That'll Be the Day (2007), page 32
part #3 of Champion Street Market Series
Mam had told her not to hurry back, allowing them a little time together, so they went for a leisurely walk. Not by the canal where the narrow boats cruise which used to be a favourite walk of theirs but beyond Castlefield, over towards Ordsall where Terry had heard there were new flats to let. He was keen to find a place quickly, so they could get married.
He suggested that since they’d consistently failed to persuade Ewan to move out, then the rest of the family should do so instead, lock, stock and barrel. Terry was more than willing to share their future home with his mother-in-law, Jake too if it meant he could protect the woman he loved. And as luck would have it, they found one. Three bedrooms and a bathroom fit for a queen, together with a spacious living room and kitchen, and all on the ground floor so it would be perfect for her mam.
Lynda was itching to tell Betty her good news when she got home, but didn’t get the reaction she’d hoped for.
Betty was shocked. ‘I’m not moving. This is my home, has been ever since I came to Champion Street at the start of the war, and they’ll carry me out of here in a box. I’m certainly not going to be chased out by that no-good ex-husband of mine.’
‘But wouldn’t you rather live with me and Terry in a lovely new flat? Then you’d be free of him for good.’
‘No, I don’t want to live in a lovely new flat with you and Terry, nor do I want to move from the market. Ordsall wouldn’t be at all convenient, and you have your own lives to live. I like it here in Champion Street close to my stall, and I certainly have no intention of handing my house over to him. Never!’
So that was the end of Terry’s plan. Lynda wasn’t sure she could bring herself to leave her mother alone with Ewan, but if she didn’t how could she and Terry ever hope to be together? Oh, it was all so difficult. She’d just have to hope that she could win her mother round in the end, perhaps when she went to see the new flat.
‘Eeh, but I’m right thrilled for you, chuck. I’m so pleased you’re getting wed. He’s such a grand lad,’ and mother and daughter hugged each other in a rare moment of joy.
‘Terry will look after you, and I want you to be safe. But don’t you worry about me. I’ll be all right here.’
‘But I do worry about you, I worry a great deal. I can’t leave you two on your own, there’d be blue murder done.’
‘I’ll have our Jake, and I’ve thought of a scheme to get rid of his lordship,’ Betty said, lowering her voice and tapping the side of her nose with one finger. ‘It’s risky, but it might work.’
Lynda got her mother into bed and made them each a mug of cocoa, Queenie in pride of place on Betty’s feet. They enjoyed a bit of gossip but she absolutely refused to say any more about this so-called scheme of hers.
‘Not yet, chuck. I have to finalise a few details. I’ll let you know when the time is right.’
When Betty started to nod off, Lynda washed the mugs and locked up. It was ten o’clock and Jake was still out with his mates. When she’d seen her mother safely into bed, Lynda crept up the stairs, shoes in hand so as not to disturb her.
Lynda took her time getting ready for bed, happily spinning delicious plans for her future with Terry as she undressed and went to the bathroom. She didn’t mind in the least having a registry office wedding. All she wanted was to be with Terry, the man she loved.
She’d maybe treat herself to a new suit for the ceremony, or one of those shift dresses in cream wool. And she could ask Patsy to make her a hat to match. Lynda wondered if Judy would be her matron-of-honour, if she could find her in time. Would Sam know where her friend was living now, she wondered? Probably not. But she couldn’t be far away, because of the children. Maybe Ruth knew. Why hadn’t she thought to ask before?
Warmly wrapped in her dressing gown, Lynda sat at her dressing table and began to write out a few invitations.
Mam had made it plain that she wasn’t entirely happy about the arrangements, not wishing her daughter to have a hole-in-the-corner wedding, yet they both knew absolute secrecy was vital. Lynda had reluctantly agreed to invite a few relatives, her Aunt Marjorie and Uncle Joe, a couple of her favourite cousins who lived in Blackburn, and one or two old school friends who lived far enough away not to come into contact with Ewan Hemley.
After that she started work on a list of jobs which needed to be done before the Big Day. It was all so exciting.
