That'll Be the Day (2007), page 23
part #3 of Champion Street Market Series
Jake was appalled. He could feel all the blood draining from his long lean body, leaving him cold and frozen as an icicle. ‘You wouldn’t hurt me mam, not again?’
‘Want to bet? I’ll do whatever I have to do to make my way in the world. That’s the difference between us, lad. You talk about being a success, I get on with the job.’
Deeply distressed by the mess he seemed to be embroiled in, Jake tried one more time to stand up to this bully, this so-called father of his whom he’d longed to meet all his life. ‘Aye, right, so successful you spent half your bleedin’ life in t’nick. Why would I want to do anything that’ll land me in t’same hole?’
Ewan punched his son on the nose and while blood spurted, growled at him. ‘I’ve told you why, wash out your cloth ears. Bring me summat good to sell by the end of the week or we’ll send your mam back into that hospital for a bit longer. You’ve got five days to prove you’re a man. Generous to a fault, I am.’
Chapter Thirty
When Leo arrived home, tired and restless and no nearer to resolving his dilemma of whether or not he should do anything to help Judy, he discovered that the Barfords were due to arrive shortly for supper. Leo was hard put not to show his impatience. In his opinion, David Barford was a bumptious, conceited twit who had no other topic of conversation beyond himself and politics, and his wife was a mouse, unsurprisingly.
‘I hope this isn’t evidence of more manipulation on your part, Helen, because I have made my position clear. I’m aware the by-elections are over for this year, but don’t think Barford can twist my arm for future years. I will not be putting myself forward as a possible parliamentary candidate, not ever. I hope that is clear. In fact, I’ve been speaking to Ted Dixon and he sees no reason why I shouldn’t serve on the city council. Local affairs are much more in my line.’
Helen was seated at her dressing table, hair brush frozen in mid-air as she stared at him in stunned surprise. ‘You’ve made these arrangements behind my back?’
Leo gave a small click of impatience in his throat. ‘It’s my business, Helen, to decide on these matters, not yours.’
‘I’m your wife!’ The hair brush crashed down, making the glass powder bowls and perfume sprays shiver and chink against each other.
‘That doesn’t put you in charge of every facet of my life. If I wish to hear your opinion on the subject, I shall ask for it.’
‘I expect you ask for hers all the time.’
Leo turned away, reached for his tie and began to knot it, determined not to rise to her challenge.
‘You don’t like the Barfords because David’s loyal little wife doesn’t fawn at your feet as all the other women do. Oh, I understand you perfectly, Leo. You think if you’re top dog in the city you can have your pick of sexy little floosies.’
Leo actually laughed at that. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous. Were I to be so inclined, party politics would be a far richer field for dalliance, I should imagine. Even prime ministers have been known to keep mistresses. I, however, as I have constantly assured you, my darling, do not!’
As he picked up his cuff links he caught the look of triumph in her face and could have kicked himself. Why did he constantly allow her to provoke him?
When they were first married he’d found her jealousy amusing, even flattering. But as it grew worse over the years it became only irritating and stifling. He understood why she was this way. Her father had neglected both Helen and her mother, dallying with any bit of skirt who chanced by, and had cruelly criticised and belittled them both so that Helen came to believe herself plain and unattractive, instead of the rare beauty she truly was. Although its freshness was fading now, hardened by bitterness and discontent. Her self-esteem had been low even when they’d first met but he’d believed he could change all of that with the right sort of affection. How wrong he was.
She again picked up the brush and began to drag it with such ferocity through the pale fronds of her hair it looked as if she might tear it from her scalp. ‘I can see that I must be entirely unlovable. How can dull little me hope to hold on to Leo Catlow, the most handsome man in Castlefield?’
‘Stop that, Helen! You know that’s utter nonsense, and only your own insecurity talking.’
He went to her then, to put his hands on her shoulder, his deep brown eyes warm with sympathy and understanding. ‘I want you to put an end to this foolish jealousy. I’m not prepared to play this stupid game any more, nor am I willing to involve myself in tangled arguments because that would sound like an excuse or an apology, and I have nothing to apologise for. I understand what causes you to feel this way, but you cannot go on forever blaming me for what your father did.’
