Inseparable Bond

by David Poulter

  George sat quiet, the lines around his mouth were tight and his eyes were no longer perpetually filled with sudden joyous gaiety of life, with the certain knowledge that something wonderful was about to happen.

  Jennifer realised that the expression in George’s eyes was now watchful. He stood up from his chair, reaching over the table and kissed her on the lips, but his eyes said nothing at all.

  They tried to talk about normal events, but their earlier argument and George watching the puppy had clouded any conversation, his eyes deliberately avoiding hers, which irritated Jennifer.

  She stood up and walked into the lounge, Walter scurried behind her, weaving in and out of her feet as she walked. Jennifer picked him up and sat him on her knee as she lowered herself into the chair. The puppy stared in amazement at the two Herend greyhounds facing each other from each side of the fireplace.

  George followed a few minutes later and sat in the chair opposite, hoping that all the stiffness would suddenly go and they could both laugh and talk freely as they had always used to do.

  Jennifer stared into the fire as she stroked Walter on her knee until he fell into another sleep, his droopy ears falling over his face as he lowered his head over the arm of the chair. Jennifer’s heart felt as though it had iced over. She straightened her back in the chair and looked across at George, not wanting sympathy, but still seeking some kind of understanding.

  Jennifer placed little Walter in his basket by the fire and picked up her handbag as she left the room to start the evening supper. Her heart was beating so fast it sounded like a drum in her ears. She moved towards the door as George opened it for her. At the door she turned her head and directed her large eyes at what she saw now was a most arrogant face.

  ‘I realise what you must be thinking, George, but I have had to live with this all my life, you have only had to live with it for five hours,’ she said to him as she left the room.

  The kitchen was hot as she had forgotten to turn down the oven, due to the days upset. She opened the kitchen door to let the cool evening air circulate around the kitchen. She could hear the sea beyond the garden and stepped outside to take in a deep breath of fresh sea air and to feel its cool breeze on her face, which lifted her to a sudden dizzying sense of freedom, not feeling as she had earlier in the day, but now only a profound sense of relief.

  They ate supper in the kitchen and not in the usual dining room. It was a quiet meal, still with an uneasy and stiff atmosphere, which seemed to follow them from room to room.

  Jennifer went to bed shortly after supper while George watched television. She found it difficult to sleep, tossing and turning with her thoughts of John at the forefront of her mind. She leapt out of bed and went to the window, opening it to hear the sounds of the sea crashing on the shore. She turned in desperation, near to despair, thinking of her brother confined to a small cell. She looked around the bedroom for reassurance, something to which she could cling, something that would send those thoughts away. Finally she found herself reaching to the bottom of her handbag searching for the key to open the wooden box which contained John’s letters.

  She held the bunch of letter close to her breast, recalling the days when John worked so hard on the garden and the night away in Keswick on his birthday.

  She heard George turning off the lights and going though to the bathroom. She quickly returned the letters to the box and replaced it under her clothes in the wardrobe, quickly dropping the key back into her handbag before George discovered her secret stash. She climbed back into bed, switched the light out and pretended to sleep as George climbed in along side her.

  He had always kissed her gently on the forehead before they slept, but tonight he turned on his side without speaking.

  Jennifer lay silent listening to the sea lashing against the sea wall and the wind rustling through the trees in the garden. It had been a stressful and unpleasant day. She felt drained of emotion, her eyes red and sore through constant crying. George soon fell asleep and breathed deeply. Jennifer lay awake for another two hours before drifting off into a deep sleep.

  The following morning’s October weather was perfect. Soft early sunshine beamed over the Scarborough houses and the castle high above the busy working harbour. Jennifer strolled along the promenade, standing to watch the fishermen scrapping the barnacles from the bottom of their boats as they were suspended high from the water.

  The large pleasure boat was tightly moored as the crew swilled the decks after a busy summer season before covering the vessel for the winter months.

  The strong sea breeze was fresh and invigorating and the sun was slowly losing its summer warmth as it shone strong beams of light through the newly gathered heavy clouds which hung low over the town as the local shopkeepers prepared to close their small outlets for the long approaching winter.

  Jennifer walked over to the red telephone box on the corner opposite the public toilets and rooted through her handbag for her address book, which contained the Armley prison telephone number. She had always called John from this public phone as George scrutinized the telephone bill and she didn’t want him to notice any calls made to the prison.

  She would phone each week from the same place and at the same time as John would expect her call and wait by the line of telephones in the recreation wing. It was a well-rehearsed system as they had kept in weekly contact for the past six years.

  George had only been aware of their occasional visits and would strongly disapprove of any further contact, particularly on such a frequent basis.

  They exchanged words for ten minutes before she went into the harbour coffee bar where she would take the seat by the window, watching the fishermen unload their mountainous proportions of fish they had caught through the night.

  She walked back along the beach, now deserted apart from a couple of local walkers with their dogs, the tourists had long gone, giving the quaint and vibrant sea-side town back to the local community. Jennifer thought long and hard as she walked along the beach, kicking the sand with her tiny feet, remembering the unspoken closeness she and her brother had enjoyed when they were growing up, as if in each other’s company they could find solace against their father’s cruel treatment to their mother, and how at ease they felt as children burying each other in the sand on Fleetwood beach.