She lost track of time as she sat there, entirely engrossed in making these delightful plans. Then she smoothed cream over her face and plucked her eyebrows, wanting to stay beautiful for Terry, and only became aware she was no longer alone when she heard the bedroom door click shut.
Whirling round in alarm she was shocked to discover Ewan standing with his back against it, his nasty little eyes glittering in the half light from her beside lamp, and a leering grin on his ferret face.
Thinking he was still out, she hadn’t got around to blocking it off. Lynda felt a flutter of nervousness in the pit of her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to provoke an argument, nevertheless she was determined not to show her fear.
Striving to keep her voice pleasant and calm, Lynda calmly remarked, ‘You’re back earlier than usual. Do you want a cuppa before you go to bed? Only, I’d rather you didn’t come into my room if you don’t mind. I’ve told you already, it’s strictly private.’
‘That’s not a nice attitude to take with your old dad.’ He came up behind her, wobbling slightly as he picked up her hair brush. The stink of beer and unwashed sweat emanating from him almost made her faint. ‘I thought happen I’d help you get ready for bed, since you’re my little girl. Read you a story, brush your hair like, or help you into your jammy-jamas.’
Lynda felt sick at the thought but again warned herself not to antagonise him. ‘I can manage perfectly well, thanks. You look more in need of a lie down. Go on, get yourself off to bed before you fall down.’
Instead he began to brush her hair, slowly stroking the soft auburn curls, making her shudder so that it took all her will-power not to shove him away. Lynda tried to think what she could do. She was on her own with no one to help. Her mother might be on the mend at last, but didn’t have the strength to come running upstairs and take on this brute.
Ewan was shaking his head. The movement caused him to burp loudly and he laughed, as if he’d done something clever, then his tone became maudlin with drink.
‘You wanted a father and here I am, ready and willing to make up for lost time. We could be good mates, you and me, keep each other company like. So be nice to your lonely old dad, eh? Where’s the harm in a bit of a cuddle so long as we keep it in the family? You’re a bonny lass and . . .’
‘. . . you’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying.’ Frantic now, Lynda leapt from her seat and backed away, although there was no escape, nowhere to run. Ewan stood between herself and the closed bedroom door and the way his gaze was roving over her was sending chills down her spine. Lynda tugged the chord of her dressing gown tighter.
‘Oh, aye, I do indeed know what I’m saying.’ His voice dropped to a hushed calm, chillingly vicious as he grinned at her with a lop-sided leer. ‘We can’t let that Terry have all the fun, now can we? Wouldn’t be right when I have first call. Oh, don’t you fret, I know where you’ve been today and who you’ve been with. I make sure I keep a beady eye on what’s rightly mine.’
Desperation rose in her throat as sour as bile, and as he began to smooth a hand over her neck Lynda slapped it away.
‘I don’t belong to you, or to anyone else for that matter. I’m not some sort of possession. All right, so Terry gave me a lift to Smithfield market today to order the Christmas tree, so what?’
His mouth curled with distaste. ‘I spotted you on the back of his motor bike. Now where’s she off to now, I wondered? But you didn’t come home when you’d done your errand, did you?’
Cold fear was growing inside her. How did he know all of this? Should she risk calling out for Mam? But then what could she do? Betty could hardly pound upstairs and beat her ex-husband over the head with her crutches, could she? Lynda had no choice but to stand up to him and deal with this herself.
‘I have my spies,’ he said, as if reading her thoughts. ‘Didn’t I tell you to stay away from that lad? I don’t remember giving you permission to start seeing him again, or any other chap for that matter.’
Lynda lifted her chin in a gesture of defiance. ‘I’ve no idea what you’ve got against Terry, and I don’t care because it’s none of your business. He loves me and I love him.’ She’d meant to remain calm and not let him upset her but Lynda could hear her voice rising, filled with indignant anger. ‘In fact, you might as well know that we’re going to be married. If you really have followed us today you’ll probably already have guessed that we’ve organised a marriage licence, and found ourselves somewhere to live, somewhere for all of us, Mam and Jake too. We’re leaving. So you can put that in your flaming pipe and smoke it.’
