‘It was fine, the normal boring chitchat,’ he replied, walking through to the study.
Jennifer knew he was not in his usual buoyant mood and thought it best to leave him alone as his voice sounded so low and worried. She could hear him opening his desk drawer and pouring himself a glass of whisky, and she knew he would be staring at the house accounts and bank statements.
Jennifer remained watching television while George flicked through documents over the top of his half moon glasses, his eyes round and melancholy.
He entered the lounge and sat by the sizzling log fire, looking over at Jennifer. He looked across at her, about to say that Cissie Sharp had phoned while she was out shopping but hesitated, thinking better of it, and began to say something else.
John Bell hadn’t phoned the previous night. Jennifer hadn’t been too concerned as he could only telephone when a callbox had been available, although she was anxious about his release date.
She cooked breakfast as George pottered about the garden. She was eager to get into town to purchase the necessary items for the flat.
The estate agent had telephoned earlier informing her they key was ready for collection early than planned. Fortunately they had phoned while George was in the garage, avoiding a difficult situation having to explain to him why she had rented a flat in town, although Jennifer would have plausibly talked her way out of any awkward situation.
It was a bright sunny day, clear blue skies and a brisk chilly autumn breeze swept over the garden from the calm blue sea.
George came through the kitchen door and sat down to his breakfast of eggs and bacon and a mountainous pile of mushrooms.
‘Seeing it’s such a glorious day out there, I thought we might take a drive over to Whitby and have a fish and chip lunch,’ he said.
Jennifer hesitated as she retrieved the toast, which had just popped up from the toaster.
‘That would be nice, dear, but I arranged to meet Elizabeth Pollard in town. She had asked if I would give her some advice on curtains for her lounge,’ she replied.
‘Who’s Elizabeth Pollard?’ George asked, inquisitively.
‘She’s from the Women’s Institute, they have just moved to a large house on the south bay,’ she replied, hesitation and nervousness quickly overcame her as she frantically wiped the work surface, avoiding eye contact with George.
He looked down at his breakfast, pausing as he wondered if she was being truthful about her arrangements, at the same time annoyed with himself for mistrusting her.
She carried her cup of tea to join him at the table.
George looked up at her as she buttered her toast as Walter waiting anxiously by her feet for the crusts of the bread she carefully sliced off for him.
George still felt betrayed and greatly disappointed after she had lied to him the previous day. He looked across the table at her. Her dark brown eyes sparkled with amusement as Walter reached up to her, munching the toast with his small paws resting of her knees as she spoke quietly to him while stroking his tiny stretched back.
She finished her toast and tea and reached for her raincoat from behind the kitchen door. George cleared the table and began to wash the dishes as Jennifer gave him a slight kiss on his forehead as went out of the kitchen door and down the front garden steps. She briskly walked down the steep slope into town, looking over at the peaceful sea.
The excitement of her brother’s release from prison washed over her, giving her a spurt of energy and youthfulness as she freely walked to the shops, breathing in the strong sea air as she approached the estate agents office.
Before they issued her with the keys, she had to complete direct debit payments for the monthly rental, electricity and council tax, which would be debited from her private account on the first of each month. A coin meter supplied the gas.
Although she had not received a call from her brother, she went about her task of furnishing the flat, determined to make it presentable for when he arrived. She excitingly carried her purchases backwards and forwards from the shops to the flat, fortunately being situated amongst all the major retail outlets.
She had ordered a new refrigerator, a gas cooker and hood, a new three-piece suit, a colour television set and a smart hi-fi system, all to be delivered the next day. She had shopped extravagantly and spent over £3,000.
She scrubbed and cleaned the kitchen until it glistened with modernity.
She could not let go of this overwhelming intense joy that furnishing the flat was giving her, the knowledge that in the next couple of days she would be seeing John on the outside and not just in the depression of the prison visiting room.
Once she had cleaned through, she displayed the bath towels on the window sill as the water ran with tremendous, gushing enthusiasm from the great broad central chrome tap, and climbed with difficulty over the side into the great claw-footed tub which she had previously scented with some bath essence she had purchased along with other bathroom items.
As the water closed over her tired limbs and the bubbles clustered around her small nipples in decorative rings, she lay back surveying the bathroom and imagining how lovely she could make the flat once the larger items had been delivered.
She sighed first of all with the whole incredible thought of it, but was full of optimism and enthusiasm as it seemed to her that her heart, or her soul, was leaving her tiny body and floating above the water in which she lay.
Realising the time she had spent in the flat, she quickly climbed out of the bath. The hot steam dampened her hair. She quickly dressed back in her green twin-set and plaid skirt covered by her grey raincoat.
She looked around the flat before closing the door behind her.
The October air was unusually balmy and she was able to walk back up to the house without her raincoat, which she placed over her arm under her handbag.
She had purposely bought some food items for the house to justify her lengthy shopping day and hopefully ward off any suspicion.
George was sitting at his desk in the study as Jennifer struggled through the front door laden down with her heavy shopping bag.
