Kitty Neale - A Mother’s Sacrifice

‘Oh, hello, Betty,’ she said. It wasn’t in her nature to snub anyone. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. I’ve been busy with little Johnnie lately. He’s teething at the moment; you know how it is.’

‘Well, not really,’ Betty answered as she drank her gin and tonic. ‘I’ve not had much experience with babies but you never know … I’m hoping Billy Myers will be coming in later. You know him, don’t you? He works as a labourer on that site where your Harry is. He’s a bit of all right, I must say! Tell you what, your Harry reminds me a bit of Billy, both with their dark hair and stocky build. I do like a muscly man, what about you? Here … have you tried gin with this Schweppes stuff? It’s ever so ladylike, don’t you think?’

Glenda looked at Betty, rather bemused. Blimey, she thought as the woman jabbered on, but thankfully, before she had a chance to engage in too much conversation, the pub door opened again and Billy Myers walked in, bringing with him a blast of chilly autumn air.

Betty spotted her target instantly and sashayed towards the door, wiggling her hips in her satin skirt. Glenda admired Betty’s outfit and wondered how she had come to own such a garment, what with the shortage of clothing. Betty was brave to wear it in here, she thought.

Harry appeared at Glenda’s side and handed her a small sherry. ‘Look at that bloody tart,’ he said, nodding towards Betty and Billy.

‘Yeah, she came in on her own and it’s disgusting,’ said one of the wives who was just passing them and had overheard Harry’s remark. ‘I wouldn’t walk into a pub, saloon bar or not, without my husband.’

‘You never know,’ Glenda said with a smile, ‘Betty might have one soon. They might find true love together.’

‘Don’t be daft, woman! She’d eat Billy alive. I’ve never seen him with a girlfriend. I doubt he would know what to do with one.’ Harry laughed and went back to join his mates.

Glenda sipped her drink. She hated the taste of alcohol but Harry would insist she drank with him when they were out. She glanced around the crowded bar, but her eyes were soon drawn back to Betty who was now draped over Billy, crooning something in his ear. Billy looked up and his eyes met Glenda’s. He held her gaze and she shifted uncomfortably, quickly averting her eyes back to the floor. There was something about him that she really didn’t like.

Billy Myers had been disappointed when he walked into the Castle and saw that Betty was there. He’d known she would make a beeline for him, and he would have to suffer the mocking and jibes of his mates at work tomorrow. But his disappointment had been short-lived when he had set eyes on Glenda Jenkins.

He wondered what Glenda saw in Harry, thinking what a lucky bugger the man was. Yes, Harry was flash with his cash and always held centre stage in a crowd, but Billy had seen the darker side of him. He knew that Harry could pack a punch and had no qualms about hitting a woman. Before Harry had married Glenda, Billy had witnessed Ruby Edwards take a beating when she had thrown his engagement ring back at him, yet somehow the woman had remained silent and Harry had got away with it. And Glenda’s so quiet, Billy thought. I bet she never complains if he does knock her about.

As Betty rubbed her hand up his back, Billy caught sight of Glenda looking at him with her dark eyes. He quickly took Betty’s arm and thrust it to one side in the hope that Glenda didn’t think he was interested in the old trollop. How could he be attracted to someone like Betty? She couldn’t hold a candle to Glenda. Glenda was a proper lady, she had class and she’d even kept her lovely figure after having the baby.

‘What’s the matter, Billy, don’t you wanna buy me a drink?’ Betty whispered. ‘I’m terrible when I’m tipsy, you know. I just can’t control my urges … and another drink might make me a bit tipsy.’

‘Yeah, all right, I suppose. Later though,’ Billy abruptly answered as he stared at Glenda. The last thing he wanted was to get lumbered with Betty and her ‘urges’.

Glenda was looking at the floor again. Probably embarrassed that I caught her checking me out, thought Billy. He wanted to approach her, offer to buy her a drink, but Harry was close by and always kept an eye on his wife. It wasn’t worth the risk, but he would bide his time. He knew Glenda would be going down the high street then up to the Latchmere baths on Wednesday morning. She always did, like clockwork. He could throw a sickie and accidentally bump into her. Could he get away with yet another sickie, though? He’d taken quite a few in the last couple of months but it’d been worth it; it had given him the opportunity to follow Glenda around and work out her routines. Now all he had to do was get her alone.

‘Oi, Billy,’ Harry shouted across the bar. ‘Come and toast Alfie’s little ’un … if you ain’t too busy with Betty!’

‘Leave it out, will you,’ Billy replied, laughing as he sauntered over to his friends, not looking back to give Betty a second glance. ‘To Alfie –’ he raised his pint of beer ‘– and whatever he calls his new nipper.’

It was almost closing time and Glenda was pleased when the bell rang out for last orders. She stifled a yawn, not wanting to appear bored whilst sat in the company of two of Harry’s friends’ wives. They were nice enough women, but all they talked about was the continuing food rations and the war years. Glenda would have loved to chat about the new Gracie Fields song she had heard on the radio, or ask them whether they preferred Frank Sinatra to Bing Crosby.

An old boy in a flat cap with a pipe hanging from the side of his mouth was tinkling away on the piano in the corner. Glenda closed her eyes, lost in her own world as she listened to the tune of ‘If You Were the Only Girl in the World’. Suddenly she was brought back to reality by rough hands pulling at her arms and the tempo of the piano changed to a more upbeat ‘My Old Man Said, “Follow the Van”’.

‘Come on, darling. Have a spin with your old man.’

Harry was tugging at her, trying to get her up to dance with him.

‘No, Harry. Stop it. I don’t want to dance,’ Glenda tried to whisper to him, but it was no use. She was on her feet now, with Harry clumsily whisking her around the floor. ‘Harry, please stop. You’re showing me up.’

‘All right, all right,’ said Harry, finally letting her go. ‘If you don’t wanna dance with your old man, that’s fine by me.’ Harry looked at his mates and laughed as he walked back to the bar. ‘Bloody woman’s got two left feet anyway and I ain’t got me work boots on.’

Glenda was left standing in the middle of the room, all eyes on her. She felt her cheeks flame as Harry’s friends joined him in laughter, except Billy, who was leaning against the bar, staring intently at her again.

She ran to pick up her coat and dashed to the exit, glad to feel the breeze outside cooling her cheeks. She took a cigarette from her small, round clasp handbag, lit it and drew in a long, grateful breath. Harry didn’t like her to smoke, especially in public, but he was drunk again and she reckoned he wouldn’t notice.

But just then the door swung open and she looked up to see her husband walking towards her.

‘What have I told you about smoking?’ He glared at her, snatched the cigarette from her mouth and angrily threw it to the floor. Then he grabbed her arm and marched her off down the road towards home, her chunky sensible heels furiously snapping on the pavement.