A Daughter’s Disgrace. Kitty Neale

can all enjoy this whereas it’s only you who gets to wear a big white wedding dress.’

      ‘Can I have a special dress?’ asked June. She wasn’t sure what they were talking about but she did like getting new clothes.

      ‘We’ll see,’ said Linda, ‘but you can’t go getting jam over it.’ She wiped her daughter’s face with her handkerchief. ‘That’s better. Maybe you can have a frock trimmed with the same pattern that Mummy and Auntie Alison will be wearing.’

      Hazel knew that June would steal the show if she was a flower girl and couldn’t work out if that would be good or not. Would it take attention away from her? ‘We’ve got to get enough for Kathy’s dress as well so I ain’t sure if there will be enough …’

      ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t mean you’d have to fork out for another one,’ said Linda, helping herself to another sandwich. ‘I only meant if there were scraps left over we could make a bow or a ruffle or something like that. If it’s a problem then Terry will be happy to pay. He’s doing really well at the moment.’

      ‘That’s good,’ said Hazel, secretly seething that Terry was, yet again, such a success. She felt sure Linda was only saying it to emphasise how little Neville earned by comparison. That was so unfair – he couldn’t even join them for tea because he was doing extra shifts this weekend.

      ‘We’re lucky, I know,’ said Linda. ‘Not everyone is a good provider like my Terry.’

      ‘I’m sure we can manage something for June,’ Cora said. She’d love to see the girl be part of the proceedings. ‘Maybe a little waistcoat and hairband?’ She ruffled her granddaughter’s golden curls. ‘Blue or green would go with her colouring.’

      Hazel decided that having Linda, Kathy and now June as her attendants would make it less likely everyone would notice Alison so much. ‘You’re right, Mum,’ she said. ‘She’ll look gorgeous. Could you do that, June? Maybe hold a special bunch of flowers at my wedding?’

      June smiled happily, enjoying being the centre of attention.

      ‘How’s the new job, Alison?’ asked Linda. ‘What’s it like working for Fred?’

      ‘He’s been very kind,’ said Alison. ‘All the blood and stuff turned my stomach to start with but I’m getting used to it. I haven’t been sick for ages.’

      ‘For God’s sake, you never told us that,’ exclaimed Cora. She wondered that her daughter hadn’t been sacked on the spot. ‘You need to toughen up and fast, my girl. If his customers find out you’ve been throwing up round the back they’ll stop coming and then where will you be? Well, you’re used to being out of work, but think of poor Fred. You don’t want to ruin his business when he’s been so good as to help you out.’

      ‘I’m sure it’s hard to get used to it to start with,’ said Linda.

      ‘Big girl like you, being sick!’ Cora went on.

      ‘I just said, I haven’t done that for ages,’ protested Alison. ‘You should see what it’s like with all that dead meat in one place. The smell of it is disgusting. But I’m getting much better. Fred said so.’

      ‘I’m sure you are,’ said Linda. ‘I don’t know how I’d have managed. And you bring home ham like this, so there’s a bonus.’

      ‘Fred asked to be remembered to you,’ said Alison. ‘He’s been teaching me to cook as well. Says one of my lunches sets him up for the rest of the day.’

      ‘Sets him up for food poisoning more like,’ snapped Hazel. ‘Or have you suddenly improved? He’s too good to you by half.’

      ‘Maybe you’re practising to become a housewife,’ Linda gently teased. ‘Is there a boyfriend on the horizon you’ve been keeping quiet about?’

      ‘Of course not,’ said Alison, hoping she wasn’t going to blush. She realised she’d been blushing quite a lot since the visit to the ironmonger’s. ‘Don’t be daft. Who’d look at me?’

      ‘True,’ said Hazel at once.

      But you don’t know everything, thought Alison, not even tempted to rise to the bait this time. Someone has looked at me. And he seems really nice. What’s more, I’m going to make sure I see him tomorrow.

      Cheeky tyke, thought Cora, shooing the last of the paperboys out of the shop early on Monday morning. He’d had the nerve to ask her where her ugly daughter was as he hadn’t seen her around for a few weeks. Suppose he’ll be taking the mickey out of some other poor sod, she said to herself, looking up at the sky. As March approached it was getting just a bit warmer and signs of spring were beginning to appear. She couldn’t wait. She’d had enough of being cold and her back and hands were always worse during the winter.

      Flexing her fingers at the idea, she made her way round the shop making sure all was in order before the first customers arrived. Often she thought this was the best bit of the day – everything in its place, all the boys out of the way, nobody to disturb her peace and quiet. But she knew she’d hate it if nobody came in all day and there was no gossip. That’s what gave the job its spice.

      It wasn’t long before Winnie Jewell set the doorbell ringing. ‘Morning, Cora!’ she called.

      ‘You’re early, Winnie,’ said Cora.

      ‘I need some aspirin for my Vera before she goes to work,’ explained Winnie. ‘She’s got such a headache, poor love, and I can’t send her out looking miserable to Arding and Hobbs. You know, they expect better from their staff than that.’

      Probably got a hangover, thought Cora. ‘Poor girl,’ she said aloud.

      ‘That’s just what I thought,’ said Winnie, getting out her purse. ‘How was your weekend? I had my sister Beryl round and she’s having such trouble, I thought she was never going to leave.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘It’s her neighbours,’ Winnie went on. ‘I told her not to move down that way but would she listen? She’s not that far from the power station and it’s not a patch on her old place, though the rent ain’t bad. As for her neighbours, well, the place is filthy. I said to her, you got to be careful, what if they get rats? They don’t empty their bins and their back garden’s like a junk yard. If they get rats then they’re bound to come over the fence and into her kitchen. Think of that. And she’s got young kids. What if they get bitten? Then she’ll wish she never left her old place.’

      ‘Sounds dreadful,’ said Cora, interrupting Winnie’s incessant chatter. Ennis Street might not be much but at least everyone put their bins out on the right day.

      ‘It’s because they haven’t got a woman to look after them,’ Winnie explained. ‘There’s four grown men in that flat. A father and three sons. All the boys are working so they can’t be stupid. But they ain’t got no idea how to keep a place clean. That’s not what the main trouble is, though. Gambling, that’s what’s caused all their problems.’

      ‘How do you know that?’ demanded Cora.

      ‘It’s common knowledge,’ said Winnie. ‘The father is always down the bookies. Takes his lads in with him sometimes. Throws away all their money on the horses or the dogs. He’s ruined his family, hasn’t got time for anything else. They say his wife died and you know what, I’d say it was a blessing. If my Peter started gambling I’d have to throw him out. I can’t be having that.’

      ‘Quite right too,’ agreed Cora. She’d no time for gamblers either. There was nothing wrong with the odd flutter on the Grand National but that was where it stopped. She’d seen people get sucked into it, always believing they’d strike it lucky if they gave it just one more go. No, that was the quick road to ruin.

      ‘As I said, when Beryl came round yesterday, she didn’t want to go home.’ Winnie shook her head. ‘Says her life isn’t worth living with those Lannings