George came through to greet her, kissing her on the forehead as he took the coat off her to hang behind the kitchen door. He looked dowdy, serious, resentful and dull after being left alone all day, but couldn’t help but notice Jennifer’s happiness and she seemed ravishingly beautiful and radiant as she enthusiastically prepared the vegetables for the evening supper.
‘You were a long time in town, dear,’ he asked her.
‘Yes, the town was very busy, but I didn’t rush, I had lunch down by the harbour and went for a stroll around the castle grounds as the weather was so lovely for this time of the year,’ she replied.
You seem to have had a most enjoyable time,’ he said, with a curious expression.
‘Yes, it was fine,’ she replied.
They ate supper and went through to the lounge. Jennifer switched on the television, which George had found unusual. He had noticed her acting strangely over the past few days, becoming very involved within herself, seeming content and happy in her own company. They had previously shared everything in the short time of their lives where they would argue and accept, tolerate and disagree, and enjoy each others banter, without the disturbance or distraction of a television set.
The silence between them was profound as Jennifer gazed at the television, stroking Walter who was precariously perched on her knee.
After supper, they would normally chat in gaiety, which became infectious, and their enthusiasm undeniable despite their ages.
George racked his brain, wondering what had caused the change in his beloved Jennifer. He had done everything possible to avoid her needing to step out of the normal day-to-day routine of their lives, even by employing Molly to assist with the cleaning so there were no housewifely duties to weigh her down.
He wondered if Walter had taken her love and admiration away from him as she adored the little puppy and the affection was clea
rly reciprocated.
He had dealt with many divorces while being a solicitor, witnessing many terrible silences of married people, the hatred underneath the polite conversations, the narrow eyes as one or other of the couples had left his office in Blackpool after the mocking laughter as they retold George their experiences of a decaying relationship.
He began to think that she had tired of his companionship, although she had not voiced her determination to free herself from the confines of the relationship.
‘Shall we go for a walk along the esplanade dear? It’s a lovely evening,’ he asked, to break the chilling silence of the room.
‘Yes that would be nice, I’m sure Walter would like that also,’ she replied as she heaved herself out of the chair.
The sun was setting over the horizon on the peaceful sea; a light breeze blew across the beach as they walked slowly looking through the windows of the grand houses as they passed. George looked smart and distinguished, his hair was immaculately cut, greying at the sides, and wearing a trilby hat and a jacket that fitted beautifully, in soft cashmere.
Jennifer tucked her arm into his as she stroked the soft material of his new jacket, finding the cashmere surprisingly sensual against her skin.
They sat on a bench to watch the last rays of the setting sun in the distance. Jennifer cuddled up to him as she pulled her collar high over her neck against the chilling breeze, taking in deep breaths of his scented aftershave which she found sensually appealing. She looked up at him and smiled pathetically. He placed his arm around her tiny shoulders and squeezed her tightly as they both fixed their eyes on a fishing boat steering into the harbour followed by a trail of seagulls swooping and diving over their daily catch which littered the decks.
The following morning the rain bashed against the bedroom window as Jennifer lay in bed contemplating how she would be able to return to the flat to receive the items which were to be delivered.
Jennifer had never had to think for herself over the last eight and a half years as George would organise all the daily routines, allowing her to live as each day came, avoiding any inconvenience or disruption to her day.
Once she came downstairs, George came straight to her side, putting his arms around her waist and gently kissing her on her forehead.
Breakfast was laid on the table, along with a mountainous display of fresh flowers placed unceremoniously in a large vase. She gave him a questioning look, which was countered by the laughing expression in his eyes as he pulled out a chair for her.
George had felt embarrassed and guilty of his previous thoughts and was in desperate need to make amends in the hope of retuning her focus on their idyllic life.
He had realised that Jennifer had sold her ancestral home and he had somehow convinced himself that the problem had been through him asserting his ownership of the present house, resulting in her lack of independence and security.
He had laid awake most of the night, his mind in turmoil until he had realised that could be the only conclusion to her sudden change of affection towards him.
‘I need to go over to Preston today, Jennifer,’ he said.
‘Preston, why do you need to go to Preston all of a sudden?’ she asked, inquisitively.
‘I only realised the other evening while working at my desk and looking through details of the house and various investments, that I must change my will in order for you to benefit from the house and contents,’ he said.
‘Well, why do you need to go all the way to Preston?’ she enquired.
‘Roger Bellingham has been my solicitor for years and I need to go to his office to draw up the details as soon as possible, so thought today was the best time.’
‘Well, all right, dear, if that’s what you feel you want to do, it’s very kind and considerate of you,’ she said, looking directly into his eyes. ‘Are you ill, do you think you are going to die, what has brought all this on?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m not ill, not that I know anyway, and if anything did happen to me, what would happen to you, I appreciate you have your own finances, but my son has his own house and would have no use for a house at the other side of the country,’ he said.
‘What time will you be back?’ she enquired.
