by Annie Groves
‘Well, at least then you’ll know,’ Grace reasoned. ‘You said Matilda was encouraging you to find her too; if you won’t listen to me, I know you’ll listen to her advice.’
‘Me aunt wouldn’t have mentioned her name if I hadn’t kept on about it. If she thought Pam Plummer was worth finding, she’d have told me to go looking years ago. That’s what Matilda’s like: all fair ’n’ square. The only reason she wants me to meet her is ’cos she knows once I’ve done it I’ll never ask about me mum again.’
Grace raised her glistening eyes heavenwards. ‘It’s no use, Chris,’ she said despairingly. ‘Thanks for taking me to the pictures tonight, I can get the bus back home …’
He gripped her wrist and dragged her roughly into an alley between two shop-fronts.
‘You all right, miss?’ A middle-aged man had observed their altercation and was now hovering at the mouth of the narrow opening.
‘She’s fine, piss off,’ Chris growled without turning to look at him.
‘I’m fine,’ Grace called in a tremulous voice. ‘See what I mean about you?’ She gave a gulp of humourless laughter while watching the fellow shake his head then disappear.
Chris raised a hand to cup her face. ‘I’m sorry … it’s just you drive me nuts, Grace …’
‘I’m sorry too, ’cos you drive me nuts …’ Grace sighed. ‘I meant what I said … I think it’d be best if we don’t see each other for a while …’
He plunged his mouth hard on hers, curving a hand about her nape to move her forward and prevent her scalp scraping against the brick. He knew he could have her if he wanted to. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t, and always courteously brought her back outside her house to kiss her goodnight and ask if she was ready to stay away somewhere on Saturday. It’d taken him one date to discover she was putty in his hands after a bit of clever petting. He was confident that if he eased them a way further up the alley now, and kept up the onslaught, he could take her against the wall, in the same way he had numerous other girls he barely remembered. But he wouldn’t forget Grace …
He heard the little moan as he tantalised her mouth and throat with deliberately sweet, seductive kisses. To satisfy his conceit he suddenly twisted them further into darkness and lifted her, wedging himself with practised ease between her parted legs. Her lids flew up and she gazed at him with startled doe eyes. But she didn’t struggle and he knew if he was slow and artful he could have her hate him tomorrow.
He tilted his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, then lowered her slowly to the ground. He turned away and shook out his cigarettes so clumsily some scattered on the concrete.
‘I’m just going to get the bus home,’ Grace said in a husky, quavering voice. She moved a hand as though to touch his arm in farewell but withdrew her fingers again almost immediately.
‘I’ll see you to the bus stop,’ he said and set off towards the High Street, outpacing her along the alley by yards.
They walked in silence and stood at the stop together for no more than a minute before a trolley bus pulled up in a squelch of brakes.
Grace gripped the metal pole and turned to say goodbye but the word withered on her tongue. He was already a distance away, striding swiftly towards Turnpike Lane with his head down and his hands thrust into his pockets.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘I reckon it’s time you stopped shirking, you lazy sod, and got yerself back into work.’
Faye gave her husband a frown, even though she knew he’d only been ribbing his brother about his convalescence. ‘Give poor Stevie a chance, will you! He’s not been out of hospital that long.’ She passed the bowl of potatoes to Pearl. ‘Help yourself. There’s more keeping warm in the oven so dig in.’
‘I’ve told him he needs to get himself sorted out. Bored stiff, aren’t you, Steve, sitting about doing nothing but reading the newspaper or listening to the wireless all day long.’ Pearl liked her food and she took Faye up on her generosity, liberally spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate.
‘Well, there’s a job waiting to be done in the office. I’ve only got one pair of hands and an in-tray that’s spilling all over me desk.’ Rob took the bowl from Pearl and helped himself to spuds.
‘Do I get any say in this?’ Stevie asked, feigning an air of injury while pouring himself lashings of thick brown gravy.
‘I’m with you, Stevie.’ Faye rallied to her brother-in-law’s side. ‘It’s up to you to decide when you’re ready to get back to work so don’t let Rob push you into it.’
