Mother’s Ruin

by Kitty Neale

‘Oh, and since when did you become an expert on the subject, Nelly Cox?’

  ‘Now then, Sadie, there’s no need to be sarcastic. I’m only repeating what I’ve heard.’

  ‘I’m not being sarcastic and I’ll say what I like in my own home. If you don’t like it, then you know what you can do.’

  Sally jumped to her feet, surprised by her gran’s sudden mood change, and tried to change the subject. ‘Do you fancy a cup of tea, Nelly?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’m off.’

  With no other choice, Sally escorted Nelly to the door where the old woman said, ‘Sorry, love, but I could see that Sadie was on the turn and I didn’t fancy being in the line of fire. When she gets in a two and eight she’s impossible.’

  ‘It’s all right, I understand, but it’s rare nowadays.’

  ‘If you say so. Maybe I’ll pop along to see her again tomorrow.’

  ‘Do you think Jessie is right about Laura?’

  ‘I dunno, love, but no doubt we’ll soon find out,’ Nelly said, lifting a hand to wave as she bustled off.

  The rest of the day passed slowly for Sally, but at last her mother arrived home, and she was surprised to see Tommy Walters with her.

  ‘I found him sitting on his doorstep. The poor little sod’s hungry.’

  ‘Nelly came round earlier with a bit of gossip,’ Sadie told her. ‘She said that . . . well . . . you know who, might be back on the booze.’

  The boy was too astute, and with an adult-like nod of his head, he said, ‘Yeah, I fink me mum’s pissed again.’

  Ruth didn’t rebuke Tommy, only smiled at him fondly. ‘Sit down, love, and I’ll get you something to eat.’

  Sally’s eyes narrowed as she watched her mother. She looked pleased to be looking after Tommy, as though glad that Laura was drinking. Surely that wasn’t the case? Surely she was imagin ing things?

  Arthur arrived home after Sally, and as always Angel ran up to him. ‘Daddy, Tommy’s having his dinner with Nanny.’

  ‘Is he, well, that’s nice.’

  ‘His mummy is pissed.’

  ‘Angel!’ Sally exclaimed. ‘Don’t use that word!’

  ‘Tommy said it.’

  Arthur forced his voice to sound stern. ‘Little girls shouldn’t swear. It isn’t nice and I don’t want you copying Tommy.’

  ‘All right, Daddy.’

  ‘Did you have a good day, Arthur?’ Sally asked.

  As Angel was around, Arthur managed to keep his voice pleasant. ‘It was all right.’

  Sally glanced at the clock and frowned. ‘With Joe and Patsy coming to dinner tonight, I’d best get a move on.’

  Arthur said nothing, and when she left the room Angel began to chatter. He did his best to answer her, yet in truth his mind was elsewhere. When he came home from hospital Arthur had expected everything to be wonderful, and as far as work was concerned, other than the occasional pitying look from some of the men, it was. However, he couldn’t say the same about his relationship with Sally. It had gone wrong from day one when he had sensed her withdrawal after just one kiss. In bed, rather than face rejection, he pretended to be asleep, though aware when Sally climbed into bed, that she kept a careful distance.

  Every night now followed the same pattern and Arthur knew why. Sally found his stump repulsive and didn’t want it near her. She was making him feel less than a man, and he hated it.

  At seven-thirty, Sally put Angel to bed and then laid the table for dinner. Arthur hardly spoke again and once again Sally was determined to talk to him, to get to the bottom of what was wrong, but with Joe and Patsy due to arrive soon it would have to wait.

  Patsy as usual looked lovely when Sally let them in, this time in a bright red miniskirt and white roll-neck jumper. As they walked into the living room, Arthur perked up. ‘Blimey, Patsy, you’re a sight for sore eyes,’ he said, looking the girl up and down.

  ‘Thank you, kind sir,’ she replied, and as she sat down her skirt rode up to reveal more of her shapely legs.

  Sally saw that Arthur was looking at them with appreci ation and was surprised to feel a surge of jealousy. When was the last time he had looked at her like that? She forced a smile, shaking off the feeling as she asked if they’d like a drink.

