by Lynda Page
‘Charles then asked her why she hadn’t visited me since I’d assigned my affairs over to her and told her that I was extremely worried something had happened to either her or Lucy. He said she seemed really shocked that I was so worried as, after I’d signed the papers and given them back to her, I’d told her that I was handing over everything I owned to her as my way of apologising for the humiliation I’d brought on her by what I’d done. I’d also said that I couldn’t expect her to wait ten years for me, so she was to divorce me and feel free to meet someone else. My only stipulation had been that she should raise Lucy on my behalf, with the child believing that her father was dead so that she didn’t grow up with the stigma of being related to a convicted criminal. I’d left her in no doubt that I meant what I said as I was going to make sure that she didn’t receive any more visiting orders.
‘She told Charles Gray that she had done her best to talk me out of it but I wouldn’t budge. Therefore she’d had no choice but to build a future for herself and Lucy without me in it. She asked him to give me her best wishes when next he saw me.
‘I was struck dumb by these revelations and started to question if indeed her version of events was the truth and I was losing my mind. Then Charles asked me why, when I’d checked over the document and seen what it stated wasn’t actually according to my instructions, I’d still gone ahead and signed. That was when the truth dawned on me. Nerys hadn’t wanted me to examine the document before I’d authorised it. She had obviously brought Lucy along with her that visiting time, against my wishes, in order to distract me from the document until the very last minute, so that I wouldn’t have time to check through it. Then a terrible thought hit me like a sledgehammer. It could only have been Nerys herself behind my being put away in the first place.
‘I could see by the look on his face that Charles was thinking the same as I was, and said as much to him. He asked me just what exactly I knew about Nerys when I’d married her. It struck me it was hardly anything, and what I did know I had taken her word for. I had no choice but to accept that all her words of endearment to me were lies. To her I had been nothing more than a meal ticket. She was obviously on the lookout for a suitable victim to fleece and had found it in me that night I went into the hotel. But all the whys and wherefores . . . whether she’d had an accomplice who carried out the attack and theft for which I was framed, or whether she’d paid someone to do it . . . were irrelevant now as the document I had unwittingly signed was watertight and there was nothing even a clever lawyer like Charles could do about it. Nerys was now the legal owner of all my possessions.
‘No words can describe how devastated and guilty I felt for losing the family home I’d been born in and all the happy memories of life there, along with the business my father had worked so hard to build. But far worse than that was the loss of my precious child. I didn’t have anyone else to blame but myself, though, for falling for Nerys’s scheme. The only consolation I had was that she must love my daughter as if she was her own or she would have put her in an orphanage.
‘I was released on parole after ten years but they seemed like a lifetime to me. I’d had no visitors and no idea how my daughter was faring with Nerys. Release brought me little joy as I’d nothing to come out to. I knew I had no chance of getting back any of my possessions but I badly wanted to see my little girl, even from a distance, just to satisfy myself that she was well and happy. After settling in at a hostel, I paid a visit to my old home. To my shock I found that Nerys no longer lived there and hadn’t for ten years. She must have sold up and moved as soon as the house became hers. The present owners had no forwarding address for her. I would have asked Charles Gray’s help in tracing Nerys but found he had died years before, and there was no one left working at my old business who would remember me or feel any inclination to help me. I had no choice but to put my past life behind me and get on with the one I had instead.
‘The prisoners’ welfare people had secured me a job as a labourer at a lumber yard, where I could sleep in one of the outbuildings. That was one of the conditions of getting parole – that I had a job and somewhere to live. I knew from the moment I met my new boss that I was going to hate working for him. He was squat, thickset and brusque, in his late-sixties, and he and his thin, mean-faced wife lived in a ramshackle filthy old place on the premises. I was expected to do as I was told, no questions asked, and be eternally grateful that I had somewhere to rest my head, never mind that it was a rotting shed with just sacking for a mattress. The food I was given was not fit for pigs. My hours of work were from six in the morning until the boss decided I’d finished at night. After deductions to cover accommodation and food I received ten shillings a week, barely enough to buy myself any personal things, let alone clothes.
‘I’ve never had any aversion to hard work, my parents certainly believed in it, but being worked each day until I was fit to drop, and treated like I was the scum of the earth while being expected to show gratitude, was something I wasn’t prepared to tolerate. I stuck the job for three months until I’d managed to save up five pounds and walked out of the job without a word to my boss as I didn’t believe he deserved an explanation.
‘Knowing I’d got to take care of my money until I found another job, I stayed in a hostel for homeless men that night, in a large dormitory surrounded by types as bad as any I’d been in prison with. Next day I spruced myself up as best I could and went looking for work. I wasn’t fussy, would have taken anything suitable. All I was asking was to be given enough of a wage to manage on and to be treated like a human being. I was obviously expecting too much.
‘Two weeks later I’d visited that many places asking after work I’d lost count, but each time a prospect looked promising, as soon as I told potential employers about my time in prison and that I had no fixed abode, I was shown the door. My money was all gone by this time so I couldn’t even afford the two shillings a night to stay in the hostel. I was starting to look really shabby as it’s very difficult to keep yourself looking clean and tidy when you’ve no facilities other than the public baths, for which you need to pay. And I needed money for food more than for hot water. With no job and nowhere to live, I had no choice but to live rough. That was over five years ago.’
