Family Betrayal

by Kitty Neale

  Norma smiled faintly. Sue was never in the mood for housework. Norma went through to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea, deciding her own cleaning could wait too. What did the house matter? She hated it, drawing no pleasure from her surroundings, and only kept it nice for Oliver's sake. Once again she was determined to leave Drapers Alley, and if Maurice wouldn't see sense, she'd leave without him, taking Oliver with her. Norma paused, biting her bottom lip. Yes, brave thoughts, but just where could they go? There was her parents' house, of course, but would they take her back? Yes, probably. They'd welcome her home, and as before, use her as a servant, someone to take care of them, but would they accept Oliver?

  By eleven o'clock, her stomach awash with tea, Sue said, ‘I wonder what time they'll all be back.’

  ‘I don't know, and I expect they'll go again this evening.’

  ‘Yeah, well, my place looks like a bomb's hit it so I'd best give it a quick tidy-up.’

  Norma opened the street door, relieved to see that Oliver was happily playing football with his cousins, Robby for once behaving himself.

  Sue stepped outside. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘there's Ivy.’

  Norma frowned. Ivy was coming into the alley from the other end so she wouldn't be passing their doors, but even from this distance she looked harassed. ‘I wonder where she's been?’

  ‘I dunno, but she looks a right mess,’ Sue giggled.

  ‘Hello, Ivy,’ Norma said as the woman drew closer. ‘What on earth have you been up to?’

  ‘I've been down to our allotment.’

  ‘I thought you left that to Steve?’

  ‘Yeah, well, this is his only day off so I thought I'd give him a break. The allotment's been going to seed, and anyway, I don't mind a bit of hard work. Now if you don't mind, I need to clean myself up.’

  On that note Ivy went inside and Sue's eyes rounded. ‘Blimey, rather her than me.’

  ‘Yes, well, unlike you, Ivy is built like an ox.’

  ‘She's bigger than Steve, that's for sure. He's such a funny-looking bloke and I don't know what she sees in him.’

  ‘With Ivy's looks, beggars can't be choosers. Anyway, see you later, Sue.’

  ‘Yeah, see you,’ Sue said, gyrating to her door.

  Norma pursed her lips, feeling the usual surge of envy. Sue was so dainty, so sexy, but then Norma stiffened her shoulders. All right, she may not be as pretty as Sue, but after seeing Ivy, she at least felt feminine.

  With a last glance along the alley, Norma went inside, and though she tried to tackle her housework, she couldn't get last night's events from her mind. George had almost beaten his father to death. How could a son do that to his own father? Bad blood, that was the problem, Norma decided, with Maurice the exception. She picked up a duster, running it over her sideboard, but then Oliver came charging in, a hand held over his eye. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Robby kicked the ball into my face.’

  Norma took her son through to the kitchen where she bathed his eye, her jaws clenched in anger. Robby was a menace, another one with bad blood, an inherited love of violence. She just wouldn't have Oliver tainted. When Maurice came home she'd insist, once and for all, that they left Drapers Alley.

  Ivy's lips were set as she walked into her house. There was no sign of Steve and the kids, but she could guess where they were. They'd be at the park, watching a local football match. Ivy scowled. She'd seen the way Sue and Norma had looked at her – disdain from Norma, and amusement from Sue. She hated them. Who were they to judge her? What did they know of her life? It was all right for pretty, petite Sue, and though Norma wasn't exactly an oil painting, she didn't draw pitying looks.

  Ivy threw off her clothes, hastening to clean the dirt from her body, yet even when clean, she knew she'd still be ugly. From childhood she had suffered either pity or nastiness, and at school she'd been the butt of many cruel jokes. When she looked at her cousins, especially Petula, she couldn't understand why she was so different. Her parents had been good-looking; in fact her mother had been prettier than Auntie Joan, so why had she been born to look like an outcast amongst the Drapers? It wasn't fair, it really wasn't, and because of her looks she had known more humiliation than kindness since the day she was born.

