That night his sons had taken him down to the pub and they had all got so drunk that Evelyne had to put each one to bed. Her father’s head lolled, his eyes unfocused, as she helped him to undress. Sadly, the drunkenness persisted. Mike and Will would come straight home as usual from the mines, but Hugh would remain in the pub until closing time. Dicken waited to help him home, help put him to bed. No one tried to stop him: it was as if they knew he was trying to ease the pain, the agonizing pain of life without his darling Mary.
Chapter 3
SIX MONTHS passed and Evelyne did not return to school. There was always so much to do at home. Little Davey was dependent on Evelyne and the menfolk had to be cooked, washed and cared for. Lizzie-Ann had married Will and moved in until they could afford a place of their own. Evelyne put away her school books; her Christina Rossetti days were over.
Doris Evans had never been one to poke her nose in to anyone’s business. She had once, she’d gone to see Mrs Reece Mogg, wanting their youngest son to stay on at school. She’d been shown the door so fast, so the story
went, she’d left her brown lace-up shoes behind. However, she had thought about it for a good few weeks, she had decided she would try one more time, this
time with Evelyne Jones.
Doris dressed very carefully, in her brown hat, her brown skirt, and matching coat, set off by a nice cream blouse. She also put on her coral crepe blouse, but felt the cream more suitable.
Doris stood on the Jones’ front door step, thought it looked quite clean considering. She lifted the brass knocker, thinking it could do with a good polish, and tapped lightly, then rapped louder. She could feel inquisitive eyes boring into her back, net curtains flicked aside across the street. Her mouth went dry, her carefully rehearsed speech of introduction slipped away from her. She was about to leave when the front door was inched open.
‘Evelyne, is that you? It’s Mrs Evans, from the school.’
Evelyne had little Davey balanced on her hip, a duster in one hand, and her face was streaked with dust. Doris flushed a bright pink.
‘Do you think I could step inside for a minute? If it’s not convenient I can come back.’
The door edged open wider, and Evelyne coughed as she swallowed backwards. Her eyes watered, and Doris had to pat her on the back.
‘Would you mind coming into the kitchen, Mrs Evans, only I was just feeding little Davey?’
Doris followed her along the corridor. The smell of stale beer, cigarettes and cabbage made her nose wrinkle with distaste. Davey gurgled and threw a soggy, nasty-looking crust of bread at Doris’ head. A lot had changed since Mary’s death, and gossip about the Jones family was rife. Mike, the youngest boy, had run off to join the army, and Will, so rumour had it, had got Lizzie-Ann in the family way so they’d had to marry. The house was bursting at the seams.
‘Er, well, Evelyne, you certainly seem to have your hands full. Should I come back another day?’
With her free hand, Evelyne lifted the kettle and put in on the fire.
‘Will you have a cup of tea, Mrs Evans?’
Sidestepping a teddy bear, Doris picked it up and turned to put it on the dirty table, cluttered with crockery.
‘Oh, I don’t want to put you out.’
Evelyne smiled and went to sit Davey on a chair, looked around the room, then at Doris.
‘Would you mind just holding him while I make the tea?’
Poor Doris could hardly stand the smell of the child, and his nappy was sopping wet, but she held on to him and perched on the edge of a chair. It was a mistake, she knew it, and the girl looked terrible. She’d aged years in a matter of months, if that was possible. Her once clean, shining hair was dull and uncombed, and her face was so pale she looked ill. Evelyne was all thumbs, dropping the tea caddy; and she was so aware of the filthy state the kitchen was in that she tried to clear everything into the big stone sink.
‘I won’t bother with tea, Evelyne, but don’t you think he should have a clean nappy on?’
Evelyne flushed and grabbed Davey, so embarrassed she was near tears. Always a sensitive woman, Doris was just as embarrassed and made things worse by sitting awkwardly, perched like a brown crow.
Evelyne laid Davey over her knee and removed the dirty nappy, dropping it in a bucket. He gurgled and laughed, drooling as she washed his bottom. And all the while Doris coughed dry little coughs, and kept opening and shutting her mouth. Her hand was sticky and she took a small lace handkerchief from her handbag.
‘My Mama died, and I … well, I’ve been meaning to come and see you.’
Doris looked at her as she sat with her feet neatly crossed, her knees red and her bare feet so filthy Doris wondered when the girl had last bathed.
‘Yes, I know. Did you get my note?’
‘I should have written, I’m sorry, Mrs Evans.’
Doris stood up and straightened her hat. ‘It’s about your writing that I’ve come, Evie … Evelyne. Your last composition was good, more than good, I still read it. And the reason I’m here is to see if it would be possible for you to return to school.’
Evelyne tugged at a loose strand of hair. ‘I can’t do that, I’ve no time to come to school.’
‘But you are more than good, child, it’s a sin not to finish your education.’
At that moment Davey put a piece of coal in his mouth, sucking it. Evelyne bent down and took it from him, threw it on the fire and picked him up. She buried her face in the small boy’s neck and to Doris’ consternation her thin shoulders began to shake. Doris realized she was crying.
Although never one to show her feelings, Doris suddenly rose to her feet and wrapped her bony arms around Evelyne. Doris smelt of mothballs and her pale eyes were wet with tears.
‘I understand, I understand, you have the boy to care for, and the menfolk, but … here, don’t cry, child, here …’
She handed Evelyne her tiny handkerchief, and didn’t even mind when Evelyne blew her nose on it. She poured the tea and handed it to Evelyne, patted her head, and it all came out in a gush.
‘I know times are hard, but what I’ve been thinking is that if you have a few hours of an evening, when the little boy is sleeping, then you could come over to my house. It’s quiet, and all my books are there, and if you would like … well, what I’m saying is that I would be prepared to give you private tuition, I don’t want paying for it, but I would like it if you could manage just a few hours.’
She felt her hand gripped tightly, and the girl kissed it hard. ‘Oh, Mrs Evans, I would like that so much.’ ‘Well, then it’s settled, whenever you say — when it’s convenient to you.’
With little Davey in her arms, Evelyne walked Doris to the door. Doris was excited, she chucked the baby under his chin and laughed when he tried to bite her, a strange, high-pitched squeak. Then she was gone.
Evelyne had to shake her father awake, Dicken was waiting to go on shift.
‘Da, Mrs Evans came by today and said I could have private lessons.’
Hugh swayed and stumbled as she helped him dress. He hadn’t even bathed the night before, he had got so drunk coming back from work.