April Fool's Day

What surprised Brenda the most was the dark blue of the door. Somehow, she was half expecting to see faded yellow and flaky paint. The piece of brown wood still nailed along the bottom. Someone had kicked a panel in one night. The two red steps where the colour tried desperately to peep through the grime now shone brightly. 

Someone must clean and polish those steps every day, she thought, from her vantage point across the road. The brass doorknob appeared golden against the dark front door.

The sun always rose on this side of the house and warmed the step. She’d sat there many times trying to get her stiff body to move. A strange moment when she’d felt something akin to pleasure. Then Rosa shouting and asking who the bloody hell she thought she was sitting there like lady muck. She’d run back to the cold bedroom. Her bare feet not noticing the rough wood on the stairs. She’d curl up with the other kids on the filthy mattresses. Listening for the sound of Rosa leaving the building. Able to breathe again.

Brenda stood on the pavement opposite the terraced houses. Certain it was the door on the right and not the brown door on the left. She felt rather confused after all these years. It was the last house before the passageway that led to the rear yards. Yards with outside toilets where she’d sat for what seemed like hours. A means of escape. Not wanting to move or tear a sheet of newspaper from the hook in case someone heard the rustle and found her.

She remembered the spot opposite number thirteen. The place next to the lamppost where the dog always sat barking. She recalled his dry, dull coat. His protruding ribs. She didn’t blame him for running away after a beating. She’d wished she could run away too, many times. Being so young, she hadn’t known where to run. Where could she go? To the park? To the hills she saw through the mucky bedroom window. What about the other kids? Would they go with her? Would little Billy run away with her? She’d begged him once, but he hadn’t answered, he just carried on crying. 

Knowing he’d eventually find food probably brought the hungry dog back, Brenda thought. She understood what hunger felt like.

Rusty would run up the stairs to snuggle up with the friendly kids. He was a clever dog. Brenda watched him and learned from him. She learned how to steal food. Just enough for Rosa not to notice. That way no-one got a beating.

Brenda hung onto Miranda’s arm.

“Are you okay, Brenda?”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s just look at the old builder’s yard for a minute, can we?”

“Yes, of course.”

Brenda stared at the stack of bricks by the open gates. The old cement mixer. The mounds of wood and metal sheets. It all appeared just as she recalled it, apart from the piles being much larger. The building materials in the same place as if it were yesterday and not forty years later. A shiver crept up her spine.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Brenda?”

“Yes, I’m certain. Let’s get it over and done with once and for all.”

“I’ll phone the estate agent. Their number’s on the board. We can pretend we want to view the house. It’s that or we just knock on the door and tell the owners you used to live here once. See if they will let you have a look around.”

“No. I think I’d rather pretend to be a buyer if that’s all right with you Miranda. I don’t want people asking questions about how long ago I lived here and things like that.”

“I understand. I’ll give the estate agent a ring. I’ll tell them we are only in the area for the day looking at properties. We need to view the house now as we’ve just come across it while looking in the area. Does that sound about right Brenda?”

Brenda nodded as she continued to scrutinise the builder’s yard.

“Ah, is that Jackson’s estate agents? We’re standing outside a property. I got your number from the ‘for sale’ board. We wondered if we could view it, like now, as we are right outside, and it is in the area we are looking at.”

Brenda heard muffled sounds coming from Miranda’s phone.

“That will be lovely thank you.”

“It’s the smells.”

“What?”

“It’s the smells I remember the most.”

“The smells?”

“Yes. The wood in the builder’s yard and the dust. The sound of metal. I remember the sound of metal.”

“Ah that’s interesting Brenda. Maybe more memories will come back to you as we go around the house.”

“I don’t want memories coming back to me. I want to forget it all and put it in the past.”

“No, of course you don’t. I didn’t really mean that.”

“What did you mean then?”

“I don’t know. Look, the estate agent says we can view. She will phone the owner and we can just knock on the door and she’ll show us around. Are you ready for it?”

Brenda nodded, “Yes, I guess so. It’s now or never.”

Three minutes later, the front door of number thirteen opened. A smart-looking lady of about thirty-five stepped out onto the pavement and waved them over.

Brenda’s legs went wobbly as she crossed the road, still hanging onto Miranda’s arm.

“You’re wanting to view, are you?”

“Yes please. We’re only in this area for the day and this looks a lovely house and would suit us enormously. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” said Brenda.

The neat-looking lady led the way. Brenda put her right foot on the red step. Her mind shot back in time. Another smell. Little Billy had shit his pants as he’d run out the front door one day. The shit had dripped onto the step. No-one had ever bothered to clean it up. Instead, it had slowly dried in the morning sun. You just had to avoid it whenever someone took you in or out.

Miranda whispered, “Are you all right, Brenda? You look pale, my dear.”

Brenda squeezed Miranda’s arm to let her know she was fine.

They followed the owner down the narrow hallway. Brenda looked at her feet. She was standing on the same black-and-white tiles, now clean and nicely polished. Three cracked ones just inside the door. The walls a bright off-white. No bits of torn wallpaper dangling. No dirty marks. No spots of blood where little Billy had a nosebleed after being pushed down the stairs.

Little Billy was the only kid she could remember. Somehow, she recollected there being at least nine children at one time. Crammed into the middle bedroom. Filthy mattresses on the floor. Another shiver went through Brenda’s thin frame.