‘I’m not sure, but why don’t you come with me, it will make a change to have a day out for the both of us,’ he asked excitedly.
‘No, I don’t think I will. Molly is due in today and we need to clean the upstairs of the house,’ she replied.
Jennifer had not anticipated such an easy exit out of the house without questioning looks or interrogation on returning late. It was an ideal situation. She made George a pack of ham sandwiches and a thermos of tea for his journey.
He quickly changed into a smart pinstriped suit, grabbed his briefcase from the study and walked out to the car as Jennifer carried his packed lunch, placing it on the centre console of the car.
She waved him goodbye and quickly ran inside as Molly arrived at the back door.
‘I’ll be out most of the day, Molly, it’s just the upstairs which needs to be done today, I’ll be back late so help yourself to some lunch before you go,’ she said hurriedly. She quickly grabbed her coat and left through the front door.
Under the dark skies, she walked along the coastal path into town, wondering mischievously if any other couples in the houses she passed had made similar secretive arrangements as she hurried along, oblivious to any passers-by.
She had planned her day with accuracy. She would clean the flat until 2 o’clock before leaving to call John from the call box opposite the toilets. He would hopefully be waiting by the prison phone expecting her call. She would then return to the flat to take delivery of the large items she had purchased the previous day, and should be home before six, in time to prepare a meal for George on his return.
She entered the small and dingy flat; opening all the windows to release the foul smell of damp and stale body odour from the previous tenant. After frantically cleaning the inside of the windows, she commenced hanging the bright floral curtains in the bedroom, although not made to measure, they certainly improved the room and afforded privacy.
The old sofa wobbled from side to side as she stood on the armrest reaching dangerously to attach the curtains to the sitting room window enthusiastically.
The flower arrangements she had made the previous day brightened the room, but the carpets required a good vacuuming, but couldn’t be done until the hoover had been delivered along with the refrigerator and cooker.
Fortunately, the deliverymen had agreed to take away the old items before they brought the replacements up the narrow and steep staircase.
She frantically cleaned the chipped windowsills and stained skirting boards, attaching light bulbs and lampshades, precariously standing on any sturdy item she could find.
At 1.30 she left the flat, locking the door securely behind her, and walked down to the telephone box, stopping at the bakery on the way to purchase a small pork pie which she ate as she approached the telephone. Her heart was beating the closer she got, literally thumping in her ears through extreme excitement at the thought of hearing John’s voice and anticipating his arrival.
She waited until the pointers on her watch went to 2 o’clock exactly and dialled the number of the prison call box.
John Bell was waiting by the phone and quickly answered after only two rings.
‘Hello, John, it’s Jennifer,’ she said excitedly.
‘I know it’s you, who else would it be?’ he sarcastically replied.
‘Have they told you when you will be coming home?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Yes, I’ll be released on Monday, but I don’t know what time,’ he answered.
‘That’s wonderful news, just wonderful. I’ve got a surprise for you when you arrive, but you will need to tell me what time you will be arriving in Scarborough so I can meet you at the station,’ she said.
I’ll phone before I get on the train,’ he replied, and put the
phone down abruptly.
John Bell went back to his cell, leaping three steps at a time on the metal staircase as he reached the landing on the wing. Next to his bed were a brown paper parcel tired with string, and the walls were bare of photographs of Jennifer and the ancestral home. The hairbrush and comb had gone from the windowsill, so had his collection of small potted plants.
He was in a happy mood, smiling and laughing to himself, thumping the air with his fist in excitement of his pending release.
Jennifer briskly walked back to the flat before the deliverymen arrived with the three-piece suite and kitchen items. She purchased some good quality bed linen as she passed an exclusive soft furnishing store.
She arrived back at the flat and climbed the steep stairs to the top of the building. Exhausted and weary, she sat down suddenly on the edge of the bed. It was lucky she was slim and light because the mattress beneath her was as thin as she was. For a few seconds she leaned forward and rested her head in her hands, just to gain herself a bit of time and pull herself together before the delivery van arrived.
She stood up and looked down at the old thin and stained mattress. It was in such poor condition that most people would throw it out or drive it to the local rubbish dump, but she had no time to purchase a new one, thinking it would be all right for another month or so. She opened the sealed packages and dressed the bed in new crisp white linen, covering the thin and badly stained pillows with white covers.
The bed now looked clean and inviting with the extra large duvet hanging over the small wooden legs, camouflaging the poor condition of the mattress underneath.
She reached into her shopping bag and revealed a small brown teddy bear, which she had retained since a small child. She hugged the teddy bear for a few seconds before carefully placing him in an upright position between the two pillows.
She walked around the flat, admiring her work, checking and re-checking the curtains, hoping the creases would fall out by the time John arrived in two days time.
The undignified sound of the doorbell startled her as it echoed through the rooms. She ran downstairs to open the front door for the waiting deliverymen standing by the hydraulic lift at the rear of the truck.
Inseparable Bond Page 38