That'll Be the Day (2007), page 28
part #3 of Champion Street Market Series
‘I’m sure I can manage. I’ve lived in Castlefield a good deal longer than you, dear.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ Helen icily responded. But not for much longer, she added silently to herself as she went upstairs to her room and quietly closed the door. She made no move to undress or to lie down, but stood listening to the sounds of her mother-in-law leaving the house. Her plan was risky but then nothing was gained without taking chances.
Five or six minutes after Dulcie had gone, Helen was clad in her dressing gown, ready to put the plan into effect. She made her way back down to the kitchen.
After lighting the gas burner on the stove Helen took a tea towel which Dulcie had set to dry on the rack and put it to the flame. It caught instantly, filling the small room with smoke in seconds as the flames leaped and danced. Helen held her nerve for as long as she dared, watching as the smoke blackened, the flames travelled and caught the blue check curtains that hung at the kitchen window. She was tired of those curtains in any case, and these kitchen cupboards. Only when she judged sufficient damage had been done did she turn on the cold water tap and begin to fill the washing up bowl. It seemed about the right time to have smelled smoke, rushed downstairs and to start throwing water about.
But somehow the fire had taken a greater hold far quicker than she’d expected. Filling and flinging bowlfuls of water didn’t seem to be having much effect on damping it down. In genuine distress now, Helen ran to the phone to call for the fire brigade.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘Your usual, is it, for your lovely mam?’ Betty glanced up at Leo, and wondered how a man who had it all could look so tired and depressed. He made no reply so she kept on talking, as was her wont. ‘Carnations are lovely just now. Red for “alas my poor heart", yellow for disdain, pink for a woman’s love. I’ve some garden ones here, shorter stems but with a wonderful scent. Course, standard carnations, or dianthus, as we should rightly call them, don’t have any scent. But they’ll last three weeks if you look after them properly. Are you not feeling too well, might I ask?’
Leo forced a smile. Last evening at six o’clock he’d witnessed the removal of Judy’s children from her care. He’d been hovering around the market, hoping to speak to her and discover the outcome of the case when Sam had arrived in his van and the children and all their goods and chattels had been loaded on board. He’d kept well back in the shadows, silently watching and his heart had gone out to her because he could see at once this wasn’t an example of Sam’s visiting rights. This was something much more permanent.
Judy had stood at the door white-faced, steadfastly brave for the sake of her children. He thought he had never seen such courage, and such stark despair, in his life before. The bleak terror in her eyes had chilled him, and the silence in the street when the van had driven off in a cloud of dust would echo forever in his soul.
He’d hurried straight across to her but she’d regarded him as if he were a stranger and uttered just two words. ‘Stay away!’
‘Judy, let me help, for God’s sake. I heard about your losing the job. If you’ve lost the children too, let me help you get them back.’
Wild-eyed, she’d screamed at him. ‘Haven’t you done enough? Keep away from me!.’ And she’d rushed inside and slammed the door.
‘I’ve got the black dog on my shoulder this morning,’ Leo admitted now to Betty. ‘Feeling a bit low, though not as low as some. You’ve heard about Judy . . . Mrs Beckett, I suppose. She lost custody.’
‘Oh, my giddy aunt!’ Betty put a hand to her mouth. ‘I’ll send our Lynda round right away, though she hasn’t been too well lately either.’ Betty frowned. ‘Nay, what’s happening to the world? It’s sick, that’s what it is, taking babbies away from their mother.’
They discussed the case for a while, and Leo managed to get the message across that he could do little to help without compromising her and Betty promised to keep a motherly eye on Judy. ‘I’ll take her some flowers,’ which brought their attention back to the carnations for Dulcie.
‘How is the good lady, well, I trust? Haven’t seen her around lately. I heard you had a bit of a fire. That must’ve been scary. Not too much damage, I hope?’