  It was the start of an evening that seemed full of undertones. Arthur focused most of his attention on Patsy, almost, Sally thought, as if he was deliberately trying to make her jealous. But why?

  Joe was good company, chatting to her throughout the evening and acting as a counterbalance, yet even he seemed tense as he watched Patsy laughing and giggling her way through the evening.

  Sally decided to play Arthur at his own game, and flirted a little with Joe, but her heart wasn’t in it and it made her feel foolish, especially when Arthur didn’t seem to care. She tried another tactic. ‘How’s business, Patsy?’ she asked, drawing her attention away from Arthur.

  ‘It isn’t too bad, but I could do with a little car and would love to learn to drive. It’s a bugger carting my stuff on and off buses.’

  ‘But I thought you said all your clients are local.’

  Patsy flushed. ‘Yeah, well, they are, but I’ve just picked up a couple of new clients in Streatham.’

  Sally wondered why Patsy sounded so flustered, but only said, ‘Oh, did you advertise there?’

  ‘No, they came by way of a recommendation.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind having my hair restyled. How much do you charge?’

  ‘Leave it out, Sally, I wouldn’t charge you anything. What sort of style are you thinking of ?’

  ‘I don’t know really. Perhaps a cut like yours. What do you think, Arthur?’

  ‘Do what you like,’ he snapped.

  Sally flinched at his tone, hurt and bewildered by his behaviour, while Joe glanced pointedly at his watch. ‘I didn’t realise it was so late. Come on, Patsy, we’d best be off.’

  They said goodbye to Arthur, his reply short, and as Sally showed them to the door, Joe said quietly, ‘Is Arthur all right?’

  ‘He isn’t himself and he seems dreadfully tired.’

  Joe frowned. ‘In that case, I could suggest he takes a bit of time off. At least until he gets his prosthesis. I think he said he’s going for his first fitting next week.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Come on, Joe,’ Patsy urged.

  ‘Yes, yes, all right,’ he said. ‘Bye, Sally, and don’t worry, I’ll have a word with Arthur.’

  Relieved, Sally waved to Patsy and then closed the door, only to find when she went back to the living room that it was empty. She went through to the bedroom and in the darkness heard Arthur snoring.

  Sadly she got undressed, hoping that Arthur would agree to take some time off. He’d be less tired then and maybe, just maybe, they could regain the intimate side of their marriage.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The following morning, Sally was in despair. She had prepared Arthur’s breakfast, his manner again distant, but just as she was about to talk to him about it, Angel appeared.

  ‘I had a bad dream,’ she said, rubbing her eyes.

  ‘Come here, poppet,’ Arthur said, pulling her onto his lap to comfort her. ‘What was your dream about?’

  ‘I can’t remember now.’

  Arthur hugged her to him and Sally found herself wishing he would do the same to her. It had been so long, so very long since he had held her.

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart, that’ll be Joe,’ Arthur said, urging Angel off of his lap when the doorbell rang. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  Sally waited, but all she got was a short goodbye and then Arthur was gone. Sadly she got Angel ready, to find as they left the flat over an hour later, that Patsy was just going out too. ‘Good morning,’ Sally said. ‘Have you got an early appointment?’

  ‘Yes, one of my ladies is wanting a cut and set. Thanks for dinner last night. It was great.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she said, walking with Patsy to the corner, where they parted to go off in differen
t directions.

  Angel was unusually quiet, but when they drew close to Candle Lane she suddenly said, ‘I don’t like Patsy.’

  ‘But she’s nice. Why don’t you like her?’

  ‘Dunno, just don’t,’ Angel said and, letting go of her hand as they turned the corner, she ran ahead to number five.

  Sally was unable to think of a reason for her daughter’s dislike of Patsy, and was frowning when she walked into her mother’s kitchen.

  ‘Hello, love,’ Ruth said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘That’s good because I’ve got to go or I’ll be late for work. Bye, Angel, see you later, pet,’ she called, the door slamming behind her.

  ‘Blimey, where’s the fire?’ Sadie complained.

  ‘What fire, Gamma?’

  ‘Oh, it’s just a silly saying for someone in a rush.’

  Sally returned from taking Angel to school to find her gran waiting to question her. ‘As your mother said, what’s up, Sally?’

