Battles Lost and Won (2 page)

When he saw the man sitting at the table with his mother, he had to look at him hard. It was such a long time since he’d seen him, and he wasn’t sure.

‘Dad?’

‘Hello Bob.’

‘Oh, it’s good to have you home! When did you arrive?’

‘Couple of hours ago.’

‘What have you been doing?’ his mother asked. ‘You’re filthy.’

‘I’ve been humping coal.’ He couldn’t stop smiling. His father seemed rather quiet, but that was understandable. It must feel strange being back after all this time, and it would take a while for him to get used to everything again. He sat down and gulped the tea his mother had poured for him. ‘They didn’t want me at the market or docks because the men are taking their old jobs back.’

‘Oh, that’s a disappointment for you, Bob, but it’s only to be expected.’

‘And only right, Mum.’ He held his cup out for a refill and smiled at his dad. ‘I expect they’ll be glad to have you back at the docks, Dad.’

‘Give me a chance! I’ve only just got home.’

Bob was surprised at his sharp tone. He couldn’t remember him ever raising his voice before, but put it down to him being unsettled. ‘I was only telling you how things are, but of course you’ll need a couple of days to sort yourself out again. I expect it all feels odd at the moment.’

‘You’re right about that.’ Alfred Hunter gave a tight smile. ‘Get your coat, Helen, and we’ll go to the pub with Steve and Daisy.’

‘Not on an empty stomach, Alf. We’ll have something to eat first. I can make the fish stretch to three meals, and I’ve got a fresh loaf of bread. Bob, you’d better clean up before we eat.’

‘Right.’ He went to the washhouse, beat the dust from his clothes and washed his hands and face. That would have to do for the moment. He’d get the tin bath out later and clean up properly.

During the meal they talked about what was going on in the street. Bob and his mother avoided any mention of the war. As soon as the meal was over he washed the dishes, then stood at the front window to watch them walk up the road with Ruth’s parents. It was good to see them all together again.

Returning to the scullery he went out the back door and leapt over the fence. After a brief knock on Ruth’s door he went in.

‘They’re going to celebrate tonight,’ he said, smiling. ‘We won’t see them until closing time.’

‘Is your dad all right?’ Ruth looked concerned. ‘I hardly recognized him.’

‘I had to look twice, as well, but it’s a long time since we’ve seen him. He’s a bit quiet, that’s all. He isn’t injured or shaking like some of the poor devils.’

‘That’s good.’ Ruth grabbed her little sister as she rushed in and made straight for Bob. ‘Sally, you should be in bed.’

‘I heard Bob come in,’ she protested, struggling free.

He swung her up so she could sit on his lap, and the little girl gave her big sister a smug look. When the two boys also appeared, Ruth threw her hands up in resignation.

‘I think everyone’s too excited to sleep.’

‘Bob nodded. ‘I think we’d better play a game and tire everyone out. Let’s see who can say their two times table the best.’

Amid the howls of protest, Bob and Ruth grinned at each other. The men were home and everything would be all right now. They could put the dreadful war behind them.

Within two weeks Bob knew just how wrong he had been to believe that things would be better now his dad was home. They were worse, and he was worried sick. Dad spent every opening hour at the pub, and after closing time he staggered home to sleep it off. He had been home for a month now and showed no sign of sobering up or looking for a job. Bob was still working for the coal merchant. It was a hard, dirty job, and every penny he brought home seemed to go into the old man’s pocket for beer.

Well, he wasn’t getting any of this week’s money, Bob decided as he walked home after another long day. They needed it for rent. His mother was really having a rough time trying to make ends meet while coping with a drunk – for that is what his dad had become. It was no good denying it any longer. She had improved a lot before he came home, but now she looked ill again.

When he walked into the scullery he stopped in amazement. His mother was ironing a massive pile of clothes, and holding on to the table in an effort to stay on her feet. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ He took the flat iron from her hand and made her sit down. ‘Where did all this come from?’

‘I’m taking in some washing. It’s the only work I could get, Bob.’ She pushed him away from the table. ‘Don’t get coal dust over everything. I’ll have to wash it all over again if you do.’