Leo shook his head. ‘Not too much, no.’ Except to his poor mother who hadn’t stopped weeping since, swearing she clearly remembered turning off the gas jets, and the oven. But the evidence was there for them all to see. Helen had been upstairs in the shower at the time and there’d been no one else in the house, so what else could it be but Dulcie’s forgetfulness which caused the accident? He’d finally had to accept that Helen was right. It was time for his mother to go into a residential home where she would be given the care and attention she needed. Hence the need for the flowers. It was today he was taking her and felt he had to make her new room as welcoming as possible.
‘Well, at least you’re looking more yourself, Betty. More lively than I’ve seen you in a long while.’ He smiled at her in a distracted sort of way as he fished in his pocket for his wallet, and Betty grinned back.
‘Oh, aye, and I can nearly dance a jig now.’ She pulled herself out of her chair and shuffled a few steps with the help of two sticks.
Leo laughed, though he was hardly even looking at her, too busy counting out notes. ‘The exercises are paying off then. Good for you. I must go. How much do I owe you?’
The fact he asked the price told Betty that something must be badly wrong in that household.
Things weren’t too good in her own household either, did Betty but know it. Lynda had made a startling discovery. She’d been cleaning Jake’s room, collecting the dirty clothes that he generally left lying all over the floor, and the tea mugs with mould growing in the bottom of them, hanging up his jazzy Teddy-boy jackets and his string ties.
It was when she was putting his crepe-soled shoes away in the cupboard that she came across the boxes. Any number of them, which Lynda had never seen before. Curious to know what they contained, Lynda opened one. It was full of transistor radios. Frowning, she opened another. Cigarettes. Beginning to sweat, she opened a third. This one contained cartons of Imperial Leather soap, jars of Pond’s face cream, and any number of bottles of Blue Grass perfume.
‘Oh, God. Now he’s really done it.’
As if controlled by some will other than her own, Lynda got up from her knees and the next moment found herself standing at Ewan’s bedroom door. She never went in here. It was forbidden territory. Ever since her mam had come home form the hospital and Ewan had taken up residence of the room in her place she hadn’t come near, not even to clean it, making it very clear from the start that it was his responsibility.
But this morning he was out, so it was now or never.
Lynda grasped the handle and pushed open the door. What she saw made her gasp. The small room was stacked from floor to ceiling with boxes, exactly like the ones she’d found in Jake’s cupboard. A few frantic moments later, she knew all she needed to know. Her father was handling stolen goods. He was carrying out his criminal activities from their own home.
Lynda heard the sound of the front door opening and her heart leaped into her mouth. Fast as she could she closed up the boxes again, although she couldn’t replace the sticky-backed paper tape she’d peeled off. Instead she shunted another box on top to cover the damning evidence then fled to her own room where she sat on the bed, heart beating like a mad thing.
‘Lynda, are you in, love? Judy’s in trouble and needs you to go round.’
Lynda closed her eyes on a sigh of relief, drew in a deep shaky breath to steady her nerves and shouted down the stairs, ‘I’m coming, Mam.’
Talking to her friend was traumatic, the most difficult thing Lynda had ever done. What comfort could she offer? Lynda said all the expected things about how she would soon find another job and get the children back but Judy didn’t seem to be listening. She looked shattered, a broken woman, all the confidence knocked out of her.
Lynda could sympathise with that all right. She felt very much the same herself.
‘I have to get away from here,’ Judy was saying. ‘I’ve lost my marriage, my job, the house in Back Quay Street we were about to move in to, and now my kids. Leo came round yesterday, trying to help, and I just screamed at him.’ Her voice sounded strangely matter of fact, her eyes fixed on some inner pain. ‘I love him, you see, and if I stayed on Champion Street I’d need to be with him. I wouldn’t be able to help myself. But then I’d never see my children again. Sam has made that very clear.’
She wasn’t even crying, which troubled Lynda greatly. Her friend simply sat with her hands in her lap, clenching and unclenching, her face a tight mask of grief.
‘You mustn’t give up on happiness completely, Jude love. Maybe later, when you’ve got the children back, which I’m sure you will do, it’ll be different. Once the divorce is finalised I mean, you and Leo can . . .’
‘When will I get them back, that’s the question. And how? It could take months . . . years, I don’t know how long. Forever! I can’t bear it.’
