by Dawson, H A
‘Do you think she deserves to have you back in her life after all these years?’
‘She might not have done anything wrong.’
‘But most likely, she did. I urge you to forget her.’ Her expression softened. ‘I like you, Leanne. I don’t want to see you hurt.’
‘Thanks.’ She paused, reflective. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Steven told me you couldn’t have children. I think you would have made a wonderful mother.’
There was a deep sadness in her eyes and a pained expression distorted her face. After a few moments, she thanked her for her compliment and rose to her feet.
‘I didn’t come here to make us both miserable,’ she continued. ‘How about we all go out for a meal? You, me, Geoff and Steven.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Please, as a favour to me. I need to spend more time with Geoff, and it’s less stressful with others around.’
‘Are you sure he’ll be okay with it?’
‘It was his idea.’
‘All right then, so long as Steven agrees.’
‘Good, that’s settled.’
Leanne followed Teresa to the kitchen and watched her companion slip her arms into her jacket, and all the time contemplated her date with Steven. Impatiently, she wanted to see him to confirm it, and decided, as her courage was still with her, that she should go to see him straight away.
‘Are you going back through the village?’ Leanne asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Can I have a lift? I have a couple of things to do.’
‘Sure.’
They climbed into the car, reversed back onto the lane, and headed into the village in a comfortable silence. The car stopped opposite a general store.
‘I’ve enjoyed our chat,’ Leanne said. ‘See you soon.’
‘Will do.’
She levered herself to her feet, pressed closed the door, and stood for a moment as the car eased away. First, she would buy some basics from the shop, and then she would surprise Steven.
The sense of a piercing stare caused her to spin. The woman in the black shiny jacket was metres away. When their eyes made brief contact, she made a swift move to leave.
‘Wait.’ Leanne yelled, trotting towards her.
The woman stopped. She turned her head and held a disconcerted expression.
‘Who are you, and what were you doing in my house?’
Chapter 15
The woman, with furrowed lines on her pallid skin, and dry, unmanaged hair, glared antagonistically, and for a second Leanne regretted her assertive comment, preferring a more coy approach. Nevertheless, she had spoken and had no choice but to watch and wait for her response.
The woman raised the cigarette to her mouth, and without removing her eyes from Leanne’s face, breathed in the noxious substance before exhaling the smoke to one side. Leanne sensed she was being analysed and her courage faded; her departure was imminent and her apology for disrupting her and asking such a direct question on the tip of her tongue.
‘Who are you?’ The woman asked.
‘Leanne Stark.’ She steadied her voice, removing the quiver, and tried to appear confident and in control. ‘I live in the house on Fen Lane. I saw you there. You left your jacket in my kitchen.’
The woman inhaled again. The wait was intolerable. ‘You inherited it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You related to Roy and Janet Jefferson?’
‘I’m their granddaughter. What do you know about them?’
She started to walk away, striding with purpose.
Energised by a trickle of panic, Leanne trotted on behind, following in her shadow and feeling like a lost puppy. ‘Who are you?’
The woman stopped and turned around so abruptly that Leanne almost stepped into her. ‘I knew them years ago.’ She guffawed. ‘Boy did I! They didn’t like me, took pleasure in making my life difficult. It turned into a competition, see, but I always got the better of them. I can still see their faces, so humiliated.’
Leanne’s colour drained. ‘Are you-’
‘I’m Queenie, an old friend of Karen’s.’
She extinguished the cigarette end with her foot, and sat on a bench, leaning back into the frame with her legs apart.
‘Do you know where Karen is?’
‘Not seen her.’
‘I was told she had died. She’s my mother.’
‘Is she now? You look nothing like her. I was there when you were born. You were an ugly baby, like a dried prune.’
Queenie laughed and then gazed around the square. There was a statue in the middle, a community notice board at one side, and a flower border at the other. Only the occasional car passed along the roads, and even though there were a number of vehicles parked on the streets, only some of the owners would be visiting the general store, the post office, or the takeaways. Most were likely to be residents of the nearby houses.
‘Did . . . did she want a baby?’
‘Suppose so, once she got used to the idea. Although it did tie her down more than she would have liked. We rented a flat in Northampton for a while, and we did most of our business from there.’
‘What business?’
Queenie raised her eyebrow. ‘You’re nothing like her, are you? Reckon Janet’s got to you. She was a prig, for sure.’
Leanne felt herself stiffen. ‘There’s nothing wrong with having morals.’
‘We all have morals love. She just thought hers were better. Did you know Janet cut off her family - her parents and brothers and sister?’
‘They left her! They never told her they were moving out of London.’
‘Really? Is that what you’ve been told? Once Janet moved here, she thought herself too good for her family. An education and money doesn’t make you a better person. It’s what’s in here.’ She touched her chest with her hand. ‘Karen had a big heart. No one knew her as I did. She was misunderstood and deserved better treatment.’
There was silence. The sun disappeared behind a cloud and the temperature dropped. Leanne shivered and raised her collar, and then edged herself onto the bench, Queenie’s smoky scent dominating.
‘Why did she leave me?’ Leanne asked.
