“Mrs. Barton,” she said timidly. “What are you doing here?” Diana didn’t answer, waiting for Emma to draw her own conclusions. Emma's face paled. “You haven’t seen Mum, have you? Tell me you haven’t.”
“I’m afraid I have, Emma. Kate didn't contact me. I had to find out what was going on and I thought the only way to do that was to speak to your mother.” She looked towards the house again. “I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t.”
“So do I. My mum...well she’s not well. This is going to make her worse than ever.”
Diana sighed. “Emma, your mother has a drink problem. Our conversation didn't go well. I'm sorry.”
“We don’t tell anyone, Mrs. Barton. If Mum thought we were speaking to people about her I don’t know what she’d do.”
“It doesn't matter what she would or wouldn't do. You must think about the baby now.” She paused. “Stephen says he's not the father.” Emma’s face fell. “So you don’t believe me then, when I say I’m having Stephen's baby?”
“I didn’t say that,” answered Diana. “Have you seen your doctor?” Emma nodded miserably. “Kate took me a few weeks back.”
“And you didn’t think to let me know?” Diana shook her head in exasperation. “Ask Kate to call me please, Emma. Soon.” Emma nodded. “OK.”
Diana manoeuvred the car into a turn and drove towards the other side of The Smithy. The thought of her grandchild being born into such squalid place filled her with sorrow. She knew that Stephen had lied about Emma when one of her circle had commented on Stephen’s new girlfriend not being quite what they’d expected. Obviously Stephen was able to lie very persuasively. Like father like son, she thought miserably.
She stopped the car outside a pretty two-up-two down in a quiet cul-de-sac on the estate. She smiled with relief when she saw the frothy white curtains at the windows and the small but well cared for front garden. The containers of winter pansies she’d bought for Lily looked fine at the front of her cosy home. Diana hoped she had a pot of tea on the go and perhaps a slice of her wonderful Dundee cake, always home-made and delicious. Comfort food, she thought with a smile.
She knocked loudly on the door and heard the security chain being fixed into place.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, darling. It’s Diana.”
“Oh, Diana. How lovely.”
Diana heard the key turn in the lock. Lily unhitched the chain and the door opened revealing a short elderly woman wearing a bright floral wraparound pinafore. Her hair was snowy-white and worn in a chignon, with curls surrounding her face. Her bright green eyes sparkled with delight when she saw Diana on the scrubbed quarry-tiled step. Diana put her arms round her and kissed Lily’s heavily lined face.
“Hello, Lily,” she said. “It’s all right for me to visit today, isn’t it? I didn’t let you know and that’s very naughty of me, but you passed the test beautifully. You used your security chain. I wondered if you would.”
“I daren’t forget to use it, Diana. You were so firm with me when you had it put on. I haven’t forgotten once.”
“Good girl.” They walked down the hall, their arms round each other. “Have you made any of that delicious cake of yours? I’m in need of a very large slice.” Lily smiled proudly. “I make one every week, Diana. I know how much you love it.”
They settled in front of the fire, the logs crackling and spitting as they burned in the white hot flames. The warmth in the room made Diana feel contented and drowsy after her tea and cake and she could have easily dozed. Her thoughts strayed to Joe. He was always the stronger one. It was almost as if he insisted she thought of him, where ever he was.
“Do you need any more logs, Lily? I couldn’t bear to think of you sitting in here without any heat.”
“I am getting a bit low, love,” Lily replied. “The barn is nearly empty.”
“I’ll order some for you. A double load I think, then we won’t have to worry.”
Lily poured herself and Diana another cup of tea from her Willow-patterned teapot and offered her more cake. “How’s that son of mine?”
“If I ever saw him I’d be able to tell you. I don’t see much of him these days. We’re meant to be having a dinner party tonight but he’s not coming home. He has a meeting tomorrow with a client in London and has to be there early.” Lily covered Diana’s hand with her own as it rested on the arm of the chair. “You still haven’t told him have you, dear, that we see each other every week?” The old lady stared wistfully into the fire. “After all these years,” she said sadly.