A long silence followed in which both girls sat on the big bed that nearly filled the small room, arms wrapped around each other. ‘Where will you go?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ll make some enquiries tomorrow. A room is all I need, now that there’s only me, at least until I find a decent job and get a bit of money behind me. Then I’ll get something more suitable for the kids.’
‘Didn’t they make Sam pay maintenance to you?’
‘Oh yes, a couple of quid a week for my rent, but without custody of the children it’s really up to me now, isn’t it?’ Judy’s voice sounded remote and strangely detached.
Lynda helped her friend pack her few precious belongings all the while urging her not to do anything hasty that she might regret. ‘Why don’t you sleep on it for a bit, give it more thought. I really can’t bear to think of you going away.’ A selfish thought, Lynda knew, nevertheless it was true.
‘I can’t bear to think of it either,’ Judy said, and then both girls were crying, stroking each other’s hair and clinging to each other, drawing strength from their mutual misery. ‘Promise me that you won’t do anything in a hurry?’ Lynda said again as she left, heart-sore and her face still blotched with tears.
Judy didn’t reply but the next day when Lynda went round to the fish flat, she found the bedsit empty. Her friend, and all her belongings, had gone. Judy had left without saying goodbye, without even leaving a forwarding address.
Betty saw Leo again later that day. She’d seen him set off in his Jaguar with old Mrs Catlow in the back seat. Now he returned alone, parking the car at his front door and looking even more dejected than he had earlier. And there was the younger Mrs Catlow, the elegant Helen, waiting for him on the doorstep and looking mighty pleased with herself. Now what did that mean?
She wondered if Leo realised how friendly his wife was with Sam Beckett, and if she should perhaps casually drop a few hints that she’d seen them locked up cosily together in his little shop the other day? But then Betty changed her mind. What business was it of hers? Didn’t she have enough troubles on her plate without adding other folk’s?
‘Where are you off to at this time of night?’ Lynda demanded of her brother. He hadn’t been in the house more than fifteen minutes and in that time he’d wrecked the bathroom, leaving towels and puddles of water all over the floor and a dirty ring around the bath, strewn rejected shirts and ties all over his bed and left greasy fingerprints on his clean shiny mirror from all the gunge he put on his hair. Now he placed the egg and bacon Lynda had fried for him between two slices of bread and was heading for the front door.
‘Wait a minute, I want a word with you. What the hangment have you been up to lately?’
One hand on the front door knob and his cheeks bulging with sandwich, Jake froze, looking instantly guilty, a tell-tale flush creeping up his neck. ‘Nowt, ‘cept to get meself a new chariot. It’s an old MG sports, real hip this one.’
Lynda frowned, at once filled with suspicion. ‘And how did you find the money to buy one of those?’
Jake gave a little swagger. ‘Don’t underestimate me, sis. I’ve got meself a job. Two, in fact, helping out Barry Holmes and doing deliveries for a guy on Smithfield wholesale market, so don’t look down your nose at me. I’m making a few nuggets. Anyroad, I can’t talk now. I’m off out to the passion pit.’
‘Passion pit?’ Lynda looked blank and Jake rolled his eyes.
‘To the pictures, babe.’ He smirked. ‘Me and Derek are taking a couple of chicks so don’t expect me home early. Mine’s called Brenda and she’s gorgeous, I’m real gone on this one. We might take them for a spin after, and play a bit of back-seat bingo.’
‘I won’t even ask what that is,’ Lynda said and grabbing hold of her brother’s arm pushed and dragged him up the stairs, ignoring his vociferous protests. ‘But I need to talk to you now, chummy, so you’re going nowhere till you’ve explained to me what them boxes are doing in your cupboard. Start talking.’
Having been shoved unceremoniously into his bedroom, Jake’s face now lost all its bright crimson hue and turned ashen while he blabbered some nonsense about the boxes being part of his deliveries.
Hands on hips Lynda glared at him. ‘Don’t try telling porkies to me. I wasn’t brought in with the morning fish. Why would you bring them here, to your room, if they’re deliveries? You’ve nicked these trannies and fags, haven’t you?’