“This is what we call the front room.”

Brenda walked past the open white door and stared at the fireplace. Still there. The open grate now filled with fresh logs. Brenda took in the smell of the pine. A vase of roses sat on the mantle shelf. Beautiful pink roses reflected in the ornate mirror hanging on the chimney breast.

“We don’t use the fire. It’s just for decoration, really. Now we’ve got the central heating in. This place was so cold when we first bought it. All mod cons now. You’ll love it. We do. But we’ve decided to move, and that’s that.”

Brenda relived the icy nights when all the children would huddle together to keep warm. If Rosa took pity on you and left a cloth to wash yourself with, then it would be frozen by morning. The sash windows never did close properly, and the wind whistled through the gap, keeping Brenda and some of the youngsters awake night after night.

“It’s lovely,” Said Brenda as she gazed at the clean white embossed wallpaper, the gloss paintwork, the picture of a sunset on the wall above the sofa.

Her mind flew back to the dimly lit room full of men with dirty yellow teeth. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes.

They would drag Billy downstairs first. When he came back up to the middle room, as they called it, Brenda knew it was her turn.

They passed her around the men. One at a time. They’d cough in her face and laugh at her and force whisky down her throat until it stung.

Anger suddenly blew up inside Brenda. She tried to stifle it.

“Can we view the other rooms now please? You’ve got a lovely home here.”

“Yes, this way to the kitchen.”

Brenda recognised the step down into the room. The window on the right. The door to the yard at the far end. The scene forced up more memories. The damp smell. The old laundry pulley was still attached to the ceiling above the new-looking built-in oven.

Brenda’s mind flashed back to the scene of Rosa standing at the cooker and Big Bob coming in from the yard and releasing the pulley onto Rosa’s head. The washing catching fire. Big Bob getting some buckets of water and putting the fire out and then sending Rosa to the hospital to get her burns seen to. That was a terrible night. With Rosa away, more men came in. There were several kids in the front room with Brenda that night.

Rosa returned the following morning with her arms in bandages. Big Bob fixed the laundry pulley. Rosa hugged him for mending it.

“Would you like to see the yard?”

“No. I think that’s okay. Thank you.”

“We’ve turned the outside toilet and coal barn into a nice little shed. My husband keeps all his knickknacks in there.”

“That’s nice.” Commented Miranda as she followed Brenda to the bottom of the stairs.

“I think I’ve seen enough.” Brenda blurted.

“Are you sure?” Asked the lady of the house. “Maybe it’s not what you were looking for after all.”

“No. I mean, yes. I think it looks really lovely. The colours. The wallpaper. The fireplace and the kitchen. They all look very nice now. I mean, they all look very nice and warm and welcoming. Not a bit like what I was expecting.”

“We’ve had a long journey to get here and we’ve got some more houses to view.” Said Miranda as she edged her way back to the front door.

“That’s all right. If you want to view again then do, please let me know. We are open to offers as the house has been on the market for a while and we are keen to move now we’ve set our hearts on it.”

“We will. Thank you. We’ll discuss it with the estate agents and they’ll let you know. Thank you for showing us around.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Brenda hurried out the front door and then hesitated on the top step. The smell of dog piss and Billy’s dried up shit seemed forever stuck up her nose.

“Come on, Brenda. We’d better be off now. Brenda? Brenda? Are you all right love you’ve gone very pale?”

Brenda had her head down, looking at the pavement as she ambled along beside Miranda.

“I know my actual name isn’t Brenda and I don’t feel like a Brenda. I never have done since that day they found us all cooped up in that god-forsaken hole. They gave me that name. They didn’t ask me if I wanted it. They just gave it to me when I said I didn’t know what my name was.”

Brenda started sobbing.

“I know. I was hoping you’d feel better for seeing the house again.”

“Oh, I do. I do. They’ve made it look so lovely. I think they’ve loved that house. It’s no longer got those horrors in it. Poor Billy. I wonder what became of him and the other kids?”

“Unfortunately, Brenda, it was impossible for us social workers to give you and the other children access to names and addresses because of the court case.”

“I know Miranda. I’m glad the house looks nice. Calm and peaceful somehow. Shall we go to that little tearoom we saw around the corner and celebrate my birthday now, Miranda? They may have given me a name I hate and 1^st of April for my birthday, but we can still be happy.”

“Yes, why not? It may be April Fool’s Day, but you’re definitely not a fool Brenda.”

“Neither are you Miranda. Come on.”

Brenda hurried along the narrow footpath to ‘Betty’s Tea Rooms’ and ordered afternoon tea for two in the sunny garden at the rear.

“I remember very little about the night they raided the place Miranda. There was a lot of noise. I suppose they had to bash the door in. Then people everywhere. A lady took my hand and told me to follow her. They wrapped blankets around all the kids and stood them in the middle of the road to wait for the ambulances. I enjoyed having a warm shower and the soup.”

Miranda gave a comforting squeeze to Brenda's arm.

“Here comes the splendid afternoon tea, Brenda. Just look at those neat sandwiches and the creamy scones, how wonderful.”

Miranda poured two cups of tea. “Here Brenda, let’s have a toast with our cuppa. Here’s to…”

“April Fool’s Day. My birthday.” Brenda butted in.

“Yes, cheers. Happy Birthday and happy April Fool’s Day, Brenda.”

“Here’s to a bright future for us both, Miranda.”