No Heaven, No Hell

by J. T. Brindle

  Astonished, Lianne looked from her mother to her sister and back again. She felt like piggy in the middle. She also felt ashamed. Blowing out her cheeks she let the air lazily escape. ‘Sorry, Mum.’

  ‘So you say.’ Fastening the buckle of her belt, Liz went out of the room. ‘And don’t leave the kitchen like a pigsty!’ she called. A moment later the front door slammed and she was gone.

  ‘Blimey!’ It took a moment for Lianne to gather her wits. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in such a foul mood.’ Coming to the table she slid into the chair next to Ginny. ‘What did you do to rile her?’ The whole upsetting scene had touched an angry chord inside.

  Ginny’s smile was the tiniest bit sad. ‘I don’t have to do anything,’ she declared.

  ‘What do you mean?’ When Ginny was in this kind of mood, Lianne was always apprehensive.

  ‘You mean you haven’t noticed?’

  ‘Noticed what?’

  ‘Mother seems to have taken a dislike to me.’ The dark eyes flickered with a kind of hatred, boring into Lianne as though she was to blame.

  Disturbed, Lianne looked away. ‘You’re imagining things.’

  ‘If that’s what you want to believe.’

  Lianne had to get up, get away from the influences that made her afraid. Going to the cooker, she asked brightly, ‘I’m having toast. Do you want some?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Coffee. Strong and black.’

  ‘Must you?’

  ‘Make the coffee and don’t start nagging.’

  ‘Dad says it’s bad for you.’

  ‘He should have known better than to tell me that.’

  ‘Why?’ Having boiled the water, she made the coffee and presented it to her sister.

  ‘Because if he hadn’t said it was bad for me, I probably wouldn’t have wanted it.’

  Bringing her orange juice to the table, Lianne had another question. ‘Is that why you let Old Tom show you the dirty pictures, because Dad would go spare if he knew?’

  Dark eyes flashed. ‘I look at the pictures because I like to. Not because I want to spite anybody.’

  Thoughtfully, Lianne sipped at her orange juice. ‘I think he’s just a dirty old man.’

  ‘Who… Dad?’ She was smiling now, irritatingly confident.

  Lianne laughed out loud. ‘No, silly… I meant Old Tom.’

  ‘He’s harmless enough.’ She nudged Lianne in the side. ‘Although…’ She hesitated. ‘No, I don’t think I’ll tell you.’

  Frustrated, Lianne argued, ‘You’ll have to now.’

  ‘All right then. But you mustn’t tell anyone.’

  ‘You know I never tell.’ Leaning towards her sister she urged, ‘Go on, then. What’s Old Tom done now?’

  ‘It’s not what he’s done exactly. It’s what he would like to do.’

  ‘Oh? And what’s that, then?’

  Ginny stared into her sister’s face. It was worried; small creases of anxiety around the eyes and mouth. Ginny liked that. She took great delight in causing anxiety. Smiling warmly, she pushed her face closer to the other, anticipating its reaction. ‘Me! Old Tom would like to do me!’ She watched while the face reddened to the shade of a ripe tomato. Beside herself with glee she asked in a whisper, ‘Haven’t shocked you, have I?’

  Lianne squirmed uncomfortably. ‘Ugh! He’s old and smelly.’ Shock and disgust showed in her every feature. ‘You wouldn’t let him, would you?’

  Throwing herself back in the chair Ginny laughed until she was breathless.

  ‘You wouldn’t, would you?’ Suddenly Lianne was on her feet, glaring down at her sister with amazement.

  Composing herself, Ginny looked up. There was a strange softness in her face. ‘I wish you wouldn’t worry about me,’ she said. ‘You’re worse than they are.’ Glancing towards the door through which her mother had departed, she grimaced. ‘Don’t be like them,’ she snapped. ‘I couldn’t stand it if you were like them.’

  ‘Promise you won’t let Old Tom do it to you?’

  ‘Look!’ She pointed to the grill. ‘Your toast is burning.’

