At the stroke of seven, he kissed her gently on the forehead and walked to the hotel.
The new Bosch dishwasher continued to enjoy its retirement as she washed the supper dishes in the sink, preferring the old-fashioned method as opposed to the automated version.
She switched the outside light on which illuminated the garage. Opening the garage door, she unlocked the doors and sat on the driver’s seat. Her legs were too small to reach the pedals but she purposely didn’t change the angle of the seat.
She put the key in the ignition, which illuminated the red dashboard. She peered at the clocks and switches, familiarising herself with the controls. She hadn’t driven a car for over ten years and when she did, it was certainly not a car of this size or quality.
It was equipped with automatic transmission, but she felt dwarfed by the size of the steering wheel and the large protruding bonnet.
She climbed out of the car, locked the door and returned to the kitchen, hanging the keys back on the hook by the door and continued with her nightly chores. After ironing George’s shirts, she settled down for a quiet evening.
The remainder of the night she spent watching television with her feet resting on the footstool and Walter resting on her knees.
George arrived back just after eleven.
‘Why is the outside light on, dear?’ he asked, walking over to pour himself a glass of malt whisky. Jennifer thought quickly before she answered.
‘Well, with you being out for the night and with Joyce saying she had noticed a prowler at the fence, I felt safer with the light on,’ she replied, avoiding his eyes.
‘Good thinking, my dear, but I still think she was exaggerating,’ he said.
Jennifer sighed with relief as George had accepted her plausible excuse, but she became inwardly nervous on foolishly leaving a clue of suspicion behind her secret motive.
Jennifer browsed through the rack of winter skirts in Marks & Spencer, all half price, due to the unusual warm weather and the forecast of an early spring.
She intended to visit John, but needed to gain some courage and self-confidence before going up to his flat.
After drawing £200 out of the cash machine in the store, she hesitantly approached his door on the top floor, breathing rapidly after climbing the steep stairs.
It was after 12 o’clock, so she had assumed he would be out of his bed and dressed ready for her visit, which had been arranged the previous evening when he had telephoned her while George was at his Rotary meeting.
Sadly she had been too optimistic, as he opened the door in his boxer shorts, wiping the sleep from his eyes, a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth.
‘What time is it?’ he asked her, yawning widely, revealing his decaying yellow teeth.
‘It’s after twelve. You asked me to call, so I thought you’d be up and dressed,’ she said, walking confidently through the door but nervous tension gripping her body. She sat at the kitchen table as he slouched over the kitchen unit, his eyes staring at the kettle on the grease covered gas cooker.
‘You said you needed to see me, John, are you in some sort of trouble?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m just a bit short of some cash, did you bring any with you?’ he asked, looking over his shoulder as she reached for her red leather purse from her handbag.
‘I’ve got £200 for you, try and string it out the best you can, it doesn’t grow on trees, you know,’ she said, pushing the notes under the ashtray.
He placed the two mugs of coffee on the table, smiling as he counted the money in front of her. ‘Who gave you this, your fancy man?’ he said, smiling up at her with slanting eyes.
‘No, that’s my own money and George is not my fancy man and I would appreciate a little more respect from you,’ Jennifer said sternly, but with fear in her eyes.
‘Respect, why should I give you respect, you have no respect for yourself shacking up with an old wealthy bloke, who can’t even get a fucking hard on,’ he said, smiling.
Jennifer closed her handbag and stood up from the table, slipping her leather gloves over her tiny hands. ‘I’m not staying here to be insulted by a loud-mouthed, unappreciative slob like you,’ she said, walking down the hall towards the door.
He followed her, placing his hand on her shoulder and spun her around, his face ugly with venom.
‘If you lay one finger on me again, I will call the police,’ she said, fixing her eyes onto his as she pushed him so forcibly that he stumbled against the wall. ‘I came here because you had invited me,’ she said sternly. ‘I actually felt sorry for you, believing you genuinely missed me, but now I see you for what you are. A violent, bad tempered, wicked man,’ she said, slamming the door so hard it could be heard throughout the house, if not the length of the street.
John Bell cowered on the floor, his head resting between his knees as he sobbed like a baby after his humiliating ordeal.
Jennifer straightened her coat, adopted a jaunty air and strode briskly down the High Street, her head held proud and high after her first retaliation towards him. She pushed her way through the tables in the Victoria teashop, quickly sitting at the table in the far corner.
Her nervous energy slowly diminished as the menu shook vigorously by her shaking hands. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her handkerchief, correcting her posture as the waitress walked over towards her.
‘Are you all right, madam?’ the young girl sympathetically enquired.
‘Yes, I’m fine. I’ll have a scone and jam and a pot of tea,’ she sternly ordered.
The waitress didn’t reply, backing away from the table and hastily going through the kitchen door. Jennifer anxiously peered around at the other customers, hoping they had not witnessed her speedy and hostile entrance.
She buttered the scone, smiling to herself at her courageous stand against John, leaving him afraid and humiliated. An immense feeling of satisfaction bubbled inside her as she recalled John’s amazed expression on his face when he stumbled against the wall.