‘Get out! Get out of my room this minute!’
He heard the sound of the perfume bottle hitting the door even as he closed it.
Leo was into his second glass of whisky by the time she joined him. Alcohol, he knew, was not the answer to a failing marriage but he needed something to sustain him through the evening ahead. Dulcie was happily enjoying her usual gin and tonic, looking quite pink cheeked and perky. He only hoped Helen would do nothing to spoil that happy state of affairs.
Yet again he was disappointed. Helen took her revenge by fawning all over David Barford, making his poor wife squirm with embarrassment, and mocking poor Dulcie over everything she did.
‘Use the other glass, Mother-in-law. That one is for red wine, not white. Social etiquette has moved on a pace since you used to have your boring little tea parties here.’
‘Oh, dear, how foolish of me. But I think I’d really prefer water, if you don’t mind, dear. That gin has quite gone to my head.’
‘Not surprising, since there’s nothing in it to begin with,’ Helen remarked, with an acid sweet smile.
Leo issued her with a warning look and poured his mother a glass of water. In her panic, Dulcie then inadvertently picked up the wrong knife.
‘The fish knife, for goodness sake! This is trout, and we haven’t got to the main course yet. Don’t you know anything?’
Sheila Barford, mouse or not, recognised a bully when she saw one and bravely rushed to Dulcie’s support. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Mrs Catlow, I constantly make silly mistakes with cutlery. And it is indeed beautiful, finest silver plate I should think,’ attempting to appease her hostess at the same time. ‘You are such a wonderful cook, Helen, I really don’t know how you find the time.’
‘What else would I do since my husband is rarely home to entertain me? You really don’t know how fortunate you are that he has deigned to make an appearance here this evening.’
‘My wife does so enjoy her little jokes,’ Leo snapped, a grim smile stretching his lips to the point of pain.
David Barford said, ‘Leo will be home even less, Helen, should he decide to enter politics.’
‘That isn’t going to happen,’ Leo responded, attempting to keep his tone pleasant and conversational. ‘I’ve more than enough work running my distribution business and am also becoming heavily involved in community affairs. I prefer to leave national politics to those with greater ambitions than I. I’ve chosen to stand for the city council.’ He avoided glancing at his wife, aware of the daggered looks she was sending him.
Barford said, ‘How interesting. Doesn’t offer as much power of course, but it has it uses.’
Leo glanced sharply at him. ‘It isn’t power I seek, merely to put back something into the community that has served me - and my parents,’ he smiled at Dulcie, ‘- so well over the years.’
‘It’s a point of view, old chap, but don’t ever forget number one.’
‘I’m sure you don’t.’
Helen got quickly to her feet. ‘Time for the duck, I think. And before you say you prefer roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, Mother-in-law, let me assure you I have provided for your more working-class tastes with a dish of beef stew.’
There was a short, embarrassed silence.
Pink-cheeked, Dulcie thanked her daughter-in-law with commendable grace. ‘How kind of you. I think I shall take it to my room, I’m feeling rather tired suddenly.’
And so the evening dragged on, with Helen seeking every opportunity to make jibes, Sheila Barford trying to keep her head down, her husband boring on about the current success of the party, and getting himself intoxicated on Leo’s expensive wines, while Dulcie felt obliged to make a hasty and early retreat to her bedroom. Happy families indeed!
Judy and Leo began to meet regularly at the little coffee shop. She tried to resist but they both knew that something special was growing between them, and Judy felt utterly helpless beneath the tide of this new emotion that swept over her. Helpless to prevent it. Leo Catlow was the voice of comfort and reason that kept her sane, the attentive admirer who made her feel like an attractive woman again.
She didn’t care what Sam might think if ever he were to find out. Judy justified the growing friendship between them by telling herself that if her husband could enjoy his ‘other women’, surely she was entitled to one male friend.
And that’s all they were – friends - not lovers in any sense of the word. Because they did no more than talk over a cup of coffee Judy convinced herself that they were doing nothing wrong, that it was all perfectly innocent, although in her heart of hearts she knew it wasn’t anything of the sort.
