Faith - Lesley Pearse [8]
Bill, her father, made matters worse. He had been in and out of prison for as long as Laura could remember. Each time he came out he would get work on building sites or something for a few weeks, but he soon went back to his old ways. Most nights he was out drinking and he slept till late the following day, making it difficult for June to get a routine going. He could be generous and jolly when he was in the money, but if there wasn’t enough for him to buy a few drinks or go down the dog track, he was very grumpy and took it out on June.
In Laura’s opinion, however, it was the overcrowded, dark, damp flat that had got her mother down most. She often said wearily that it didn’t look any better even when it was tidy and clean, and that if only they had a garden, a bathroom and an inside lavvy she’d feel like she’d won the pools.
Laura had accompanied her to the council loads of times to try to make them give them a house. Her mother pleaded with them that it wasn’t right that Mark and Paul slept in a room where water ran down the walls, or that the three girls had to sleep in the same bed, because there was no room for another one. But her pleas were ignored.
Laura had overheard a neighbour saying that it was because of Bill going in and out of prison all the time. She said they didn’t want ‘rough’ families living on the new estates.
As if they had special food sensors on their noses, Mark and Paul arrived home just as their mother was frying the chips. They were skinny versions of their burly father, with the same dark brown hair, sharp features and cocky manner. Laura sensed they were plotting something as they looked annoyed when June told them she wanted them to stay in that evening to look after the little ones as she was going down the pub to meet Bill.
‘He had a few quid when he went out to the football this afternoon,’ June said. ‘He’ll go straight to the pub afterwards and if I don’t go and join him he’ll stay out until he’s spent every penny he’s got on him.’
Laura, Mark and Paul exchanged resigned glances. They’d all too often heard their father stumbling in dead drunk late at night, and witnessed the rows when their mother found his pockets empty in the morning. It would make no difference to the amount he spent if their mother joined him at the pub, but at least they came home drunk together, kissing and cuddling like lovebirds. That usually meant their parents were much nicer to them all the following day.
At half past seven June left the house all dressed up in her best pink dress and her hair looking really nice, but she’d no sooner left than Mark and Paul said they were going out too.
‘You tell Mum and Dad and you’ll be sorry,’ Mark warned Laura, giving her a shilling and a Mars bar as a bribe.
Laura was quite happy to go along with this; she didn’t know why her parents always insisted the boys had to babysit anyway, for they were worse than useless with the little ones and nasty to her. She warned them to be sure to get back before their parents or there’d be hell to pay, and felt glad she was to be left alone.
Freddy fell fast asleep the minute he’d had his bottle, and Ivy and Meggie were in bed by half past eight, so Laura had the luxury of being able to lie on her parents’ bed to read with no one to interrupt her.
At half past ten her brothers returned, but they went straight to their room without speaking to her. Laura got into bed with her sisters soon after and was dozing off when she heard her parents come home. She knew they were tipsy because they were laughing, and her last thought before she dropped off to sleep was to hope Dad had had a win on the horses and they’d all