by Anna Jacobs
‘I’d love one. I’ve been too busy to get anything since breakfast.’
Millie rolled around a bit, then settled to sleep in one corner, looking so peaceful that Janey said quietly, ‘I think I’ll leave her there. She had a disturbed night.’
‘She’s a well-cared-for child.’
Janey beamed at this compliment.
‘You can usually tell when a child’s loved.’
‘I love her to pieces. She’s all I’ve got now.’
‘You have yourself as well. Never forget that. Now, let me tell you why I came. I’ve been in touch with the people at the college and they’d like to see you to talk about options. I’ve made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon and provisionally booked a place for Millie in the crèche there.’
Janey couldn’t speak for a moment then her voice came out all choked. ‘That’s … wonderful. Just … wonderful.’
‘Secondly, I’ve contacted your mother and explained that you’re going back to studying. She was rather hesitant, but in the end she decided to let you have your computer back for as long as you stick with the course. If you mess around or fail, you’ll have to give the computer back.’
‘How on earth did you persuade them about that? My mother might agree but not my father.’
Dawn grinned. ‘Oh, I can be pretty persuasive when I set my mind to something, but actually I left persuading your father to her.’
Janey’s heart sank. ‘He’ll say no. He hates me.’
‘Surely not?’
‘I’ve always known he didn’t care about me. It was my mother who did everything for me and in the house. He just lorded it over us, tossing out orders and doling out the money to her.’
‘That must have been hard. But unless they ring me, I’ll arrange to have the computer picked up this evening. I’d better strike while the iron’s hot. Unfortunately, I’m going to visit a friend for a couple of days, so I’ll have to send a courier to fetch it.’
‘Won’t that cost too much?’
‘There’s a really cheap courier service that we’ve used before. I think it’s quite important that you get back into studying, not only to give yourself some way of meeting people but for your future. Your life mustn’t revolve only round young madam there.’
Janey beamed at her. ‘That’s so kind of you. Does that mean I can have my computer back tonight?’
‘Yes. I presume you won’t need any help setting it up?’
‘No, thanks. I’m pretty good with computers. I shall miss being on the Internet but there’s still a lot you can do with a computer. I can’t thank you enough, Dawn.’
‘If you get on well with your studies, I think I’ll be able to wangle you an Internet connection in a week or two. It’ll be a cheapie, download-limited one. We have to stretch the discretionary money as far as we can. Oh, my dear!’ She got up and put an arm round Janey. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘I’m only crying because I’m happy. I seem to cry a lot since I had Millie.’
‘Have you mentioned that to the health visitor?’
‘No.’ She wiped her nose. ‘It didn’t occur to me. I thought all pregnant women cried a lot.’
‘That settles down again after you’ve had the baby and it’s four months now. Tell Sally. She’ll understand and find you help, if necessary.’
‘It’s not as bad as it was.’
‘Tell her anyway. Promise me. You’ve taken on a lot for someone who’s only just turned eighteen. I think you’re coping brilliantly. Which reminds me.’ She fumbled in her bag. ‘I forgot to give you this. We missed your birthday but we always try to give our girls a birthday present.’ She handed over an envelope.
Janey opened it to find a voucher for a clothing shop on High Street. ‘You couldn’t have given me anything I’d like better. I’ve been trying to save up for a pair of smarter jeans.’
‘That’s great. I’ve arranged for Margaret to pick you up tomorrow to take you to the college and look after Millie while you do your interview. Luckily it isn’t too far away, so it’ll be a nice brisk walk for the pair of you each day that you have classes. Now, I really must go.’
Janey went to the window to watch Dawn get into her shabby car and drive away. What a wonderful woman she was! Always busy helping others. Janey’s mother and father did nothing for others, and the minimum for their jobs. All her mother seemed to care about was keeping the house immaculately clean and tidy, and her father spent every evening in front of the television, watching sport on cable TV. It never occurred to him that his family might occasionally like to watch something else.
The day grew even better when someone knocked on her door and she found a workman there.
‘Fellow from the ground floor flat said that washing in the machine was yours. I just managed to squeeze your repairs in before the end of the day, and it wasn’t hard to sort out. It’s working fine now. I set it off for you from where it stopped. I hope that was all right?’
‘Thanks for letting me know. I’ll go down and see how long there is to go.’
It was a bit late to peg the washing out, so when the cycle was over, she knocked on Kieran’s door to let him know the washer was free then carried her wet clothes upstairs. She put them on the clothes airer Dawn had found for her. She couldn’t afford to pay for the tumble drier.
She looked round the flat. It was beginning to feel like a home now. Thank goodness there had been people to help her! She didn’t think she could have managed without her social worker in the early days and Just Girls had been wonderful.
When the doorbell rang and a courier brought up her computer, she could hardly speak for joy.
For the first time in months the evening didn’t drag. Millie went to sleep without any hassles and Janey was able to set up the computer without any glitches. Her parents had even sent the printer and a spare cartridge. She didn’t remember there being a spare cartridge, but it was so long ago, she couldn’t be certain of anything.