Glen’s narrative abruptly stopped and he looked at his companion with surprise and shock on his face. He had never told another living soul the whole story of how he’d come to be in the dire situation he was now, he’d kept the whole sorry story locked inside himself. But somehow his subconscious had told him that this stranger would not judge him for his behaviour or use this information she now knew about him to her own advantage.
He took a deep breath and said gruffly, ‘Now you know.’
There was a look of understanding and also of great sadness in Jan’s eyes when she muttered, ‘Yes, I do.’ She looked thoughtfully at him for several moments before she said, ‘I expect you’ve lived all these years hoping that somehow your wife has been made to pay for what she did to you.’
Glen growled, ‘I would be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted to seek revenge, spent numerous nights trying to find a way to bring that about, but then I realised that all I was doing was making myself more bitter and twisted. Since then, all I’ve prayed for is that Nerys has kept good her promise to care for my daughter and has raised her to be an honest, likeable young woman with a promising future, as I would have done myself.’
Jan was looking thoughtfully at him. ‘It’s a pity you can’t find out your ex-wife’s whereabouts and have your mind put at rest over your daughter. I know you tried to find her when you first came out of prison, but there must surely be some way to unearth where she’s living. She installed a manager at the business, didn’t she? I realise his first loyalty will be to her, but he has to have a telephone number or some other means of making contact with her if he should need her say-so on a business matter, and they must meet up regularly for her to reassure herself that all is as it should be.’ She paused for a moment
before adding, ‘We need to get into his office and have a rummage round, to see if we can find out where he keeps those details. It’s the only way to get a lead on where Nerys is living and for you to have your mind put at rest about your daughter’s welfare.’
Glen thought it was generous of her to be centring her thoughts on him when she had her own worries to face. ‘I’ve been to prison once, I’ll not go back again,’ he said cautiously.
‘Oh, I didn’t mean you should break in and run that risk.’
‘How then? I mean even if there were a ruse I could come up with to get into the factory, it’s not likely anyone would let a vagrant like me into the manager’s office unattended.’
Jan responded matter-of-factly, while thinking to herself that it was going to take some doing, ‘Then we need to get you smartened up.’
‘I’m dying to hear how, when you know I’ve no money.’
She had no idea at all, considering the circumstances they were both in, but was saved from admitting that to him by noises coming from the entrance to the shop doorway. They both looked over to see several young men leering down nastily at them. They were all either holding bottles of drink or newspaper parcels of chips. It was obvious they were the worse for drink. Jan inwardly froze. Her companion had warned her about possible trouble at chucking-out time, and she wasn’t sure what to expect. The men then started shouting abuse at them. It was extremely offensive and hurtful and Jan was ready to answer back, but she felt a hand on her arm and instinctively knew it was a warning to keep quiet. Receiving no response, the men then started throwing missiles. Several bottles fell short of their intended target and smashed on to the concrete floor around them. One did hit home and caught her companion heavily on his shoulder, but he instinctively caught the bottle before it too smashed on the ground. Jan then found herself being pelted with chips, and a half-finished parcel landed beside her. Finally, no missiles left to hand and finding no fresh abuse to hurl, laughing and joking together the men went on their way.
Deeply insulted, Jan snapped, ‘How could you just sit there and not retaliate?’
‘And give them an excuse to give me a beating? As you know yourself, no one will come to the rescue. When you encounter people like that it’s best to do nothing to provoke them further. Then, like those thugs just did, eventually they’ll get fed up and move on. Look on the bright side, though.’
She gawped at him, stunned. ‘Bright side! What bright side?’
‘We’ve landed ourselves supper,’ Glen told her, picking several chips off his coat and putting them in his mouth. He then took a swallow from the remains of the bottle of beer he’d managed to catch hold of. ‘That’s good. Long time since I’ve had a drink of beer. Want some?’ he asked her, holding the bottle out towards her.
It was just what she needed to help steady her nerves but Jan dreaded to think how long it was since her companion had last cleaned his teeth. She politely refused the beer. The newspaper parcel at her side was a different matter, though. She grabbed it, delighted to see a good portion of chips still left inside, and started ravenously ramming them into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten for months, totally forgetting her manners and to offer a share to her companion as he had to her.
The chips were far from a banquet but enough to take the edge off Jan’s hunger. She had to stop herself from licking the last of the crumbs off the newspaper. She made to screw up the greasy paper until she remembered her companion’s words that in the world she was in now every object had value, so she smoothed it out and folded it up instead, then handed it to him.
Glen thanked her, saying as he put it in his sack of belongings, ‘That’ll come in handy to help light a fire with when I’m on my travels in the countryside.’ He then suggested to Jan that they move into the doorway next-door because of the danger to them both from the broken glass surrounding them.
Rehoused in their new shelter, Jan once again began to shuffle herself about, trying her best to get comfortable enough to snatch some sleep, her ears ringing to the sound of her companion’s snores. Finally, from sheer exhaustion sleep began to steal over her, but just before oblivion hit an idea struck her. Eyes wide open, she proclaimed, ‘Well, how stupid of me not to have thought of that before.’