  ‘I don’t want it now.’ Going to the cooker she took out the blackened slices and threw them into the bin, afterwards licking her slightly burned fingers. Glancing up at the clock she remarked impatiently, ‘If we don’t hurry we’ll be late for concert rehearsal.’

  ‘So? They can’t hang us, can they?’ Shrugging her shoulders she finished her coffee at a leisurely pace. ‘I’m not too bothered about the concert. I didn’t want to be in it anyway.’

  ‘Oh, Ginny! How can you say that? There’s no one in the whole school who can sing the way you do.’ She was bursting with pride. ‘If anyone should have been left out it’s me. There are any number of girls who can play the flute better.’

  ‘Ah! But they wouldn’t religiously turn up for rehearsals the way you do.’ There was scorn in her voice. ‘Go on. Own up… you only auditioned so you could keep an eye on me.’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t make fun of me.’

  ‘And I wish you wouldn’t follow me everywhere.’

  Fifteen minutes later when they were ready to leave, Ginny was incensed to see Lianne wiping the cooker down. ‘Leave that,’ she ordered. ‘It’ll teach her a lesson for yelling at us.’

  ‘No. It isn’t fair. You go on. It’ll only take a minute.’

  ‘Please yourself.’ She went out the front door and down the road with quickening footsteps.

  As good as her word, Lianne caught her up before she reached the bottom of the lane.

  Liz was racked with guilt. ‘I was a bit hard on them,’ she told the young woman who was doing her hair. ‘You know what it’s like. You have a bad night, get up late and fly round doing all the things you should have done yesterday. Then you take it out on the nearest person who happens to be there.’

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t bother,’ the young woman consoled. ‘If your daughters are anything like I was at their age, they probably didn’t listen to you anyway.’ Her smile was crooked but homely. ‘My mother used to say I had skin thicker than a rhinoceros.’

  There was a short span of silence while she parted Liz’s pretty brown hair in the middle. Sweeping it back with a flick of the comb, she teased either side into two deep waves that fell loosely over the temples. ‘You have beautiful hair,’ she told the bemused Liz, ‘and this style really suits you.’ Cupping the thick short hair in the palms of her hands she bounced it up and down until the lie of the hair fell naturally into place. ‘What do you think?’ she asked eagerly. She held up a hand-mirror, occasionally moving it so that Liz could see herself from every angle.

  Liz scrutinised herself. ‘You don’t think I’ve let you cut too much off?’ Somehow it had turned out different to what she expected. Better, but different.

  ‘I think it suits you.’

  ‘You don’t think I look like mutton dressed as lamb, then?’

  ‘No, I do not.’ Liz was not the most attractive lady who frequented these premises, but the young woman thought her pretty, and very likeable. ‘If I could get away with wearing my hair like that, I’d have it done tomorrow,’ she said honestly. Her own blonde hair was long and straight, while Liz had a natural spring to her brown locks. The short bouncy style framed her face perfectly, and yes, it did make her seem younger. But then she was young… mid-thirties maybe.

  At the till, Liz spied a set of rollers on the shelf. ‘I never seem to keep the shape once I’ve washed it,’ she groaned. ‘Would it help to put in rollers?’

  The young woman handed her the change. ‘You don’t need rollers,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘All you have to do after it’s washed is make a clean parting down the middle, then run the tips of your fingers through to lift it from the roots… like I showed you.’ Leaning forward she put a hand either side of her temples and spreading out her fingers she pushed them upwards, flicking the hair out and letting it settle back naturally. ‘It doesn’t work well for me
because my hair is thick and straight,’ she admitted, ‘but you have light bouncy hair that will go where you want it.’

  Liz laughed at that. ‘You could have fooled me,’ she said. All the same, she never fussed with her hair and somehow it always seemed to look respectable.

  ‘Had it styled for a special occasion, have you?’

  ‘That all depends,’ her hazel eyes sparkled mischievously, ‘on whether I can persuade Jack to whisk me off to Paris for a naughty weekend.’

  ‘Really?’ The young woman’s face lit with delight. ‘If you manage that, I’d like to know the secret. I can’t remember the last time my old man took me somewhere romantic.’