The two couples were sitting around the kitchen table, enjoying a cosy dinner of steak and kidney pudding and mash, with a few beers to wash it down. It was just the four of them at home at Faye and Rob’s as Daisy had gone out with her friends for the evening. It was the first time they’d met socially since Stephen had been discharged and naturally enough conversation had quickly turned to the subject of Stevie’s employment prospects.
‘Seriously, mate, you know the job’s there waiting for you as soon as you’re feeling up to it.’ Rob tucked into his food but continued sending enquiring glances his brother’s way.
‘Yeah, thanks, I am grateful, it’s just …’ Stevie sighed. ‘It’s true I’m bored stiff at home, but … no offence, I reckon I’ll be bored stiff pushing papers around ’n’ all. It just ain’t me, sitting behind a desk all day long. I know it’ll drive me crackers.’
Rob looked surprised. He knew his brother was not in a position financially to give up work altogether. Stephen needed an income more than ever now it looked likely Chris might soon announce he and Grace were setting up home together. But, judging by the way his brother was still limping about, Rob didn’t think Stephen was fit enough for manual work. ‘You want to go back on the tools?’ he asked with a frown.
‘Nah … don’t think I’m up to climbing ladders any more,’ Stephen admitted. He forked some tender beef into his mouth, savouring it before adding, ‘To be honest the thought of going up a high reach again gives me the shivers.’
‘Well, if you make sure this time it’s one with rungs that ain’t worn through …’ his brother commented dryly.
‘Shut up and leave Steve alone.’ Faye pointed her knife at her husband.
‘Anyhow, Chris is doing a better job of supervising the lads than me.’ Stephen added to his reasons for giving up his job with Wild Brothers. While he’d been at home he’d been doing some thinking and had come up with the idea that he’d like to start a little business of his own. He hadn’t yet mentioned anything about it to Pearl because he was still mulling over possibilities. He was an experienced driver and knew he could start doing van deliveries. He had thought of asking Rob to give him a contract for taking some of his merchandise from the warehouse to market pitches. But he knew, much as he appreciated what his older brother had done for him over the years keeping him in cash and sound advice, he’d like to step out from Rob’s shadow before he got too much older. He wanted to earn a living in a job where he wasn’t relying on his brother for employment but pulled in clients won on his own merit.
‘Tell you what,’ Pearl suddenly piped up. ‘That suet pudding you did earlier in the week were a treat, Stevie. I reckon you could knock ’em up in your kitchen and flog ’em at a profit.’ She started to chuckle, tucking into her food.
‘I’ve tasted your suet pud and it ain’t half bad.’ Rob nodded his head in agreement.
Stephen continued eating, looking thoughtful. He enjoyed cooking and knew he had a flair for it. Even when rationing had been at its height, he’d been inventive and had managed to knock together some tasty grub for himself and Chris. But it had never occurred to him before that there might be a profit in it.
‘That’s not a bad suggestion,’ Faye suddenly said, taking the words from Stephen’s mouth and glancing about at them all. ‘I know I’d pay good money to eat something you’d cooked, Steve. You’re a natural.’
‘Don’t want to get stuck indoors tied to yer own kitchen sink, do you?’ Rob sounded dubious about the i
dea.
‘No … but I wouldn’t mind a little premises,’ Stephen said slowly, putting down his knife and fork and looking serious. ‘Suit me down to the ground, that would, having me own caff. Wouldn’t need to be anything big ’n’ fancy, just a cosy place to do afternoon teas and perhaps a few plain dinners. Got to keep costs down or no bugger would be able to afford to come in and eat. Except you, of course.’ He grinned at his brother.
‘Well, if you reckon it’s a goer, and you can find a property that seems about right, I’ll stump up for the first year’s rent while you get on your feet.’ Rob noticed Steve about to decline his offer. He hadn’t realised until he’d had that talk with Chris following Stevie’s accident just how fed up his brother was with feeling beholden to him. Stephen was now keen to be his own man and Rob admired him for it. ‘’Course, it’ll be a loan and you can repay me any time you like. Won’t charge much in interest.’
Stephen gazed gratefully at his brother. ‘I’d pay you something off the loan as soon as I started to make a profit,’ he vowed gruffly.