‘Don’t sound so pathetic. You’ve done all right for yourself . . . your fancy clothes, high standards, and no doubt pots of money. She had nothing . . . disappeared without a penny to her name and no family who cared if she lived or died.’
‘She had you.’
Queenie reached into her pocket and retrieved a packet of Silk Cut. ‘She had no one.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Boy, you’re persistent. She went back to Northampton. We had friends there, worked the clubs and bars. I never saw her again. That’s why I’m here now. I heard about Janet’s death and thought Karen might have inherited the house. She should have had in my opinion, but Janet had no idea about blood being thicker than water.’
An aged man wearing a suit, and a collar and tie, hobbled past, guided by his terrier dog. He turned his head and nodded his greeting.
‘Janet was always a stubborn cow. She’d never change her mind once she’d made a decision. She was too proud.’
‘You don’t like her much, do you?’
‘Like stating the bloody obvious?’ Queenie looked to her feet and lowered her voice. ‘Just glad she wasn’t my mother.’
There was sadness in her voice and an obvious hesitation. The deep sorrow she had felt for her friend remained.
‘I’ve enough of my own problems,’ Queenie continued, ‘In fact, I’ve had a life full of them. My first partner threw me out when my baby girl was stillborn, and my second partner was banged up for theft. I’ve spent my life working several jobs just to make ends meet, and rarely get more than four hours sleep.’
‘Sounds like you’ve done it tough.’
‘You don’t know the half of it. I’ve no doubt you’ve lived in a fancy house somewhere . . . had everything you wanted.’
She did not respond, believing it wa
s more of an accusation than an observation.
‘Well, I’m glad for you. Maybe there was some sense in what Janet did, after all.’
‘She wasn’t all that bad.’
‘Too strict for me. You know, Karen had to be in by nine-thirty, her boyfriends had to be vetted, and she wasn’t allowed friends in the house.’
It was difficult for Leanne to believe they were talking about the same person and disbelief etched onto her face.
‘Yes, it’s true. She wanted an automaton, not someone with an opinion. It’s no wonder Karen was rebellious.’
‘She was never like that with me.’
‘Did you always do as you were told - study hard, mix with the right types, say please and thank you?’
Leanne nodded.
‘Then that’s why. Karen was no goody-goody. She made her own mind up about things.’
Leanne’s nails became her focus, her self-righteous attitude seeming deplorable. She wanted to list everything she had done wrong, tell her about her wild times as a teenager when she got pregnant, but even that seemed tame. Janet rarely reprimanded her for such poor behaviour, and she surmised that her grandmother must have learned from her mistakes and the devastating consequences.
‘You’re painting a different picture of Janet,’ Leanne said, ‘it’s difficult for me to take in.’
Queenie’s expression hardened. ‘You calling me a liar?’
‘No, of course not.’
The comments rattled, and Leanne looked to the concrete before her, tracing the cracks and the scatterings of bird poop, and tried to comprehend what she had learned. It was difficult to hear such atrocious sounding comments, especially since there was no way Janet could defend herself. Could she have been that strict?
‘Is that your boyfriend?’
Her head jerked. Steven was standing outside the shop door, staring whilst placing something in his pocket. Her heart hammered. He smiled a wonderful lopsided smile.
‘That’s Steven George,’ she replied misty-eyed.
‘Look,’ Queenie said, ‘I have to go. If I find anything out, I’ll let you know. Can I have your number?’
‘Sure.’
She could not remove her gaze from Steven, and reached for her phone and showed Queenie the number. He was sauntering towards her, his arms relaxed, his feet pointing outwards. Her skin tingled and her pulse quickened. Suddenly, despite the cooling air, she felt very warm.
Grinning from ear-to-ear, Leanne wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in his arms, grateful for his sudden appearance. Instead, she straightened her back and pulled in her stomach, and stepped towards him, stopping close enough to breathe in his scent, but not so close to appear desperate.
His hands were loose by his side and his eyes held a teasing glint. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Queenie, a friend of Mums. I was just coming to see you.’
‘Were you?’
Her heart was fluttering. She edged a fraction closer. ‘Teresa came around. She suggested the four of us go out for a meal.’
‘Are you okay with that?’
‘If you are.’
‘I thought I’d put you off.’ He smiled. ‘I’m not used to this dating lark.’
‘Me neither.’
‘Fancy coming around to my place for a drink, that is if you’re not doing anything?’
‘That would be good.’
After popping into the shop for a few basics, Steven escorted Leanne to his car making general conversation then drove through the village streets to his home on the new estate. It was set in the middle of a row of identical detached dwellings and had a simple designed with a tidy paved front garden with potted plants and a red brick drive leading to a garage.
Tansy’s enthusiastic cries welcomed them. Her paws padded the floor, the efforts from her wagging tail sent ripples of excitement along her back, and squeals of glee escaped from her mouth. In an attempt to calm her down, Steven told her to sit. Her rear end hovered centimetres above the ground, her tail swishing, brushing the carpet in quick, short sweeps.
