Near And Dear

by Pamela Evans

  ‘I wanna see him.’

  ‘Well, you can’t, so shut up about it,’ said her brother with an air of finality.

  Resorting to bribery, Jane went down on her haunches before them.

  ‘Look, if you’re very good and play quietly until supper’s ready, we’ll take a picnic to the park tomorrow afternoon. Would you like that?’

  ‘With Mel and Roy?’ queried Davey.

  ‘Yes. I’ll ask Aunt Marie if they’d like to join us,’ she promised.

  This seemed to pacify them. Davey got a couple of his toy cars and sat at the table with them. Pip got some crayons and paper and sat opposite him, drawing squiggly patterns and moon faces with spiky hair. All was quiet while Jane continued grilling sausages and cooking potatoes to make into mash.

  Three months had passed since Mick’s departure and they were living here until the council found them a place of their own. Jane had stayed at the house in Maple Avenue only long enough to clean the place from top to bottom.

  She’d been told by the Department of Housing that it could take as long as a year to house her. It depended on movement within the system. The waiting list for council accommodation was very long in this crowded borough. Jane thought that another year of the present arrangement would put them all into an asylum and regularly scoured noticeboards and the accommodation section in the local paper.

  There were places to be had privately but none she could afford or that would accept children. Had Davey and Pip not already suffered such a blow when their father left, she might have considered finding someone to look after them and getting herself a full-time job to improve her finances. But she believed it was important to be with them during the day at this time. Rather than relying on state benefit, she gained the means to support them by doing an early-morning stint of office cleaning while they were still asleep, and a shift in a sweet factory every evening when they were in bed.

  Her biggest fear was that the powers-that-be at the council would realise how overcrowded they were here in the flat and take the children into care until a home could be found for the three of them together. Her father said she was worrying unnecessarily but they both knew that such things did happen even if they didn’t get into the newspapers.

  Although Joe was sometimes impatient with the children, he’d been wonderfully supportive to Jane and hadn’t hesitated for a moment about taking them in or babysitting while she was out working. He pretended not to mind having Davey and Pip sleeping on camp beds in his bedroom while Jane slept on the put-u-up in the living room. He tried not to complain if they left their toys around for him to trip over. He did his best to stay patient when they were being loud and boisterous. But he was only human and at an age to prefer young children in small doses.

  Jane’s emotions were in a permanent state of conflict. While she still felt bitter towards Mick for leaving them, she wanted him back with painful urgency. Most nights she cried herself to sleep in her lumpy, makeshift bed, this being her only time to herself. She tried not to let the children see her cry. Outwardly she was indomitable, in reality she felt lost without Mick to look after her.

  Apart from Jane, Marie and his mother, nobody had a good word to say for Mick. Despite Jane’s fury towards him, she had an irrational instinct to leap to his defence and make excuses for him, frequently saying he couldn’t have been in his right mind to have done such a thing.

  ‘Don’t kid yourself, love. He knew what he was doing, all right.’ Her father was adamant. ‘He knew what a mess he’d got himself into and he scarpered and left you to it, there’s no more to it than that. The man’s a coward, and the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for you to get over him. And if he were ever to come back, you’d be a fool to let him get a foot in the door after what he’s done.’

  Jane’s salvation had been Marie whose house had become a second home to her. The four children had always been more like siblings than cousins and Jane and Marie were close, having been friends long before they were ever related.

  Marie was ardent and inflexible in her defence of her brother.

  ‘Never in a million years would Mick have done a thing like that had he been in a normal frame of mind,’ was her categorical opinion. ‘He adored you and the kids. He must have been in a very disturbed state to have left like that . . .’

  By now Jane had creamed the potatoes, opened a tin of baked beans, and was ready to serve the meal.

  ‘Okay, kids,’ she said. ‘Who wants supper? It’s sausages and beans.’

  ‘Hooray!’ they shouted.

  ‘Put your toys away then, so I can set the table.’

  They smiled up at her, Davey dark like his father, Pip with light brown hair like her mother and the same rich velvety eyes. In an overwhelming rush of love for them, she abandoned the supper preparations to hug them tight. With Mick gone, they were her reason for living.

  ‘If we had more room, you could move in with us,’ Marie said to Jane the next day as they sat on the grass in the park, eating cheese and tomato sandwiches and discussing Jane’s unsatisfactory living arrangements. ‘But we’re pushed for space as it is. I don’t think Eddie could cope with any more people about the place.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I can’t think of a better way of ending our friendship than for us to move in with you,’ said Jane. ‘If Dad wasn’t my father he’d probably have fallen out with me by now!’

  ‘It must be difficult for him, having his home invaded.’

  ‘I know, and I really feel for him,’ said Jane, ‘but it isn’t easy for the children either, after what they’ve been used to.’

  ‘And you’re caught in the middle?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  It was a glorious autumn day, warm sunshine beaming from a hazy blue sky and bathing the green and pleasant parkland. The children had finished eating and were playing hide-and-seek nearby. The bright sunlight emphasised Jane’s pallor and the dark shadows under her eyes.

  ‘You look worn out, love,’ remarked Marie with concern.