‘You’re going nowhere without my permission, and you’re certainly not bloody getting wed!’
Lynda knew he would hit her even before she saw him raise his fist. But while she’d been shouting at him she’d also been scrabbling quietly behind her back on her dressing table, desperately searching for something, anything, with which to defend herself. Her fingers closed over a pair of scissors.
Now she lurched forward, scissors held high, although whether she might actually have used them she could never afterwards be sure for at that moment came a piercing scream from downstairs.
‘Lynda, Lynda, come quick. . .’
They both froze, but, fearing her mother was having a heart attack or something equally dreadful, Lynda was the first to react. She dropped the scissors, thrust Ewan to one side and flew down the stairs to find Betty on her knees in the kitchen with the cat in her arms. It was soaking wet through, its body ominously limp. Betty brought her anguished gaze up to her daughter’s, tears rolling down her fat cheeks.
‘It’s our Queenie. I found her in the kitchen sink when I went to get meself a drink of water. Some bastard has drowned her.’
As one, their combined gaze swivelled towards Ewan where he stood at the bottom of the stairs. He gave a snort of laughter as if this were all the funniest thing imaginable, and again burped loudly before attempting to speak.
‘I did warn you, Lynda love, that you’d regret it if you went out with a young man without my permission. You’ve only yourself to blame. You just won’t do as you’re told, either of you, and I can’t have that. I won’t have it.’
Chapter Forty-Three
Dulcie seemed to be surprisingly content in the home. She had a pleasant room with her own things about her, had made many new friends and Leo thought on his recent visits that she was much less lonely and confused.
On this occasion when he called she was sitting with a group of ladies in the conservatory playing bridge. She was smartly dressed in her favourite pale blue twin-set and pearls and matching tweed skirt, her white hair shining with health and her round face pink with happiness as she triumphantly claimed the rubber. She jumped up at the sight of him and came at once to kiss him. Leo apologised for not having brought her any flowers but he’d come to see her on an impulse, in need of some advice.
‘Doesn’t matter, son, I’m always delighted to see you.’ Her face clouded over. ‘Something is bothering you, I can always tell. Let me ask Janice to fetch us some tea then we’ll sit and chat.’
As they sat sipping tea together in the winter sunshine that filtered in through the conservatory windows, Leo tried to smile. ‘Actually it’s good news. Helen is pregnant, would you believe?’
Dulcie said nothing. She sat unmoving, cup poised inches from her lips, then set it down on the table untouched. ‘Well now, that is a surprise.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I suppose . . .’ Dulcie cleared her throat then started again. ‘May I ask a rather impertinent question?’
‘Mother, you never usually ask my permission to interfere in my affairs so why start now?’ But he was smiling, to show that he didn’t object.
‘It’s more your wife’s affairs that are concerning me, Leo. Are you sure, hand on heart, that this child is yours?’
Her question, so closely echoing Judy’s own, made him gasp. ‘What makes you say such a thing?’
‘You remember my telling you that I suspected she was having an affair with that ironmonger, Beckett, is he called? I once saw her coming home, arms full of shopping yet she claimed she’d been to the warehouse which was in quite the opposite direction, and then I spotted Beckett’s car. I’m quite sure he’d given her a lift from town.’
‘That’s hardly proof of a love affair.’
Dulcie pursed her lips. ‘I asked her but she denied it. Why do that if she was innocent? So I watched her, to see if my suspicions were correct. She would slip out to see him several times a week. They’d meet either in his shop or she’d go off up some back alley. I followed her once and saw them together. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. Despite her possessiveness and the furious jealousy I know she exhibits over you, dear, she is by no means innocent herself. I did warn you once before, Leo, and I stand by what I’ve observed.’
Leo was struck into stunned silence. Was he being deliberately blind, perhaps anxious to convince himself that it couldn’t possibly be true? It seemed impossible for a woman so consumed by jealousy over her husband’s imagined affairs to be guilty of the very same crime herself. And yet perhaps she had become entangled in an affair herself as some sort of perverted vengeance.