The glances they exchanged, the heady excitement that soared through her veins if their fingers touched as they both reached for the sugar at the same time, the way they hunched close over the table and confided their deepest secrets to each other, told a different story.
Judy didn’t even consider how it might affect her chances of a divorce if this dangerous relationship became known.
When they were together they talked and laughed as if they had known each other all their life. Leo seemed to understand things about her without Judy even needing to explain. And when they were apart she was consumed by the memory of their time together, aching for the next meeting. She loved his deep set brown eyes, his wide smiling mouth and strong square chin, the way he gently rubbed her shoulder whenever she was upset or worrying about the children. Sensitive, as well as strong, he was also far too loyal to a selfish, uncaring wife.
And there was the crux of their problem. They were both still married to other people and their liaison was unwise, illegal, and bound to lead to unhappiness. Yet since he offered sympathy, companionship and practical assistance in the form of employment, she tried not think about the long term implications, or possible troubled waters ahead.
Leo had found her a job operating the labelling machine in a local jam factory which belonged to a colleague of his. Judy could only work part time, because of the children, but it was such a relief to have money coming in regularly again.
She revelled in her new-found freedom and independence, and set about seeking better accommodation for them all with a renewed confidence. She couldn’t afford to buy canvasses so asked around on the market begging scraps of wood and hardboard to paint on instead, and in the evenings when the children were asleep, she borrowed her daughter’s water colours and would sit at the kitchen table and absorb herself utterly in her painting.
Leo constantly worried about her, something which Judy found quite enchanting. ‘You’re still far too thin,’ he would say. ‘Are you eating properly? You look so pale, so fragile.’
He offered to take her for a drive in the country, to bring some colour to her cheeks. Never, in all her life had she known what it was to be cared for by a man, to feel so treasured. But it was risky. Should she accept? There were dangers, not least the pain she might suffer if, having set her back on her feet, he then walked away.
But how long was it since she’d experienced the smallest degree of happiness? How long since she’d enjoyed a bit of carefree fun? Too long. Sam certainly wouldn’t be depriving himself. When had he ever? So why should she? She was still young, still pretty, why couldn’t she have some pleasure too? Judy was quite sure nothing untoward would happen between them. Leo Catlow was a gentleman, a person to be trusted. It would all be perfectly safe and above board, not least because the children would be there too. He made that quite clear.
‘We could have a lovely day out, a picnic in some quiet spot in the Ribble Valley. I mean all of you, Tom and Ruth too,’ he assured her.
‘To act as chaperones, you mean?’
He chuckled at that. ‘In a way, I suppose, but I promise, Judy, it will all be most respectable.’ A slight pause. ‘You can assure Sam of that too.’
‘You know I won’t tell him.’
‘I thought you never kept secrets from your husband?’
‘I think I’d better keep this one.’
‘Does that mean you agree to come?’ His voice lifted, rather like a small boy filled with the anticipation of some promised treat.
And without giving a thought to the advice her solicitor had so painstakingly given her, Judy found herself laughing up at him as if she hadn’t a care in the world. ‘How could I refuse?’
Chapter Thirty-One
‘Now then, Jimmy, what can I do for you lad?’ Betty smiled up at her customer who seemed bigger than ever from this angle.
Jimmy Ramsay wiped his hands on his butcher’s apron then tugged his white trilby hat by way of acknowledgement. ‘I need a nice bucket for my Maggie. She’s been in the hospital for a bit of an op. Women’s business, you know.’
Betty nodded. ‘I hope she’s feeling better.’
‘Oh, aye, much improved, thanks. I’m going to see her this aft, so I thought I’d tek her a nice bucket.’
‘I’m sorry to say we don’t sell buckets, Jimmy lad, only bouquets.’
He grinned at her, showing all his crooked teeth. ‘I’m glad to see you back on form, Betty lass, even if you are still confined to that thing.’
‘Our Jake quite envies me. He’s desperate for a new set of wheels. Now then, Jimmy, what’ll it be? Roses? Carnations?’
