Sadie Was A Lady

Title Page

Copyright Page

About the Author

Also by Joan Jonker

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Joan Jonker was born and bred in Liverpool. Her childhood was a time of love and laughter with her two sisters, a brother, a caring but gambling father and an indomitable mother who was always getting them out of scrapes. Then came the Second World War when she met and fell in love with her husband, Tony. For twenty-three years, Joan campaigned tirelessly on behalf of victims of violence, and it was during this time that she turned to writing fiction. Sadly, after a brave battle against illness, Joan died in February 2006. Her best-selling Liverpool sagas will continue to enthral readers throughout the world.

Joan Jonker’s previous novels, several of which feature the unforgettable duo Molly and Nellie, have won millions of adoring fans:

‘Wonderful … the characters are so real I feel I am there in Liverpool with them’ Athena Tooze, Brooklyn, New York

‘I enjoy your books for they bring back memories of my younger days’ Frances Hassett, Brixham, Devon

‘Thanks for all the good reads’ Phyllis Portock, Walsall

‘I love your books, Joan, they bring back such happy memories’ J. Mullett, Lancashire

‘I’m an ardent fan, Joan, an avid reader of your books. As an old Liverpudlian, I appreciate the humour. Thank you for so many happy hours’ Mrs L. Broomhead, Liverpool

To Lady Sheila Butlin who for twenty years has been a loyal supporter of the charity Victims of Violence, and who has been my confidante, my shoulder to cry on when I’ve been down, and is now one of my dearest friends. To her and all her family I send my love.

A children’s ditty learned at my mother’s knee:

I’ll tell my ma when I go home

The boys won’t let the girls alone

They pulled my hair and pinched my comb

I’ll tell my ma when I go home.

Brenda Fielding linked her arm through her workmate’s as they turned out of the factory gates. ‘Ooh, it’s good to get out in the fresh air after swelterin’ in that place all day. Me flamin’ clothes are stickin’ to me.’

‘Mine too! If I had tuppence I’d go to the public baths an’ wash this smelly sweat off.’ As Sadie Wilson turned to her friend, her long curly hair swung about her shoulders. She was an attractive girl, was Sadie, with her mass of blonde hair, vivid blue eyes and a peaches and cream complexion. And at fifteen and a half years of age, her figure was beginning to blossom. ‘The sun’s been shining all week, but I bet when we’re off tomorrow afternoon and Sunday, it’ll be teeming down.’

‘Let’s make the most of it while we can, then.’ Brenda was a pretty girl with black hair and melting brown eyes, but her looks were put in the shade by her friend. ‘Come down to ours tonight and we’ll go for a walk in the park. Yer never know, we might just get a click.’

‘I haven’t got the money for the tram, Brenda – I’m broke. I think yer forget it costs tuppence there an’ back.’

‘Well, I’d come to yours, but you won’t let me!’

‘I won’t invite anyone to my home, Brenda, ’cos it’s like a flippin’ pigsty.’

Brenda tossed her head. ‘I wouldn’t know, would I, seein’ as yer won’t even tell me where yer live … except it’s near the factory.’

‘Take my word for it, yer not missing anything. Anyway, I don’t want a click. I’m not interested in boys – me dad’s put me off them for life.’

‘Go on, yer daft thing, yer can’t tell me yer never going to have a boyfriend.’ Brenda squinted sideways. ‘With your looks, yer could have any feller yer wanted.’

‘Oh, I’ll have boyfriends when I’m good and ready, but it’ll only be for what I can get out of them. I’m going to be a gold-digger, Bren, out for all I can get.’

‘Oh dear, I hope yer don’t start bein’ a gold-digger before tomorrow night,’ Brenda giggled. ‘Yer still comin’ to the pictures with us, aren’t yer?’

They’d reached the tram stop where Brenda would catch a tram to Walton, where she lived. ‘You are comin’ to the Broadway with me, I hope?’

‘Yeah, it’s pay-day tomorrow and I’ll get me shillin’ pocket money.’ Sadie saw a tram trundling towards them. She waited until her friend hopped on board, then waved. ‘Ta-ra, Bren, see yer in work in the morning.’

Sadie was thoughtful as she walked the short distance to her home. Brenda was the only friend she had; they’d started work on the same day and had been drawn to each other. She’d visited Brenda’s house several times and was always struck by the cleanliness, warmth and good humour of the family. It was in stark contrast to Sadie’s own home, and she was too ashamed to allow her friend to see the conditions in which she lived.