  ‘It’s nothing, Gran.’

  ‘Don’t give me that. It’s been obvious for a while now that something’s worrying you.’

  Sally sat down, saying nothing for a moment, but then found that she wanted to confide in someone, the need to unburden overwhelming. ‘Since Arthur came home from hospital, he seems tired all the time, but it’s not just that, he’s acting strangely. He seems distant, remote, and hardly talks.’

  ‘That’s to be expected.’

  Sally was surprised by her gran’s answer. ‘Is it? But why?’

  ‘He was in hospital for months, and in that time the ward became his insular little world. He was cut off from outside worries, with everything done for him. Now he’s had to adapt to ordinary life again, and is doing a job he’s unfamiliar with. He’s got a lot to learn and must be worried that if it all goes wrong, he’ll lose everything. That’s a lot of responsibility on his shoulders and perhaps the burden of it is wearing him down.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that, and yes, you could be right,’ Sally said. ‘Poor Arthur, I’ll have to be more supportive. Thanks, Gran, I’m so glad I confided in you.’

  ‘And I’m glad I come in useful for something. Now how about putting the kettle on?’

  ‘It wouldn’t suit me, Gran.’

  ‘Yeah, very funny, but I don’t suppose it would look any worse on you than the daft fashions youngsters are wearing nowadays. It’s all mini-dresses, long boots, straight-cut hair and black- rimmed eyes that make them look like pandas.’

  ‘I keep meaning to get myself some new clothes and I rather fancy a miniskirt, but I just never seem to have the time.’

  ‘Leave it out, Sally. You look fine as you are and I can’t see Arthur letting you wear a short skirt.’

  ‘Oh, you’d be surprised, Gran. My upstairs neighbour wears them all the time and Arthur ogles her legs with great appreciation whenever he sees her.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s typical of men. They like to see women in sexy clothes, as long as it isn’t their wife who’s wearing them.’

  Sally chuckled, ‘Yes, you may be right.’

  As she waited for the kettle to boil a smile remained on Sally’s face. She felt so much better after talking to her gran about Arthur, and berated herself for her lack of understanding.

  When Sally arrived home she was determined that no matter what sort of mood Arthur was in, she would keep smiling. What he needed was a cheerful environment to come home to, a haven where he could leave all thoughts of work and worry behind.

  However, when Arthur walked in half an hour later his expression was thunderous, and even Angel was ignored as he spat, ‘Joe denied it, but it was you, wasn’t it? You who got him to suggest that I take some time off.’

  ‘I told him that you seem tired. I . . . I was worried about you.’

  ‘I am not tired,’ he yelled. ‘I’m a grown man, Sally, not a child and if I want time off I can speak for myself!’

  ‘Why are you shouting, Daddy?’ Angel cried, her eyes wide with fear.

  Her voice must have penetrated Arthur’s anger, and the rigidness went out of his stance. ‘Sorry, sorry, pet,’ he murmured.

  As Arthur sat down and urged Angel onto his lap, Sally slipped through to the kitchen, trying not to cry as she busied herself with finishing off their dinner. In her concern for Arthur she had put her foot in it again, and now she dreaded his mood for the rest of the evening.

  Thankfully he made an effort to be amenable in front of Angel, and soon after she was tucked up in bed, Arthur’s parents paid them a visit.

  ‘How are you feeling, son?’

  ‘I’m fine, Mum.’

  ‘Sally, how about you all coming to us on Sunday for a nice roast dinner? In fact spend the day and stay for tea too.’

  ‘What do you think, Arthur?’

  ‘It’s fine with me.’

  ‘Good, and your dad will pick you up.’

  ‘Right, I’ve had my orders, and now tell me, Arthur, how is work progressing on the site?’ Bert asked.

  ‘It’s going well.’

  Sally offered them a drink and as she went through to the kitchen to make it, Elsie followed her. ‘I was hoping to get here before Angel went to bed, but persuading Bert to get a move on is impossible. How is she?’

  ‘She’s fine and doing well at school.’

  ‘Does she still talk about the before time?’

  ‘Not recently.’

  ‘It was certainly unusual, but some eastern religions believe in reincarnation.’

  ‘I must admit it was like she was remembering a previous life, but it sounds so far-fetched.’