  Liz giggled like a schoolgirl. ‘I’m only teasing,’ she confessed. ‘Jack’s run off his feet right now. But I’m working on it for next year.’ She patted her hair. ‘I’ve had this done for the school concert. I thought I’d get it cut now so I can get used to the idea. All the mums will be there in their best bib and tucker and I don’t want to be the odd man out.’

  ‘When is it?’

  ‘Two weeks from Friday. My eldest girl has a beautiful singing voice, she’s been given a solo spot. Lianne is playing the flute as part of the backing orchestra, and by all accounts it’s going to be a wonderful evening with a bigger programme than ever, and a buffet interval.’

  ‘Sounds very grand.’

  ‘That’s because Miss Baker retired last year, and the new music teacher thinks he’s Andrew Lloyd Webber.’ Counting her change, she sorted out a coin and gave it to the young woman. ‘I’ll ring you for another appointment.’

  Dropping the coin into her pocket, the young woman thanked her. Then she ushered the next client in, giving her the same warm smile she bestowed on everyone. It was a tiresome chore that went with the job. ‘Nice now the snow’s almost gone,’ she said for the umpteenth time, ‘though it’s still sloppy underfoot.’

  Jack was in the office. Bent over his desk he didn’t hear her come in. For a while she stood and watched him, enjoying the fact that he was totally unaware of her presence. Long and lean, dressed in his white coat and with his dark hair tousled, he was oblivious to everything but the ledger he was poring over. So intent was he on the task in hand, there could have been an earthquake and he probably wouldn’t have noticed. He touched her heart with love. ‘Shall I go away and come back again?’ she asked cheekily.

  He slewed round so fast he almost fell off the chair. ‘Liz!’ Regarding her with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, he covered the space between them in a rush. It was only when he raised his eyes from her face that he realised there was something different. ‘You’ve had your hair done,’ he remarked, and from the tone of his voice she couldn’t tell whether he liked or hated it.

  Her anxiety melted when he kissed her on the mouth and held her close. ‘It suits you,’ he murmured.

  ‘That’s what Lorraine said.’

  Holding her at arm’s length he made a mock-serious face. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’ve really ruined my schedule.’

  ‘What are you talking about? How could I have ruined your schedule?’ She glanced at the pretty watch he had bought her last birthday. ‘It’s only midday. Be here by twelve thirty, that’s what you said. Now are you saying I’m late?’

  ‘No. I’m saying I can’t allow you to drive a baker’s van with an expensive hairdo like that. Our customers will think we’re doing too well and expect a cut in prices.’

  When she saw his face crinkle into a smile she slapped him on the chest. ‘Swine! For a minute you had me worried!’

  He kissed her again by way of an apology. ‘Fancy a cup of Jack’s coffee?’ He was in a devilish mood.

  ‘Will it poison me?’

  Her question was given in the same vein of humour. But the effect on him was astonishing. His smile fell away. The green eyes momentarily closed, and by the way he stiffened, it was as though someone behind had taken him by the shoulders and stretched him upwards.

  ‘Jack?’ She wasn’t certain whether he was still playing the game. ‘Are you all right?’

  He bent his head to her and grinned. ‘Just teasing,’ he answered. But his pale drawn face told another story.

  ‘You get on with your accounts, and I’ll get the coffee,’ she said. Stripping off her outdoor clothes she went to the cupboard. On top stood the percolator, bubbling away, its strong warm aroma filling the room. Beside it stood a tray containing a number of cups, teaspoons, a sugar bowl and a jug of milk. ‘Is there a problem?’ she asked, bustling about.

  ‘What makes you ask that?’ Seated at the desk, he paused in his work to stare at her. He was afraid again: afraid she might guess; afraid he had revealed his worst nightmare. She must not know. There were things in his life she must never know.

  Shrugging her shoulders, Liz put his fears at rest. ‘Just now when I came in, you seemed very intent on your work… as though you were struggling with a problem.’

  ‘The only problem I have here is too much work.’

