food.’

      ‘Oh, she can have some cake if she’d rather,’ said Cora, giving her granddaughter a cuddle. ‘You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you, Junie? Try some of this.’ She put a small slice of jam sponge on a plate and June eagerly took it from her.

      ‘What sort of material are you thinking about for our frocks, Hazel?’ asked Linda, who’d spent the last half-hour upstairs with her sisters, getting measured up. ‘Did you have a colour in mind?’

      ‘Something to go with my hair,’ said Hazel, pushing an auburn wave back over her ear. She was very proud of her hair but knew she’d have to avoid reds and pinks. ‘Probably green or blue. Suppose I’ll have to see what Joe Philpott’s got going. He said he’d keep an eye out for something nice for me.’

      ‘He’d