  She also recalled the happiness and security George had provided over the past years, sitting in the lounge or driving in the car, not needing to say very much, just understanding each other and being happy. So now it was not very surprising for her to see George’s eyes full of concern after realising the extent of her brother’s cruelty.

  She left the beach and climbed the steep steps up to the outdoor concert hall below the Crown Hotel, easing herself up by the handrail; her feet were throbbing after undertaking a longer walk than normal. Once on level ground, she walked briskly back to the house, desperate to make up to George for the sadness which had been caused after so many happy and peaceful years.

  George looked up from his newspaper as Jennifer walked into the kitchen from the back door. He had a sympathetic smile as she took off her coat and draped it over the kitchen chair.

  ‘I’ve booked a table for lunch, dear, I hope you didn’t eat while you were out,’ he asked, pouring her a cup of tea as she sat down.

  ‘No, I just stopped for coffee in the harbour coffee bar while I was shopping,’ she said, stretching her small back as she sat next to him.

  ‘I called into the Crown Hotel on the way back from the library and booked for 1.30, I hope that’s not too late for you?’ he said.

  ‘No, that would be fine, I’ll just go upstairs and get changed,’ she said, sipping her tea.

  They had intended walking down to the hotel but the rain had started and it looked as though it was set in for the day, so they drove the two miles along the coast road.

  The restaurant was very quiet, they were the only two customers and Jennifer felt conspicuous sitting at the centre table in the large dining
room.

  George looked over at her as the waiter poured the chilled Chablis. ‘I’m sorry we are the only people here, I wanted to show you off,’ he said, smiling at her over the table.

  Jennifer held her head high; her thin white hair glistened under the large chandelier. She wore no make-up except for a little touch of lipstick, her complexion looked smooth and wrinkle free as George looked her up and down with outward appreciation. She spread her starched linen napkin over her precious dress and looked up at George. She thought that the expression in his eyes defiantly said forgiveness as he smiled lovingly over at her. Jennifer smiled back at him, because just for a moment it seemed a pity not to allow herself a few seconds to enjoy the situation.

  They ate their ham salad lunch while looking at a fishing boat being thrown about in the wrangling seas beyond the dining room windows.

  ‘I love the sea when the sky is darkening,’ Jennifer said, watching the boat tossing and turning in the sudden strong wind.

  ‘The sea is always at its best when in dark and lowering mood,’ George replied.

  Jennifer turned her gaze to the large heavy chintz curtains hanging at the windows, rows of decorative bobbles adorning their swagged pelmets and running down the long edges until they ended at the thick high pile carpet where they lay an inch beyond the floor line in extravagant spills. George noticed her inquisitive expression.

  ‘Are you thinking of changing the curtains at home?’ he asked.

  ‘No dear, they’ve just been changed. I only thought how old-fashioned they seem in such a vibrant and colourful room.’

  The decided to have coffee in the lounge where conference delegates had gathered for their coffee break. Jennifer liked being surrounded by people, commenting on the latest fashions and hairstyles.

  After lunch, they drove back to the house. George slept by the fire as Jennifer sat in the bay window watching the sea cascade over the harbour walls, sending sea spray over the rooftops of the small houses as they stepped high up to the castle walls.

  Yesterday’s lunch at the Crown seemed to ease the tension and eradicate the stiff atmosphere in the house.

  They had slept in each other’s arms as normal, George gently kissing her brow as he climbed out bed, as he would always be the first downstairs to make the morning tea.

  Jennifer heard him whistling in the garden as he painted the fence that bordered the private frontage of the house. Walter was happily running around the garden. She was relieved and less anxious to hear him back in his joyful mood.

  Jennifer gazed at the splendid sea view, now even more unobstructed due to the leaves giving up their hold on the tree branches, fluttering to the ground before the strong autumn wind blows them out to sea. She straightened her back, pulling down her long velvet dress with its old lace collar and cuffs, a favourite of George’s. She whipped a hair brush from the window sill and began to brush her thinning white hair before rearranging her black pearl-studded Alice band and a small strand of coral beads round her neck, which George had given her for an anniversary gift two years earlier.

  Jennifer looked at herself in the large dress mirror. She felt and looked like an early Victorian lady with her long dress as she reached into her silver jewellery box and selected a cameo brooch, which she attached to the middle of her white collar. She stood sideways looking down at her flat chest and drew a deep breath, disappointed at what she saw. She had always wanted a large bosom but had always been extremely deprived in that area.

  She ran downstairs like a young child dressing up in her mother’s clothes. George looked up from the fence as she ran onto the patio. He smiled at her most particularly.

  She was so grateful for that smile, which was directed right at her. It was as if he understood exactly the turmoil she had been through over the past two days.

  She walked around the garden, which looked beautiful and gracious as the bright summer colours were rapidly changing to the golden browns of autumn. It was a bright and sunny morning, but the sea was raging and the strong winds whipping around the newly painted fence which forced George to abandon his task and leave it for another day.

