by Kitty Neale
Whilst Ivy slept, Pet spent a lot of time thinking, her mind often turning to Garston and that poor little girl in the film. She was still swamped with guilt that she had done nothing to help her, but doubted that she was the only child who had fallen into Garston's hands. As always, fear of the man held her back, but gradually an inkling of an idea began to form, one that grew more and more compelling.
Ivy turned her head, her voice a rasp as she struggled to speak. ‘I deserve this, Pet. The guilt caused this. It's been eating me up.’
Pet shook her head. Of course Ivy didn't deserve this, but she often said strange things, the drug sometimes making her hallucinate. She always made a supreme effort for Harry and Ernie, but even that was beyond her now, and lately, when Steve sat with her, she didn't always recognise him.
Ivy groaned and Pet glanced at the clock, hoping that Gloria would soon arrive. She was a wonderful nurse, offering so much support, and Pet knew she couldn't have coped without her.
‘Pet, did you hear me? I said I deserve this.’
‘Of course you don't. Rest, love, don't try to speak. Gloria will be here soon, and the doctor to give you your medication.’
‘It'll knock me out again, you know it will. I've got to tell you now before it's too late.’ Ivy gasped then, unable to help crying out in pain.
‘It's all right, Ivy, it's all right.’
‘I killed him, Pet.’
‘You're dreaming, Ivy. It isn't real.’
‘No, it isn't a dream. I … I killed George.’
Pet shook her head. Poor Ivy, these hallucinations were nightmarish.
‘It was after he attacked your dad,’ Ivy said, the pain causing her to clench her teeth in agony before she was able to continue. ‘I guessed your dad had money stashed and as George ran off with nothing, I hoped he'd come back to get it. With this in mind I waited until you all came home from the hospital that night and spiked your chocolate drinks to make sure you slept soundly.’
‘Stop it, Ivy, please. This can't be real – it can't.’
‘It's the truth,’ Ivy insisted, groaning before she began to speak again. ‘I was right about George too. He did come back and … and I killed him. It was in your mother's bathroom and … and I took all the money.’
Pet frowned. Ivy was talking about the past, not the present, but it couldn't be true, it just couldn't. ‘You're hallucinating, you've got to be.’
‘No, no, it's real, it happened. He's in the factory.’
‘Who's in the factory?’
‘George … he … he's in one of the big vats and I covered him with coal.’
Pet slumped with relief. The factory had been closed for years. There wouldn't be any vats in there, let alone coal. ‘There's nothing in the factory, Ivy. It's empty.’
‘Pet, please, listen to me. It was a jam factory and the vats are still there. I found coal too, in a bunker. Oh God,’ she cried, ‘this pain, I can't stand it …’
As Ivy gripped her hand, Pet's mind was reeling. Ivy seemed lucid; her eyes, though filled with pain, were clear. ‘No, Ivy, please, tell me it isn't true.’
‘Th-this house. I didn't get a council exchange, Pet. I bought it with some of the money I stole from the box. The rest is in—’
There was a knock on the street door, Pet fleeing the room to answer it. She pulled it open to see Gloria and the doctor. Their faces creased as they looked at her, both brushing past to hurry upstairs. In a daze, Pet walked into the sitting room, shaking her head in anguish at what she now believed was the truth.
‘Goodness, Petula, when I saw your face I thought that Ivy had gone,’ Gloria said as she bustled into the room. ‘The doctor is giving her morphine now, increasing the dose. Oh, my dear, don't cry. I know how hard it is when the end is near, but you've been so brave, so strong.’
Pet's throat was so constricted that she couldn't speak. She'd been looking after Ivy, caring for her, a woman who had killed her brother. Oh God, she couldn't stand it, she had to get away. With a sob she fled the room, running upstairs to thrust a few things into a bag.
As Pet ran from her room and onto the landing she almost collided with Gloria, the woman calling as she thrust past her to run downstairs. ‘Wait … where are you going?’