Always with his senses on alert, at the sound of her voice Glen shot bolt upright, one hand automatically diving into his pocket to grab hold of the penknife while his eyes darted round seeking any potential danger. When he realised it was Jan who had woken him, he snapped at her, ‘You shouted out. What for?’
She shot him a triumphant look. ‘Because I know how we can get you cleaned up.’ The only part of his face that was visible, his eyes, told her he was utterly confused as to how and, as exhaustion had overtaken her again, at this moment she lacked the energy to go into detail. Lying back down again, her eyes closing without any effort on her part, she mumbled to him, ‘Tell you later.’
CHAPTER FIVE
It was with emotions of sorrow and misery mingled with fear that Cait let herself into the house, a gabled four-bedroomed detached property situated in the affluent leafy suburb of Oadby on the outskirts of the city. She took off her coat which she hung on the antique Victorian stand in the imposing hallway and then made her way into the tastefully furnished lounge where she perched on the edge of a chintz-covered sofa. She looked across at her mother, sitting reading in a matching chair by the side of the roaring fire. Cait knew she was well aware of her daughter’s arrival but, regardless, did not acknowledge her.
As she patiently waited for her mother to arrive at a place in the book where she was prepared to stop, Cait studied her. There was no denying the fact that, even though she was approaching her forties, Nerys Thomas was still a very attractive woman. She was tall at five foot seven, and slim. Her fashionably styled dark wavy hair framed a heart-shaped face, and her large almond-shaped eyes were the colour of African violets. Regardless of whatever she was doing she always looked immaculate, as if she’d stepped out of the pages of an upmarket magazine. But strangely she never went out, except to the beauty parlour or to shop for clothes, she had no friends, and didn’t invite anyone into the house but would keep any casual callers standing on the doorstep. With her looks her mother could have had the pick of any man she wanted, so why she had settled for a man like Cait’s father remained a mystery to her. Samuel Thomas was a small, puny man with thinning fair hair, pale blue eyes and a pasty complexion. He was not a good conversationalist but had a whining way of talking which was extremely irritating, had little sense of humour, and suffered from poor health through having a weak chest and heart. Cait strongly felt that her father thoroughly enjoyed his ill health, basking in his wife’s constant attention, and suspected that sometimes he exaggerated his sufferings if he felt he wasn’t getting enough of it. Yet her mother was devoted to him, would immediately drop whatever she was doing at a summons from him, fretted and fussed over him like a mother with her young child, and would have no word said against him. Her efforts to look immaculate all the time were on his behalf also.
Cait would often study her own reflection in the mirror and sometimes feel she had inherited her mother’s looks, sometimes her father’s, but in truth she resembled neither of them so assumed she must take after a more distant ancestor. There was no way of checking that, though, as both her parents were orphans and the past too painful for them to discuss. As far as she was aware her father had never held down a job and it was an inheritance of her mother’s that kept the family in the comfort they enjoyed
Neither of her parents was at all demonstrative towards her. It seemed to Cait that they showered all the affection they had on each other, and had none left to give her. As a young girl she had suffered many rejections by her mother, being told that she was acting selfishly in demanding her time when she knew her father was in need of it, or that Nerys was far too busy suddenly to drop everything on her account. As a result, from quite an early age, Cait stopped asking for any attention from h
er, to avoid the pain of being pushed away. She did well enough at school but never pushed herself to excel so failed to reach anywhere near her full potential. So long as she got out of the house and went to school, her parents were satisfied. She’d long ago stopped trying to work out what exactly they both found lacking in her that prevented them from showing her any affection, and barely more than their passing attention. Consequently she could only imagine what it would feel like to be hugged and kissed and made a fuss of, allowed into the private circle from which she had always been excluded.
The young Cait had showed all the signs of developing into an intelligent, caring and lovable girl. Unfortunately for her, though, she’d had a mother who stifled all these qualities in her, so the youngster had no choice but to observe Nerys’s ways of doing things and follow her example. Her mother was very brusque and matter-of-fact in her approach to others, especially those who worked for her, and would never allow them any sort of familiarity. If they acted informally with her, she always put them firmly in their place. Since Nerys had no acquaintances with children, Cait was a very lonely child, and when it came to going to school had no idea how to make friends. Her abrupt manner did her no favours either.
One day, though, she was in the playground eating some sweets when a girl approached her, and told her that if she would give her one then she would allow Cait to play with her. Cait was a quick learner. This set the pattern for how she would gain friends in future. Most of these relationships were short-lived, but she would regularly entice people to befriend her by offering them inducements she knew they’d be unable to refuse. That was how she had acquired the two friends she palled around with now, Gina and Clare, who worked with her as typists for a fruit and vegetable wholesaler’s.
As an attractive girl Cait was not short of admirers, but the only way she knew how to treat them was to behave exactly as her mother did with her father. That had to be the right way, surely. Consequently she smothered any man she went out with, knowing what he wanted or was thinking before he did and making herself indispensable to him.