She continued her walk towards the harbour, her thin lips pursed, her eyes blazing, but although she looked fierce she was enjoying every minute of it as she took to her heels and trotted down the hill, deeply breathing in the strong sea air.
After a brisk stroll along the deserted beach, she returned home to find George in the garden with his cheery disposition and smiling face as he looked up from his trowel, Walter running up to her as she came through the garden gate.
As the kettle boiled, she briskly walked through to the hall to answer the telephone, expecting Roger needing to speak to his father.
He heart stopped when she heard John’s voice on the other end of the line. ‘Sorry if I upset you, Jennifer, but I was still half asleep and had a headache,’ he said with false remorse in his voice, breathing heavily down the receiver.
She thought quickly before answering, being careful not to disturb their amicable relationship at this crucial time. ‘That’s all right, dear, but you must try to control your bad temper and aggression, otherwise I won’t be coming to visit you anymore, anyway I can’t talk now as I have friends for lunch,’ she said nervously before putting the receiver down.
Jennifer paced up and down the lounge, feeling uncomfortable with a fixed smile on her face, telling herself to look and keep cheerful even if she didn’t feel it, but her heart was heavy.
She showed no sign of nerves as George came in from the garden for his cup of tea.
‘Did I hear the phone ring, dear?’ he asked, looking up at her flushed face.
‘Oh, yes, you did, it was a wrong number,’ she quickly replied.
‘I’m expecting a call from Roger. He’s in the middle of a messy divorce that involves a substantial payout and needs some advice,’ he said, pouring the milk into his tea.
‘Well, I’m in for the rest of the day, so I’ll call you should he phone,’ Jennifer said.
‘I’ll be in the garden with Walter. It’s such a glorious day,’ he said, taking his cup
of tea through the kitchen door and into the garden.
‘Be careful not to damage that toe,’ she said, looking down at his muddy boots.
The hospital had sent George an appointment date for the removal of his in-growing toenail, which had been getting progressively painful over the past few weeks. The removal wasn’t serious, but he would be admitted as a day patient going in at 9 o’clock and back home before three, being virtually housebound for the following three days afterwards.
Molly was vacuuming the stairs as the telephone rang again. Jennifer stumbled over the cord as she went to answer it. It was the expected call from Roger, needing to speak to his father.
She stuck her head out of the front door and yelled for George. He was beside her in seconds, spurred by the urgency in her tone. Molly considerately switched off the vacuum cleaner as he took the receiver from Jennifer’s hand.
Molly climbed back up the stairs to continue changing the bed sheets and dusting round the spare rooms upstairs. Jennifer went through to the kitchen and rooted in the deep freezer, looking for something suitable for supper.
Molly came through to the kitchen, carrying a bundle of bed sheets towards the washing machine.
‘I saw you in town this morning,’ she said to Jennifer. Her heart missed a beat as she swallowed the lump in her throat.
‘Yes, I went to see what was left after the Christmas sales,’ she confidently answered.
‘I was going into the chemist for my mother’s prescription and noticed you going into that large house in Castle Lane.’ Molly said, heaving the sheets into the washing machine.
Jennifer thought fast and hard, thinking of a plausible excuse before George returned from his telephone call. ‘I called in to see a lady from the Inner Wheel society,’ she said nervously.
‘Well, I don’t want to appear rude, but next time you see her you might want to mention the state of her front room nets, they’re filthy,’ Molly said, shaking her head as she walked out of the kitchen, squeezing past George on the phone as she walked back upstairs.
Jennifer fidgeted nervously through the items in the freezer, her eyes full of fear and her stomach churned at the thought of being seen going into John’s flat. She sat down at the kitchen table and heard George place the receiver back on the telephone. He walked through, shaking his head as he sat alongside her, happily munching on a piece of cooked ham he took from a plate on the kitchen table.
‘Is this ham for supper?’ he asked her.
Jennifer just shook her head, her face was flushed with pink as George looked up at her, oblivious to the undercurrent as she pushed her chair back and sprang to her feet.
She made her way up the stairs. She sat on the lavatory seat with her head in her hands, shaking with agitation on knowing that Molly had spotted her.
When she came back downstairs, George was still sitting where she had left him. There was such a look of despair in his eyes, either from his son’s handling of the divorce case or Jennifer’s sudden change of attitude, or both.
The cold winter appeared to be behind them as another fine day approached over the horizon, the early morning sun shining down on the peaceful blue sea.
Jennifer was clearly in a good mood as she adjusted her hat in the hall mirror.
George had suggested they went for a drive in the country, being their last opportunity for the next few days.
He was due in hospital tomorrow and the surgery on his toe would prevent him from driving for a few days afterwards.
They drove over the Yorkshire Moors on the coast road towards Whitby, emerging into the warm sunshine as they parked outside the Smugglers Cove Inn for a traditional roast beef lunch. Despite the fact that the roast potatoes were hard and cold, they enjoyed it.
A group of heavy drinkers had climbed out of a mini-bus and noisily stormed into the normally quiet pub, ruining the peaceful atmosphere for everyone else.