‘Yeah, I know,’ Rob said, businesslike. ‘Can do it official, if you like, through the books.’
‘Well, no need to go mad,’ Stephen returned, grinning.
‘I’m interested, if you want any help,’ Pearl suddenly burst out in an enthusiastic tone. ‘Me boss in the chemist’s is always telling me I’m a natural with the customers. Got the gift of the gab, so he says, and keep ’em coming back.’ She barely paused before rattling on, ‘If you like, Stevie, you can do the cooking and I’ll do the waitressing and clearing up. I could take the orders and man the till. Don’t mind doing all the shopping too …’ Her round pink cheeks were glowing in excitement. ‘I’ve got a little bit saved, and I’d like to invest it if you’ll let me.’
Faye got up from the table, smiling serenely. ‘Forget about the ales, I think this calls for a bit of a celebratory toast.’ She went quickly to the pantry and found a bottle of red wine.
‘Never mind that, love,’ Rob said, having finished off his beer in a gulp. ‘I’ve got a bottle of champers down in the cellar. Been saving it for a special occasion, and I reckon this is it.’
When Stephen heard his son’s key in the lock he turned off the wireless and got to his feet. It didn’t occur to him to glance at the clock on the mantelshelf in the back room or he’d have realised it was early for Chris to be home from a night out with Grace.
Stephen had dropped Pearl off earlier and she’d promised she was going to immediately look at her savings books and do some sums. Stephen had headed off home with the intention of doing the same. He knew he had a Building Society passbook with a small amount in it that he had been saving for Christopher. He hadn’t told Chris he’d been putting money by for some years for when he eventually got married. Even had Chris been aware of the little nest egg, Stephen knew his son wouldn’t mind him using it on something so important. Besides, Stephen had every intention of replacing it soon from the profits he’d make from his new business venture. And he was bursting to tell Chris all about the exciting plans for a caff that had been discussed that evening at Rob’s. He hoped perhaps Chris might take some time at the weekend to look at premises with him, if he wasn’t planning to work or be off out with Grace.
Stephen appeared in the hallway, a bright smile on his face. ‘How you doing, son? Good night out? How’s Grace?’
Chris mumbled something at him and continued towards the stairs. A moment later he was halfway up them with Stephen gawping at his back.
‘You lot! Get out here and take a look at this!’ Vic crowed, his voice bubbling with glee.
Ted and Billy emerged from the house to join him on the pavement.
Ted’s grimy face split into a snaggle-toothed grin. ‘Oi! Chris! Come ’n’ take a butcher’s,’ he bellowed. ‘Yer can’t miss seeing this! If I ’ad me camera I’d take a picture.’
Chris came out of the house, frowning impatiently, but his expression lifted when he saw what was amusing them.
Along the road O’Connor’s crew were loading their gear onto an open-backed truck and it was obvious, from their snarling expressions, and the fact that two of them were rolling on the ground, having a scrap, that they were not happy. They appeared to be packing up and leaving for good.
‘Looks like the guvnor managed to swing it after all … good on ’im.’ Vic did a little jig, with much clicking of heels and fingers.
‘Guvnor never lets you down, do he?’ Ted began nodding his head. ‘Might have took him a while but he got there in the end.’
‘When he does it, he does it right, see.’ Billy added his two penn’orth.
A darkly sardonic glance encompassed his workmates but Chris refrained from reminding them that just yesterday they’d all been chewing his ears off again with complaints about his uncle taking his own sweet time in seeing off the Micks. Instead, he gave Declan O’Connor a jaunty wave. ‘Oi! O’Connor! I’ll ’ave me ladder back now as you won’t be needin’ it,’ he shouted. ‘And while you’re at it, I reckon you can leave them two shovels ’n’ all. Won’t charge you no hire rates … ain’t my way to put the boot into a man who’s down.’
O’Connor tensed rigid on hearing that taunt then swung about and pointed a thick finger at Chris. ‘Told you once before, Sonny Jim, you’re a fookin’ dead man.’
‘Yeah … and I told you, you’ll go down first, mate …’
O’Connor turned his back and continued arguing with Kieran Murphy before shoving hard at the man’s shoulder, sending him crashing back against some house railings. A moment later he scrambled into the truck, crashing the gears and sending it lurching forward. The way the vehicle was facing he either had to do a three-point turn to head away from them or drive past and endure more jeering.
