Family Betrayal

by Kitty Neale

  Hardly aware of Yvonne beside her, Joan climbed into the ambulance, moving straight to Dan's side. His face looked different, at peace, and as she reached out to touch his cold cheek, she felt tears pouring from her eyes.Oh, Dan – Dan, come back to me. I can't go on without you, I just can't.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Yvonne had made a frantic call to the yard, so when the three brothers ran into the hospital room soon afterwards, she knew that they must have broken all speed limits to get there.

  ‘What happened?’ Danny asked.

  Yvonne drew them to one side, her voice a whisper. ‘Pet finally snapped. She spilled it all out – about you, the porn, saying that you used children in the films.’

  ‘But I spoke to her, told her it isn't true,’ Chris hissed.

  ‘She still spat it out, including that she'd been raped. Your dad, well, he went mad.’

  Danny shook his head, his voice betraying his pain. ‘I can't believe he's dead.’

  ‘I know, Danny,’ Yvonne consoled. ‘It was so quick, so sudden.’

  ‘I warned Pet that this might happen and I was right,’ Chris said, his face ashen. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘She's still at home. Your mother turned on her, blamed her.’

  ‘So Mum knows everything?’ Bob said.

  Yvonne nodded, her voice still low. ‘Yes, but I'm not sure that she believed her.’

  ‘Yeah, well, Pet should have kept her mouth shut.’

  ‘Oh, Bob, how can you say that?’ Yvonne protested. ‘Pet's just a kid, and none of what happened was her fault.’

  ‘Yvonne's right,’ said Danny, ‘it's all down to us, but come on, we can work this out later. For now, we had better see to Mum.’

  ‘The doctors have spoken to her and confirmed your dad's death. If you can get her on her feet, we can leave.’

  ‘I'd like to see Dad first,’ Chris said.

  Bob nodded. ‘Yeah, me too.’

  Danny walked across to his mother and, taking a seat beside her, took her hand. ‘Mum, we're going to see Dad. Do you want to come with us?’

  ‘He's dead, Danny.’

  ‘I know, Mum, I know.’

  ‘Yvonne, can you ask one of the nurses where my father is?’ Danny urged.

  She went across to one of the nurses to be told that Dan hadn't been moved yet. Bidding them all to follow her, the nurse led them into a side room.

  All three brothers broke down when they saw their father, as though until now they hadn't accepted his death. It was painful to see them trying to be manly, trying to fight tears, with only Danny succeeding. Chris was the most badly affected, openly sobbing as he looked at his father, and Yvonne could see that her mother-in-law was close to collapse.

  ‘Danny, I think we should get your mum home,’ she urged.

  He nodded, gently leading her away, and in a solemn procession they exited the room. Danny left his mother in the care of Bob and Chris whilst he went to speak to a nurse. Yvonne followed him, surprised by Danny's strength and presence of mind as he asked about the arrangements. Somehow she had expected Danny to fall apart again, that the depression he had suffered would make him mentally weak, but instead he had rallied, taking control.

  ‘Yes, if you contact an undertaker,’ the nurse told him, ‘he can make all the necessary arrangements to have your father moved to a funeral parlour.’

  Danny thanked her, and when he and Yvonne joined the others, Danny took his mother's arm to lead her gently out of the building to his car. Bob, the largest of them, sat in the front, and the rest of them in the back.

  Yvonne reached out to clasp her mother-in-law's hand, finding it freezing. There was no returning pressure, Joan sitting as still as a statue during the journey home.

  They parked and walked into Drapers Alley, Danny and Chris on each side of their mother. She still said nothing, and this continued as they entered number one. Joan went across the room to sit by the hearth, her face like chalk.

  Danny poked the fire into life before adding a shovelful of coal. ‘Are you all right, Mum?’ he asked.

  There was no reply, but when Joan looked at Dan's empty wheelchair she broke, placing both hands over her face as her body shook with sobs. ‘Oh, Dan … Dan.’

  It was obviously too much for Bob. With tears in his eyes he said, ‘I'd best go and tell Sue.’ With that he hurried out the door, closing it behind him.