  Only her mother had loved her and Ivy still hadn't come to terms with her death. She had watched her suffer, longed to do something, anything to ease her pain, and without support from her so-called family, she had felt so alone. Auntie Joan hadn't come once, and though Uncle Dan had called occasionally, she could sense he had been itching to get away.

  She had been heartbroken when her mother died, and when Steve came along she had grabbed at the chance for a little comfort, allowing him liberties from day one. Making love had helped her to drown out her sorrows. Marriage and kids followed, and though the boys were little buggers at times, she loved them dearly. All she wanted for them was a better life, and had watched their developing features with anxiety. Thankfully, they hadn't inherited her looks. Though they weren't exactly handsome, their features were even and both had Steve's lovely eyes.

  Ivy thought about George and felt some satisfaction, a feeling at last of superiority. Yes, her boys might be naughty at times, but look what Auntie Joan had bred: a son who had beaten his father, and from what she had seen before he'd been carried off in an ambulance, Uncle Dan was in a terrible state. Good, Ivy thought. She hoped her uncle was in pain, pain that was worse than her mother had suffered. After all, it was no more than he deserved.

  After cleaning herself up, Ivy heard voices in the alley, so quickly threw on fresh clothes and went outside. Sue and Norma were going into number one, which meant her Auntie Joan was back from the hospital. She ran to join them, her voice solicitous as she walked inside.

  ‘Auntie Joan, what's the news on Uncle Dan? How's he doing?’

  It was Maurice who answered. ‘He's a bit better, but he's not out of the woods yet.’

  ‘He looks dreadful,’ Pet said, her eyes beginning to fill with tears, ‘and he can't talk.’

  ‘Come on now, buck up,’ Yvonne said. ‘The doctor said he's out of danger, and though it may take a while for him to recover, at least he's on the mend.’

  As Joan flopped onto a chair, Maurice said, ‘I think we all should leave now. Mum's just about had enough and needs to rest.’

  Ivy's blood grew hot. They were at it again, pushing her out; well, she wouldn't rise to the bait. ‘Auntie Joan, is there anything I can do to help?’ she said, whilst hoping the bloody woman would say no.

  ‘No, it's all right, and as Maurice said, I would rather you all went home. My head is pounding and with everyone in here I feel like a sardine in a can.’

  Ivy caught the look that Sue threw at Norma and guessed they were none too pleased to be chased out either.

  ‘Yes, come on, let's leave Mum in peace,’ Maurice said, taking his wife's arm to lead her outside. ‘I'll be back later to run you to the hospital again, Mum.’

  Ivy had no choice but to follow them. Her lips were set in a grim line, but she brightened up again when in her own home. It had happened at last, she was seeing the Drapers brought low. It sounded like her Uncle Dan was in a terrible state and she felt a surge of satisfaction.

  Joan was glad when everyone left. She was unable to settle, almost out of her mind with worry. She'd do some housework, anything to fill her mind, and she'd start with the bathroom.

  With a bucket of nice hot water, Joan was soon on her knees, scrubbing the bathroom linoleum. When she got to one corner she frowned to see that it had begun to lift, so rising to her feet she went to look for some glue.

  With the tube in hand Joan went back to the bathroom, but as she raised the linoleum further to apply the glue, her eyes widened. The concrete floor and back of the linoleum were coated in something sticky. When she realised what it was Joan's hand went to her mouth in horror. Blood! But where had it come from?

  ‘What are you doing, Mum?’

  ‘Oh, Chris, you
made me jump. Look, I've found blood on the floor.’

  Chris bent to have a look, saying dismissively, ‘It won't be blood, Mum, it must be something else. Look, leave it to me. I'll clean it up.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No buts, Mum. You look worn out and shouldn't be doing housework. Now go on, make us both a cup of tea and I'll have this cleaned up in no time.’