The truck suddenly screeched down the road, O’Connor deliberately aiming the vehicle at them, sending the Wild Brothers’ lot diving behind the railings fronting the house.
‘Fuckin’ sour grapes, I call that,’ Billy scoffed with a two-fingered salute from behind his protective screen.
O’Connor’s face was boiling red with rage as he sent them all a hate-filled glare. The gears groaned as he got reverse and disentangled his bumper from the railings.
‘You go ahead and have your laughs now while you can,’ Declan spat menacingly. ‘I’m not a man with a short memory, you fookin’ remember that.’
Ted pretended to scrub tears from his eyes with his fists. ‘Gonna miss you when you’re gone …’ he boo-hooed.
The rest of the Irish contingent had jumped in a panel van and it came hurtling down the road to shudder to a stop beside their boss’s vehicle. The menials seemed to be waiting for a signal from their guvnor to tumble out and get stuck in, but O’Connor appeared reluctant to go for a final tear-up. Chris surreptitiously swooped on an assortment of tools in the hallway of the house and distributed weapons amongst his colleagues, in case Declan decided to give the nod.
O’Connor suddenly let out the clutch and his truck whizzed back, then rammed once more against the railings, buckling them to within inches of Vic’s shins. A moment later he’d ground the gears into reverse and, steering manically, he roared on towards Seven Sisters Road with Vic’s hammer and snarling curses following him. The other vehicle was soon revving, a mass of faces, spewing filth, bobbing at the side window, then it raced away in the truck’s fumy wake.
‘You’ll never guess who I saw the other day.’
Grace stopped stirring her tea and glanced at her friend Wendy, faint interest lifting her eyebrows.
‘Hugh Wilkins,’ Wendy said. ‘He asked after you.’ She took a glance around the café. ‘Where’s my bun? I’m starving …’
‘He can go and take a running jump,’ Grace muttered sourly.
A Lyons nippy appeared and put down two plates holding aromatic currant buns.
Wendy immediately split hers and began buttering it. ‘I was in Bourne & Hollingsworth and he came up to me.’ She shook her head. ‘
Didn’t want to give him the time of day but …’ The bun hovered in front of her mouth. She smiled impishly. ‘I made sure I told him you were with a new boyfriend and it looked serious.’
‘You shouldn’t have lied, Wendy.’ Grace chuckled ruefully.
‘Is it a lie?’ Wendy’s eyebrows hovered close to her brunette hairline.
‘You know it is,’ Grace said quietly and started buttering her bun. ‘Serious?’ She choked a miserable laugh. ‘It’s over between us by the looks of it.’
‘Chris still not been in touch?’
Grace shook her head.
‘He’ll be back.’
‘Was Hugh out with his wife?’ Grace could tell her friend was about to pursue that conversation about Chris and, although they were close friends, she didn’t want to discuss him with anybody.
At first she’d been confident that in a week or two Chris would pull up outside her house and ask for a second chance, and they’d discuss calmly what to do about his mother. But he hadn’t come to see her, or telephoned, and she’d begun to realise she must have been wrong in thinking he’d been on the point of telling her he was in love with her.
He seemed to have easily forgotten her, but, unbearably for her, it seemed there was truth and wisdom in the old saying that absence made the heart grow fonder. Since they’d split up she’d come to realise she’d fallen in love with him. But much as she yearned to see him she knew the problems that made them argue wouldn’t go away, not while the spectre of his mother was wedged between them. So she hadn’t contacted him to say she’d made a mistake because, deep down, she knew she hadn’t, and besides, her pride was smarting and she was unwilling to chase after him.
‘Hugh had a girl with him,’ Wendy said, having swallowed her mouthful of bun. ‘She looked about fourteen and seemed a sulky brat.’ Wendy sipped from her tea. ‘Hope he’s got a hellish life with his stepkids. It’s what he deserves after what he did to you.’
Grace shrugged her indifference and bit into her bun. She realised she hadn’t given Hugh Wilkins a thought in ages.