The front door was open and Sadie grimaced when she heard the racket coming from the living room of the small two-up two-down terraced house in Pickwick Street, Toxteth. Her sisters, Dot and Ellen, aged fourteen and thirteen, were trading blows with their brothers, Jimmy and Les, aged twelve and nine. And above the noise they were making came the loud wailing of the baby of the family – eighteen-month-old Sally.

‘Hey, knock it off!’ Sadie stood between the squabbling youngsters. ‘Yer’ll have the neighbours complaining.’

Red in the face, and glaring at his sisters, Jimmy said, ‘Mrs Young’s been bangin’ on the wall for us to shut up, the miserable old cow.’

Sadie sighed as she looked around with disgust. The table in the middle of the room, its covering a piece of
torn,
stained oilcloth, was full to overflowing. Swarms of flies were swooping down on the dirty plates still there from breakfast, feasting from an open tin of conny-onny, a jam jar and a topless bottle of tomato sauce, while the blue-bottles concentrated their attention on the baby’s bottle and dummy, and scraps of stale bread. The sight was enough to make Sadie feel sick.

‘Where’s me mam?’

There was a sly smirk on Dot’s face. She was fourteen in years but thirty in the head. ‘She’s in bed with me dad.’

Sadie closed her eyes. ‘Has me dad had his tea?’

The smirk was back on her sister’s face. ‘No, he came straight in and pulled me mam upstairs.’

Anger was building up in Sadie. Fancy coming home to this after working all day! But it wasn’t only that, it was the fact that her parents had no shame, no thought for their children who had been deprived of their innocence. They all knew what was going on above their heads because there had been times when her father wouldn’t bother going upstairs to satisfy his craving, he’d just close the kitchen door. Sadie had never forgotten the day she’d come home from work and used the back door. There was her father with his trousers around his ankles and her mother with her skirt riding high. And neither of them had been embarrassed. Her dad had just nodded for her to go through to the living room without even a pause in his grunting and groaning.

The memory of that incident fuelled Sadie’s anger. She walked to the bottom of the stairs and yelled at the top of her voice: ‘There are six children down here waitin’ for somethin’ to eat. Will you come down and feed them!’

‘You’ll get it off me mam, our Sadie,’ Dot said. ‘She’ll give yer a belt around the ears.’

‘An’ I’ll give you one if yer don’t see to the baby,’ Sadie told her. ‘You’re the eldest at home, yer should help to keep this place tidy. It looks like a muck midden.’ She eyed the table, the clutter of clothes and shoes covering the sideboard and floor, then shook her head. ‘I’m not doing it, I’ve been workin’ all day.’

Lily Wilson pushed the door open with her foot while patting her hair into place. ‘Who the bleedin’ hell d’yer think you are, shoutin’ like that? The neighbours are nosy enough without you goin’ filling their mouths.’

Sadie tried to keep her emotions in check. ‘Mam, I’ve been workin’ all day in a hot, stuffy factory. And this,’ she waved her hand around the room, ‘is what I come home to. Not only that, but there’s no sign of any dinner.’

‘I haven’t been feeling well today, so stop yer moaning.’

Dot stood beside her mother, a falsely innocent look on her face. ‘Are yer havin’ another baby, Mam?’

The slap across her face was hard and loud. ‘Any more lip out of you, yer little faggot, and yer’ll get another one. Now get upstairs an’ ask yer dad for a tanner. Then run to the chippy an’ get a tanner’s worth of chips and scallops.’

Dot didn’t wait to be told twice, she hot-footed it out of the room holding the side of her face.

Sadie gazed at her mother. Lily Wilson had been a fine-looking girl, but she’d let herself go, too lazy to keep up appearances. She looked far older than her thirty-three years, with her blonde hair uncombed for days on end, teeth that were rotting through lack of cleaning and a sickly complexion due to too little exercise and fresh air. After six children her waist had disappeared and her breasts sagged.

‘Yer said yer weren’t feeling well today,’ Sadie said. ‘What was wrong with yer this time?’

‘I don’t have to explain to you,’ Lily flared. ‘Now get off yer backside and clear this table.’

Sadie shook her head. ‘No, Mam, I’ve been workin’ all day, I’m not coming home to start work again. Not when you’ve had all day to do it in.’

George Wilson heard what was said as he came through the door. ‘Yer’ll do as yer mam says or yer’ll feel me belt on yer backside.’