  Joan wanted to protest, but something in Chris's manner stilled her. Despite what he said, she was sure it was blood and couldn't understand where it had come from. Why had Chris denied it? Oh God, had Chris caught the robber in the act? Had there been a fight? But no, if that was the case surely Chris would have said something, and not only that, if he had caught the robber, Dan's papers wouldn't be missing. Joan's head began to buzz. Oh, she couldn't think straight. Dan was in hospital and that was enough to worry about. She didn't want to think about anything else – she didn't want to know what had happened, not when she was fearful of the answers.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Pet had noticed a change at school – more whispers, but also a difference in some of the other girls' behaviour. Instead of being nervous around her, there were some who openly made comments and asked questions. She was facing one now.

  ‘How's your dad, Petula? Still rough, is he?’ asked Kate, a girl who had previously shunned her.

  ‘Yes, he's still in hospital.’

  ‘And what about your brother George? We heard that he's gone missing. Has he turned up?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘My dad said that with your father in hospital and George missing, things are looking up. Your other brothers haven't got so much backup now.’

  ‘What do you mean? Backup for what?’

  ‘Leave it out. You know just what I mean.’ And, turning away, she grabbed another girl's arm, both giggling as they walked across the playground.

  Petula frowned, but then seeing Wendy walking in the gate, she hurried over to her. She hated coming to school, wanting to be at her father's side until he got better, but her mother wouldn't let her take any time off.

  ‘What's up, Pet?’ asked Wendy.

  ‘Oh, nothing, I just wish I could leave school after the summer term instead of waiting until the end of the year.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. My mum's already put a word in for me at work and they said there's a job waiting for me.’

  ‘Really! Where does your mum work?’

  ‘In the sugar factory.’

  Pet didn't envy Wendy. She didn't want to work in a factory, and still held on to her dream of working in an upmarket shop. But with her father so ill, any thoughts of getting a job when she left school had been pushed to one side. She remembered when she had gone to Sue for make-up lessons, thinking her mad to suggest that she could be a model, whereas Wendy definitely had the looks.

  ‘I think you could be a model, Wendy.’

  ‘Are you taking the mickey?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it's nice of you to say so. How's your dad?’

  ‘He's still in a bad way.’ Indicating Kate, she added, ‘She asked me the same question, but it was funny, almost as if she enjoyed the fact that he's ill.’

  ‘What do you expect? There are a lot of people around here who probably think the same.’

  Pet wanted to protest, to defend her family, but once again she was assailed by doubts. Her father and brothers were supposed to be running a legitimate business but there was still gossip, and uppermost in her mind was the way Tony Thorn had acted when he found out that she was a Draper. Were they still criminals? Had she been a blind fool in allowing her father and brothers to fob her off? Her lips set into a thin line. Well, no more, she decided, determined to find out the truth.

  ‘There they are,’ Wendy said.

  Pet turned to see Jane and Susan walking arm and arm through the gates, smiling when they saw them, but with the bell ringing there was no chance to chat as they made their way inside the building.

  Despite putting the word out in Battersea and boroughs beyond, George hadn't been sighted. Over a month passed without finding him, and they had all but given up hope.

  By mid-June a routine was in place in the alley. Maurice was the one who drove his mother to the hospital every day and, though Sue and Norma complained, it was always Yvonne who accompanied her.

  Because she was at school during the day, Pet went with her mother in the evenings, usually accompanied by one of her brothers. With her father so ill, George still missing and her brothers so busy, she hadn't had a chance to question them about their activities so far, but she was keeping her eyes and ears open, hoping to snatch some information.

  One Monday evening only Maurice was with them, and as Pet sat by the bed she couldn't understand why her father wasn't getting any better. He had changed so much. Instead of the strong man he had once been, in just this short time, he appeared shrunken, beaten and aged.

  ‘What did you say, Dad?’

  He tried to speak again, but there was only a stream of babble. Spittle began to run down his chin and Pet watched as her mother gently wiped it away.

  ‘The doctor said you can come home next week, Dan.’

  ‘What?’ Pet said. ‘Mum, why didn't you tell me? When did he say that? How can Dad come home when he still can't talk? Surely there's more they can do?’

  There was another stream of babble as Dan tried to speak, one arm waving in frustration. Pet's eyes met those of her mother and she paled at her words.

