Near And Dear

by Pamela Evans

  ‘It’s lovely to see you anyway,’ Jane was quick to assure her.

  The children seconded that and Joe greeted Trudy, albeit in his terse way. Having introduced her to Mick, Jane offered her a cup of tea and asked her to sit down and join them.

  ‘I won’t stay, thank you, dear,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to intrude. I haven’t seen you for a while and I’ve missed you, but I’ve actually called to put a bit of business your way.’

  ‘That’s nice of you.’

  ‘A friend of mine wants a wedding cake made and I wondered if you might be interested?’

  ‘I’ll say I’m interested,’ was Jane’s enthusiastic response. ‘I’m trying to build up that side of the business.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I thought.’

  The next instant Jane burned with embarrassment when Mick showed his bad manners by getting up and turning up the volume on the television set while Trudy was speaking.

  ‘Come into the kitchen and you can tell me more about it,’ invited Jane diplomatically.

  ‘All right, dear.’

  They were about to depart when Mick sprang up and marched over to Trudy.

  ‘Can’t you see that my wife is trying to spend a quiet evening with her family?’ he said accusingly. ‘And she certainly doesn’t want people bothering her about business.’

  ‘Mick, really,’ admonished Jane, throwing him an icy look.

  Trudy looked at him candidly.

  ‘I think Jane will soon tell me if I’m being a nuisance,’ she replied.

  ‘ ’Course she won’t,’ he growled. ‘She’s far too soft to speak her mind. I’m not, though, and I’m asking you to clear off.’

  Humiliated almost beyond bearing, Jane said to Trudy, ‘Come on, let’s go into the kitchen and talk about it. Don’t mind Mick. He has a perverse sense of humour.’

  She was ushering her visitor into the kitchen when Mick grabbed his wife by the arm and pulled her back, standing between the two women and staring angrily at Trudy.

  ‘It’s people like you who’ve changed Jane,’ he shouted. ‘Filling her head with silly ideas and making her think she can play at business and neglect her family!’

  ‘Jane was in business long before I met her,’ explained Trudy, who was no shrinking violet herself. ‘And she isn’t just playing at it.’ She paused and met his eyes in a challenge. ‘You should be boasting about her instead of putting her down.’

  ‘She’s changed, doesn’t want to know about her family any more.’

  ‘That isn’t true . . .’ began Jane, stopping when her normally reserved father made a surprising intervention.

  ‘Don’t you dare accuse my daughter of neglecting her family,’ he roared at Mick. ‘She’s making a fine job of raising those children . . . and with no help from you!’

  ‘You keep out of it . . . this is between me and Jane,’ protested Mick.

  ‘You’ve made it my business by insulting my daughter in public,’ said Joe. ‘As well as Mrs Hamilton who is a guest in her house.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with you!’

  ‘You insult my daughter and you insult me,’ said Joe, voice shaking with emotion because he rarely got involved in arguments. ‘Well, let me tell you this much, mate - it was Jane who fed the children and looked after them while you were away. She’s worked harder than you ever will, starting a business from scratch to keep them. So I’ll thank you to apologise to her.’ He looked at Trudy. ‘And to Mrs Hamilton.’

  ‘Oh, bugger the lot of you!’ was Mick’s answer to that. ‘I’m going down the pub.’

  And leaving Joe offering profuse apologies to Trudy for his son-in-law’s appalling behaviour, while Jane calmed the children who had retreated to their bedrooms, Mick stormed out of the house.

  After a couple of drinks he felt even more morose. Why couldn’t Jane see how hurt he was at being excluded from her life so cruelly? Why couldn’t the woman just do as he asked and give up her stupid notions of independence so that things could return to normal? How did she think it made him feel with everyone saying how well she’d done while he’d been away? What they should be saying was how wonderful it was for her to have him back.