Panic showed in his eyes. ‘No, I swear it, Lynda, I haven’t. I wouldn’t.’
‘Then where have they come from?’ She wagged an accusing finger. ‘And before you start making up any more lies, let me just mention that I’ve found dozens more in Ewan’s room, which convinces me something illegal is going on.’
When still he remained silent, anxiously chewing on his lip, the egg and bacon sandwich forgotten, and bouncing from foot to foot in an agitated way, Lynda showed not a shred of sympathy. She ploughed relentlessly on, borrowing some of her brother’s favourite slang.
‘Well, are you going to tell me or what? Because if you don’t, daddy-o, you’re cruising for a bruising, get it, man? Once I tell Mam about all of this, she’ll go ape. Isn’t that what your hip mates would call it?’
‘Naw, please don’t say anything to Mam, she’ll kill me. And if she doesn’t, Dad will.’
Jake spilled out the whole sorry tale then: how Ewan had insisted he spread the word among his mates that he was on the look-out for stolen goods for which he was willing to pay good prices before selling on. ‘I didn’t want to do it, our Lynda, and I told him so.’ He sounded just as he had as a young boy when he’d been caught scrumping apples or nicking a bar of chocolate from Woolies.
‘So why did you? Why didn’t you just say no?’
Jake looked blank. ‘How could I?’
Lynda took a firm hold of her brother’s ridiculously wide padded shoulders and gave him a little shake. ‘I know Ewan scares the shit out of you. He does me too. But we have to stand up to him. We can’t let him bully us. If you don’t start using what few brains you do have a bit better, lad, you’ll find yourself careering down the same slippery slope that landed your father in jail. Is that what you want? Do you want to be a chip off a not-too-nice block? Do you fancy spending half your life in prison with a lot of low-life and perverts?’
‘Heck, no.’ Jake looked bewildered, as if such a likelihood had never occurred to him.
‘Well then, start thinking and taking control of your own life. Tell Ewan you aren’t going to do it any more. Tell your mates the same. Clean up your act, Daddy-o, or it’ll be the slammer for you.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Judy was desperately trying to gain access to Ruth and Tom, begging Sam to allow her to take them back. He was having none of it. And despite access being granted to her by the magistrates, she still hadn’t seen them since the court case. Either he claimed one or other of the children wasn’t feeling well or else Judy would arrive to find that his mother had taken them out for the day - to cheer them up – or some such excuse. It didn’t matter how much she protested that it was her job to care for Ruth and Tom, not his mother’s, Sam would simply shrug and refuse to cooperate.
‘Not only do you not have a fit place to take my children but neither are you a fit mother. How do you think I felt once I realised that you were having it off with that Leo Catlow?’
‘I wasn’t having it off with him, it was a perfectly innocent friendship.’ Judy knew in her heart that a great deal more could have grown between herself and Leo. In truth she ached for him, longed for his support and friendship. The merest glimpse of him on the market would set her heart racing while at the same time send her running for cover, afraid she might give herself away if they ever met up again. She’d had to leave, for that reason alone. Yet not for the world would she reveal any of this emotional upheaval to Sam. ‘Obviously, ordinary friendship between a man and woman is beyond your comprehension since you’ve spent our entire married life chasing women and trying to get inside their knickers.’
‘Don’t be vulgar, Judy, it doesn’t suit you.’
Arguing with him did no good either. He was the one with the house, the business, the money. Consequently the magistrates had put the children into his care, and he was keeping them.
‘At least let me see them. I do have rights as their mother and they need to see me.’ Judy felt close to despair, almost on the brink of hysteria.
Not being able to even see her children was having a terribly debilitating effect upon her. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate, could do no more than pick at her food when she remembered to eat at all. All she’d found by way of employment was dishing out bacon butties in a snack bar. Judy knew she should be applying for jobs with better prospects, or signing herself on to a training scheme for typing or book-keeping, but couldn’t seem to motivate herself to do so, perhaps fearing that whatever she did, Sam would only ruin everything for her again. He definitely seemed to have the whip hand.
