Her Turn to Cry Read online

  That probably explained why her mum never mentioned her family. If Joycie was unlikely ever to see them it would have been pointless.

  The little girl had come to stand by the open door, staring in again, but the toddler staggered from behind her and crawled onto his mum’s lap. She spat on her hankie and rubbed it over his face, while he squirmed and whimpered. Then he took one look at Joycie and buried his head in Susan’s chest.

  Joycie drained her cup. She couldn’t be too long, didn’t want to miss the last train and get marooned here. ‘But you didn’t see her in ’53?’

  Susan was rocking the little boy back and forth, his eyes closed, thumb in his mouth. The girl made a sudden run to her side and leaned against her, huge brown eyes fixed on Joycie. ‘No, she just wrote and said she was fed up. Said things were happening that weren’t right. Hoped our dad would let her stay here till she got on her feet. But if not she’d get a place nearby. She never came though and we never saw her again.’

  ‘What about her bloke, the man she left us for. Did she say who he was?’

  ‘She didn’t mention anyone else. Just said she had to get away. And, like I said, she was going to bring you.’

  ‘Well she obviously changed her mind. Decided to go somewhere else and leave me with my dad.’

  ‘See, I can’t believe that. Like I said, our dad was a difficult man so we always thought she changed her mind about coming here. Scared he would still be angry with her. But she loved you so much, said so all the time in her letters. I just can’t see her leaving you.’

  ‘Did you try to locate her when she didn’t turn up?’

  ‘Mam wrote to the last address we had for her, but it was Charlie who wrote back.’

  Joycie leaned forward. He hadn’t told her about this. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Just that he was sorry, but Mary had left him and he had no idea where she was. He didn’t mention you so we thought she’d taken you with her. And soon after that Mam got ill and died. Then Dad’s mind began to go so …’ She sniffed and rubbed her nose. ‘I had to look after him for the next few years and by the time he died I was too busy with the kids to worry about anything else for a while. But my husband’s got a big family and I started to miss Mary again because she’s all I’ve got. And I wanted my kids to meet their auntie and their cousin.’

  She put down her cup. ‘I’ve just thought, there’s a photo.’ When she stood and headed for the door the little boy still clung to her and a forgotten memory came to Joycie. Her mum, lifting her and spinning her round, then clutching her close and dancing to the gramophone playing some old dance tune. Joycie’s feet dangling in the air as she pressed her cheek to Mum’s soft face, the powdery scent of her, an earring tickling.

  While Susan and her son were out of the room the little girl stayed, staring at Joycie with those big brown eyes: so still it was unnerving.

  ‘Hello,’ Joycie said. ‘Your name’s Carol, is it?’ A nod, the child’s eyes still fixed on her. ‘Mine’s Joycie.’

  When her mother came back Carol clutched her skirt, but Susan pulled her hand away as she sat down and laughed. ‘Don’t pretend you’re shy now.’ She looked at Joycie. ‘Can’t shut her up normally.’ She handed a silver photo frame to the little girl. ‘Go on, give that to Joyce.’ Carol ran at her, thrust the frame into her hand and rushed back to her mum. ‘That’s me and Mary, only picture I’ve got.’

  Two girls, one a slender teenager the other much younger, still a little girl, but the likeness was obvious.

  ‘That was taken the summer your mam met Charlie, just before the war. 1939 it was. Last holiday we had together,’ Susan said. ‘Mary would have been sixteen and I was eight.’

  The photo was a holiday snap taken on the prom at Blackpool. Mary and Susan smiling in the sunshine, but holding onto their hats as their skirts swirled in the sea breeze. Joycie touched the glass that covered her mother’s face. She looked so young and pretty.

  Susan was still talking. ‘Sid and Charlie were in a show there. We wanted to go, but our dad wouldn’t hear of it. Then we were on the pier, just me and Mary, and Charlie was there too. He started chatting to us and bought me a candyfloss.’ She smiled at Joycie. ‘I expect that was to keep me quiet so he could talk to Mary. We were only there for a week, but they saw each other every day. Dad would probably have taken her straight home if he’d known.’

