easier to get her homework done on the nights June was working because once the little ones were in bed, she had peace and quiet.
She had begun sharing the double bed in the front room with her mother when Bill went to prison, and she was often so sound asleep she didn’t wake when June came home at night. But one morning Freddy woke early and Laura found she was alone in the bed.
Just a few minutes later, as she was changing Freddy’s wet nappy, her mother came in. She was wearing the same blue costume she’d gone out in the night before, and high heels, but she said she’d just popped out for some cigarettes.
Laura knew she was lying, for there were a couple of cigarettes in a packet on the table, and if her mother had slipped out to the shops she would only have pulled on old clothes and gone in her slippers.
That day at school Laura kept thinking about it, and remembered that a couple of weeks earlier she’d woken up to find her mother fully dressed making a cup of tea in the kitchen. At the time she’d believed her story that she couldn’t sleep so she’d washed and dressed, but now it looked as if she’d been out all night both times. It could only mean she’d been with a man.
As soon as she got home, she asked her mother point-blank.
‘What do you mean, have I been with a man?’ June replied, getting up and looking at herself in the mirror over the fireplace, which was what she always did when faced with something awkward.
‘I know you have, Mum,’ Laura said. ‘And you’re married, so that’s wicked.’
June whipped round, her small face sharp with spite. ‘I’ll tell you what’s wicked,’ she said. ‘A daughter who can’t bear to see her mother have a bit of life. Do you know what it’s like to be stuck in here day after day with only you four kids? Well, I’ll tell you, it’s enough to drive anyone mad.’
Laura was mature enough to understand why June had been tempted by another man; she was after all well aware of her father’s shortcomings. She might even have been glad for her if she hadn’t been so nasty.
What hurt was that she had been lumped together with the three younger children as a burden, when she had been her mother’s sole friend and helper in the past year.
She was also scared that this new man, whoever he was, might want to move in with them.
His name, Laura discovered three or four weeks later, was Vincent Parish. He was a sixty-year-old widower and he had an office in the block June cleaned in. He was, according to her mother, everything Bill Wilmslow wasn’t: successful, well-bred and a gentleman.
On 3 January 1959, two days before her fourteenth birthday, Laura met Vincent for the first time. He invited them all to Lyons Corner House in the Strand, and bought them knickerbocker glories. Laura was rather impressed by his posh voice, his hand-tailored suit and gold watch, but less by his wide girth, lack of hair, and the coldness in his pale blue eyes.
‘I am so glad to meet you all at last,’ he said with a tight-lipped smile. ‘Your mother and I have made so many plans for you all.’
Laura sensed immediately that all he really wanted was her pretty young mother, but as he couldn’t have her without her children, he was pretending that he was happy to have them too.
She watched as he fawned over Ivy and Meggie, who did look sweet in blue velvet dresses bought specially for the occasion. He winced at Freddy smearing the ice cream all around his face, and went bright red when he started screaming to get out of the high chair he’d been put in. Laura didn’t hold that against Vincent for she was embarrassed herself that Freddy was showing them up, but she really didn’t like the way he kept smirking at her across the table.
She had a new dress too, and she was thrilled with it, for it was red wool, with a full circular skirt and a low scooped neckline trimmed with satin ribbon. Beneath it she had a net can-can petticoat, and her first pair of
She had begun sharing the double bed in the front room with her mother when Bill went to prison, and she was often so sound asleep she didn’t wake when June came home at night. But one morning Freddy woke early and Laura found she was alone in the bed.
Just a few minutes later, as she was changing Freddy’s wet nappy, her mother came in. She was wearing the same blue costume she’d gone out in the night before, and high heels, but she said she’d just popped out for some cigarettes.
Laura knew she was lying, for there were a couple of cigarettes in a packet on the table, and if her mother had slipped out to the shops she would only have pulled on old clothes and gone in her slippers.
That day at school Laura kept thinking about it, and remembered that a couple of weeks earlier she’d woken up to find her mother fully dressed making a cup of tea in the kitchen. At the time she’d believed her story that she couldn’t sleep so she’d washed and dressed, but now it looked as if she’d been out all night both times. It could only mean she’d been with a man.
As soon as she got home, she asked her mother point-blank.
‘What do you mean, have I been with a man?’ June replied, getting up and looking at herself in the mirror over the fireplace, which was what she always did when faced with something awkward.
‘I know you have, Mum,’ Laura said. ‘And you’re married, so that’s wicked.’
June whipped round, her small face sharp with spite. ‘I’ll tell you what’s wicked,’ she said. ‘A daughter who can’t bear to see her mother have a bit of life. Do you know what it’s like to be stuck in here day after day with only you four kids? Well, I’ll tell you, it’s enough to drive anyone mad.’
Laura was mature enough to understand why June had been tempted by another man; she was after all well aware of her father’s shortcomings. She might even have been glad for her if she hadn’t been so nasty.
What hurt was that she had been lumped together with the three younger children as a burden, when she had been her mother’s sole friend and helper in the past year.
She was also scared that this new man, whoever he was, might want to move in with them.
His name, Laura discovered three or four weeks later, was Vincent Parish. He was a sixty-year-old widower and he had an office in the block June cleaned in. He was, according to her mother, everything Bill Wilmslow wasn’t: successful, well-bred and a gentleman.
On 3 January 1959, two days before her fourteenth birthday, Laura met Vincent for the first time. He invited them all to Lyons Corner House in the Strand, and bought them knickerbocker glories. Laura was rather impressed by his posh voice, his hand-tailored suit and gold watch, but less by his wide girth, lack of hair, and the coldness in his pale blue eyes.
‘I am so glad to meet you all at last,’ he said with a tight-lipped smile. ‘Your mother and I have made so many plans for you all.’
Laura sensed immediately that all he really wanted was her pretty young mother, but as he couldn’t have her without her children, he was pretending that he was happy to have them too.
She watched as he fawned over Ivy and Meggie, who did look sweet in blue velvet dresses bought specially for the occasion. He winced at Freddy smearing the ice cream all around his face, and went bright red when he started screaming to get out of the high chair he’d been put in. Laura didn’t hold that against Vincent for she was embarrassed herself that Freddy was showing them up, but she really didn’t like the way he kept smirking at her across the table.
She had a new dress too, and she was thrilled with it, for it was red wool, with a full circular skirt and a low scooped neckline trimmed with satin ribbon. Beneath it she had a net can-can petticoat, and her first pair of
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