  Chris now stood next to his mother, his hand on her shoulder, obviously fighting tears too. Unable to watch the scene any longer, Yvonne went through to the kitchen. She felt helpless to comfort them and so did the only thing she could think of: she filled the kettle to make a cup of tea.

  When Yvonne returned, she saw Danny sitting at the table, and Chris still close to his mother. Pet was nowhere in sight and Yvonne's heart went out to her. She was just a kid, and after what happened to her was it any wonder that she was unable to keep it bottled up inside?

  Danny had his head in his hands, hardly aware of her when she placed a cup of tea beside him, and after giving one to Chris and her mother-in-law, Yvonne went upstairs.

  Pet heard voices but, too afraid to face her mother, she remained in her room, huddled under the blankets for warmth.

  Her door opened and Yvonne crossed the room to perch on the edge of the bed. ‘How are you doing, love?’ she asked.

  The sympathy in Yvonne's voice was too much for Pet, and with tears flooding her eyes she cried, ‘Mum said it's my fault, and she's right. Chris warned me and I should have kept my mouth shut, but I didn't and now … now … Oh, Yvonne, my dad's dead.’

  ‘No, Pet, no. It's not your fault. After what you went through it was unfair to expect you to keep it locked inside. No wonder you broke down, love, and nobody blames you.’

  ‘My mother does.’

  ‘She's in a state, Pet. I'm sure she'll come round when she has had time to think about it.’

  ‘I told her about my brothers too, about the … the porn. Did … did you know about it, Yvonne?’

  ‘Not until recently, and when Danny told me I was shocked to the core. At first, I was going to leave him, but then I found that I couldn't. All right, I know that making porn films is awful, but when you think about it, there are worse things. They didn't hurt anyone, kill anyone, and—’

  The image flashed into Pet's mind again, one that she found it impossible to forget. ‘That man Garston, he made me watch a film,’ Pet broke in. ‘He said that my brothers made it …’ She stopped, unable to go on.

  ‘That must have been dreadful. For the life of me I'll never understand why men want to watch them, but honestly, nobody gets hurt in the making of them. It's just acting, Pet.’

  ‘I was hurt, and the little girl I saw wasn't acting. She was screaming, terrified.’

  ‘Oh God, the poor child,’ Yvonne cried. ‘But, Pet, I swear, your brothers didn't use children. Surely you know them better than that?’

  No, Pet thought, she didn't know her brothers. The view she'd once had of them was an illusion. As tears continued to fall, she wanted the one man she felt safe with, one who looked at her with love in his eyes and who managed a lopsided smile every time he saw her. ‘Oh, Yvonne, I want my dad. He can't be dead … he can't …’ And as Yvonne's arms wrapped around her, Pet clung on as though she were drowning.

  ‘Bloody hell, Bob, it must have been a bit sudden,’ Sue said. ‘I didn't hear or see anything, but the kids have been playing up, making a racket all morning, so it ain't surprising. What happened? Did he have another stroke?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Bob croaked, going on to tell her what Yvonne had said.

  ‘Well, I can't say I'm surprised. From what you've told me, Pet must have been like a time bomb waiting to go off. But saying you used kids – that was terrible. What about your mum? Has she said anything? Has she mentioned it?’

  ‘No, not yet, and I don't know what we're going to say when she does.’

  ‘You wouldn't use children. I know you better than that, and your mother
does too. As for the other stuff, if you ask me there was no harm in it, and she might see it that way too.’

  ‘Leave it out, Sue. You know what a prude my mother is, and not only that, we've got to keep it from her that my dad was involved. It'd be too much. With what she's had to put up with lately it'd be the last straw. She'd go bloody mad.’

  Sue hid her thoughts. Yes, the old cow was a prude, acting all high and mighty. It would bring her down a peg or two to know that her precious husband had been involved. Blimey, she'd love to see the expression on the old girl's face if it came out. They might try to hide it from her, but Sue knew she could put a spanner in the works.