  ‘But they didn’t get together properly till ’41 when Dad was in the army, did they?’

  ‘They’d been writing to each other all that time. I remember thinking it were so romantic. She had a picture of Charlie in his uniform. He looked like a film star to me, although he would only have been nineteen or so. He came to see her when he was on leave and Mam took a real shine to him. But they kept it quiet from Dad.’

  ‘And then I happened.’

  ‘Yeah, and, of course, she had to tell Dad she was having a baby. But Charlie wanted to marry her and was getting compassionate leave so they could do it right away. She was still only eighteen, though, and Dad refused his consent. That was when she ran away. And we never saw her again.’

  They were both silent. Joycie praying that Susan might say something that would explain it all. Instead she shook her head. ‘I just can’t understand her leaving you as well as Charlie. Or why she’s never been in touch.’

  All Joycie could say was, ‘Nor me, but I’m going to try to find out what I can, and if there’s anything you think of that might help …’ She looked at her watch and pulled on her coat. ‘I’m sorry, I need to go or I’ll miss my train. Can I leave you my address and phone number?’

  Her aunt followed her into the hallway and scrabbled in the drawer of a little table, handing Joycie a notepad and biro. ‘There are letters from Mary to Mam in the attic. I’ll send them to you.’

  Joycie scribbled her details. ‘Thank you. It’s been good to meet you.’

  In the doorway Susan moved towards her then back with a tiny cough. She was smiling, a smile that was so like Joycie’s memory of her mum’s it sent a charge through her. As another memory tugged, Joycie’s eyes filled and she had to rub her hand over her face.

  Susan touched her elbow. ‘Look, Joyce, whatever happened with Mary she loved you, really loved you, and I know she would never have left you unless she had no choice.’

  After they said goodbye Susan stayed in her open doorway with the little boy, Joycie’s cousin, clinging to her leg and Joycie could feel their eyes on her as she walked away down the silent street.

  Chapter Three

  Checking her watch for the umpteenth time Joycie paced up and down by the bus stop. This was definitely where she’d asked the taxi to pick her up and she’d given him a big enough tip that he surely wouldn’t let her down. But if he didn’t get here soon she’d miss her train.

  She moved closer to the kerb as she heard an engine approaching, but it was only a kid on a moped. He stopped right next to her and she stepped back to lean on the wall of the terraced house, looking at her watch again and then into the distance, pretending she hadn’t noticed him.

  He climbed off the bike. ‘Hello, darlin’ you’re outta luck you know.’ His accent was so strong it was difficult to make out the words. She didn’t look at him. ‘No bus due for ages,’ he said.

  ‘I know.’ She brushed at her coat, still avoiding his eye.

  ‘I can give you a lift if you like. Plenty of room for a skinny bird like you on the back.’ He let out a wobbly laugh, as if his voice had not long broken.

  ‘No thank you, I’m waiting for someone.’ But now with a rush of air she seemed to be surrounded by boys on pushbikes.

  ‘Eh, Sammy, got a new girlfriend, have ya?’ A heavyset lad bumped his bike onto the pavement, coming so close she could feel the heat steaming from him.

  ‘Yeah, and she’s dead posh.’ Moped boy leaned over and pushed Joycie’s arm. ‘Go on, doll, say something for him.’

  Joycie felt rather than saw a net curtain twitch in the house behind her
. This was ridiculous, they were just kids. ‘Look, go away and leave me alone, will you? I’m waiting for someone.’

  A shriek from moped boy. ‘Ooer, hark at it. Told you she were posh.’

  The others joined in with honks of laughter and the nearest boy came even closer, looking round at his mates then back at her. ‘How’s about a kiss then, darling. Bet you’re not too la de da for that.’ She shoved him away and his face changed. ‘Don’t you push me, you tart.’

  Loud clicking footsteps and the boys turned as a man of about forty, tall and thin in a camel coat and black trousers, rounded the corner. He stopped and looked at her. ‘These lads bothering you, miss?’ His accent was London, not Manchester.