  He drew hard on a cigarette, thinking that no one, apart from his mother, sister and daughter, seemed pleased that he was back. In fact, no one else seemed to have much time for him at all. He wondered if perhaps he ought to try to make it work Jane’s way, with her continuing with her business and them all staying on in the cottage indefinitely.

  But, no. It simply wouldn’t do. Apart from all the aggravation of having to live in that relic of a place and occasionally fend for himself, it just didn’t feel right. He needed the buzz of hero-worship to keep his adrenaline flowing. As things were now, he was in competition with Jane for the position of head of the family.

  Well, he’d tried persuasion and she wouldn’t listen. So she’d left him no choice. He would have to apply a little guile to get her to do what he wanted.

  Having come to this decision, he ordered another drink, feeling a whole lot more positive as he planned his next move . . .

  Chapter Twenty

  Jane waited up for Mick to get back from the pub that night. Having had time to calm down after their contretemps, she’d decided it was vital they should have a serious talk.

  Yelling at him would solve nothing. They needed to address the cause of his aggression, which was undoubtedly the success she had found in her own right and his inability to alter his perception of their life together. If she could reassure him that her having a mind of her own didn’t lessen her commitment to their marriage, he might be able to see things in a new light. As disgusted as she was with his behaviour earlier, she hated to think of him being so unhappy.

  When he got home, however, he was mildly squiffy and wanted to go straight to bed.

  ‘But we need to talk, Mick,’ she said. ‘It’s really important that we get things sorted out between us, for all our sakes.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, but not now . . . another time, eh, babe?’ he said, swaying slightly as he stood at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘It needs to be soon.’

  ‘Will tomorrow do you?’

  ‘But you’ll be back in Brighton.’

  ‘I can go a bit later in the morning, if you like?’ he suggested amicably. ‘And we can have a chat before I go.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, surprised at his unusual offer of co-operation.

  ‘I’ll take the kids to school and come back here for an hour or so, yeah?’

  ‘Great.’

  She guessed she had the alcohol to thank for this unusual concession but at least he’d agreed to talk. She hoped he hadn’t forgotten all about it in the morning.

  Mondays were always especially hectic in the cottage kitchen because her assistant didn’t come in to work. But Jane would make time for a discussion with Mick. It was imperative they got things on to a more even keel. They couldn’t continue to live in such an explosive and unhappy atmosphere. It wasn’t good for the children and it was beginning to make her feel ill.

  The next morning there was the usual pre-school rush, the last-minute search for misplaced gym shoes and school bags, childish tempers frayed at the prospect of some difficult lesson, and a dental appointment for them both straight after school. But the atmosphere over breakfast was quite pleasant because Mick was in such a good mood.

  Since it was his policy never to lift a finger in the house, Jane was amazed when he offered to clear the breakfast things, which he did while waiting for the children to collect their raincoats because it was another wet day.

  ‘I’ll go upstairs and make myself decent while you’re doing that,’ she said.

  ‘Okay,’ he agreed amicably. ‘I’ll see you when I get back from the school.’

  Having plonked a farewell kiss on the cheek of each offspring, Jane hurried upstairs and made the children’s beds, heartened by Mick’s co-operation. Her optimism was increased by the discovery that he’d
stripped their bed, a definite indication that he was trying to be helpful. It wasn’t actually her day for changing beds but it was the thought that counted. Making a mental note to get clean bedlinen from the airing cupboard and remake the bed, she sat down in front of her dressing-table mirror to put on some lipstick.

  Rummaging in her make-up bag, she listened to the children chattering as they went down the back path to Mick’s car. Swamped with affection for them, she went over to the window and looked out into the rainsoaked garden as they hurried through the gate and were ushered by their father into his Jaguar, parked in the alley behind her modest estate car.

  Feeling more optimistic than she had in a long time, she went back to her dressing table and applied her lipstick. She was brushing her hair in front of the mirror when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

  ‘Who’s forgotten what?’ she called out, thinking it was one of the children.

