Kay Brellend 3-Book Collection: The Street, The Family, Coronation Day. Kay Brellend
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and sipped at their lukewarm tea.
‘I’m warning yer, gel, don’t drag them into it.’ Jack’s lips were rimmed white with wrath. ‘Soon as me back’s turned you’re thievin’ and off out.’ He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and paced to and fro. ‘Well, if you think I’m working nights again for old man Cooke for a pittance so’s you can tip me takings down yer neck …’
‘If you get yourself some proper work you won’t need to be Cookie’s sidekick for a measly few bob.’ Tilly blocked his path and shoved her face up to his. ‘I told you that Mr Keane wants one of his houses in Playford painted out.’
‘And I told you that I’ll not knuckle under for him … or you.
‘You selfish git. You sit around moaning you ain’t got no work then don’t want a good job when I find it for you.’
‘I can get me own.’
‘Yeah, I noticed. You’re fuckin’ useless, you are.’
‘You keep a civil tongue in front of the kids.’ Jack Keiver’s dark brown eyes narrowed coldly on his wife.
The warning had been issued in a voice that Alice strained to hear yet it made a shiver slip down her spine. She looked at her father from beneath her lashes, watching him swing away and pick up his coat and hat. He’d been in barely fifteen minutes and he was not intending to stay. A sorrowful sob was stifled in her chest. She wanted to run to him and throw her arms about him, tell him she had a little bit put by and he was welcome to it to spend on whatever he liked. But she sat still and simply watched as he opened the door.
‘I’m off out.’ He looked back at his sullen-faced wife. ‘I know you’ve been boozing, Tilly,’ he said dully. ‘You reek of it.’
‘Yeah, well maybe I wouldn’t need it if I had a man bringin’ in proper wages and helping out now ‘n’ again.’ That was muttered at the door Jack had banged shut behind him. Tilly shook back her tangled fiery hair and spat out a curse to hurry him on his way. Then she turned about with her chin up to face her daughters.
‘Come on … what you two waiting for? Christmas? You should’ve been out from under me feet by now. Get off to school and quick about it.’ Tilly deposited Lucy on the bed, and started gathering up the crockery on the table. It needed rinsing under the tap on the landing so they could use it at dinnertime. She shoved the little pile of plates and cups towards Alice. ‘Here, get this done ’fore you disappear. I’ve got to nip downstairs and see your aunt Fran about some work I’ve found her.’
As Tilly sped down the stairs she thought about Jack. Regret was writhing in the pit of her stomach, making her irritable. She could have owned up and said she’d taken his money for her boots. He might not have minded that so much; it was his belief that she’d stolen it for whiskey that made him mad. Yesterday, when she’d got the boots off Billy the Totter, she’d meant to show Jack what a bargain she’d found. But he’d come in and gone out to work down the market without seeing her. She hadn’t intended to go to the Duke at all. She’d had no money for a start. Then a friend had called by and offered to stand her a drink. It’d been Kitty Drew’s treat for she’d been promoted to supervisor at the Star Brush factory. It was a celebration … a time for a bit of fun. Gawd knows there was little enough of that to be had round here!
Tilly loved Jack and she knew he loved her. She knew she did things she shouldn’t. She said things she shouldn’t. And as for that temper of hers … it was a bitter consolation reminding herself that he was far from perfect. If he’d taken on that job for Mr Keane it would have seen them straight for several weeks. He’d let his blooming pride get in the way of a bit of decent grub on the table.
With a savagery born of frustration Tilly hammered loudly on a door. She got no response to that so, after a moment or two, made to walk in unannounced. The door was locked. ‘You in, Fran?’ She rattled the handle. Still no one came to open it so she gave the panels another thump. ‘Fran? Jimmy? Anyone home?’
‘Saw him go out,’ a voice behind Tilly informed her.
Tilly turned to see Mr Prewett locking his door. He had the room in front of her sister Fran’s. Tucking his walking stick beneath his arm he began to limp down the stairs. He hopped down a step at a time with the aid of a rickety banister that seemed to hang in space. Over time the spindles had been prised free and used as firewood by tenants desperate to keep warm. ‘Surprised I was, I can tell you, to see either of ’em walkin’ after the bleeding commotion coming out of there last night.’ Having made his complaint, Mr Prewett hopped down another tread.
‘They was at it last night?’ Tilly demanded, frowning down at the top of his shiny head.
‘Thought the whole road must’ve known what went on, the row they was making.’ Bill Prewett settled himself firmly on one foot and looked up at her. ‘Banged on their door meself, I did. You gorn deaf or summat?’
‘I was out for a while …’ Tilly explained.
‘Oh … out, was yer?’
The knowing tone made Tilly itch to run down and slap his smug face for him. She knew that it was common knowledge around here that she liked a drink. So what? So did most people struggling to survive in this shit hole.
‘Anyoldhow,’ Bill went on quickly, having recognised the dangerous glint in Tilly’s eyes, ‘I saw Jimmy slope off around seven this morning. He looked alright, as far as I could tell, but that don’t mean nuthin’.’ With that he eased himself forward and carried on his slow descent of the stairs.
Tilly turned back to the locked door and renewed her efforts with both hands. Her concern for her younger sister’s welfare had put a fire in her belly. ‘Fran? Open the door if you’re in there.’ Her fists were raised to recommence the assault when her sister finally opened the door a crack. ‘Let me in, you silly cow.’
‘Only if you promise not to go mad and start shouting. Me head’s fit to explode as it is.’
Tilly gave an impatient sigh and shoved past Fran into a room as dingy and depressing as the one she’d just left on the floor above. She turned about and gave her sister’s appearance a thorough inspection. Her back teeth began to grind but she fought down her anger and simply continued to stare at the sorry sight before her. The light was poor but even so Tilly could see blood spatters on Fran’s blouse and her bruised and battered face. Calmly she asked, ‘What the fuck started him off this time?’
‘He’s a bastard.’
‘Yeah, I know that.’ Tilly waited, hoping to hear a better explanation for Jimmy’s savagery. None was forthcoming. ‘Look at the state of you, fer Gawd’s sake,’ she burst out. ‘Didn’t you try and belt him back?’
‘Just makes him worse.’ Fran grimaced in pain. ‘Besides, me arms hurt too much. Felt as though he’d twisted them out of their sockets. He had them right up behind me back.’ She tried to ease her shoulders but even small movements made her gasp. ‘I’ll get him one o’ these days,’ she vowed shakily. ‘I’ll creep up on him with a knife when he ain’t expecting it. You see if I don’t.’ Her bravado flagged and she slumped against the wall. ‘We’re finished this time, in any case.’
‘You said that last time.’
‘Now I mean it ’cos he’s give me no wages in over a week. I know where the money’s gone, too. I know for sure he’s got a fancy piece.’
‘You said you was finished last time when you found out he had a fancy piece,’ Tilly reminded her a mite too sarcastically.
‘It’s alright for you,’ Fran shrieked, stretching her cut lips. ‘We ain’t all lucky enough to have a decent man like Jack.’ Gingerly she raised her fingers to her face as she felt the warm wetness on her chin. ‘Me mouth’s started to bleed again,’ she wailed and bent her head to a cuff to staunch the flow.
‘Where’s the boys?’ Tilly asked after her two young nephews.
‘Got