Pet didn't answer. She flung open the street door, and only stopped running to draw breath as she headed for the train station. It had been ages since Pet had been to the village post office, but Steve had refused to take anything for her keep, so the money she had drawn out had remained in her purse.
When Pet reached the station she found that there was more than enough to buy her a ticket to London, but it was over half an hour before the train was due. Desolately she sat in the waiting room, her bag clutched to her chest.
Her mind churned and Pet was surprised to find that she was fighting guilt – guilt that she had abandoned Ivy. What would happen to her cousin now? No, no, she'd be all right. The nurse was there, and the doctor. They'd sort something out, and anyway, it was likely that Ivy was now in a coma so they could have her admitted to hospital.
Pet's eyes filled with tears.Ivy, Ivy, why did you do it? Why did you kill George? Money, she had mentioned money, his life snuffed out to buy Ivy a house. Oh, she knew that George was no angel – that he had attacked her father – but despite that he was still her brother and she loved him. Oh God, he's dead, my brother's dead! Ivy murdered him!
Pet was barely able to hold herself together, and when the train pulled in she climbed into an empty carriage, sobbing as she slumped onto a seat.
It was some time before Pet stopped crying, but as she drew in juddering breaths, her mind began to clear. Without thought she had purchased a ticket to London, yet how could she go back? She had been with Ivy for over six months, so intent on her cousin's care that she had tried to put the past behind her, to forget her family and what Jack Garston had done to her. Yet during the many hours she had sat by Ivy's side, her mind would wander and she was unable to hold back the memories – the sickening things she had seen and heard replaying again and again in her mind.
She had tried to focus on her future, on what she wanted to do with her life, and a tentative idea formed. Now, sickened by Ivy's confession, her determination strengthened and Pet knew what she wanted to do. It would take her a long time to reach her goal, and in the meantime she would have to find a job, along with somewhere to live.
Her eyes closed, fighting tears again. First there was George – poor George, thrown in a vat and covered with coal. She had to tell the police, had to tell her mother. If nothing else, George deserved a decent burial. Pet's mind churned. God, what would happen to Ivy? But Ivy was dying, might already be in a coma. Did Steve know? Did he have a hand in George's death?
Finally, unable to face the questions that plagued her mind, and mentally exhausted, she slept.
Pet woke with a start as the train pulled into the station, groggily climbing out of the carriage to stand lost, alone, on the platform. People rushed past her, barged against her, and at last her feet moved.
After handing in her ticket, Pet's eyes roamed the station, and though she wasn't yet in Battersea, her stomach clenched with fear. Danny was in London – Danny and his threat. She licked her lips, her throat dry, and seeing a café on the far side of the main concourse she headed towards it.
Pet ordered a Coke and then carried it to an empty table by the window where she sat, bleakly looking out of the window. After the stillness of Kent, Pet found the hustle and bustle of the station, the cacophony of sounds, intimidating. She knew she couldn't sit there for ever, but so great was her problem that her mind refused to function.
A voice spoke in her ear and as Pet spun round her arm shot out, knocking over the Coke, the liquid running across the Formica-topped table before spilling onto the floor. The colour drained from Pet's cheeks.
‘Mrs Fuller, what are you doing here?’
‘I could ask the same of you,’ Betty Fuller said, moving forward with a cloth in
her hand to wipe the table. ‘I work here, love, have done for years. It's a short hop from Clapham Junction station and the hours ain't bad.’ She eyed Pet's bag. ‘On your way home, are you?’
Unable to think of an explanation Pet sputtered, ‘Er, yes.’
‘You'll find some changes,’ Betty said, her eyes flicking behind her. ‘I'd better get a move on or the boss will be after me.’
‘Wait, Mrs Fuller. What do you mean by changes?’
‘Well, to start with, your mum's the only one left in Drapers Alley.’
‘But why? What happened to my brothers?’
‘I ain't privy to how it came about, but from what I've heard, Danny and Bob have set up a builders' yard just off Northcote Road, and Chris, well, the least said about him the better. If you ask me, it's disgusting.’