She’d been sure her father would override what her mother had said about the computer. But maybe if she worked hard and got good grades, she could prove to them that she wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe.
Chapter Seven
Dan looked up to see his son threading his way across the allotments, something so unusual at this time of day that his heart sank and he knew at once what the visit meant. He put down his cup and stood up.
For a minute they stared at one another, then Simon said gently, ‘It’s Mum. She’s gone.’
‘I knew it wouldn’t be long.’ Dan sat down, suddenly feeling his heart pitter-patter. ‘Give me a minute. Even when you expect it, it’s still a shock.’
‘They said it was very peaceful.’
He nodded. Peggy had been nothing but peaceful lately, not even the hint of a response to his remarks.
‘Shall I drive you over to see her?’
‘No. I’d rather not look at her. Perhaps now I can start to remember her as she used to be, so lively and happy. She meant the world to me. And we didn’t quite make our golden wedding anniversary, did we?’ His voice wavered on the last words and Simon gave him a quick hug.
‘We’ll go and see a funeral director, shall we? Matron gave me some names.’
‘I know who I want to do it. Lawson’s. They made a good fist of my mate Andy’s funeral. And I know exactly what Peggy wanted.’ He saw the surprise on his son’s face and added quietly, ‘You have to talk about that sort of thing as you get older, you know, because death is inevitable. I’ll arrange my own funeral with them afterwards if they do this one well.’
Simon looked at him in alarm. ‘You’re not ill?’
‘Heavens, no. I’m better than I was when I was trying to look after Peggy on my own, actually. It all got a bit much, especially when she turned on me. My heart was playing up just then, but the doctors have pretty much sorted that out now. No, I just want things to be ready for when I go, to spare you and Terry as much as I can.’
The funeral director was qu
ietly sympathetic but it was still painful to explain what sort of funeral Peggy would have wanted and make all the associated choices.
‘What about a clergyman?’ the undertaker asked when they’d finished dealing with caskets and timing.
Dan frowned. ‘I don’t know. I’ve not attended church for a long time.’ Not since Peggy developed dementia. He’d had trouble worshipping a god who did that to such a lovely woman. ‘I don’t want that chap from the parish church, though. He looks down his nose at you if you’re not posh enough.’
‘What about Tidmas Street Chapel, then? They’ve got a woman minister and she does a good job, very sensitive, she is. One of my cousins goes there and he thinks the world of her. Of course, you may prefer a man to officiate, in which case—’
‘No. We’ll give this woman in Tidmas Street a try. If she’ll come. Do you have her name and number?’
The undertaker looked at his watch. ‘She’s usually there at this time of day. Her name’s Louise.’
So Dan and Simon set off again, this time going to the small church, which looked more like a village hall than a place of worship. The minister was there, sitting with bowed head at the side. Dan no longer believed in anything much but he instantly preferred this cheerful, homely place to the dim grandeur and heavy columns of stone inside the Gothic church.
Peggy would have preferred it, too.
When Simon had explained what they were there for, Louise touched Dan’s arm for a moment. ‘I’m truly sorry for your loss, Mr Shackleton. It always hurts. Why don’t you come into my office and we’ll go through what you want?’
She was quietly respectful, not trying to impose her wishes on them or to persuade Dan to attend her church, which was a huge relief to him.
He was weary beyond measure, so when they left, he said, ‘All I want to do now, son, is go home and be quiet.’
‘Would you like me to stay with you?’
‘Thank you, but no. If you don’t mind, I’d like some time to myself.’
‘I’ll help you clear Mum’s things out after it’s all over.’
‘There’s not much left. I knew she wasn’t coming back. I couldn’t bear to see her clothes in the wardrobe, so I gave them away. I’m keeping her books. I’m not a big reader but every now and then it’s good to have something to read, and at least those romances she used to love have happy endings. I don’t need miserable stories. That’d not cheer me up. Eeh, she’d laugh to see me reading them, wouldn’t she?’
He got another hug from his usually undemonstrative son when Simon dropped him off at the allotments. That warmed his heart. He went to lock up his hut and pick up his sandwiches, then walked slowly home. He didn’t bother to bring his car here unless he had stuff to carry because he only lived three streets away. He still had the use of his legs, after all, and they said exercise was good for you.
The house was quiet, folding around him in a comforting way. Because it seemed important to mark the occasion, he got himself a glass of whisky and raised it in a silent toast to Peggy’s photo. As he sat sipping it, he looked at his lovely young bride and remembered the good life they’d had together until the past three years.
He was glad it was over. He knew she’d not have wanted to linger in that condition.
But the house felt even lonelier tonight. She wasn’t even in the same world as him now. He didn’t know where she was or even if she was still Peggy. He couldn’t quite believe that people would be wiped out when they died. It didn’t make sense. He preferred the Buddhist view of a series of lives, striving to improve.
Had he done his best with his own life? He hoped so. He’d tried, anyway.
Bradley used his key to walk into the house without knocking, calling, ‘It’s only me, Auntie!’
Winifred went to meet him, wishing she’d never given him that key. It had only been meant for emergencies. She didn’t like him feeling he could just walk in, even less do it when there was someone else with him.