It was a delight to witness such unadulterated pleasure. Steven had only been away for twenty minutes, but it made no difference to Tansy, the greeting was always the same, energetic and warming, and for a short while, as he guided Leanne into the sitting room, the dog was engrossed in his every step, following like a shadow.
Steven left to make the drinks and Leanne perched on the edge of the soft fabric three-seater sofa and absorbed the scene. There were porcelain figurines of young women in elegant poses, set in a glass cabinet, and there were seascape paintings on the wall. There was no clutter, no out-of-place objects, but there was dog hair on the floor and a distinct doggy smell.
The dog wandered towards her, as though reading her mind, and stood, with her paws planted and her tail wagging. Unable to resist, Leanne reached out and touched her short, coarse fur. Tansy’s eyes widened. She started to pant, her lolling tongue dripping with saliva.
‘She likes you,’ Steven said.
She turned to face him. ‘Is she always this fussy?’
‘Yes. She doesn’t get to see people often. She likes the company.’ He placed the coffees onto coasters and slumped onto the armchair, his legs apart, his arms spread. ‘How are you coping in that massive house?’
‘Okay. I’m going to be staying on a bit longer. Tyler’s decided to stay with Darren for a while.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
‘Gutted, if I’m honest. I know I should be happy for him, but . . . well, I miss him.’
‘How long is it going to be for?’
Averting her gaze, she fiddled with a button on her blouse. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I know how you feel. More than anything you want them to be happy, but at the same time there’s this gnawing selfish ache inside.’ He caught her eye. ‘It must be even worse for you. At least I know what Andrea is like.’
‘That’s just it. I don’t know anything about Darren. Do you think I should have said no?’
‘Tyler’s old enough to make his own mind up about things. Is he a sensible lad?’
‘I would say so. He’s matured a lot during these last few months. I hardly recognise him at times, but, having said that, he is only sixteen and still a child.’
‘They can be wise at that age.’
‘That may be so, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying. When I was with Darren years ago, he had loose morals . . . didn’t give a toss about anyone but himself. I hope he’s changed.’
‘It’s been a while so he should have. I think you just have to trust Tyler. If there’s a problem, you have to believe he will come good and turn to you.’
She smiled. He was saying the right thing, and her perpetual ache lifted. She would always be Tyler’s mother. He was a sensible young man and he loved her. She should not worry.
He leaned back into the chair. ‘It’s nice to see you again, Leanne. I thought I’d messed up.’
‘Me too. I’m sorry I rushed off from Teresa’s. I . . . Geoff-’
‘Geoff can be annoying. Take no notice.’
‘Teresa told me he realised he had overstepped the mark. She said it was his idea to go out for a meal.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Really?’
‘Apparently so.’
‘He’s not known to backtrack.’
‘Do you think he’s up to something?’
‘No, I doubt it. Teresa would see through that.’
‘She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to search for Mum,’ she said, her voice weakening, ‘I have a feeling she knows more than she’s letting on.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so. If she did, I’m sure she’d tell you.’
‘I hope so. I’m just a bit on edge at the moment . . . probably a bit stressed and maybe even paranoid.’
‘Understandable given what you’ve been through. Who did you say that woman in the village was?’
‘Queenie. Do you know her?’
‘No, I’ve not seen her before.’
‘She didn’t have a high opinion of Janet. She said she was strict and not a nice woman to be around.’
‘She didn’t seem like that to me,’ he said.
‘No, me neither, but I suppose people change.’
For a moment, both were silent, and then Steven stood up and joined her on the sofa, sitting a breath away and wiping all thoughts of Queenie from her mind. His hand rested on the fabric next to her thigh. He was staring, analysing. She could not look and feared the intimacy.
Her pulse was racing and hands were trembling, and without thinking, she dropped her hand to his. He took it in his palm. It was firm and warm. She was safe, part of something again, and looked into his eyes, pools of blue, deep and reassuring.
Their lips met. He swept his hand across her back. Her body tingled, hypersensitive, her pleasure domes receptive and wanting more; yet, she dared not move, fearing an inability to control herself, and remained statuesque, soaking up his touch.
He pulled away, gazed at her with adoration and smiled. She smiled back.
A deepening niggle enveloped her and she reached for her mug and squeezed out the last sip of cold coffee. It should be Phillip holding her in his arms. It should be him comforting her. It should be him walking into the future by her side.
Recollections of his premature death crashed into her, dissolving all feeling for Steven. Upon learning of the accident, she had crumpled to the floor, still clutching the telephone in her hand. She could remember experiencing a feeling of utter emptiness, and it had crushed her of life, removing all desire to live. The voice had been faint in the earpiece, the condolences meaningless. She had been static, unable to function, unable to be hysterical. Phillip had gone, died in a tragic accident, crashing into a rock face. He had gone forever.
‘I . . . I can’t do this,’ she whimpered, turning to Steven. ‘I’m sorry.’
He waited, sorrow not quite hidden behind his impassive expression.
She moved to the edge of the sofa, searching for calmness, searching for the right words to explain her behaviour. She looked at him, her words inappropriate. She looked away.
A book on a nearby bookcase caught her eye. It was a book on microlighting. Ignited by further panic, she leapt to her feet.