‘Would it shock you very much, Mother, if I told you that I was no longer quite so innocent either? Throughout my married life I’ve remained loyal and steadfast, but Helen’s jealousy ate away at me and eventually destroyed whatever it was we had together. She seems incapable of showing affection and that too has taken its toll.’
Dulcie said, ‘I’ve been aware for some time that you weren’t happy, dear. Your father and I used to talk about it often. You’ve perhaps been too loyal, Leo, too generous-hearted, as you always were as a child.’
Leo smiled at this typical example of maternal pride, but could he accept that Helen had played him false? ‘Even if what you say is true, Mother, Helen and I are still man and wife and this child will need a father. How can I deny it one when it might still be mine?’
‘But are you absolutely certain? And if you’re not, can you face taking responsibility for what may well be another man’s child? It wouldn’t be easy. You’d always be asking yourself that question.’
‘Not if I came to love the child as my own.’
Dulcie gazed upon her son with real sympathy in her faded blue-grey eyes. All these years Leo had longed not simply for a son to inherit the business, but for a family of his own. He’d always wanted to be a father, and to have this doubt hanging over the paternity of this unexpected offspring was sad to say the least. ‘When did Helen discover she was pregnant?’
Leo shook his head. ‘I don’t know. She told me the other night. I’d asked her for a divorce, having finally given up all hope of us ever being happy. That’s when she told me. It was a real bolt from the blue, I can tell you.’
Dulcie gasped. ‘My dear Leo, you are an innocent indeed. Didn’t it occur to you that she might be lying, that she could be faking this so-called pregnancy simply in order to prevent a divorce and hang on to her failing marriage?’
Leo looked stunned. ‘That had not occurred to me, no. But surely, even Helen wouldn’t stoop so low. How could she hope to get away with it? I’d be bound to find out eventually, obviously, when no baby came, no bump even.’
‘She wouldn’t be the first wife to play that trick and later fake a miscarriage. By which time she would hope you’d have lost your new lady friend and the pair of you would be reconciled once more.’
‘God, what a naïve fool I’ve been.’
‘I’m simply asking, dear, if you have any proof that she is indeed pregnant? Have you spoken to her doctor?’
Leo shook his head. ‘Why would I? It would look as if I didn’t trust my wife.’
‘But it’s true, you don’t. Neither do I.’ Dulcie took a sip of her tea, found it cold and set it to one side. ‘Leo, there is something else I need to discuss with you. I realise I’ve been having a few problems lately over forgetting things, and still do when I get upset or stressed. Caring for your father was very difficult and for much of the time I was exhausted. He could be particularly demanding at times.’
Leo snorted with laughter. ‘Don’t I know it.’
‘But I’m not quite senile, not yet anyway. Maybe I’ll end up that way,’ she added with a smile, ‘but it’s perfectly normal to get a bit forgetful when you’re older, particularly in a distressing situation. No, don’t interrupt, I must say this. I’m very happy here in this lovely private home. The staff are delightful and very friendly and there are plenty of other widowed ladies here rather like myself. We have quite a good time and I still keep in touch with my old friends. Most of all I have no wish to be a burden to you, Leo, but Helen went about getting rid of me in quite the wrong way.
‘The fact is, my dear, she lied. I did not start that fire, she did. Helen reminded me to turn off the cooker and of course I did. I’ve been cooking for over fifty years and it’s automatic to turn off the heat when something is cooked. I never used the gas jets at all as I was baking scones. I then went out for my walk and Helen went upstairs for her shower. But she must have come back down again the moment I’d gone and started the fire herself.’
Leo was aghast. ‘Why would she do such a thing?’
‘She wanted me out of her house, your house. She’d made several attempts to persuade me to return to Lytham because she’s jealous of me and wanted to have you all to herself. Helen is a sick woman, Leo, with no sense of moral rectitude.’
Leo might have smiled at his mother’s quaint turn of phrase had not the matter been so serious.