  The boy nearest Joycie said, ‘Nah, mister, just having a chat, weren’t we?’ He looked at his friends, but they were getting ready to ride away. He moved his bike back onto the road. The man stared at him, arms folded over his chest, his hard gaze shifting from him to moped boy, who started his engine and rode off. The other lad followed fast, shouting, ‘Bye, darling, see ya,’ as he went.

  Joycie looked at the man. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Waiting for a taxi are you?’ he said, his voice low and polite.

  ‘Yes, it should be here by now.’ Silly to feel scared, he was trying to help her.

  A piercing whistle and there was her taxi. Almost as if it had been waiting for his signal. She reached for the door but he was there first, holding it open and giving a tiny bow as she climbed in. His hair was short and greased down, his face shiny and newly shaved. He had very pale grey eyes.

  ‘Thank you, you’re very kind.’ She tried to close the door, but he held onto it.

  ‘Station is it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He leaned towards the driver and she caught a whiff of aftershave. ‘Better hurry if she wants the London train.’ She reached for the door again, but he held on. ‘You shouldn’t be hanging around street corners in a place like this, you know. And it’s just as well those lads didn’t recognize you.’

  As the taxi pulled away he gave her a small wave and a little nod and turned away, shiny black shoes gleaming under the street lights.

  Hastings – September 1953

  Joycie and her dad have got into the habit of having their tea at the Italian café on the front before walking to the theatre. He always lets her have ice cream for afters and today it’s her favourite: banana split. He smokes and sips his coffee while she eats; the ice cream cold on her lips.

  When he screws up his eyes and hands her a paper napkin she scrubs at her face and he gives a little laugh. ‘Your mum would have my guts for garters if she could see you.’

  It’s almost the first time he’s mentioned Mum since she went and Joycie swallows hard and puts down her spoon, biting her lip to stop from crying.

  Dad rubs her shoulder. ‘Sorry, darlin’, didn’t mean to upset you.’

  His voice sounds thick and Joycie feels bad because it’s her fault. She starts to eat again even though her throat feels all clogged up.

  ‘You mustn’t blame your mum for going, Joycie. She’s a great girl and I didn’t deserve her. Never was much of a husband. But she loves you to bits and I bet she’ll be in touch one day soon.’ When Joycie looks up he’s smiling at her, but his blue eyes are bright with tears. So she gives him a wobbly grin and he sniffs, rubs his eyes and says, ‘And we’re all right for now aren’t we?’

  She finishes her banana split and holds his hand as they walk along by the sea in the late sunshine. People look at her dad as they pass, probably recognizing him from the show, but she can see that some of the women look because he’s so handsome. She’s proud to be holding his hand and to know he’s her dad. And she’s not going to think about that stained mat any more.

  And anyway she looked for it when she got back from Irene’s the day after Mum left and, although the black shoes were still in their box under the bed, she couldn’t find the mat.

  Chelsea – April 1965

  Joycie woke to Radio Caroline playing The Moody Blues’ ‘Go Now’ in the kitchen. Marcus was back then. He hadn’t come home last night, no doubt staying with some girl he’d met. She was grateful that he never brought anyone back here when she was at home. She had no right to expect even that of him, but it always upset her to think of him with someone else.

  A tap on the bedroom door, and he was there, holding a cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich. He sat on the bed, handing her the cup. ‘All right? How did it go?’

  She took a big gulp. ‘It was my aunt. I never even knew she existed, can you believe that? She seems really nice, but she hasn’t seen Mum since she left us and doesn’t know anything about this bloke she’s supposed to have run off with.’

  ‘So what does she think happened?’

  ‘She has no idea, although they did contact my dad just after Mum left.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  Joycie took a huge bite of her sandwich to give herself time to think, waving her hand so he knew he’d have to wait. He smiled and folded his arms as if prepared to sit in silence for as long as it took.

  When she could stand it no longer, she spoke through the food still in her mouth, and Marcus handed her a tissue from the bedside cabinet, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘The same thing he told me: that she left him, and he didn’t know where she was.’