  There was no reply but she could hear someone outside the door. Whoever it was seemed to be fiddling with the handle.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she called, going over to the door and turning the handle to find that the door was locked. ‘Mick, is that you?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s me.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded. ‘Why is the door locked?’

  ‘To keep you in there.’

  ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘You won’t do as I ask and give up your business, so I’ve no choice but to force you into it,’ he replied. ‘You won’t be baking any cakes today, babe.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous,’ she said, pummelling on the door with her fists. ‘You can’t do this.’

  ‘I’ve already done it,’ he said triumphantly. ‘For once, this old-fashioned cottage has worked in my favour. It has bedroom doors that lock.’

  ‘Mick . . . this has gone far enough.’

  ‘It hasn’t gone nearly far enough.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning I shall do everything I possibly can to upset the smooth running of your business until either the lack of efficiency closes you down or you agree to sell up.’

  ‘But what about the children?’ she asked, far more worried about their welfare than the future of her business. ‘If I can’t get out, who will collect them from school this afternoon?’

  ‘They can walk . . . it’ll do ’em good.’

  ‘But I’m taking them to the dentist for their check-up straight from school. They’ll be waiting for me at the school gate.’

  ‘They can miss that. I’ll tell ’em you’ve decided to cancel it and they are to make their own way home.’

  ‘No, Mick . . . this isn’t on.’

  ‘I’ll leave the front door key under the flower pot on the window sill so they can let themselves in,’ he said, ignoring her plea. ‘I’ll leave the bedroom key here in the door. You can call them when they get in and they’ll let you out. I’ll tell ’em I locked it by accident when I see ’em at the weekend.’

  ‘You’re leaving me here all day?’ she said, astounded.

  ‘That’s right. I’m off to Brighton when I’ve dropped the children at school.’

  ‘This is crazy.’

  ‘You’ve driven me to it,’ he said. ‘You won’t do as I ask voluntarily so I have no choice but to use force.’

  ‘Let me out,’ she said, frantically banging her fists on the door.

  ‘No fear. And if you’re thinking of getting out of the window, you can forget it because I’ve taken the sheets off the bed so you’ll have nothing to climb down.’

  ‘You scheming bastard,’ she gasped. ‘You had this all worked out . . . and there was me thinking you were being helpful.’

  ‘You’ve brought this on yourself.’

  ‘Stop this, Mick,’ she said more gently in the hope of persuading him to let her out. ‘I thought we were going to have a serious talk?’

  ‘No point in talking,’ he said. ‘Actions speak louder than words.’

  ‘Locking me up for the day won’t put me out of business.’

  ‘It’ll make you realise that I intend to have my way, though, won’t it? Anyway, this is just the beginning.’

  ‘Now stop this nonsense, Mick, please . . .’

  ‘I’m off,’ he said as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘I’ll go straight to Brighton when I’ve taken the kids to school. See you at the weekend. Ta-ta.’

  And she heard his footsteps receding down the stairs.

  Tearing across to the window she leaned out, calling to him as he swaggered down the path, wearing a black anorak over his business suit. He turned and waved to her, smiling sweetly to create a picture of domestic bliss - a happily married couple saying a fond farewell for the day. She shouted to the children for help but they were ensconced inside the Jaguar with its windows misted up, oblivious of the drama unfolding around them.

  As the car rolled away out of sight, Jane went to the bedroom door and rattled the handle, banging her hands on the solid wood in frustration. Back at the window, she looked gloomily at the sheer drop to the ground with nothing to get a hold on. She began to pace the room in a fury, cursing the fact that there was no telephone extension in the bedroom. Her only hope was to attract the attention of someone outside, someone walking along the back alley. She could always say she’d got locked in accidentally to save Mick’s reputation.

  But there was not a soul about. People were either out at work or busy indoors with Monday morning chores. She would have stood more chance had this room been at the front of the house overlooking Tug Lane. But the gardens backing on to the alley, mostly secluded behind high walls and fences, were deserted. This wasn’t the sort of day to dry washing outside.