George felt threatened by their obnoxious attitude and they quickly left, George adamantly refusing to visit the establishment again. Jennifer quickly realised that it was the constant irritation of his painful toe, which had caused him to be unusually impatient and irritable, but he suffered in silence to avoid spoiling Jennifer’s day.
Several people were sitting in the warm sun outside the pub as George hobbled over to the car. He was definitely in discomfort, but put on a brave face as they drove through the open countryside towards Whitby.
George decided to stay in the car for an afternoon snooze, with the pretence of his eyes being sore and not his toe. Jennifer ambled her way along the small cobbled streets of Whitby.
As she walked along Crab Lane, still full to bursting with her love for the town. She recalled how she had been scarcely a child when her parents came on a two week summer holiday, staying in a small caravan overlooking the sea.
Now she was an old woman and could feel and appreciate the deep, abiding love for this place, which had been growing in her all her life. She would never have imagined living so close to this beautiful fishing town, still unspoilt by the thousands of people who visited year after year to sample the fresh cod and haddock landed daily from the North Sea.
She sat in the late afternoon sunshine, watching the activities in the busy working harbour. She walked along to the open fish stall and purchased four large haddock, two for her and George, the other two for Molly and her housebound mother.
It was an unforgettable afternoon, being alone with her thoughts in a town which she loved and surrounded by the sea, the boats and the fresh air.
She returned to the car to find George fast asleep in his reclined seat, snoring loudly. He was disturbed when she climbed in beside him, quickly putting his seat back into its upright position.
It was a dry afternoon as they headed back to Scarborough.
As they arrived home, dark clouds were gathering on the horizon but the sudden light drizzle did not dampen Jennifer’s spirits after an enjoyable day.
It was Thursday morning. The gloomy dull weather didn’t help the quiet atmosphere that prevailed inside the house as Jennifer cooked the breakfast as George sat patiently at the table like a condemned man waiting for his last meal.
A taxi had been booked for 8.30am, giving him plenty of time to find his way to the outpatients department of the hospital.
After his breakfast, he paced up and down the lounge, frequently looking through the window for the arrival of his car.
Jennifer washed the breakfast pots as the taxi driver rang the front door bell.
She walked with George to the car, kissing him on the forehead as he climbed into the back seat. She waved him off as he peered through the back window with a fearful expression on his face as the car went out of sight. She quickly ran up the drive and back into the house.
Molly wasn’t due in today, as she had substituted her normal Thursday for yesterday as her mother had to be taken to the doctors.
George arrived at the hospital and made his was through the endless corridors until he reached the reception desk at the outpatients ward.
The staff nurse was a big woman, bulging out of her blue uniform. She had arms like a man and an unattractive face with a jutting chin and calculating eyes. She scowled at George as he registered his details at the desk before being shown through to a bed hidden behind curtains.
On the bed lay a blue and white gown and a pair of paper underpants in the same colour.
The staff nurse returned swiftly, throwing the curtains back to reveal George sitting on the side of the bed dressed in the gown which was open at the back.
The doctor standing behind her looked down at George’s foot, removing his glasses and pinched at the bridge of his nose as he bent down to look closely at the infected area.
‘No problem there, we’ll soon have that sorted,’ he said, smiling confidently.
George’s face looked haggard, with nervousness in his eyes as the doctor flicked over the papers on his clipboard. The staff nurse frowned at his foot before swift
ly drawing the curtains closed and stomped off down the ward behind the doctor.
George lay back on the bed, looking up at the bright fluorescent lights which brightly lit the ward, his eyes fixed on the clock at the far side of the ward in anticipation of getting out of the place as quickly as possible. George had always feared hospitals.
It was after 10.30 by the time a young male nurse entered the ward with a wheelchair, looking around the ward as he approached George, assisting him into the chair and wheeling him through to the surgery.
The doctor was writing up notes as the nurse helped George onto the examination bed, which was covered in thick polythene.
Now George had been detained in hospital for the majority of the day, Jennifer was free to go about her secretly planned day.
She had telephoned John shortly after the taxi had left, inviting him for lunch at the Scalby Mills pub, which was situated at the far end of the North Bay.
At first he had refused to go, considering 11 o’clock in the morning to be the middle of the night after only getting back home in the early hours of the morning.
Jennifer managed to persuade him by offering him a free liquid lunch and some spending money to see him through the rest of the week.
She had also phoned the bank to cancel the standing orders for the rental, council tax and electricity payments for the flat along with direct debit payment to Burtons. She finally telephoned the estate agent, giving one months notice on the flat.
She dressed in her warm winter coat with a fur-lined hood to keep her warm against the bitter wind which had blown in overnight, bringing with it drizzling rain. She grabbed the car keys, locked the back door and walked over to the garage. Once inside, she unlocked the car and sat in the driver’s seat, looking around at the controls before placing the key into the ignition. She adjusted the electronically operated seat from the controls on the door panel to its closest position possible to the steering wheel.
After turning the ignition, she placed the gear lever to ‘R’ and reversed slowly out of the garage. Her thin legs shook as she shuffled in the seat to get into a more comfortable position for the short drive into town.
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