Anne Bennett - A Little Learning

‘He’s not like that,’ Betty protested. ‘He’s a good man, he cares for us.’

‘He is like that,’ Breda replied, ‘but it’s not his fault. It’s been that way for years. Your Bert’s not used to any other way, and he’s better than many. But do you think Janet will be happy with a life like that?’

Betty knew she wouldn’t be. Breda didn’t need an answer; Betty’s silence spoke for her.

‘You needn’t wait for men to change things and fight for an independent life for women. It’s women have got to do it for each other, or condemn our daughters to looking no further than the kitchen sink and having a baby every year.’

‘It’s down to me, then, to fight for our Janet?’ Betty said.

‘Too right,’ Breda replied. ‘But don’t waste your ammunition. Don’t fire till you see the whites of his eyes.’

‘You are a fool, Breda,’ Betty said, but even in the dark, Breda could tell she’d made her sister smile, and she was glad. She was sorry Betty was pregnant again. She really had enough to do now. The birth of the twins had really dragged her down. She’d not been the same since. She should have put her foot down long ago, as Breda had done with Peter.

Peter hadn’t believed his luck when Breda agreed to marry him after the war. He’d adored her before he went, but she’d kept him at a distance and he hadn’t even felt able to ask her to write to him. On the rare occasions he was home on leave, Breda always seemed involved with another man. But when he was demobbed, he came home to find her still single. He couldn’t understand why no one had snapped her up. She even seemed pleased to see him, and told him how glad she was he’d survived the war.

In Peter’s opinion, she was the most stunning-looking woman for miles, with her mane of auburn curls cascading down her back and her flashing green eyes. When she insisted that he tip his wages up every Friday and they’d work out a budget for everything – personal pocket money for each of them and a bit saved – it seemed sensible. When Linda was born and Breda said that one was enough, Peter agreed that since she’d carried the baby and given birth to it, and had the major job of bringing it up, it had to be her decision. He wasn’t keen on taking precautions himself, but was quite prepared for Breda to go and get something. He also appreciated the fact that she left his dinner ready, just to heat over a pan, when he came home from work. First, though, he fetched Linda from the neighbour who looked after her for them, and put her to bed. He always had the tea mashed and a snack meal in the making for Breda when she got in. He said it was only fair.

Breda knew that Betty had a different life, because she’d seen Bert’s chauvinistic attitudes. He was typical; it was Peter who was different. Breda knew it would be the next generation of women who could change things for the majority.

‘When are you going to tell Bert then?’ she asked Betty.

‘I’m trying to keep it till the exams are over,’ Betty said.

‘When’s that?’

‘The first is in November, the second in early February.’

‘You’ll never keep it till then,’ Breda said. ‘Not February you won’t. Christ, Betty, you swelled up like a bleeding elephant last time.’

‘I was having twins then,’ Betty reminded her sister. ‘You’d hardly remember how I was with the other two.’

‘Maybe it’s twins again,’ Breda said cheerfully.

‘Don’t. I’d go mad if I had two more like Conner and Noel,’ Betty said. ‘I love them, don’t get me wrong, but they have me run off my feet.’

‘Don’t tell me, it’s bad enough with one.’

‘Anyway,’ Betty said, ‘if I can get Bert to change his mind about the first exam, before he knows about the baby and the additional expense that’ll mean, it’ll be something. If she passes, she automatically goes through, and if she fails, well, that’s that, isn’t it?’

‘She won’t fail,’ Breda said. ‘I know she won’t. I’ve got faith in that girl.’

Betty kept that in mind as she faced Bert. She was unaware of her daughter trembling on the stairs; unaware that her words sent a shiver of icy fear down Janet’s spine.

‘I went to see our Janet’s teacher today,’ Betty said. ‘That Miss Wentworth.’

‘Oh, aye.’ Fuddled by beer, Bert wasn’t even on his guard.

‘Thinks our Janet has a good chance of getting this eleven-plus.’

Bert pulled himself up in the chair. ‘You told her, though,’ he said, ‘you told her we don’t want her taking no exams?’

‘No,’ Betty said, ‘I didn’t say that, because it wouldn’t have been true. I said you weren’t keen but that I was agreeable if that’s what Janet wanted.’

Bert was astounded. His wife had never gone against him before. ‘You said that,’ he said indignantly, ‘after I made myself clear the other evening?’

‘Yes, yes, I did.’

‘Am I not master in my own house now?’

‘This is about Janet and her life, not yours.’

‘I’m her father,’ Bert thundered. ‘I say what goes in this family.’

His mellowness and good humour, restored at the pub, had left him. His wife and daughter ganging up on him. He wouldn’t stand for it.

‘How long has this been going on?’ he demanded.

‘How long has what been going on?’

‘This conniving between you.’

‘Oh, Bert, don’t be stupid.’

‘Oh, it’s stupid I am now?’

‘Look, Bert, I’m sick of this,’ Betty said. On the stairs Janet sat hugging her knees, rocking slightly as sobs shook her body. Her parents didn’t hear her; they were too busy shouting at one another.

‘We’re talking about giving our daughter a choice in her life,’ Betty cried. ‘Why are you going on as if it’s a bloody crime?’

‘I’m not.’

‘You bloody well are. Duncan had the choice, why not Janet?’

‘Duncan was different.’

‘Why, because he made a choice you approved of?’ Betty asked. ‘Or is it more than that?’

‘And what do you mean by that remark?’

‘Are you cross because your daughter has the chance Duncan didn’t have the ability to take up, even if he’d wanted to? Do you think daughters are of no account and anything will do to occupy them until they marry and become a slave to some man?’

There was some truth in Betty’s accusations, and Bert was quite ashamed of his feelings put into words like that, but he wasn’t going to admit it.

‘That isn’t what I think,’ he said.

‘Isn’t it, Bert Travers?’ Betty said quietly, and it was Bert who looked away first.

‘Let her try, Bert,’ Betty pleaded. ‘The first exam is in November. Miss Wentworth says that even with her being bright she’ll need extra coaching. If she doesn’t get in, that will be the end of it. We’ll know by Christmas.’

Bert still didn’t speak, but Betty knew him well enough to know he was wavering. She went on while he was in this muddle of indecision. ‘The factory is probably the right place for our Duncan, he’ll likely be happier there than at school at any rate, but our Janet is not Duncan. You’ll have to give her this opportunity to do something better, or … or she might hold it against us for the rest of her life.’

Bert looked at his wife, but he wasn’t seeing her. He was seeing his daughter before he’d left that evening, resenting his intrusion into her life. Was that because she imagined him to be the stumbling block in her wish to go to the grammar school? And if he stood alongside his principles and refused to let her take the exam, would she get over it eventually, or would she always hate him?

He wouldn’t, couldn’t take that chance. He sighed. ‘All right,’ he said slowly, as if the words were being pulled out of him. ‘Let her take the bloody exam and we’ll see how clever she is.’