Kay Brellend - The Street

Either side of the street loomed terraced houses set behind railings, similar to the one from which Alice had just dashed. Campbell Road marched from Seven Sisters Road at one end to Lennox Road at the other and was cut in half by Paddington Street. The tenements were overcrowded, without adequate washing facilities for either people or equipment. Added to a permeating smell of grime was an atmosphere of rising damp and overflowing privies, for the buildings were badly maintained. The majority of the landlords felt under no obligation to do repairs until threatened by a visit from the sanitary inspector.

The Keivers lived in what was known as the rougher end of The Bunk close to the junction with Seven Sisters Road. That territory had always been intended to house the impoverished. The top half of the road had been built with a better class of occupant in mind. But those people had long since decamped in search of respectable neighbours, leaving their properties to be divided and colonised, often by as many as thirty poor people.

As Alice walked, hunched into her coat, she caught sight of her friend, Sarah Whitton. She called out, waved and darted over to the other side of the road to talk to her. ‘You not at school either?’

Sarah aimlessly juggled the few groceries she’d just bought from the corner shop. ‘Mum’s took bad again this morning.’

Alice grimaced in sympathy. It was well-known by her neighbours that Mrs Whitton hadn’t been right since her son passed away. He’d caught the whooping cough and died, making the whole road fearful of going the same way. Lenny Whitton had been a strapping lad of fourteen and the consensus of opinion had been that if it took him out, anyone was fair game. In fact only one other person had succumbed and she had been sixty-nine and already in poor health.

Now Sarah’s mum suffered with nerves and spent most of her time shut indoors. She survived by living off her three daughters. Sarah, who’d not yet had her twelfth birthday, spent the weekends doing whatever odd jobs she could find. Ginny Whitton’s husband had departed shortly after Lenny. But he’d gone just around the corner to Lennox Road and a woman who was less trouble to live with.

‘Why aren’t you at school? You bunkin’ off?’ Sarah asked.

‘Nah! I’ve got to look after Lucy ’cos there’s trouble brewin’.’

‘Yeah? What?’ Sarah had immediately perked up at the prospect of a bit of gossip.

‘You should’ve heard the racket going on in ours last night. There won’t half be big trouble when me mum ‘n’ Aunt Fran catch up with Uncle Jimmy.’ Alice’s blue eyes grew round in her pale face. She leaned forward to confide, ‘Should see the state of me aunt Fran! She looks like she’s been street fighting with a pro.’ Alice whipped a chilly hand from her pocket to demonstrate her poor aunt’s disfigurement. ‘Lip out here and eye like that ‘n’ already going black.’

Sarah’s jaw dropped open. ‘Yer dad going after him?’

‘Dad don’t know yet what’s gone on. Me mum’ll get Jimmy first, anyhow, if she can find him.’

‘I know where he is,’ Sarah gasped triumphantly.

‘Where?’ Alice demanded with a grin.

‘Seen him go in number fifty-five as I was coming out of the shop. It was only a few minutes ago.’

Alice blinked at a house a few doors away. ‘Cor! Dunno why he’s hiding in there. You’d have thought he’d scarper further’n that. Nellie Tucker lives there, don’t she?’ Alice didn’t know much about Nellie Tucker other than she worked nights and lived with her old mum. Although she did recall that a lot of the women round here seemed to have taken against her since she moved in about six months ago. But then feuds between people were commonplace in The Bunk. She shrugged. ‘Suppose I’d better get going. Gotta get some milk. See yer, then.’

When Alice returned home she found her mum in the process of bathing Aunt Fran’s face with a cloth.

‘Hold still,’ Tilly ordered as Fran tried to duck from the pressure on her cuts and bruises.

Alice put the milk on the table and watched.

‘Get the tea goin’, Al, there’s a good gel.’

Alice obediently set the half-full kettle on the hob grate. ‘I just saw Sarah Whitton. She’s off school ‘n’ all.’

‘Her mum bad?’ Tilly asked whilst still patting gently at Fran’s closed eye.

‘Yeah. She just saw Uncle Jimmy going in number fifty-five.’

Tilly halted with the cloth poised above her sister’s face. Both women swivelled to look at Alice. ‘You sure about that, Al?’ her mum asked whilst from a corner of her eye she gave Fran a significant look.

‘That’s what she said. Why’s he gone in there?’

Tilly dropped the cloth back into the basin.

‘I reckon I can guess why he’s gone in there,’ Fran choked out through her fat lips. ‘The bastard! With that scabby bitch!’

‘Come on. Let’s get this done,’ Tilly announced briskly and started rolling up her sleeves.

When they’d gone Alice went to check on baby Lucy. She was still in exactly the same position as when last she’d seen her. But now her tiny face was crumpling and she was making little whimpering sounds. Alice knew she would soon start to wail. Picking up the rag her mum had used on Aunt Fran, she looked for a clean edge. She tore it away then dipped the end into some of the milk she’d just bought. Gently she inserted the milky cloth between Lucy’s lips and watched her suck.

Having satisfied the baby for a moment, she went to the window and angled her head to try to see her mum and aunt. But number fifty-five was too far away for her to catch sight of what might be going on. She pulled a chair close to the window and stood on it but her view was no better from the top sash. Her curiosity was getting the better of her and she quickly found a shawl and wrapped Lucy in it. Then she whipped off her school pinafore and tucked Lucy into that too. Impatient to be outside, Alice scrambled into her coat and, bundling Lucy onto her shoulder, she darted out of the room and down the stairs.

Chapter Three Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Getting Work: 1914–1917 Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Getting Out: 1917–1918 Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Epilogue - Summer 1922 Pictures of The Street Acknowledgements About the Author Author’s Note Copyright About the Publisher

A little jeering crowd had already gathered about the railings outside number fifty-five. Soon Alice was close enough to see what entertained them. Her mum had hold of a fistful of Nellie Tucker’s fair hair and was dragging her head down close to the pavement. Her other hand was busy delivering swift punches to Nellie’s face. Uncle Jimmy looked embarrassed and keen to get away from Aunt Fran, who was waving her arms and ranting at him.

Alice knew that Uncle Jimmy had beaten his wife, and that it wasn’t the first time. It seemed hard to believe he could ever do such a thing. He always had a laugh and a joke for her and Sophy when they met him. She could see now that he had that soppy smile on his face. It looked like he was puzzled as to what the fuss was all about. Alice edged nearer, hoping to find out what had started this latest upset.

‘Yer fuckin’ whore. Get yerself back down Finsbury Park. Keep to reg’lar clients, or yer’ll have more o’ the same.’ Alice recognised her mum’s raucous voice.