Kitty Neale - A Daughter’s Courage - A powerful, gritty new saga from the Sunday Times bestseller

‘Perhaps you’re right, love, but at the end of the day they washed their hands of him. Many years ago I did apply to have his pension increased, but they turned the application down.’

‘You could try again.’

‘No, love, your dad isn’t physically disabled and, as they sort of hinted that he could be putting it on, it would just be a waste of time.’

‘Of course he isn’t putting it on,’ Dottie said indignantly.

‘You know that and I know that, but I’m not going to put him through one of those medicals again. Now come on, go and do something with your hair before that lovely young man of yours arrives. Is he taking you dancing tonight?’

Dorothy couldn’t help but smile at the mention of Robbie, even though she knew her mother was changing the subject, which she always did whenever Dorothy brought up her father’s health or his pension. ‘He is, and tonight there’s a band on who sound just like Bill Haley and His Comets. I’ve made myself a smashing pencil skirt to wear, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to dance very well in it.’

‘I don’t know, you youngsters and your funny fashions. Don’t get me wrong, Robbie’s a lovely lad, but those trousers he wears are so blinking tight they’re nearing indecency, and as for his daft floppy hair …’

‘His hair is just like that film star Tony Curtis, and I don’t hear you knocking him. And as for his trousers, well … I think he looks dishy in them!’

‘Dishy? What sort of word is that?’ Alice asked, laughing.

Dorothy joined in and then left her mother at the mangle as she skipped up the stairs to her bedroom to change her clothes and plait her long blonde hair.

Alice was so pleased to see the joy Robbie had brought to her daughter’s life over the past few months. After all, the girl didn’t have it easy. She worked long hours in the bakery and deserved a bit of fun.

A pang of guilt struck Alice again, the same feeling she’d harboured since Dottie first started work aged fifteen. Her daughter was such a beautiful girl and could easily have been a model, but instead she’d had to take the job with Bertie Epstein, the baker in town. Dorothy never failed to hand over most of her wages and she never complained about it. Alice tried hard to contribute herself, but couldn’t earn enough to cover all the household expenses from taking in washing.

She was grateful to her neighbours for helping her out. It wasn’t as if most of them could afford the privilege of someone to do their dirty laundry, but still they rallied around, paying a few pennies where they could for Alice to wash their clothes and sheets. She had a couple of clients from the posh houses facing the park, but they were proper skinflints and didn’t pay much. She wanted to ask for more, but was too scared of losing the work. She paid a lad threepence to pick up the laundry and return it, and though it ate into her earnings, she was reluctant to add to her daughter’s load by asking her to take on the task.

It was a hard life, but Alice wouldn’t grumble. Bill couldn’t help being how he was. He was all right physically. He could walk and with a push from her he would wash, dress and feed himself, but she knew that left to his own devices he would just sit in his own muck.

Alice sighed. It wasn’t as if he’d deliberately sent himself mad, and when she tried to imagine what her husband must have witnessed to send him over the edge, a shudder went down her spine. He’d always been such a good provider, but when war broke out, being loyal to King and country, he had immediately put himself forward to ‘do his bit’. Yet look at him now, rocking backwards and forwards in his chair, mumbling to himself and still screaming out in bed when the nightmares haunted him.

Alice yearned to help him recover but Dorothy’s questions still rang in her ears. What if he never gets better? Alice stiffened with resolve. In sickness and in health, that’s what she had vowed on her wedding day, and come what may she would stick to her promise to Bill.

Dorothy’s heart was beating nineteen to the dozen as seven o’clock approached. Robbie would be calling for her and butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she checked her reflection in the cracked mirror on her small oak dressing table. She applied a slick of red lipstick, using it as blusher too to rosy her cheeks. Her blue eyes were framed with jet-black mascara and a red satin bow held her long plait in place. She was strikingly pretty, with long legs that put her three or four inches taller than most of her friends, yet she was a humble girl who didn’t realise how attractive she was to men.

Satisfied with her appearance, Dottie went over to the window and saw Robbie walking along the street, his hands tucked firmly into his trouser pockets and a roll-up hanging from the corner of his mouth. With a clap of glee, she grabbed a cardigan before racing down the stairs to open the front door.

‘Hello, Dottie,’ Robbie greeted her, flashing a wide smile. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes! You look ravishing as always. Come here and give me a kiss.’

Dorothy giggled and pulled away from Robbie’s tightening clinch on her. ‘Pack it in, will you, my mum’s just round the door,’ she said, indicating with her head at the front room. ‘She’ll hear you.’

‘Well, I don’t mind if she does. I’ll tell her what a gorgeous daughter she has and how I can’t keep my hands off her lovely bum.’

Hoping her mother hadn’t heard Robbie’s remark, Dorothy yelled a hasty goodbye, grabbed her coat and quickly closed the front door behind her as she heard her mother call back a warning. ‘Don’t be late and behave yourself!’

Robbie and Dorothy both held their breath until they got safely out of earshot, but then burst out laughing. ‘Behave yourself,’ Robbie parroted as he pulled her into his arms again. ‘I hope there’s no chance of that.’

Dorothy tingled as Robbie lowered his head to kiss her passionately on the lips, and she squirmed with excitement as his tongue explored her mouth. Breathless, she untangled herself from his arms, aware and embarrassed that the neighbours might see them cavorting in the street. ‘Let’s get a move on,’ she urged. ‘We don’t want to miss the best dances.’

Robbie threw his arm over her shoulder and led her down the street. She felt so proud to be with him. He was different, well spoken and from a nicer part of the borough than where she lived. She admired him, though she’d heard rumours about Robbie seeing other women. She quickly quashed her niggling doubts, looking forward to meeting up with their friends in the local church hall.

As they got closer to the dance venue, the sound of rock ’n’ roll floated through the air. Dorothy felt her excitement increase and was eager to dance with Robbie, but then she heard shouting over the sound of the music and recognised the raised voice of her friend Jimmy. It sounded like he was having an argument with Kimberley, his old school sweetheart who was now his wife.

Robbie and Dorothy rounded a corner and came face to face with the quarrelling couple. She noticed that Kimberley quickly hung her head.

‘Talk of the devil,’ Jimmy spat.

‘It sounds like you two are having a bit of a tiff,’ Robbie said.

‘I wonder why that might be,’ Jimmy answered sarcastically. ‘Care to shed any light on it?’

Robbie shrugged. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t play the innocent with me, Rob. I’ve heard all about you sneaking round to mine when I’ve been out and getting up to all sorts with my missus.’

‘I haven’t been getting up to anything,’ answered Robbie as he took Dorothy’s hand and pulled her towards the entrance of the church hall, ‘and if your missus says any differently, then she’s a lying bitch.’