  ‘I don’t feel too good, as it happens,’ she confessed. ‘It must be a reaction to the trauma of Mick’s leaving and the tension of living at Dad’s, I suppose. But I’ve been feeling very tired lately, and generally out of sorts.’

  ‘Everything that’s happened is bound to have had an effect on your health.’

  ‘Mmm. If I could find somewhere else to live, it would help,’ Jane said dolefully.

  ‘Have you been to see the council housing people lately?’

  ‘I’m always pestering them.’

  ‘And they can’t help?’

  ‘They’re doing what they can. We’ll get a place when they have one vacant, that’s the situation. And I daren’t go on too much about how the kids are suffering in case they let the Children’s Department know and some overly conscientious social worker decides they’d be better off elsewhere - without me.’

  ‘There is that.’

  ‘I keep looking out for somewhere private, just to tide us over.’

  ‘Too expensive and kids not welcome, I suppose?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I’ve been keeping an eye out for you too,’ said Marie.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I thought I’d struck lucky the other day, actually.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Yeah. I saw an advertisement in a newsagent’s window for a furnished flat,’ she explained. ‘It would have been absolutely ideal for you . . . a flat in a widower’s house. A professional man. It said a very low rent in exchange for light household duties.’

  ‘Ooh!’ said Jane. ‘That would suit me down to the ground. Where?’

  ‘Lang Road.’

  ‘It’s nice round there.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘So what was the catch?’

  ‘Mature woman, it said at the bottom of the card, retired professional lady preferred,’ explained Marie gloomily. ‘Which basically means he doesn’t want kids about the place.’

>   ‘What a shame,’ said Jane.

  ‘I was disappointed too.’

  ‘Still, there would have been a problem with my early-morning cleaning job without Dad on hand to listen for the kids.’

  ‘You might not need to do that if the rent was low enough,’ explained Marie. ‘You could just have done your evening job. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind babysitting in the evening. And I could always help out when Eddie isn’t on late shift.’

  ‘That’s nice of you but it’s all just hypothetical, as I don’t meet the criteria.’

  ‘True.’

  They went on to talk about other things as they finished their lunch, eventually strolling over to the kiddies’ playground.

  ‘Thank goodness for parks and your back garden,’ said Jane, watching her children enjoying themselves on the swings in the sunshine. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without them since we lost the house. At least Davey and Pip can play out in the fresh air sometimes.’

  ‘The houses in Lang Road have decent-sized back gardens,’ remarked Marie wistfully.

  ‘Do they?’ said Jane, who hadn’t been able to get that advertisement out of her mind either.

  ‘Yes, I’ve noticed them when I’ve been out walking round that way.’

  Jane pondered on this.

  ‘You don’t remember what number Lang Road it was, do you?’

  ‘I do, as it happens,’ said Marie. ‘It was number twenty. It stuck in my mind because I was sure it would suit you until I saw the mature woman bit at the bottom.’ She gave Jane a wicked grin. ‘Why, are you gonna dust your hair with flour and keep the kids hidden in the wardrobe?’

  ‘No, but I am going to go round there to see if I can talk my way into that flat somehow,’ she said, laughing. ‘I’ll leave a bit early for work tonight and call in there on the offchance that he’s in.’

  ‘It did say mature woman,’ Marie pointed out, fearing disappointment for her friend.

  ‘People have been known to change their minds, you know,’ said Jane. ‘Anyway, it’s worth a try. And I’ve nothing to lose but the time it’ll take to go and see him.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said Marie heartily. ‘I’m amazed at how quickly you’ve learned to stand up for yourself after being mollycoddled by Mick for so long.’

  ‘I’m surprised too,’ admitted Jane. ‘But there’s nothing quite like desperation to motivate you.’

  Number twenty Lang Road was a traditional pebble-dashed detached house in quiet, residential surroundings. The middle-aged man who answered the door to Jane that evening seemed to blend with his background perfectly, being grey-haired and bespectacled, quietly spoken and dressed in a dark business suit.

  She explained why she was there and he invited her in, which she thought was a promising start since she obviously didn’t meet his requirements.

  ‘The flat is still available then?’ she said, standing in the hall by an old-fashioned, semi-circular table in dark mahogany which housed a telephone and a dusty pot plant.

  ‘Yes, but . . .’

  ‘You’re looking for an older woman?’

  Pale-skinned, with anxious but oddly penetrating eyes, he said, ‘Well, yes . . . as it says in my advertisement.’

  Deciding that timidity wasn’t an option she could afford to consider, Jane went on, ‘Won’t you entertain the idea of anyone younger?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Oh.’ Since he had invited her in, knowing why she was here, his answer surprised her. ‘Is there any particular reason for that?’

  He seemed startled by her forthright manner but said, ‘Yes. Someone of a similar age to myself would be more companionable.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Also, I want a tenant who’ll stay for a while at least,’ he explained. ‘Not some youngster who’ll just get settled in and then meet a fellow and leave to get married.’

  ‘It isn’t because you don’t want children in the house then?’

  His brows rose.

  ‘No, not at all,’ he said, as though the thought had never occurred to him.