Diana smiled gently at the old lady. “No, Lily, I haven’t told him yet, but Matthew is your son and you have a right to be in his life, I know that now. Life is much too short. Don’t worry, dear. I'm going to tell him very soon.”
Chapter 25
Kate waved goodbye to her friends at Kendalls before crossing the High Street. In the six months she’d worked at the department store she’d discovered she’d found her niche at last. Away from the troubles at home she’d found another life. With hard work and loving encouragement from Jack, she had expanded her horizons.
Customers came from far and wide to shop in the fabulous store and Kate was proud to say she had a place there. Kendalls was the smartest store outside of the West End. It offered only the very best that money could buy and those who could afford it made the most of the eclectic array of goods on offer. Kate's tiny part of the store was the glove counter. She loved being in charge of her own small domain because it meant she could choose which gloves to display and how best to present them using her own flair and imagination.
She would use swathes of brightly coloured satins and chiffon to exhibit the gloves, some of which were French or Italian in design. Those made from velvet and decorated with seed pearls and jet were very popular with Kate’s customers as were those designs embellished with bright costume jewellery in reds and brilliant blues. The pair she loved most had large fluffy cuffs at the wrist and finished in fake leopard-skin. Her younger clients adored them.
Kate's customers loved coming back to her. She would greet them like old friends and this had had a wonderful effect on her counter's sales. Her welcoming approach to her customers had not gone unnoticed by the store's managers. Her flair for display had impressed them and they offered her a course at the local college to study window dressing. She was overjoyed and couldn't wait to tell Jack her news. He'd scooped her up in his arms and whirled her round and round until she was dizzy.
“I'm so proud of you,” he said. “You'll be running the store next.”
Walking home in the evenings she would make the most of the solitude. It was a time of reflection on her day. She’d think endlessly about how she could improve her counter even more. There was never any time when she got in, so she thought of it as her time.
The constant drone of the traffic from the High Street diminished the closer she got to home and it was usually quite quiet in her street apart from the sound of children playing in the street or a dog barking. When she got to the corner of Sunningdale Terrace she thought she could hear shouting. She strained to listen. My imagination’s playing tricks on me again, she thought. The sound of raised voices got louder the closer she got to number fifty-three and she suddenly felt the need to run towards her house.
Through the darkness she could see a small group of people congregating underneath the street-lamp directly in front of the house. Running as fast as she could towards them with her hair trailing out behind her, she reached the edge of the crowd and pushed past the gathering. She pressed her way through the gathering and heard someone say, “That’s the eldest.” The screaming and shouting from inside the house had not let up. It echoed around the houses and she angrily turned on the people assembled there; their only thought to collect fodder for the next gossiping session.
“Clear off,” she cried, shooing them away. “Go home and leave us alone, you nosy beggars. Go on, get lost. This has nothing to do with you. This is family business. E
njoying it are you, other people’s dirty laundry?” The crowd began to disperse; some of the watchers sniggering, some complaining at her outburst. Ivy came from across the street and put a hand on her arm. “Oh, Katie, it’s been terrible. No one dare go in there to see what the commotion was about. Ray wondered if we should call the police but I didn’t think you’d want that. Will you be all right ducky, going in there on your own?”
“It’s OK, Aunty Ivy. I’ll be fine. I’m used to it, aren't I?” Ivy wasn’t convinced. “If only my Jack were here he’d know what to do. Be careful, Katie, please.”
Kate opened the front door and stepped into the hall, relieved to get away from the smug stares of the neighbours. The screaming and shouting continued upstairs so she went up gingerly, half terrified, half curious. She stepped onto the landing and saw Angie with her arm raised above her head. In her hand was the poker that usually stood next to the fireplace downstairs. Cowering in the corner was a trembling Emma. It took moments for the scene before her to register on Kate’s brain. She lunged towards Angie and wrenched the poker from her hand. Angie backed off from Emma then turned and went for Kate, her face knotted into a snarl. “Give me that you bitch and don’t come in here pretending to be innocent. You knew didn't you? You knew she was in the club and you didn't even bother to let me know. I'm her mother.”
