Keeping Control

Chapter One – Coming of age

"Well, have you decided what yer wearing yet?"

"No," said Jenny, " I just can’t decide – I really fancy a new get-up but I know me Mam can’t afford it!"

The topic of Jenny’s on-coming 16th birthday party had been the main topic of conversation between the two friends for the last few weeks, and as the big day drew nearer there were serious decisions to be made.

"What do you think?" she asked Tracy, " I know Darren likes my red dress best, but I’m not sure….."

"Yeah, right – and I wonder why that is? Could it be the fact that yer tits hang out when you lean over, by any chance?" scoffed Tracy, " I saw his face last time you wore it, Jen, poor lad couldn’t keep his eyes above your neck!"

Jenny pondered on this as they walked along, and decided to herself that maybe the red dress was not such a good idea after all – she and Darren had been courting now for almost six months, and it was becoming more and more difficult to hold off his clumsy advances. Apart from the usual snogging sessions and the evermore persistant groping hands, she had managed to hold his advances at bay. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him – she did, but she’d known him all her life, they lived across the street from each other, they’d ridden their bikes together and played in each others yards, gone to school together (even though he was a year higher, he’d hung around with her in the playground), and now this! It just didn’t feel right – it was like kissing your brother – she shuddered at the thought. She’d always expected first love to be like a firework display, but this was more like one of those cheap roman candles that promises excitement on the wrapper and turns out to be a feeble splutter of sparks. The least encouragement the better, maybe, especially since one of her main excuses for not allowing him to go further, her age, would no longer bear any weight come a week on Saturday.

"Maybe I’ll get something out of your Mam’s catalogue," she said, "I can just manage it out of my Saturday job"

"You’d better get a move on, then, it’s only ten days away – anyway, I’m off, see you in the morning!"

Jenny arrived home, pushed through the gate and walked wearily up to the house, school bag slung over her shoulder, jumper tied round her waist even though it was still only May and not that warm. It was just that once she left the school grounds she couldn’t wait to take off her tie and jumper, it somehow gave her a feeling of freedom after the confines of the dismal school building.

"Is that you, love? Am I glad you’re back, I’m gasping for a cuppa – put the kettle on, there’s a good girl!"

"Hi, Dad", said Jenny, walking into the front room, where her father was stretched out on the sofa, watching the horseracing. "I thought you’d be down at the club today"

"Aye, well, not much to spare for afternoon drinking, what with your big day coming up, is there?"

Jenny couldn’t help the small pang of resentment as she thought "no, but you don’t go out and get a job, do you, Dad" and then felt guilty because she knew he had tried, for a while, when the factory closed down, but it wasn’t easy when you were forty-five and your only experience of work was making shoes which nobody wanted any more. Good thing Mam was still working, because the casual building work that he found from time to time wasn’t enough to keep them. It helped now that Tony, her older brother, was working full time at the Red Lion, and bringing home a few quid for the kitty and a few bottles when he could get away with it. They weren’t badly off compared to some, she supposed, but holidays were a thing of the past and clothes were repaired where once they would have been replaced. Still, another few weeks and she could leave school and get a job. She knew her parents wanted her to stay on, get some qualifications, but for what? In Overdale, A-levels weren’t worth a lot when the biggest local employer was Tesco’s.

She dumped her schoolbag on the floor and went through to the kitchen.

"Aw, Dad, you could at least have washed up" she said, gazing at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

"Tony came home for lunch, but he had to rush off back to the pub, and besides, racing was starting. Your Mum will do it when she gets home,"

"But she’s been working all day….." Jenny started to say, before she realized that her words were falling on deaf ears. So far as the male members of the household were concerned, washing up – or any other kind of housework for that matter – were definitely ‘women’s work’. A local saying was that once a woman married an Overdale man, it wasn’t a question of whether she would be chained to the kitchen sink – the only question was ‘how long was the chain?’ She switched on the kettle, and made a start on the dishes.