  ‘I’d like to be straight with you, Mr . . . ?’

  ‘Ashton.’

  ‘I’ll be perfectly honest with you about my situation, Mr Ashton,’ said Jane with a boldness that would have been beyond her before Mick’s departure. ‘My husband has left me and I have two children below school age. We’re living with my father at the moment in his flat and things are difficult to say the least because it’s very small. My father needs peace and the children need a garden and space to move about in. I’m very sensible and mature in my outlook - and I really am desperate for somewhere to live.’

  ‘Oh.’ He seemed quite bewildered by this flow of information. She got the impression that he was a very nervous man.

  ‘My children aren’t angels by any means but they’re quite well-behaved as kids go,’ she went on. ‘And it isn’t as though they’re babies who’d cry at night and keep you awake.’

  He remained silent, looking at her, small grey eyes studying her through his spectacles. Considering her as a tenant, she hoped.

  ‘I wonder if I might . . . er . . . if I could possibly see the flat?’ she said, knowing she was chancing her arm outrageously.

  ‘Yes, all right,’ he said, which she thought was a hopeful sign.

  She followed him upstairs to the flat which comprised a bedroom, living room, kitchen and bathroom. It was quite shabby with only the most basic furnishings but perfectly adequate for her present needs.

  ‘It’s quite self-contained,’ he said as they stood in the living room, his attitude seeming to change, as though she was the one in the stronger position and he was trying to persuade her to take the flat. ‘The only thing the tenant has to share with me is the hall.’

  ‘Yes, I see.’

  ‘You’ll have noticed that there’s only one bed in the bedroom but the settee in here opens up into a double bed.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ She went to the window and looked out into the back garden which was secluded and lawned with a profusion of mature shrubs. ‘Would the children be allowed to play out there?’ she asked, turning to him, growing more confident with the way the interview was progressing.

  ‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat and she got the impression he had great difficulty in asserting himself. ‘So long as they don’t make too much noise and disturb the neighbours. ’

  ‘I’d make sure they didn’t do that.’

  ‘The washing line can be used by the tenant,’ he told her.

  ‘Good. These light household duties?’ she said, almost as though she was interviewing him. ‘What exactly do they consist of?’

  Again she sensed a fearfulness about him which struck her as peculiar since he was the one in the position of power.

  ‘Keeping the whole house clean, including my flat and the hall and stairs,’ he explained. ‘And preparing an evening meal for me during the week. I cook for myself at weekends and see to my own laundry.’

  ‘Well, that sounds fair enough to me,’ she heard herself say, almost as though the flat was already hers which she sensed, somehow, it was. She couldn’t believe her luck in finding it. It seemed too easy because arrangements like this were practically non-existent. ‘I’m surprised the flat hasn’t already been snapped up?’

  ‘It takes time to find someone suitable when you’re letting a part of your house.’

  ‘What happened to the previous tenant?’ she asked casually.

  He didn’t reply; seemed uneasy. She wondered if she had pushed her luck too far and made him angry. But he just said, ‘She went to live with her sister in the country. She was getting on a bit in years and found the housework too much.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I had the top floor made into a flat after my wife died, three years ago,’ he seemed keen to explain. ‘The house is too big for me on my own and I didn’t want to move away.’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’m a partner in a firm of acc
ountants in the City and I’m out all day which is why I need help in the house,’ he said as though he needed to justify himself. ‘I’ve only just got home this evening, as a matter of fact. Anyway, the housework is reflected in the rent which will just be a token amount and will include gas and electricity.’

  Better and better, she thought, but said, ‘Well, the arrangement would suit me perfectly. And the house would be kept spotless, I can promise you that.’

  ‘In that case, you can move in as soon as you like.’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful.’ Jane felt quite lightheaded with relief. ‘I’ll move in at the weekend, if that’s all right with you?’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, beaming.

  Closing the front door behind her, the smile faded from Mr Ashton’s lips because he had let the flat to the young woman very much against his better judgement. He really should have waited for a mature lady to apply.

  It would be nice having her in the house, though. Her and the kiddies. He’d always regretted the fact that his marriage hadn’t been blessed with children.

  Going into his front living room, he stood at the window, unseen behind the net curtains, watching Mrs Parker swing down the front path, an attractive figure in jeans and a sweater. She turned at the gate and looked towards the house, smiling.

  He frowned, chewing his lip. She wouldn’t be so eager to move in if she knew why all the previous tenants had moved out, he thought. But this time it was going to be different, he promised himself.

  Jane’s kitchen at Lang Road had been a box room before the house was converted, and overlooked the back garden. Washing the dishes after lunch one Sunday a couple of weeks later, she took pleasure in looking out of the window to see Davey and Pip enjoying themselves in the fresh air. The garden was aflame with colour, the shrubs bright with plump red berries, the lawn covered with fallen leaves.

  The children were ‘helping’ Mr Ashton, who was clearing the leaves from the lawn with a rake. He was raking them into a pile and they were gathering them up into a bucket and carrying them to the compost heap in the corner of the garden, spilling most of them on the way. She smiled and felt a surge of gratitude to him for his patience. He would obviously get on a whole lot faster without their assistance.