Kate had witnessed her mother’s anger many times but never had she seen such hatred in Angie’s eyes. She looked demented, as though on the edge of madness. It was enough to petrify Kate where she stood but she knew she had to keep her mind on protecting Emma and her eyes on Angie.
“Emma...Em’. Are you OK?”
“I think so.” Emma's voice was breathless with terror.
“Get up,” Kate said to her. “Get up and go downstairs and wait for me in the kitchen. Come on Em’. Move.”
Emma got on to all fours, and holding on to the wall managed to lever herself upright. Kate brandished the poker into Angie’s face. “If you touch either one of us I’ll use this,” she said, holding the poker in both hands. “I’ll use this on you like you were going to use it on Emma. Don’t think for one moment that I won't do it. You’re a nasty vicious bitch and a bully. You’ve got no right to treat us this way and you’re not going to ever again.” She called over her shoulder. “Emma, shift. She’s not going to hurt you. Get yourself down the stairs.”
Emma felt her way along the wall towards the top step. Kate didn’t take her eyes from Angie. As Emma’s foot reached the stairs, Angie lunged at her. Emma lurched forward, head first over the top step, pulled downwards by her swollen stomach. A silent scream left her lips as she realised there was nothing she could do to save herself. In what felt like slow motion she saw the stairs getting closer and closer until she felt a hand on her neck clutching at the collar of her shirt, pulling her backwards. She was flung to one side, hitting the landing wall with a thud that knocked the breath out of her.
As she glanced up she saw Angie slip on the worn landing carpet and plummet head first down the stairs. Her trajectory was unstoppable. Kate screamed as she saw her mother fall and reached out helplessly to save her. Only a hair's breadth separated them; a distance wide enough to prevent Kate from snatching her back to safety. Powerless to stop the inevitable unfolding she watched Angie bounce off the middle stair. A loud crack like a pistol shot echoed on the landing. She came to rest at the bottom of the flight, her body twisted out of shape and her head lolled to one side. Emma got up and looked over the banisters onto Angie’s inert body. “Is she dead?” she whispered.
Kate ran down the stairs and knelt by her mother. Her face broke into a relieved half-smile. “We need help. I’ll run down to the phone-box on the corner and call an ambulance”. She looked up at her. “Are you all right, Em’?” she asked her softly. “You’re not hurt are you?” Emma shook her head. “The baby's OK too. She just gave me an almighty kick.”
“She?”
“Of course, she,” Emma said. “She’s going to be one of us. A McGuire girl.”
Chapter 26
“Who’ll look after her when she comes home?”
“If you can afford a nurse to come in each day, there’s no problem. She’s entitled to daily help when she first leaves hospital, but after that, well...it’s up to you. She’ll be given regular pain relief. She can’t be left on her own. Maybe you’ll want to look after her yourself. Whatever you decide you should try and think of a solution soon. She won’t be leaving us yet because she’s not ready but there’s really nothing more we can do for her here. She's paralysed from the waist down. When we've reduced the sedatives she’ll come home to you.”
Angie was deathly pale. Across her chest and running down her sides was a metal harness with straps fixed to a frame to keep it in place. Kate stood by her bedside, her complexion almost as pale as her mother’s. Angie’s doctor silently read the notes from the clipboard hooked over the bottom of her bed.
“Is it forever?” Kate asked him, inwardly dreading his reply, knowing he was about to shatter her dreams. He nodded.
Kate had visited Angie every day since the accident. Dropping in and out of consciousness as the sedatives prescribed for her gradually wore off, Angie's demands had returned with a vengeance. Kate had prayed her stay in hospital would stop her wanting alcohol but Angie’s need was insatiable.
“If you don't bring me what I want, I'll tell them what you did, Kate McGuire. We both know you pushed me down the stairs.”