‘This is Ebony.’
Ebony was an extremely thin young woman, at least ten years younger than Bradley, dressed in a collection of clothes, one layer on top of another and with hair in a deliberate tangle. How strange!
She shook hands perfunctorily with Winifred but seemed more interested in the house than in her hostess, staring round openly.
When they went into the kitchen, Winifred asked, ‘Would you like some tea – and I made a chocolate cake yesterday?’
‘That’d be great. All right if I show Ebony round first? She loves old houses.’
Winifred stared at him in shock. ‘Um—’
But before she could say no, she didn’t want a stranger poking round her house, he’d put an arm round Ebony and led her from the room, shutting the kitchen door firmly on his aunt.
Both puzzled and annoyed, Winifred walked across and opened the door slightly, listening to them as they stood in the hall, discussing the house. Her house.
‘Of course it’s far too big for her,’ Bradley said. ‘The silly old biddy can’t cope. And the garden’s a real mess. I’m sure that’ll detract from the value.’
‘Not if they’re going to pull the place down. It’ll be block value then. This is the only old house left with its original garden. They’ve subdivided the gardens of all the other old places. This one is so big, it ought to be worth a fortune to developers. Are you the heir?’
‘Yes, of course. She told me so years ago and I make sure to keep in well with her. Why?’
‘I was just wondering how you’d deal with winding up her affairs, with you working offshore like you do. My firm could help. We specialise in maximising the profit on big old properties and deceased estates.’
‘I’ll remember that when the time comes. Let me show you upstairs and the attics. Goodness knows what she’s got up there. It’s not been cleared out for yonks. Pack rats have nothing on old Win.’
‘You should get expert advice when you do clear it. You don’t want to overlook any valuable antiques.’
Their voices faded as they went up the stairs and Winifred went back into the kitchen, shutting the door quietly behind her and leaning against it for a moment. She felt shattered by what she’d heard. How could Bradley bring that woman here and talk about – what had they called it – maximising the profit of a deceased estate? Was this Ebony creature really his new girlfriend or was she an estate agent come to check the place out? Or was she a gold-digger who’d seen that he might inherit the place one day?
But he wouldn’t inherit now. Even a ‘silly old biddy’ still got a choice of who she left her possessions to.
Pride gave Winifred the strength to smile at them when they came back down and listen to their comments on her home. The cheek of it! But when Bradley again urged her to buy a smaller retirement home, offering to deal with the money side of things for her, saying she’d probably have a little left over from selling this place, she cut him off short, feeling sick inside at the realisation that he was trying to swindle her as well.
‘I’ve told you before, Bradley. This is my home and I’m staying here till I die.’
Ebony spoke to her gently, in the tones you might use to a halfwit. ‘You may not be able to look after yourself one day, Miss Parfitt. Surely it’d be better to plan accordingly?’
The hidden Winifred nearly took over then, the one who’d been kept firmly in check for most of her life but who peeped out occasionally. What she’d have liked to say was: ‘Oh, I’ve planned it all right. I’ve got a sharp knife and I’ve studied how to slit my veins.’ She’d love to shock them rigid.
But it would be unwise, might give them ammunition to claim that she wasn’t competent to manage her own affairs. It was her fallback plan, though. She didn’t intend to go into a care home – or even buy a retirement villa. Her mother had lived to ninety-seven, in reasonable health until the last couple of years, so it was not unreasonable to hope Winifred might enjoy a few more years in her own home.
She’d suddenly had
enough of them, enough of pretending. ‘Well, if you’ve finished, I’ll put the cake away. I don’t want it drying out.’
Bradley made a show of looking at his watch. ‘And we must be leaving. Sorry to rush, but we’ve an appointment to see a flat. We’re moving in together, you see.’ He gave his new love a fond look and she gave him a cool smile as she patted his cheek.
After Winifred had showed them out, she watched through the window as they stood talking outside for several minutes. In a rush, indeed!
Ebony pointed to this and that, doing most of the talking. Bradley kept nodding thoughtfully. She was sure they were still making plans for what they would do with her house. Well, that young woman was going to be disappointed. Very.
And so was Bradley.
She’d heard of relatives trying to con old people out of their life savings, but had never expected to find her nephew doing that to her. His father would have been so ashamed about it. Her brother had been a decent sort.
Winifred put the chain on the front door in case her nephew tried to let himself in again, then walked briskly back to the kitchen and picked up the phone, anger still humming through her. ‘Could I make an appointment to see Mrs Farley, please? As soon as possible. I have an emergency.’
She was not yet too old to manage her affairs. And no one – no one in the world – was going to force her out of her home.
There were other members of the family she might also consider as heirs, even though they weren’t as closely related to her. Otherwise her money would go to charity. Plenty of worthwhile charities around.
She’d have to sell something in order to find out about her remaining family, but that was all right. She had several pieces of old jewellery that had belonged to her grandmother, pieces she disliked intensely and would never wear.
She’d been saving them for an emergency. Now it had arrived.
Someone rang Janey’s doorbell in the morning just as she was about to change Millie. Muttering in annoyance, she picked her daughter up and went across to the intercom.