Page 44

BEFORE

August 1980

Sally

Hereford Gardens, Harrow, London

Sally unfastened the top button of her jeans as her ever-growing stomach pinched in protest. Almost overnight, she’d gone from a flat tummy to blooming pregnant. But she loved her new shape. It made her feel closer to her own mother too. Because, while Sally could not ignore the fact that her mother had made mistakes – many mistakes – she also believed that Lizzie Fox had loved her, and done her best for her daughter. She had put Sally’s needs before her own, giving her up, to ensure she was safe. Maybe Lizzie had cradled her own growing tummy, as Sally did now, when she was pregnant. It was a nice thought that gave her comfort as she grieved her mother’s loss.

Ian was excited to meet his son. He refused to believe that he would have anything but a boy. Sally had a feeling that he would get his wish too. Nicola had spun her wedding ring on a piece of string over her bump the previous week at the salon, and declared it was a boy. Time would tell.

Sally decided to make spaghetti Bolognese for dinner. Ian enjoyed that. She would prepare the sauce now, and then cook the pasta once Ian got home. As she chopped onions and peppers into fine slices, the doorbell rang. Wiping her hands on her apron, Sally went to see who it was and found Elsie standing there with a bunch of buttery yellow carnations in her arms.

‘If the mountain won’t come to Mohammad . . .’ Elsie joked.

Sally flushed beetroot red. Elsie had phoned and asked Sally to meet several times and, understandably, had got sick of being brushed off with excuses.

‘I’m sorry,’ Sally apologised. ‘I’ve been a rubbish friend. It’s just . . .’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. How could she explain to Elsie that her husband disapproved of her? And that he had forbidden her from seeing Elsie any more, saying that he could not have his wife associated with a known criminal’s girlfriend?

‘I know what it is. Or, rather, who it is,’ Elsie replied, rolling her eyes. ‘I don’t blame you one bit.’

‘It’s difficult for him . . . He worries about me. And with his job he can’t be in the same company as Reggie . . .’ Sally tried to explain, but as she heard the words spill from her lips she knew how lame they were.

Elsie guffawed, shaking her head. ‘Pot kettle black.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Sally asked.

Elsie looked down at Sally’s bump, then back up again, replacing her frown with a smile. ‘Doesn’t matter. Ignore me. I’m here to see how you are, not talk about your husband. Can I come in?’

Sally led her back into the kitchen, glancing at the clock quickly to check it was still early afternoon. It would be hours before Ian got home.

‘How are you feeling? Your bump has got so big!’ Elsie exclaimed, placing a hand on her friend’s tummy.

‘I’m huge! I can’t close my jeans,’ Sally boasted. ‘And I’m not due until January!’

‘It suits you. You look beautiful. Blooming!’

‘That’s what Sister Jones said last week. I called in to the orphanage to say hello and tell her my news.’

‘How is the old bag?’

‘Elsie!’ Sally scolded. ‘I like her. We’ve got close. I visit her every now and then. She’d even insisted that I call her by her first name.’ Sally let that tidbit hang in the air.

‘What is it?’ Elsie demanded.

‘Guess!’

‘Oh God, the pressure of thinking of a Scottish name . . . Bonnie?’

They both laughed, and then Sally said, ‘Ailsa.’

‘Ailsa?’ Elsie exclaimed. ‘That’s her name? I would not have got that if you’d given me a hundred guesses.’

Sally nodded. ‘It’s pretty, isn’t it? A Scottish name, apparently, and she told me that she’s named after her grandmother.’

‘Goodness, you are chummy now!’

‘I like her,’ Sally replied truthfully. ‘Anyway, enough about me. Tell me all your news. How’s Cyril and the girls?’

‘Mary’s up the duff again. Cyril said us women would be the death of him.’ Elsie started to cackle with laughter.

‘Ah, that’s lovely news. Please give her my best. And Reggie, how’s he?’

‘Lying low,’ Elsie said, then leaned in closer to whisper, ‘He did a job for you-know-who, and the Old Bill are everywhere, trying to pin it on someone. Probably won’t see much of him for a week or two.’

‘That worries me,’ Sally admitted with a frown. ‘I like Reggie. You know that. He’s a fun guy. But you deserve someone who can give you more than that. Don’t you want that for yourself?’

Elsie looked around the modern semi-detached home, from the half-prepared food on the countertop, to Sally’s bump. ‘Like you have here?’

‘Yes. Or a version of this,’ Sally said, smiling. ‘Do you remember all those nights we’d whisper to each other, our hopes to marry two brothers, and live next door.’

‘Not sure I want that any more,’ Elsie replied sadly.

‘Why?’ Sally demanded, feeling her stomach sink at Elsie’s comment.

‘I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t be a good mother. Not everyone has the maternal gene, like you do,’ Elsie said as a shadow passed over her face.

