Kay Brellend - The Campbell Road Girls

‘You brought a lot of this on yourself, Tilly. You’d known for years that Jimmy Wild was no good. You told me yourself he was an evil fooker. Yet you invited him in.’ Reg pointed accusingly at her. ‘You’re a stupid woman and you’ve got nobody to blame for the state you’re in but yourself. It’s time to face up to it.’

It was the first time Tilly had heard that from him and shock dropped her jaw. Usually Reg pinned the blame for her attempted murder squarely on Jimmy and recounted what he’d like to do to the bastard to pay him back, if only he could.

She whacked away his blunt finger quivering close to her nose. ‘I reckon you’re at fault and you’d better fucking face up to it!’ she suddenly roared, her blue eyes almost popping from her head in fury. ‘And if yer don’t like hearing the truth of it you know where the bleedin’ door is.’

‘Well, if you’ll move aside I’ll be out and leave you in peace.’

Matilda felt her guts tighten; he meant it this time. He wanted to go, not just to cool down, but for good. She flung back her auburn head, exposing silver wings close to her temples where her fiery locks were fading. For a moment she was close to capitulation and apology but her pride tilted up her chin an inch higher and she shifted aside. ‘Go on then, get out and good riddance.’ She limped back towards the wooden table, picked up her cold cup of tea and gulped at it. She didn’t even turn her head when she heard the door bang shut.

‘He’ll be back, Mum, when he’s had time to calm down.’

‘He won’t be back.’ Tilly’s dull eyes settled on the groceries her daughter Alice had tipped onto the table but she didn’t elaborate on how she knew she’d been abandoned.

She’d heard Reg creep in a few nights ago and gather together his meagre bits and pieces. She’d pretended to be asleep although an inner voice had been urging her to rear up haughtily onto an elbow and bawl at him to sling his hook. She’d lain there undecided before wearily concluding she’d no more stomach than he had for another slanging match. So she’d listened to his soft footfalls, and doors and drawers opening and closing, until the key had again grated in the lock and he’d taken himself off for good. As the tears had trickled to dampen her pillow she’d impatiently dashed them away, and with them the suspicions that, if she didn’t know deep down that he’d had a point when he’d put the blame on her, she’d have struggled up and flayed him with her tongue.

If only she’d locked the door and turned a deaf ear to Jimmy’s weasel pleading that night, two and a half years ago, she’d still be the Tilly of old: confident and bold, with the will and energy to turn her hand to anything to earn a few bob. Prior to that calamity she’d had a personal taste of Jimmy Wild’s brutality, yet she’d opened up to him and once more suffered the devastating consequences.

‘Did you remember to get the bread from Travis’s bakery? You know I only like his loaves.’ Matilda banished miserable memories to prod at a crusty Coburg, testing its freshness.

‘Yeah,’ Alice sighed. ‘Got it from Travis.’ She sat down at the table adjacent to her mother and plonked an elbow down, supporting her chin in a cupped palm. ‘D’you want to go for a walk today to get a bit of exercise? I haven’t got to be back till four o’clock. Josh is doing a late shift at Houndsditch warehouse and is indoors with the kids.’

About to snap she couldn’t be bothered Tilly gazed quietly at the cup between her palms. She knew she should get out instead of mouldering away inside, feeling sorry for herself, day after day. She gave her daughter a quirk of a smile and a jerky nod, accepting the invitation for an outing. Tilly knew she was fortunate to have daughters who put themselves out for her. But displaying her gratitude didn’t come easily, as Reg would have readily testified.

Having made a laborious descent of the rickety stairs, Alice assisting her mother every step of the way, the two women emerged on to Campbell Road into autumn sunlight. As though several neighbours had foreseen Matilda’s rare appearance they immediately converged on her. Beattie Evans abandoned her conversation with a friend and came straight over. Margaret Lovat diverted from her march to Smithie’s shop and headed her way too. Then Connie Whitton caught sight of Matilda, ceased trying to sweet-talk her rent collector into being lenient till next week, and trotted towards the group.

‘Look a mile better’n when I last saw you,’ Beattie announced with a beam.

The trio of neighbours stood eyeing Matilda up and down.

‘Don’t feel it,’ Matilda grumbled.

‘No, you do, honest, Mrs K,’ Connie piped up. ‘Nice day ’n’ all for a bit of a walk about. Where you off to, then?’

‘Might take a stroll around the park,’ Alice answered brightly.

‘Ain’t goin’ that far.’ Matilda was immediately contrary.

‘Yes, you are,’ Alice countered firmly, rolling her eyes in exasperation. ‘You’re out now and going to stay out for a while. Being cooped up in there all day is enough to send anyone bonkers. Anyhow, you know what the doctor’s told you: you got to keep moving about or the stiffness won’t ease off.’

‘Need anything up the shop?’ Margaret Lovat offered. ‘Bring it down for you later if you do, Til.’

Matilda shook her head; she didn’t like relying on her neighbours although she knew their offers of help were genuine. But it was her daughters’ duty to make sure she was all right. ‘Alice just got me some stuff, thanks anyhow.’ It was an abrupt answer.

‘I’d come for a stroll ’n’ all, to keep you company, but I’m gonna have that fat git Podge on me ear’ole in a minute ’cos of the rent.’ Connie scowled over a shoulder.

‘Bleedin’ hell,’ Matilda muttered. ‘That don’t sound too nice, Con ...’

All the women guffawed, even Connie. Beattie gave Tilly’s shoulder an appreciative pat and wiped her eyes. It was good to know that Tilly Keiver still had her sense of humour, despite what she’d been through.

It was well known locally that Connie, currently working as a waitress, was not averse to going on the game when she needed cash. It was also known that she’d let Podge Peters into her room for payment in kind when she was really desperate. And she wasn’t alone in that. Even married women classed as respectable were not beyond opening up to Podge behind their husbands’ backs when things were really grim and they were determined to keep a roof over their kids’ heads. With two million people unemployed there was no realistic chance of earning the money any other way.

The women proceeded up the road together at a slow pace so Tilly wouldn’t feel under pressure to keep up. Beattie drifted away with a wave after a few yards, having seen that her neighbour was impatiently pacing in the hope of resuming where they’d left off gossiping.

‘Oh ... ’ere ’e is again,’ Connie muttered as a fat, florid man emerged from a doorway and stared determinedly at her. She sighed. ‘Better go ’n’ see him or he’ll be round hammering on me door later.’

‘Good luck with that,’ Tilly said drolly as the petite blonde walked off.

‘You heard from your Lucy?’ Margaret Lovat blurted out as the three women ambled on.

‘Not for a week or two,’ Matilda answered. Her eldest daughter, Sophy, was married to Margaret’s eldest son. They’d started at Lockley Grange during the Great War and had been there ever since. Four years ago, when Lucy, Matilda’s youngest, turned fourteen, Sophy had got her a job in service there too. Then Danny had done the same for his brother, Timothy, so the Lovats and the Keivers were closely connected as well as being neighbours. When news came from ‘the kids’ in Essex, whether it came to Margaret or to Tilly, it was usually shared around.