  ‘That doesn’t need to be a problem.’ Handing him a cup of strong coffee she sat on the edge of his desk. ‘All you have to do is extend the bakery at the back, take on a couple more high class bakers, two more vans and drivers…’ She raised her cup and took a sip before continuing, ‘You’ve built the business up as far as you can with the limited facilities you’ve got. The orders are pouring in, and you said yourself you could cover the whole country if you were to let the business have its head. Maybe it’s time, Jack… time to let it grow.’ She tickled him under the chin. ‘You’re a born businessman, Jack Lucas. You could corner the supermarkets and all the main outlets. Spread your wings abroad. Nothing’s impossible with you. In no time at all we’d be millionaires. We could have the old house renovated… open the world to the girls, and,’ she chuckled, ‘I wouldn’t mind a swimming pool and all the trappings that go with serious money.’ While she waited for his response, she took another sip of her coffee.

  Jack’s coffee was left untouched. For a long moment he kept his head down, his gaze resting on the pages of his ledger. The figures ran into one, and he could feel his blood rising. ‘Have you ever wanted for anything?’ he asked, raising his gaze.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Needed anything I couldn’t give you?’

  She knew what he was getting at, and wished she had not broached the subject. ‘You’ve always looked after me and the girls, Jack. I’m not disputing that.’

  ‘And I’m not expanding the business. I’ve told you before… it’s not what I want. I’m content with things the way they are. We’ll get the house done bit by bit as we agreed. I don’t want to make a million, and I certainly don’t intend to spread my wings abroad.’ Even here he never felt really safe. The idea of going abroad terrified him.

  ‘All right, Jack. It’s your business and I shouldn’t interfere. I only want you to be recognised for the man you are.’

  ‘I have my family and my work. As long as we all have enough for our needs, we can’t complain.’

  Realising she had resurrected a prickly argument, she was quick to promise, ‘I won’t raise the matter again. Forget I ever mentioned it.’ Sliding off the desk she gulped down a measure of coffee before rinsing the cup under the tap. ‘Where am I delivering?’

  ‘Two drops. Leighton Buzzard and Bedford.’ He stood up, his coffee still untouched. ‘I’d better go and check whether the van’s loaded.’ He went out of the office, running down the short flight of steps that led directly into the bakery.

  From the doorway, Liz followed his familiar figure. ‘What is it with you, Jack?’ she murmured. ‘Sometimes I get the feeling you’re shutting me out.’ She took a long deep breath. The air was pleasant with the smell of fresh baked bread. Looking along the bakery floor she could see rows of shelves packed with cakes of every description, rolls, loaves of bread in their many varieties – long tin, plaited, cottage, farmhouse – all risen to the right degree and done to perfection. Like Jack, she took great p
leasure in this place. Unlike Jack, she would have liked to see it break the boundaries he imposed on it. ‘What’s wrong with being a millionaire?’ she sighed.

  Jack started his way back. Her face lit up. ‘You’re right, sweetheart,’ she murmured. ‘There are more important things in life than being filthy rich.’ All the same, she would dearly have loved the house to be renovated. As it was, it might take another five years to complete the work.

  Skipping up the steps two at a time he told her, ‘Ready when you are.’

  Needing to lighten his mood, she quipped, ‘Is that an indecent offer?’

  He smiled, then grinned, and in a moment was laughing out loud in that delightful boyish way she loved so much. ‘Don’t tempt me,’ he whispered, pushing her back inside with the weight of his body, ‘or I might just forget where we are.’

  ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’ She began playfully toying with his shirt.

  Neither of them heard the old fellow at the door, until he made a very polite cough and gave them a look like they were children misbehaving.

  Red in the face, Liz excused herself and pushed by. ‘I’ll be off then,’ she said, going down the stairs chuckling to herself.

  ‘Drive carefully!’ Jack called. Then he dealt with Fred’s query and returned to his desk, where he too had to chuckle. ‘God I love that woman! I hope to God nothing ever spoils what we’ve got,’ he mused aloud.

  But he hadn’t reckoned with the mother he had left behind all those years before. Unbeknown to him, the badness he yearned to forget was already reaching out to harm him.