  He puffed and panted as he climbed the steps to the front patio, sweat covering his brow as he sat on one of the pine garden chairs. The buttons on his old cardigan looking fit to burst due to the dumplings in Jennifer’s casseroles and the constant indulgence of his favourite steamed puddings. He had always been fit and slim after his daily workouts at the Imperial Gym in Blackpool, but hadn’t been near a gym since they had moved to Scarborough.

  George frowned as Jennifer sat on the chair opposite.

  ‘What’s the matter dear, are you unwell?’ she asked, with an anxious expression.

  ‘No, I’m fine, but now everything is out in the open, I would like to continue our conversation about the Home Office proposals, it’s very important to us and to our life, but we will only talk about it when you are ready, my dear,’ he said, calmly but firmly.

  George had decided to discuss the situation away from the family home to avoid a repeat occurrence of Jennifer storming out of the house.

  After a late breakfast, they drove towards Whitby and parked the car on the Yorkshire Moors, overlooking the sea with the small village of Robin Hoods Bay below.

  ‘We need to discuss this as sensible adults, Jennifer, I know it’s difficult but we have spent so many happy years together and we have many more ahead of us. I now know the reasons you kept this from me and I appreciate how you feel,’ George said, as he held her tiny hands which were clasped together between her knees.

  ‘Thank you, George, I should have told you earlier but you know the reasons why and there is little need to go over old ground,’ she said, her eyes gazing out to sea.

  ‘Should John be released, which I feel he could stand a good chance of being so, where will he go, what will he do and where will he live?’ George asked firmly.

  Jennifer hesitated; a tear struggled to flow through her eye as she looked down at their clasped hands. ‘Well, we have four bedrooms, there’s plenty of room in the house and he’s no trouble, it was a delight when he stayed with me in Fleetwood. You would find him a great help in the garden and he spends so much time in his bedroom, we would never know he was there,’ she said, rapidly and nervously, wanting to avoid any further questions and interrogation.

  ‘I’m sorry, my dear, I could never allow your brother to stay in our house, nor could I ever allow him to enter the premises, even on the briefest of visits. He could never be allowed to know the location of our home due to our own security,’ he firmly replied.

  The uncomfortable silence brought out the tears of Jennifer’s eyes as they rolled down her cheeks. George reached over and wiped the tears away with his handkerchief.

  ‘I understand what you say, dear,’ she replied, as she remained focused on the sea.

  On their way home, they called in to the Ravens Hall Hotel in Ravenscar for a traditional afternoon tea. They ate in silence, Jennifer being deep in thought and obviously disappointed in George’s refusal to allow her brother to enter the house.

  George looked over at her and frowned as her thoughts distracted her attempt to butter a hot scone.

  They drove back to Scarborough in silence, which George had anticipated, but he remained firmly adamant in his decision and would never reconsider.

  Once they entered the house, George cleared out the garden shed while Jennifer went up to the bedroom, desperate to keep herself busy in an attempt to staunch the flow of tears. She flung open her wardrobe doors, which were packed, with her good quality clothes. Her cashmere suits were hanging on velvet covered hangers, her Chinese silk shawls and the delicate underwear were piled high on the shelf.

  Shoes of every description were neatly placed on the base of the wardrobe and a wide variation of unused hats were piled high on the top shelf. She started to remove some of the older garments and threw them on the bed in preparation to take to the local charity shop.

  M
any of the garments had been gifts from George. He loved presenting her with long evening gowns and matching accessories.

  Three bulging bin liners were left in the hall, awaiting collection from the charity shop later in the day. George realised she was upset, annoyed and disappointed, so decided to keep out of her way to avoid any further confrontation and a possible repeat performance of two days earlier.

  Liver and onions gently cooked in the frying pan, the potatoes boiled and the cauliflower steamed as Jennifer laid the dining room table for supper.

  George came into the kitchen from the garden, sheepishly looking at Jennifer as he removed his wellington boots. The silence of the kitchen was broken only by the tapping of the pan lids and the hissing of the steam as Jennifer stood by the cooker staring at the pans as if she had been placed under hypnosis.

  George sat at the kitchen table, looking at her tiny frame as steam from the pans circulated around her face. He realised that her silence was punishment to him for his stern and defiant attitude, but he knew to remain quiet and should he need to speak, he would speak softly and quietly so as not to upset her again now that her eyes were dry of tears.

  Although their relationship had changed so profoundly over the past few days, he was no longer able to make her laugh as he had before where her large brown eyes now seemed to look at George with compassion and pity, where once they had sparkled with amusement and excitement.

  Jennifer plated the meals and took them through to the dining room. George followed her and took his seat at the end of the table. They ate in silence as George listened to the evening news on the radio.

  Jennifer finished her meal and left the table to go upstairs to change. Thursday evening was normally the Women’s Institute meeting at the Esplanade Hotel and although Jennifer often telephoned to cancel her appearance, this was one evening when she needed to get out of the house to circulate amongst the other ladies.

  George cleared the table and commenced washing the dishes as Jennifer came downstairs, reaching for her overcoat from the hook behind the kitchen door.