  There was no love between Sue and her sanctimonious mother-in-law, but Sue knew it wasn't her fault. She had tried, but from the start Joan had looked down on her, treated her like a tart, an outcast in the family. It was payback time, and nice to have something over on her mother-in-law at last. She'd leave it for a month or two, maybe wait until the old girl got over her grief, but as soon as she got on her high horse again, she'd let it slip.

  ‘Oh, Sue, I can't believe he's dead,’ Bob cried as his eyes filled with tears again.

  Sue made the effort, wrapping her arms around her husband whilst she murmured, ‘Oh, love, don't cry.’

  Both boys came running in, their eyes widening. ‘Why is Dad crying, Mum?’ Robby asked.

  Deciding it was better to tell them, she moved away from Bob, saying softly, ‘He's upset because … well, because Granddad has passed away.’

  The boys looked puzzled, but as they hadn't seen their grandfather for so long, it wasn't surprising. She tried again. ‘He's dead. Dan, your granddad, is dead.’

  Bob began to sob now and Paul ran to his side, grabbing his hand. ‘It's all right, Dad. Oliver's rabbit was dead but then he woke up again.’

  ‘Don't be daft,’ Robby sneered. ‘Shaker wasn't dead, he was just knocked out.’

  ‘Shut up, Robby,’ Sue snapped.

  ‘Can I have a rabbit for Christmas?’

  Unable to believe her ears, Sue glared at Robby. ‘I can't believe you. I've just told you that your granddad's dead and you're asking me for a bleedin' rabbit.’

  She heard a gasp and spun round to see Bob running upstairs. It was no surprise that he was taking his dad's death so badly, but Christmas wasn't far off and it would certainly put the kibosh on any celebrations. There was little chance of having Christmas dinner with Yvonne and Danny now. Bugger it, she'd have to make some sort of effort for the kids' sake, but would Bob be able to do the same?

  Danny and Yvonne went home in the early evening, glad that Chris was there to keep an eye on Joan. She had finally stopped crying, but her face was still etched with pain. Yvonne had been unable to persuade Pet to come downstairs, the girl too frightened to face her mother. It broke Yvonne's heart to see Pet so lost, so alone, but finally she had left her, determined to do something about it, no matter what the consequences.

  The house was cold when they went inside but Danny quickly lit a fire. He then sat down, deep in thought, but after a while, to Yvonne's surprise, he brought up the very subject.

  ‘What do you think I should do?’ he asked. ‘I know you said Mum didn't believe Pet when she told her about the porn, but that was in the heat of the moment. Once she's over the shock and it begins to sink in, she's bound to start asking questions.’

  ‘I think it's time to tell your mother the truth. Pet's been through enough and she's so alone, Danny. Your mother blames her for your dad's death, but if she knew why Pet snapped and blurted it all out – if she knew what the poor kid has been through – I'm sure she'd forgive her.’

  ‘Blimey, Yvonne, I can't tell my mother the truth now. You saw how fragile she is. I don't think she could take it.’

  ‘So Pet's got to suffer. Don't you think she's suffered enough, Danny? Come on, you said it yourself, sooner or later your mother is bound to start asking questions. What if she aims them at Pet?’

  ‘I hadn't thought of that. With Dad gone, Pet has no reason to keep her mouth shut and she might tell Mum that we use kids again.’

  ‘I told her you didn't and I think she believed me. Even so, it would be fairer if the rest of it came from you.’

  ‘Yeah, you're right, but I dread to think how Mum will take it. Maybe it can wait until after the funeral … And talking of the funeral, it's still got to be arranged. Mum isn't up to it, so I suppose it's down to me.’

  ‘I doubt it can be held until after Christmas.’ As Danny looked at her Yvonne could see the pain in his eyes. She feared that he'd break down again, sink back into depression so, feeling the baby moving, she took his hand to lay it on her stomach. ‘Can you feel it, love? The baby's kicking and it's so strong I reckon we've got a footballer in there.’

  ‘You think it's a boy?’

  ‘I don't know, love. We'll just have to wait and see.’

  ‘My son,’ he mused, ‘or maybe my daughter.’

  Yvonne heard the note of awe in his voice, but then his arms went around her as finally he broke, crying for his father, for the man he had been apart from for so long and who he would never see again.