‘You would be a great mother, Elsie. You took me under your wing the first moment you met me. I would never have survived Sunshine House without you.’

‘Yes you would. I keep telling you, you’ll always be okay. You’re a bright light that will never go out.’ Then she frowned as she asked, ‘Is Ian good to you? Does he treat you right?’

Sally nodded immediately. ‘He loves me. I’m happy, honestly. Ian is good to me.’

And, in the main, this statement was true. She pushed aside the nagging thought that followed – that Ian was good to her as long as she did as he demanded. On the occasions she resisted, Ian did not respond well.

Elsie raised an eyebrow as she searched Sally’s face. Then she shrugged, and said, ‘Look, it doesn’t matter what either of us think about our boyfriends or husbands, as long as we’re happy, right?’

‘Exactly!’ Sally replied.

‘We might not get your dream of living next door to each other, though. Not if I stick with my Reggie, that is. Can you imagine Ian and Reggie cutting the lawn, side by side?’ Elsie added, with a cheeky wink, making Sally snort with laughter.

And that’s all it took for them both to regain their equilibrium. Friendship was restored. But, as they caught up with each other’s news, Sally forgot the time. She only realised that it was six o’clock when the creak of the front door opening announced Ian’s return.

‘Damn it, Ian’s back and the dinner isn’t cooked,’ Sally said, holding a hand to her face.

‘You can get a takeaway,’ Elsie said reassuringly. ‘He will understand.’

Ian didn’t understand, though. His face turned to thunder when he saw the two friends sitting side by side at the kitchen table.

‘All right for some, sitting on their backsides all day gossiping, while others are out working hard.’

Sally jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, darling.’

‘I called unexpectedly. Sally didn’t know I was coming,’ Elsie said, locking eyes with Ian. ‘And I’m leaving, so don’t worry – your precious dinner will not be delayed a moment longer by me.’

‘You should call in advance the next time. Some would say turning up unannounced is bad manners,’ Ian said. Then he turned his back on her before Elsie could respond.

Once Sally had said her goodbyes to Elsie, apologising for Ian’s rudeness, she returned to the kitchen. She had to make Ian see that he could not speak to her friends like that. But before she had a chance to relay this to him, she felt a sharp blow on her cheek. Stunned, she turned to see Ian lowering his hand.

‘You . . . you slapped me,’ Sally stammered, feeling heat rush to her cheek as it throbbed from the impact.

‘It was a slap in my face to return home to my wife, who couldn’t be bothered to cook her husband a meal. Who would rather ignore my express wishes to not spend her free time with a criminal. Now you know what it felt like to me.’

‘But . . . but Elsie isn’t a criminal. She’s my oldest and dearest friend,’ Sally said as she trembled in shock.

‘How do you know that? Can you honestly say Reggie hasn’t got her mixed up in his work? For all we know, she’s knee deep in it all. Her kind always are.’

‘Her kind? What kind is that?’ Sally asked. ‘Because whatever kind that is, it’s what you married!’

Anger flashed over Ian’s face again and he raised his hand.

‘You can’t hit me!’ Sally protested, holding her arms up in front of her bump to protect the baby.

‘I can and I will do as I see fit. And, as my wife, you better learn to accept that,’ he replied. ‘Keep away from Elsie Evans and anyone else from the orphanage. That part of your life is no longer relevant.’

Sally looked at him in surprise, then her eyes narrowed as understanding dawned. ‘You are embarrassed by my background. That I grew up in care. That my mother was a prostitute. That I was a cleaner.’

Ian took a step closer, picking up a strand of Sally’s blonde hair. ‘I took you in. I gave you all of this . . .’ He waved his hand around the kitchen. ‘And you should be bloody grateful. Leave the past where it belongs. Now make my dinner. I’ll have it in the sitting room on a tray.’

Then he walked away, leaving a shell-shocked Sally in his wake.

To her growing horror, in the days that followed, Ian showed no remorse. He felt justified in his actions. It was as if an alien had abducted her kind and charming husband, replacing him with a man she did not recognise.

That had been the end of their honeymoon period. And the start of a new phase in their marriage.

Life with Ian could be peaceful and loving for weeks, but then a transgression would occur – an act of disobedience from Sally for which she would have to pay the price. He restrained himself to ankle kicks, vicelike pinches and slaps – all sharp and painful, but manageable for Sally to endure.

And each time Sally swore that she would leave, because she was not the kind of woman to stay with a man who hit her. But then she’d look at her growing bump and think of her baby.

Where would they go?

What would become of her child?

Alone, would she follow in her mother’s footsteps, unable to manage, and forced to give her child up?

So Sally told herself that when the baby came it would soften Ian. It would make him see how much he had to lose if he continued his bullish behaviour.

And each day she stayed, a little bit more of her bright white light dulled.