Pet's stomach lurched. Did Mrs Fuller know about the pornographic films her brother had made? But no, that had involved more than just Chris. The woman's eyes flicked behind her again, but as she went to move away, Pet clutched her arm. ‘Please, tell me what Chris has done.’
‘He's got the corner shop now and has moved his woman friend in to work with him. She's at least sixty, old enough to be his grandmother, and from what I heard, your other brothers have disowned him. Now look, I've got to go.’
As Betty Fuller bustled off, Pet's head was spinning. They had gone, they had all gone. She could go home.
Nervously, Pet approached Drapers Alley. She had been told the houses, all but one, were empty, yet still her heart thudded with fear.
For a moment she hesitated outside the street door. What if Betty Fuller had lied – what if her mother wasn't alone? Come on, she told herself, show a bit of spunk. You've come this far and nobody would have dared to call it Rapers Alley if they were still around.
Her hand slowly lifted to the small lion's-head knocker, and after rapping three times she involuntarily stepped back a pace.
The door slowly opened. ‘Is it really you?’
‘Yes, Mum,’ she said, and seeing the smile of welcome on her mother's face, her eyes filled with tears as she stepped inside. What she had to tell her mother would break her heart.
‘Oh, Petula, I can't believe you've come home. I've been hoping, praying, but when the boys couldn't find you I began to think that, like George, I'd never see you again.’
‘Mum, I've got something dreadful to tell you. You … you'd better sit down.’
‘If it's to do with the stuff that your father and brothers got up to, I already know all about it.’
‘Dad! Dad was mixed up in making those films?’
‘Yes, and from the start. Now come on, put that bag down and I'll make you a nice cup of tea. Your room is waiting for you and I've done it up a bit. Oh, Petula, I still can't believe that you're here,’ she cried, her eyes moist with emotion as she bustled into the kitchen.
Pet was still in shock as she slumped onto a chair. Her dad, her father, mixed up in pornography too. Her last illusion was shattered, her memories of the man she had adored, forever tainted. Pet rubbed both hands over her face, only looking up as her mother came back into the room.
‘The kettle's on. Now come on, tell me where you've been and what you've been up to.’
‘Oh, Mum, I don't know where to start.’
‘Try the beginning.’
‘I've been staying with Ivy in Kent. She took me in, but then she became ill – really ill – and when I left, she was dying. That's not all, Mum,’ Pet said, dreading this. ‘It's George, Mum. He … he's dead.’
‘What? Oh, no, Pet. No …’
Chapter Forty
It had been a fraught seventy-two hours. The police had been told, George's body found, the questions endless, but at last Pet and her mother were alone.
‘Pet, a long time ago, I found blood on the bathroom floor, and I … I thought that Chris had done something to George, that he had hurt him, but I never expected this. For over a year my George was lying in that factory. I should have known. I should have felt something. It proves what a useless mother I am.’
‘No, Mum, that isn't true.’
‘Yes it is, and not only that, I can't believe that that Ivy has got away with it. Sod's law, that's what it is. The rotten cow went and died just when the police went to question her.’
‘I know, Mum, I know,’ Pet said, yet in reality hating herself – hating her feelings. When the police told them that Ivy had died, she actually cried, was mourning her cousin and the closeness they had shared. Yet even as she mourned, Pet felt betrayed and knew that she would never be able to forgive Ivy for killing George. How could she feel like this about Ivy? Part sorrow, part anger, part love, part hate?
‘Do you think Steve was telling the truth? Do you think he knew nothing about it?’
Pet chewed on her lower lip. She had asked herself the same question, but felt she knew the answer. ‘I got to know him well, Mum, and he's a lovely man. I don't think he had a clue and I dread to think how he's taking it. He thought the world of Ivy, and it must be tearing him apart to know that he was married to a … a murderess.’
‘Will you go back to see him?’
‘No, I don't think so.’
‘I treated you badly. All I cared about was your father and I didn't show you an ounce of sympathy, but you're all I've got left, Petula. You will stay, won't you?’
