Page 19

BEFORE

April 1976

Sally

Doddington Estate, Battersea Park Road, London

Sally tried to cling to sleep for a few more minutes. But the sound of a train trundling by nudged her awake. Her nose was numb, cold from the damp flat. And her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she’d gone to bed hungry the night before. She’d have cereal. She didn’t have any milk, but she’d got used to hot water over her Ready Brek. And, if she closed her eyes, she could even trick herself into thinking that it was the same breakfast she’d had in the orphanage throughout her childhood.

In the distance, Sally heard the faint sound of a child’s cry. The thumping of feet on the floor above her shook the ceiling, and a door slammed shut, followed by a man’s voice reverberating through the walls. These sounds were not unusual, given that over seven thousand people lived in the blocks of council flats near Wandsworth railway station. However, despite the hustle and bustle of the surrounding environment, Sally had never felt so alone.

She climbed out of bed, putting her feet into her slippers before they hit the cold floor. How it felt damp despite being carpeted was a mystery. Sally pulled her dressing gown round herself. Was it her imagination, or did the belt cinch in tighter now? She made her way to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Sally retrieved a used teabag from a saucer and placed it in a mug. She’d been so excited on her first full day here, walking to the local grocer’s to shop. She was a grown-up, in charge of what and when she ate, no longer at the beck and call of the staff in the orphanage. But that excitement disappeared as fast as her allowance did when she had to pay for a basket of groceries. As the kettle slowly began to heat up, Sally looked around. Mustard wallpaper and chequered blue-and-black tiles should have brightened up the tiny galley kitchen, but they only seemed to make the room darker. She’d washed the net curtains when she’d arrived, but that hadn’t made a difference. Sally’s stomach fell when she opened her kitchen cupboard and saw it was bare, save for the box of Ready Brek. She prepared breakfast and took it with her into the sitting room.

She sighed when she sat at the small dining-room table in the corner of the sitting room. This room wasn’t much better than the kitchen. Lime-green wallpaper was beginning to peel above the brown wooden door. A damp patch stained the grey ceiling tiles. Sally avoided looking too closely at the murky brown shag-pile carpet. She glanced at the two-bar electric heater as she shivered in the cold morning air.

‘No point hankering over something you can’t have,’ Sally said out loud, mimicking Sister Jones’s soft Scottish brogue.

She blew on the hot cereal and took a mouthful. One day, she would have all the money she needed to live a life with every luxury she could ever want.

Loneliness hit her again as she thought about her old friend. If Elsie were here, they’d find a way to make this place a happier one. And if they were hungry, well, at least they wouldn’t be alone. Sally turned her radio on, smiling when Cilla Black’s voice filled the room. There was something comforting about our Cilla .

She’d not seen Top of the Pops since she’d moved in here. The flat had minimal furniture, and luxuries like a television were not included. The radio had been a lucky and much-needed find in the local charity shop, along with the bed linen for her bed.

She washed up once she’d finished her food, trying to bite down another wave of emotion as she saw her single spoon, bowl and mug sitting on the draining board.

She decided it was too cold to shower, so she did a quick top and tail in the bathroom, which was another dark room with an avocado suite and a black-and-white linoleum tiled floor. A single tear escaped her and trailed down her cheek. Sally had never felt so low in her entire life. And she’d had some bleak moments in her eighteen years.

Then she heard Sister Jones’s voice again, reprimanding her for feeling sorry for herself. She dressed and decided that today was the day she’d find a job.

She’d long since given up the dream of finding a position in a hair salon. Her first week here, Sally had spent hours poring through the Yellow Pages directory to list the hair salons in the general area, then visiting them one by one, only to be refused a job even to sweep floors, never mind train as a stylist.

Today, Sally decided to go back to every business within walking distance, in the hope that a position may have opened up since the last time she’d tried. Four hours later, as she made her way over the concrete walkway back to the tower block of flats, dread made her legs move at half speed. She’d called into every shop within a four-mile radius. Most took one look at her and said no. Others muttered various excuses when she begged for a chance.

She was too young.

They needed someone with more experience.

They didn’t need any staff. This was from a shop that had a sign in the window stating it had vacancies.

Sally slowed down as she approached the bins outside the block of flats. A sickening feeling crept over her as she drew closer, but she pressed on, because she hoped there might be food in one of them. She heard a rustle, and jumped back with a start when a massive black rat darted its way out from behind the bin, pausing to look at her with mournful eyes, before scurrying off into the alleyway.

‘Things that bad, treacle?’ a voice called out from behind her.

Sally felt a shiver run down her entire body. She knew that voice. Could it be? She turned round slowly and blinked three times to ensure she wasn’t imagining the person standing a few feet away, watching her.

‘Elsie,’ Sally cried out, her voice cracking with emotion. Then she felt shame rise through her body. Her friend had witnessed how low she’d allowed herself to go. She stepped away from the bins, trying to regain her composure.

‘It’s good to see you,’ Elsie said warmly, her eyes taking in Sally’s dishevelled appearance.

Sally wanted to run into her arms and feel her warm embrace of comfort. But she felt anger nip at her, rooting her to the ground.

‘You stopped writing,’ she eventually accused, feeling her bottom lip wobble, betraying her emotion.

Elsie nodded. ‘I know. I’m sorry. But I’m glad to see you now.’ She paused, looking to the bins again, then back to Sally. ‘You look hungry.’ Her voice was full of concern.

‘I’m fine,’ Sally lied. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t want to show weakness to Elsie. She might have thought they were as close as sisters once upon a time, but sisters wouldn’t abandon each other.

Another damning thought snaked its way into her mind.

Mothers were not supposed to do that either. But look what had happened there.

‘I knew you’d have left Sunshine House by now. So I’ve been keeping an eye out for you, in case Burton placed you in these flats too,’ Elsie said.

And Sally felt a glimmer of hope return. Maybe Elsie still cared, after all.

‘You look good,’ Sally said, taking in her friend properly. Elsie’s mousy-brown hair now fell to her shoulders in soft waves. Her skin was still pale, with a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She wore a navy jumper over bell-bottomed jeans. Elsie was attractive rather than beautiful, but she still had an air of confidence that could sometimes intimidate Sally.

‘I’m in number eighteen, at the end of the fourth-floor landing. Come over in ten minutes for something to eat,’ Elsie said.

It wasn’t an invitation but a firm direction. With that, Elsie turned and walked away, leaving Sally feeling shell-shocked and uncertain in her wake. Where had Elsie been for the past three years? And, now she was back, was she here to stay?