  An hour crawled past, then another, with agonising slowness. The alley remained empty and the heavy rain turned to a discouraging drizzle, making Jane’s bedroom feel damp and chilly. She slipped on a sweater over her tee-shirt but by midday was really uncomfortable, being cold, hungry and in need of the bathroom.

  She lay on the bare mattress, staring at the ceiling and thinking that Mick must be sick to do a thing like this. He’d always been obsessive, she could see that now. His craving for money and success had gone beyond normal ambition. But now he seemed to have become paranoid about her as well.

  Her heart beat faster at a familiar noise outside. It sounded like Giles’s car pulling up in the alley. But he didn’t usually come home for lunch. Leaping up and rushing to the window, she saw that it was him. Tears of relief gushed down her cheeks as she opened the window and shouted to him.

  ‘Please don’t get involved, Giles,’ Jane said over sandwiches and coffee at her kitchen table after he’d let himself into the house with the key Mick had left under the flower pot, and had released her. Luckily for Jane, Giles had come home at lunchtime to collect a book he needed for a lesson that afternoon. ‘I have to deal with Mick in my own way.’

  She had found it impossible to lie to Giles about the reason for her captivity, and he’d been horrified by the story. He’d already been worried about her, having heard about the incident last night from his mother.

  ‘But the man must be unhinged to do a thing like that! Who knows what he’ll do next? You’re not safe with him about.’

  ‘Mick would never actually harm me.’

  ‘Locking you up in the bedroom isn’t causing you harm?’

  ‘I mean, he wouldn’t beat me up or anything.’

  ‘I’m not so sure . . .’

  ‘He’s having a hard time accepting me as I am now and not as I was before he went away, that’s what all this is about.’

  ‘He obviously isn’t in a stable frame of mind, though,’ insisted Giles. ‘I’m really worried about you.’

  ‘It’s nice of you to care and I appreciate it, Giles,’ she said, reaching across and taking his hand. ‘But it’ll only make things worse if you enter into it. The last thing I need is for Mick to find out about us . . . and he’s bound to suspect something if you try to help me. So far as h
e is concerned you are just a neighbour and the father of Davey’s best friend.’

  ‘It’s a wonder his sister hasn’t spilled the beans to him about us.’

  ‘I had a feeling she wouldn’t,’ said Jane. ‘It’ll be for his sake, though, not ours. Marie wouldn’t do anything to hurt her brother, or that might stop him and me making a go of it. That’s why she’s kept quiet. Only our parents know what happened between us and they have the sense not to say anything. I think Mick really would go berserk if he found out I’m in love with you.’

  ‘He was away for a long time, Jane, what did he expect?’

  ‘Mick isn’t rational when it comes to me, not now anyway.’

  ‘Thank God I decided to stay around. At least I’m at hand.’

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  ‘You didn’t take your cottage off the market because you weren’t getting any decent offers, did you?’ she said, referring to the reason he had given her.

  ‘No, I took it off the market after seeing Mick getting rough with you one day,’ he admitted. ‘I decided that my place was here, near you and the children . . . just in case you needed me. Today’s incident has proved I did the right thing.’

  ‘Oh, Giles, you’re such a good man.’

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if you could read my thoughts about Mick when I see the two of you together!’

  ‘It’s been awful for me too, being just a neighbour to you.’ She squeezed his hand, looking into his warm brown eyes. ‘But I really do have to try to make a go of my marriage.’

  ‘Mick isn’t making it easy for you, though, is he?’

  ‘I’ll say he isn’t. But I have to keep trying.’

  ‘Don’t let him grind you down with bullying tactics like he used today.’

  ‘It would be all too easy to give in and let him have his way,’ she said. ‘But it isn’t in my nature to give in to something I think is unfair.’

  ‘That’s the stuff,’ Giles replied, smiling at her in a way that, while making her sad she couldn’t stay with him, also gave her the courage to do what she had to with Mick.