  Joan was glad when Yvonne and Danny left, relieved too when Chris finally went upstairs. She moved across the room to lie on Dan's day bed, feeling the indent of his body. With a sob she picked up his pillow, sniffing it to find his special smell. She felt lost, bereft. Dan had been her life – she was bound to him – and when he became helpless she had given herself to looking after him. She buried her face in the pillow, trying to muffle her sobs. If Chris heard her crying he would come downstairs again. He would try to comfort her, but there was no comfort.

  She heard footfalls on the stairs and in the dim light saw Petula coming into the room. Joan held her breath, but thankfully her daughter didn't see her lying there as she went through the kitchen to the bathroom. Seeing Petula brought it all back: the look on Dan's face when Petula shouted that she'd been raped, the other things she had said about the boys that Joan couldn't bear to think about. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. Petula must have gone mad, her sick mind conjuring up this fantasy because she couldn't remember what had really happened.

  Petula was coming back, passing like a ghost through the room, and once again Joan held her breath, thankful that her daughter didn't see her. The house became silent again, Joan clutching the pillow as though it was a lifeline.

  She cried on and off for what felt like hours, until finally, with a hiccuping sob, she stopped. She felt drained, empty, as if a part of her had died with Dan – that he had taken her heart with him, the two of them inseparable, even in death.

  Finally, exhausted, she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  When Pet woke up on Saturday morning, her first thought was for her father. She had spent most of the past three days alone in her room, unable to face the hate she could see in her mother's eyes. She huddled in her bed against the cold, haunted every night by nightmares. Oh, she was so thirsty, parched, so she quickly dressed, shivering as she tried to pluck up the courage to go downstairs.

  Pet paused at the top of the stairs, but her thirst drove her down and she had just reached the living room when the front door was flung open.

  Bob dashed in. ‘Where's Mum?’ he asked as his eyes scanned the room.

  ‘In the bathroom,’ Chris told him.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘About the same. She gets up, washes, dresses, but it's as if she's on automatic. If you speak to her, she hardly listens, and her eyes have still got that vacant look about them.’

  ‘What about you, Pet? How are you doing?’

  Pet said nothing. She felt sickened, betrayed by her brothers, and ignored them as she went through to the kitchen. She filled the teapot and poured herself a cup of tea, quickly gulping it down. Then, hearing the bathroom door opening, she hurried out, about to return upstairs, when Bob's voice stilled her.

  ‘Mum, there you are,’ he said.
‘I've just had a call from Maurice. I … I told him about Dad and he's on his way to see you. I had to get dressed before I came to tell you, so he should be here any minute now.’

  She didn't respond, her gaze now fixed on the flames as they licked up the chimney.

  ‘Did you hear what I said, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, I heard you.’

  ‘Maurice is living in Balham now and he hasn't been in touch because he's been ill. He had the flu, a really bad bout and ended up in hospital with pneumonia. Don't worry, he's on his feet again now. I'll just tell Danny that Maurice is on his way, and then I'll be back.’

  As he hurried out, Chris accompanying him, Pet slumped onto a chair, the room silent. Her mother suddenly turned, their eyes locking. Her mother's gaze was long, hard, unfathomable and, unable to look away, Pet found her own eyes filling with tears.

  ‘Petula—’ Joan began, but then the door opened to let in a blast of cold air as Danny, Yvonne and Bob trooped into the room.

  ‘Bob just told us that Maurice is on his way,’ Danny said.

  Pet stood up, hurrying upstairs. Her stomach had lurched at the look in her mother's eyes, the accusation, the loathing. Yvonne had said that her brothers didn't blame her, but her mother still did. Oh, if only she had kept her mouth shut, hadn't blurted it all out. No wonder her mother hated her.

  She felt so alone, an outcast with nobody she could turn to for comfort. At one time she would have gone to her brothers or their wives, but now she didn't want to be near them. It was their involvement in porn that had led to Garston taking his revenge on her – and every time she looked at them it all came flooding back. She longed to get away, far away, never to have to see them again. It was fear of the outside world that held her back, yet even if she found the courage to leave, she had nowhere to go, no family outside Drapers Alley.