  ‘That's enough, Pet! Your father may not be able to speak, but he ain't deaf. Maurice,’ she continued, ‘take Pet outside. She's upsetting your father.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Come on, Pet. You can see Dad's had enough now. Say goodbye and we'll wait in the car for Mum.’

  Tears brimming, Pet bent over her father, kissing him on the forehead. ‘Sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to upset you.’

  ‘Just go,’ Joan snapped.

  Reluctantly Pet left the ward. ‘Maurice, why didn't Mum tell me that Dad's coming home?’

  ‘She only found out this afternoon, but you know now, so why all the fuss?’

  ‘Because I sense that you're all hiding something from me and this is the last straw. Please, Maurice, I'm not a child. Tell me what's going on.’

  Maurice stopped walking and turned to face her. ‘Look, we didn't want to upset you and we hoped that Dad would recover, if only his speech.’

  ‘But why isn't he getting any better?’

  Maurice exhaled loudly, then said, ‘All right, the others might not like it, but I'll give it to you straight. At first we were told that the kick to Dad's head had caused a swelling around the brain. We hoped that when it went down, he'd recover his speech. It looked hopeful, but then Dad had a stroke.’

  ‘A stroke! Is that why his arm is so weak that he can't hold a pen?’

  Maurice nodded. ‘Yes, it affected one side of his body.’

  ‘I can't believe you kept this from me!’

  ‘As I said, we were hoping that he'd improve. Come on, love, don't cry. After the beating it was touch and go for a while, and we nearly lost Dad. He may have had a stroke, but at least he's still alive.’

  ‘Does … does this mean he'll never be able to speak again?’

  ‘We don't know, Pet. I suppose there's always a chance.’

  ‘He won't get any worse, will he?’

  ‘As long as he doesn't have another stroke, I doubt it, and who knows, once he's home in familiar surroundings, he may improve.’

  Pet clung to that hope.

  Joan gripped Dan's hand, inwardly fighting her tears. Since the day she had met him, Dan had always protected her, shielded her, and she had leaned on his strength. Diminutive beside him, he had called her his Queen, and she loved him for it. Now, though, it felt as if the tables had turned and it was she who would have to be the carer, the protector. Somehow she had to keep him free from worry, free from stress. If she could do that, then may
be he'd get better.

  As the eldest son, Danny would have to step in permanently. He would need to continue running the business, and she would have to ensure that if there were any problems, they didn't reach Dan's ears. It wouldn't be easy. The boys always came to their father if there were any problems. But no more! She'd have a word with Danny, in fact with all of them. Their father had to have complete peace, and she'd see that he got just that.

  As her determination to protect Dan rose, Joan was surprised at the well of strength she felt. Dan squeezed her hand and she said earnestly, meeting his eyes, ‘It's all right, love. I'll look after you, I promise.’

  He shook his head and as a stream of incomprehensible words issued from his mouth, Joan frowned; sure that she had caught one of them. Danny! Had he said ‘Danny’? ‘It's all right, love. Danny is taking care of everything. The business, the boys, the lot.’

  Once again Dan tried to speak, his eyes wild as the bell rang to signal the end of visiting time.

  ‘I've got to go now, Dan, but don't worry, everything is fine. As I said, Danny is taking care of everything. He's a good lad, and a chip off the old block.’

  Dan became increasingly agitated and a nurse approached the bed, saying, ‘You really must leave now, Mrs Draper. Your husband looks upset and I think he needs to rest.’

  Joan tried to kiss Dan goodbye, but his good arm flapped as though pushing her away. She stood helplessly as the nurse took over.

  ‘Come on now, Mr Draper,’ the nurse said brusquely as she tidied the bed. ‘Say goodbye to your wife and isn't it lovely that you're going home next week?’

  Dan slumped, spent, and at last Joan was able to give him a swift kiss goodbye. ‘I'll see you tomorrow, love.’

  He didn't respond, his head turned away from her now. Joan left the ward, wondering what she had said to agitate him.

  When Joan climbed into the car beside Maurice, Pet said, ‘I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to upset Dad.’

  ‘Yes, well, he was still in a state when I left. When he comes home he's going to need complete quiet. I hope you realise that, my girl.’