  ‘No more than heaven and hell, or angels and demons.’

  ‘When you put it that way, no, I suppose not.’

  ‘Who’s to know which teachings are right, Sally, and if you ask me, religion seems to be a matter of geography and nationality.’

  Sally frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If I had been born, say, in Tibet, I may have been brought up a Buddhist. In India, maybe a Hindu, but because I was born here and my parents were Christians, that’s the doctrine I was taught. If you ask me, as long as the religion you practise makes you a better person and gives you something to cling to in time of trouble, that’s all that matters.’

  Sally nodded. ‘Yes, I agree, but it’s a shame that there’s so much intolerance.’

  ‘Oh, Sally, I do miss our chats. Bert thinks it’s all a load of tosh and I’ve given up talking to him about spiritual subjects. I used to love it when you visited me, or I you, but since you’ve had to look after Sadie, you’re so tied down.’

  ‘I know, but she can’t be left on her own.’

  Elsie sighed and then said, ‘Changing the subject, I was doing the cards the other day and something strange came up. I saw your father in the spread.’

  ‘Oh no! I hope he doesn’t turn up again after all these years.’

  ‘I don’t know, Sally. I’m afraid the cards weren’t clear on that.’

  Sally continued to make the drinks, her mind racing. She didn’t want Ken Marchant to show his face again, in fact she hated the thought. Not only that – what sort of effect would it have on her mother?

  * * *

  ‘Tommy, run down to the off-licence and get me a bottle of cider.’

  ‘What for?’ he asked, scowling at his mother. ‘You’re already pissed.’

  ‘You little sod,’ she slurred, rising unsteadily to her feet.

  As she walked towards him, her hand ready to strike, Tommy backed away. Why? Why had she turned to booze again? He’d been good, had kept out of mischief, and with his dad gone, he’d tried to look after her. She’d been fine for a while and he’d loved the affection showered on him, loved how with his help she had kept the house clean. Now it was a mess again, a dump, a stinking, smelly, dump.

  His mum was almost on top of him now, but Tommy turned and fled, the street door slamming behind him as he ran down Candle Lane. With
his mother in a drunken temper, Tommy knew he would have to keep out of her way and so he began to wander aimlessly. He’d had no dinner and was hungry, but with the shops closed there was no chance of nicking anything. Kicking a stone, he continued to amble, until finally he’d walked a full circle and was back in Candle Lane. The lights were still on in his house, but Tommy knew that if he went in now he was sure to get a belting.

  With his stomach growling, Tommy bit hard on his lower lip as tears welled in his eyes. He was a boy and mustn’t cry. Big boys don’t cry, his dad had always told him. He wondered where his father was, and why he’d buggered off. Tommy choked back a sob. Had he caused that too just as he had caused his mother to start drinking again?

  He looked with longing at Ruth’s door, and, though his mother had warned him to stay away from her, Tommy rattled the letterbox.

  The door was opened, the smile of welcome warm. ‘Come in, love, and don’t tell me, I can guess. Your mum’s been boozing again.’

  Tommy nodded and nestled into Ruth’s arms. ‘I expect you’re hungry,’ she said.

  He nodded and, despite all his efforts to stem them, tears flowed. Ruth might not be his real gran, but he had come to love her, along with seeing her home as his refuge.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  On a Saturday evening towards the end of March, Joe rang Patsy’s doorbell, dreading the conversation he was about to have with her and just wanting to get it over with. He’d taken her out a good few times now, along with joining Joe and Sally for dinner, but there was something about Patsy that he didn’t like. Something false. When he’d first met her she had seemed sweet and innocent, but it hadn’t taken him long to decide that it was all an act, a veneer covering a hard centre. She was too pushy, too eager to take the relationship further, and lately much too interested in his finances.

  ‘Well, well, Joe. This is a surprise. I haven’t heard from, or seen you since Monday and I was beginning to think you’ve been avoiding me.’

  Patsy was Sally’s friend and it could make things awkward, but nevertheless he wanted to nip this in the bud before it went any further. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided that honesty would be the best policy and said, ‘I’ve been busy, and to be honest, I don’t want to get into anything serious at the moment.’