Bob was so incensed he could hardly speak, but he managed it through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll finish this when I’ve cleaned up, then deliver it and tell the people you won’t be doing it again.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ She was on her feet again, taking a fresh iron from the stove. ‘The rent man’s due tomorrow and I’m getting behind with the payments. He won’t wait much longer for his money.’ She gave her son an imploring look. ‘Please don’t try to stop me, Bob. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep a roof over our heads.’

He felt his eyes filling with moisture, but quickly wiped it away. Their situation was obviously desperate now. ‘But you’re not strong enough, Mum. All this worry is making you ill again. I got paid today and will see to the overdue rent.’

Helen Hunter hugged her son gratefully. ‘You mustn’t worry about me all the time. I know I can do this. You work so hard, and I hate taking all your money, but I don’t have a choice. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘Where is he?’ he asked, changing the subject before his despair for her spilled over.

‘Asleep, at the moment. He can’t seem to rest at night.’ She gave Bob a weary smile. ‘Go and clean up and I’ll get us something to eat.’

When he returned he found his father alone in the scullery and going through his mother’s bag. ‘What are you doing?’

The bleary-eyed man glared at him. ‘I need some money for tonight.’

‘Well, you are wasting your time. She hasn’t got any. You’ve used it all to drink yourself senseless every day, and you’re not getting another farthing out of us!’

‘Don’t you use that tone with me, lad. I’m your father.’

‘Not any more, you’re not! You’re a pathetic drunk who can’t look after his family properly. Mum’s been reduced to taking in washing now, and she isn’t strong enough. Don’t you care?’

‘Bob!’ His mother came into the room. ‘Alf’s had a bad time, but he’ll pull himself together eventually.’

‘When? We’ll be in the workhouse by the time he does that. We’ve made excuses for him long enough, but no more, Mum. Lots of men have suffered, but most of them are back and working again. Dad’s all in one piece – not like some other poor devils—’

‘Shut up!’ his dad shouted. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. I need a drink to stop the bloody nightmares, so hand over the money you’ve got.’

‘No! You’ll have to go without your booze. I’m going to pay the rent so we don’t get thrown out on the street! You might be happy to sleep in the gutter, but we’re not!’

‘Oh, Bob,’ his mother gasped.

‘Think you’re tough, do you?’ Alfred Hunter stood in front of his son. ‘Come on then, show me.’

Bob’s laugh was without humour. ‘Don’t tempt me. Haven’t you noticed that I’m as tall as you now – and stronger?’

‘Stop this at once!’ Helen came between them, pushing so they had to step away from each other. Taking a coin out of her apron pocket she held it out to her husband. ‘That’s all I’ve got, Alf. Bob’s right, the rent must be paid this week or we’ll really be in trouble.’

He took the coin, kissed his wife briefly on the cheek, and then turned and walked out of the house.

‘You shouldn’t give him any money,’ Bob told her gently, his anger draining away.

‘I’m sorry, Bob. I know just how it must grieve you to see the money wasted in this way, but he needs the drink.’

‘It isn’t his drinking that worries me so much, Mum. If he wants to ruin his life like that it’s up to him, but I can see how his behaviour is making you ill again.’

‘You mustn’t be concerned for me,’ she told him. ‘I’ve got to do what I feel is right, and that’s all any of us can do. It’s hard, I know, but he needs our support. Try to understand, Bob. He’s sick.’

‘So are you, Mum. Let me take you to a doctor.’

‘There’s nothing they can do. I’m just tired, that’s all.’ She looked up at her son and managed a smile. ‘We’ll get through this bad patch eventually.’

After they’d finished their meal, Bob made his mother go to bed and he set about finishing the ironing. It wasn’t expertly done, but it was clean, and gathering up the piles of washing he went out into the cold again. The meagre amount of money he collected he kept in his pocket to buy food.

On his return he checked that his mother was all right – she was fast asleep – and then he jumped over the fence to see Ruth. His emotions were chaotic, a mixture of anger and despair. He had pinned all of his hopes on his dad’s return, believing that would be the end of their troubles, but the man living in their house bore no resemblance to the father he remembered. This stranger had brought back nothing but heartache. He needed to talk to Ruth because she understood people. She seemed to be able to see right inside them and find some good in everyone, but he couldn’t fathom people at all.

She greeted him with a smile, but as soon as she saw his face, she frowned. ‘You’re angry.’

‘Bloody furious!’ He sat down and told her what had happened. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘This can’t go on, Ruthie, but I don’t know what I can do. We nearly came to blows tonight, and that upsets Mum even more.’