  ‘So what do you think now?’ When Joycie shrugged and carried on chewing he said, ‘I mean, if she left him for another man, who was the guy?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Over the years I realized she had other men, but it didn’t affect me and never seemed to bother Dad either. I don’t remember anyone being around at that time, but he must have been special if she left us for him.’

  Marcus went over to the window and pulled the curtain so that the sun streamed in, making a bright halo of his hair. ‘You think it was something else, though, don’t you?’ She didn’t answer, her heart beating hard, as if by telling him it could make what she dreaded true. He faced her, half sitting on the dressing table. ‘Come on, Joycie, whatever you say I can tell you don’t really believe she deserted you.’

  She put the plate down and began pleating the crumpled sheet between her fingers. ‘I couldn’t, not for a long time, even though everyone said so. Eventually I just learned to accept it because there seemed to be no other explanation. But my aunt, she’s called Susan, says Mum really loved me. She doesn’t think she would have left without me for any reason. But who knows, perhaps this bloke wouldn’t let her bring me, and she had to make a choice.’

  ‘What did your dad tell you?’

  ‘That he was a rubbish husband, and he didn’t blame her for going. He always said Mum left me with him because she couldn’t provide for me, and because she knew it would have broken his heart to lose me too.’ She rubbed her nose with the tissue Marcus had given her, but it was greasy and smelled of bacon, and she scrabbled in the box for another.

  Marcus came back to sit on the bed and pulled her into his arms. They sat for a while, her head against his chest as she breathed in his lovely, familiar smell and listened to the steady beat of his heart. He smoothed her hair until she moved her head so that it rested in the curve of his warm palm, and he kissed her forehead.

  ‘I’m scared, Marcus,’ she said. ‘But I can’t leave it alone now.’

  ‘I know,’ he whispered.

  Then they kissed properly; a long soft kiss. His heart began to thump faster against her thin nightdress. Her own heart was speeding too, and when his lips pressed harder and his fingers twined into her hair she felt a throb of longing for him.

  ‘Little cock-teaser, that’s what you are, just like your mum.’

  The words echoed in her head along with the memory of cloying Brylcreem and smoke-clogged tweed, and Joycie flinched back. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she managed to gasp, turning away to hide her face in the wall, gulping down the bile, afraid he would guess how she felt. For a few moments she had wanted him so much. But that voice was in
her head again, and she knew she could never let go with any man, even with Marcus.

  He hadn’t moved, and after what seemed an age she felt his hand touch her shoulder. It stayed there for a moment before sliding down her arm. When he reached her hand he gripped her fingers. ‘It’s fine, come on, sit up and look at me, Joycie. It’s only me.’

  She grabbed more tissues and scrubbed at her face saying sorry over and over. When she was finally able to look at him, he smiled, and she longed to hold him again and tell him she loved him and one day it might work between them. But that was impossible.

  ‘This’, he made a gesture that seemed to take in her tear-stained face, the crumple of tissues on the bed, and even himself, ‘is all because of what happened to your mum, isn’t it?’

  She met his eyes. ‘I used to think someone, or something, might have forced her to go away.’

  ‘This guy she was having it off with, you mean?’

  A flicker of memory. ‘Or someone else. I just don’t know.’ He squeezed her forearm and for a moment she longed to lean into him again. Instead she climbed out of bed.

  ‘You’re not going to leave it at that, though, are you?’ he said. ‘You’ll see this aunt again?’

  ‘She’s sending me some letters they got from Mum.’

  ‘Good, and in the meantime why don’t we try to find out if there was another guy and have a go at tracking him down? I’ve got Sid Sergeant’s phone number, so we could get in touch with him. He and your parents were close so I bet he’ll have some idea.’

  Her dressing gown was on the end of the bed, and she pulled it round her, swallowing to get rid of the sick feeling in her throat. ‘No, I don’t want anything to do with him, with either of them.’

  Her voice came out louder than she meant, and Marcus raised his palms in front of him. ‘Fine, fine, no need to scream at me.’ She fastened the dressing gown, her fingers fumbling on the buttons, as he went on, ‘I wish you’d tell me everything, Joycie, it might even help you. It’s not just your mum, is it? Something happened to you as well.’