‘Yes, of course I will.’
‘There's something I haven't told you. It's coming down, Petula. Drapers Alley is coming down. Along with the factory it's going to be demolished and a housing estate is going to take its place.’
‘When, Mum?’
‘I dunno, but soon, I think. I'm just glad that you came home before I had to move out.’
Pet was pleased about the factory, knowing that every time she looked at it she would remember that her brother's body had been dumped there. She knew that Linda had been informed, could guess her reaction, but it was still awful to know that George had died without ever seeing his daughter. Oh, why was it that when someone died you only remembered the good times, the good things? She could remember laughter, celebrations, every birthday, every Christmas a time when the family came together, but all that had changed when just over a year ago, her illusions had been shattered. ‘Do the boys know about the alley?’
‘I haven't told them. In fact, other than Chris pestering me, I hadn't seen them until the police told them about George.’
‘They weren't too happy that you wouldn't let them in.’
‘I told them that I didn't want to see their faces again, and I meant it.’
‘What about … about the funeral?’
‘There's to be a post mortem before George's body can be released. I can't do anything, make any arrangements, until then, and anyway, I don't want them there.’
Pet heard the bitterness in her mother's voice, saw the hardness in her eyes. It had been six months since she had seen her brothers, but the pain remained raw. She knew that she was safe now, that Danny wasn't after her, but like her mother, she still didn't want to see them. They would be at the funeral; there would be nothing her mother could do to keep them away. Her seeing them again was inevitable.
When there was a knock on the street door, Pet had been so deep in thought that she jumped.
‘What now?’ her mother moaned as she moved across the room to open it. Then she said, ‘No, Chris, you can't come in, but you can answer me one question before you bugger off. When George went missing and I found blood on the bathroom floor, why did you lie about it? It must have been George's, I know that now.’
‘Blimey, Mum, that was ages ago. Why bring it up now?’
‘Because I thought you had hurt George, injured him, and that you were covering it up.’
‘Me! You thought it was me? No, Mum, when you found that blood I just assumed that George had been injured in that fight with Dad. You were already upset, in an awful state, so I just said the first thing that came into my head.’
‘George
wasn't injured, he was already dead.’
‘Don't, Mum. I know that now and the thought makes my guts churn. Please, can I come in? I'd like to see Pet.’
‘No you can't. Like me, she doesn't want anything to do with you. Now bugger off back to your tart, or should I say your grandmother,’ and with that, she slammed the door. ‘Honestly, Pet, I never used to swear, but now I even swear in my thoughts. Everyone is talking about Chris and that old woman he's living with. They're laughing at him and because he's my son, at me. Oh, I'll be glad to move, Pet, glad to be away from here.’
‘Where will we live?’
‘I dunno, love. The council will have to offer us something, and to be honest, I can't wait to go. This place holds nothing but bad memories and the further away we're housed the better.’
An hour passed, Pet helping her mother with the housework that she refused to leave, insisting that even if the house was going to be demolished she had no intention of lowering her standards. As they worked, Pet found that her mother's fussy cleaning, every nook and cranny getting a thorough dusting, kept her mind occupied, and for the first time began to understand her mother. This must be why she always worked like a beaver, all her mind and energies on the housework, her fears and worries at bay as long as she continued to scrub, polish and dust.
Once again there was a knock on the door, her mother's face reddening with anger. ‘That'll be Chris again and I'm sick of telling him to bugger off.’ With that she marched to the door, flinging it open. ‘I told you to— Steve, what are you doing here?’
‘I had to come. Can I come in?’
‘I suppose so.’
Pet rose to her feet as Steve walked in, horrified by how haggard he looked. She tensed, expecting him to have a go at her, but instead he broke down, sobbing as he said, ‘When … when the police told me, I couldn't believe it. Oh God, I'm so sorry, Joan. I didn't know, honest I didn't.’
‘Yeah, that's what Petula said.’ As Steve continued to sob, Joan said, ‘Sit down before you fall down.’