A Mother’s Sacrifice. Kitty Neale

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      ‘I’m so sorry, Frank. I never expected this to happen, but it has and I’m the same – I have to see you, even though I know it’s wrong. I … I can’t give you anything more than friendship, it just wouldn’t be right, so are you sure that’s enough for you?’

      Although Frank knew Glenda would never be his, it still felt like a blow to the stomach. Hearing her say that they could only be friends hurt him physically, yet still he had to be with her, had to see her on any terms. He managed to raise a smile.

      ‘Friends it is then. I tell you what, I’ve got Wednesday off work, some sort of mix-up with my shifts. How about we go for a walk in Battersea Park?’

      ‘Yes, I’d like that.’

      ‘The nipper can feed the ducks,’ Frank said, leaning forward to look in the pram.

      ‘Don’t be daft. He’s only a baby,’ said Glenda with a smile.

      Daft, yes, I’m certainly daft about you, Frank mused, but refrained from voicing those words. He didn’t want to upset Glenda, and a walk in Battersea Park was better than nothing.

      On Wednesday Billy Myers had bunked a day off work in the hope of seeing Glenda out and about doing her shopping and washing. Trouble is, he had to think of yet another excuse to be in the high street instead of at the building site. He’d nearly got caught out last time, when he lied about his mum being ill, and he didn’t want Glenda thinking badly of him. I’ll fake a limp, he thought, and pretend I’ve hurt my ankle or something.

      His brother Frank had been up early that morning, and his chirpy whistling woke Billy, so, although he didn’t expect to see Glenda for at least an hour, he set out eagerly, deciding to ‘accidentally’ bump into her at the shop on the corner of her street. This would give him the opportunity to spend a little more time with her as well.

      Billy reached the corner of Inworth Street and went into the shop. He picked up a magazine and paid for it, but then pretended to be flicking through it whilst watching out for Glenda. Shortly after, her front door opened and the familiar sight of Johnnie’s pram emerged. Billy was perplexed to see that there were no laundry bags balancing on top, and when Glenda came into view he saw that she wasn’t wearing her usual headscarf. Instead her hair was pinned in neat waves close to her head. She looked a knockout.

      He left the shop, ready to bump into her, but when Glenda reached the corner of the street, instead of turning right and towards him, she turned left. Puzzled, Billy frowned. This wasn’t Glenda’s usual routine. Her pace was brisk as she marched along the road, while Billy followed discreetly, keen to find out where she was going. Though it had been dry when Glenda left her house, drizzle began to fall and as she stopped for a moment to tie a headscarf over her hair, Billy stopped too.

      Twenty minutes later, Billy watched as Glenda entered Battersea Park. With the rain becoming heavier, he thought it a bit odd to go out for a walk, and he couldn’t go limping up to her pretending to be out for a walk himself, not with a 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 СКАЧАТЬ