‘She doesn’t like a lot of show,’ said Jimmy, panicking slightly as he thought of the expense.
‘Sweet peas then, the very thing, for delicate pleasures which I’m sure she’ll be enjoying again soon, once she’s recovered.’
‘Aye, aye, course she will,’ her husband agreed, blushing furiously.
‘Shall I wrap them or would you prefer a little basket? I reckon you can dig deep enough in them capacious pockets of yours to run to a proper arrangement, or have you stitched them up?’
‘Is your Lynda not going out with that Terry hall any more?’ The question seemed to come out of nowhere and Betty was surprised.
‘Nay, how would I know what our Lynda is doing? I’m only her mother.’
‘I only ask because our Kevin’s been out with her recently once or twice, and he’s seriously smitten.’
Betty smiled. ‘As are half the men in Manchester. Don’t ask me what she’s up to Jimmy. I don’t get myself involved in my daughter’s love life and neither should you.’
‘Aye, you’re probably right. It’s just that I wouldn’t like to see him hurt.’
‘Life’s all about getting hurt and learning how to deal with it,’ Betty bitterly commented.
Before he left, well pleased with his purchase, Jimmy told her of a meeting that evening for the market committee. ‘It’s to be at the Poulsons as Big Molly has offered to put on a potato pie supper. Why don’t you come round, if you feel up to it. Time you got back into the swing of things.’
Betty brightened. ‘Thanks, Jimmy, that’d be grand. I’m fair sick of stopping in.’
‘I could come round and give you a push if you need it, or happen your ex will be happy to do that for you.’
‘I’d like to give my ex a push, right into the Irwell,’ Betty muttered. ‘But don’t tell him I said so.’
Jimmy frowned. ‘I thought you and him were all cosy again?’
Betty’s eyebrows shot up. ‘If I ever start to cosy up with that man you have leave to shove me in the Irwell yourself, Jimmy lad. I’m doing me utmost to get rid of him, but it isn’t working, not so far. Anyway, that’s my problem, not yours, me own bit of hurt I have to deal with. I’ll see you all tonight. And give Maggie my love.’
With her mother out for the evening and feeling in need of a bit of company herself, Lynda invited a few friends round. She was lonely, missing Terry badly and the string of dates with several different men had not satisfied her nearly as much as she’d hoped. They’d taken her out a time or two but any flicker of passion would quickly fizzle out. Either she lost interest, or they did. Even Kevin Ramsay, who’d been hot for her once, had refused her offer of a fourth date.
‘I don’t think so, Lynda, let’s call it a day, huh?’
‘Why, what’s wrong?’ She’d felt hurt and abandoned yet again. Hadn’t she let him kiss her, fondle her a little, because she knew that was what lads liked? And he’d seemed so keen.
‘There’s nothing wrong and I still fancy you like crazy, but you’re not really there half the time, if you know what I mean. Your attention always seems to be elsewhere. If you ask me, I reckon you’re still hung up on Terry.’
‘Rubbish. I was over him long since.’ The band of pain around her heart threatened to choke her on the lie.
‘We can still be good friends though, eh?’
Lynda was thinking that she really mustn’t allow herself to even think about Terry. She had to get over him, and what better way than to go out with other guys? Terry had never been near since she dumped him; not called her, not even strolled over to share a coffee with her. Didn’t even look her way or say hello if she saw him on the market. He’d obviously forgotten all about her by now, Lynda thought, rather unfairly, so why should she care?
‘I said we’ll just stay friends then. Right?’ Kevin repeated, gently reminding her that he was still waiting for her answer.
‘Oh, right. Okay, Kevin. Whatever you say.’
And they had remained friends, although she could tell he was still secretly nursing the hope that they might one day be much more. With the others it had never progressed beyond the first date. She loved men, so what was going wrong? It was disappointing that they didn’t ask her out again when she’d put so much effort into trying to please them: dressing in snazzy clothes, laughing at their pathetic jokes, letting them paw and kiss her on the back seat at the pictures. Yet nothing ever came of these sessions. She supposed Kevin was right, she just wasn’t interested. All the fun seemed to have gone out of her life.