“I didn’t push you, Mum. You tripped over the landing carpet, you know you did. Emma was there, remember. She saw what happened.” Angie had pulled a face. “They’ll be suspicious though. If you hadn’t come upstairs and interfered I’d be at home now as right as rain, so you’d better bring some you know what, my lady. Make sure you bring me some tonight and if you can’t make it get that slovenly sister of yours to come instead. She hasn’t been to visit me once. I’ll have something to say to that little cow when I see her. Fat lot she cares.”
“Emma's not far off her time, Mum.” Kate said. “And alcohol isn’t allowed. It'll interfere with your medication.”
“If you don’t bring it I’ll scream the place down and say you were trying to kill me. I’m warning you, Kate. One step out of line and you've had it. You can afford it now you’re working. It’s the least you can do for me since you’re the reason I’m in here.”
***
While Angie was in hospital, Kate and Emma were at peace. Kate gave the house a thorough cleaning, and with each rub of the duster and swish of the mop she felt she was exorcising ghosts. “We don’t want you bringing the baby home to a dirty house, do we?” she’d said to Emma. “We’ll get it spotless, y’know, freshen it up. It’ll be as good as new.”
Emma helped as much as she could but she was tired now. The baby kept her awake at night, kicking her incessantly, impatient to break free from its cocoon. Sometimes she got up and made hot chocolate. Kate often joined her. They sat and talked endlessly about the baby and how exciting it was to look forward to someone new in their lives. Sometimes they talked of Joe.
“He’s been gone so long now, Kate,” Emma said. “It's nearly two-and-a-half years.”
They took their hot chocolate into the living-room along with a couple of pillows and an eiderdown and sat snuggled up on the sofa. “It’s almost as if he never existed.” Kate looked down at her hot chocolate, watching the froth circling around the top of the mug. “I know, Em,’” sadness making her voice tremble. “But we mustn’t give up hoping that he’ll come back one day. I know we’re hurting but I still love Dad, don’t you?” Emma nodded. “Yeah, I love him no matter what I say. But if he walked through that door right now I’d give him the tongue-lashing of his life.” They both laughed. It was something Joe would have said.
“And what about Mum?” Emma shrugged. “What about her? She can rot in that hospital for all I care. It’s been brilliant here without her. There’s no anger, no fear. The air smells fresh and clean and the
windows are sparkling. There’s food in the cupboards and not one bottle of drink. It’s great, I love it and I have no worries about bringing the baby back here now and it’s all because of you. You’ve worked so hard for the baby and me. You’ve bought everything, even down to the fluffy bunny for her cot. I am grateful, Katie. I know I don’t always show it, but I am – ever so grateful.” Kate smiled and said, “Don't be daft,” but it pleased her.
“You’ll make someone the perfect husband one day,” Emma said giggling.
“Don’t push it, Em’,” Kate said, smiling. “I think Jack would have something to say about that.”
They went quiet, the warmth of the milky hot chocolate making them sleepy. Emma rested her head on Kate's shoulder. “I hope she dies in there, Kate. I hope I never have to see her again because I hate her. I hate her for what she’s done to you and for the way she’s treated you, the kindest person in the whole wide world. I don’t know what I’ll do if she ever comes back through that door. If I wasn’t pregnant I’d go the same way as me dad, out the door and down the road and I wouldn’t look back. I love you and I love Dad and I love my baby, but I hate her. I’ll never accept her as my baby’s nana. Never.”
Kate didn’t answer. She let Emma snuggle down against her, willing her to drift into sleep. She stroked her cheek and smoothed her hair back from her face and soon Emma was snoring gently. Kate stared trance-like into the grate. That same day Angie’s doctors had said home was the best place for her. She knew she should have told Emma but she couldn’t. She was desolate. The prospect of having Angie back in the house was something she just didn’t want to think about.
***
“I thought we’d go shopping today, Emma,” Kate said breezily as she came in from the garden, her arms full of washing she’d taken in from the line. “Are you up to it?”
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