‘Fighting with him isn’t going to help any of you. I know it’s hard, Bob, but you must control your temper.’

He grimaced. ‘I know I can erupt easily, and I really am trying, but I don’t know which way to turn at the moment.’

She nodded. ‘You like to be in control of your emotions, and I can see you’re finding that impossible at the moment, but you’re doing well in a terrible situation, Bob. Just carry on the way you are, and I’ll keep an eye on your mum while you’re working.’

‘Oh, thanks, Ruthie.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘It always helps to have a talk with you.’

‘That’s what friends are for.’

Spring came, then it was June, but nothing had changed. Bob still had his job at the coal depot, and although he hated it, he couldn’t leave. They desperately needed the money he was bringing in. He never handed his wages over to his mother now, but made sure he paid the rent personally, and even did the food shopping on his way home from work. That way he knew he could keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. His mother was still taking in washing, and insisting that she was all right. Ruth was helping her through the day, and he spent his evenings ironing and delivering the fresh laundry. The money went into his mother’s pocket, but he knew it didn’t stay there for long. It ended up at the pub down the road.

It was a wretched way to live and Bob never bothered to speak to the old man now. He had pleaded and begged him to stop drinking, but it had been a wasted effort. The situation was hopeless. His dad was too far gone for help.

Tired and dirty, Bob walked into the scullery and plonked the shopping on the table. Then all the breath left his lungs and he fell to his knees in front of the old armchair that was tucked in beside the stove.

‘Mum!’ He cradled her head in his large hands, but he knew – he just knew. She was dead.

Lifting her off the chair he carried her upstairs and laid her on the bed. Then, consumed with grief and anger he hurtled down the stairs, bursting into the front room where the old man was sitting senseless, as usual.

Bob dragged him out of the armchair and shook him until he opened his eyes. ‘You bastard! She’s dead, and it’s your fault! You don’t care, do you? You’ve been too bloody drunk to notice how she’s been suffering. All you’ve been worried about is yourself?! You’re beneath contempt.’

He threw him back on to the armchair and glared at him in disgust. ‘I ought to beat some sense into you, but you’re not worth it.’

His father reached out a hand to him, but Bob turned away, left the room and somehow made his way next door.

As soon as he walked into the Coopers’ scullery, Daisy grabbed his arm. ‘What’s happened, Bob?’

He stood there swaying with shock, unable to speak.

‘Steve! Ruth!’ Daisy called, still holding on to Bob. ‘Come here, quick!’

The room was immediately full of people, but it seemed to Bob as if everything was happening through a thick fog.

‘Sit down, lad.’ Firm hands held him upright in a chair. ‘Tell us what’s happened?’

He gulped. ‘Mum . . .’

Daisy caught hold of his hands and said to her husband, ‘Go and see, Steve. Ruth, you make some strong tea, and put plenty of sugar in it.’

Bob was on his second cup when Steve returned and spoke quietly to his wife.

She nodded and sat next to the traumatized boy. ‘You leave everything to us, Bob, and you can stay here tonight.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Cooper.’ His mind was beginning to clear, but the pain of loss was awful. ‘Sorry I’m so dirty. It’s the coal dust . . .’

‘Don’t you worry about that, lad.’ Steve squeezed his shoulder, then said to his wife, ‘What are we going to do about Alf, Daisy? He’s in a bad way.’

‘Does he know what’s happened?’

‘I think so—’

Bob surged to his feet. ‘Don’t you bring him near me! I don’t know how I stopped myself from giving him a good beating. He was in a drunken stupor while Mum was slumped in the scullery chair – dead! How could he leave her like that? The swine! I’ll kill him if I see him again . . . I will!’

‘Shush now.’ Daisy and Ruth were both trying to make him sit down again, but in a fury he was too big to handle.

Steve finally managed it. ‘Your mum was sick, and has been for some time. Even before Alf came back.’

‘I know, but that useless man made her worse. She would still be alive today if he’d looked after her like he should. She’d still be alive . . .’

For the first time in her life, Ruth was at a loss. She hated to see her friend suffering like this, and she wanted to help ease his pain. But how could anyone do that? Steve had brought his fresh clothes from the house and Bob was now clean. But he said nothing, and that worried Ruth – and her mother.