A Family Scandal

by Kitty Neale

  Knowing it would be just like her to have an emergency when he was away, he dragged himself down his old street before the trip to Torquay. He’d have to tell her about it, though he didn’t want to, but it would be worse if she found out from Jenny’s side of the family. So he put a brave face on it and approached his old house. The paint on the door was peeling, just as he always remembered it. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d offered to help do it up but his mother always refused point blank. When I want your help I’ll ask for it, she would always snap.

  It was a warm evening again, hot even for August, and Tommy was looking forward to the sea breezes of Devon, but when his mother opened the door she was wrapped in a thick woollen cardigan full of moth holes.

  ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  ‘Hello, Mum. I said I’d call round today.’

  Olive looked at her only son with thinly disguised contempt. ‘Well don’t stand there cluttering up the doorstep. I suppose you’d better come in.’

  She turned and went back into the dark hall without waiting for him. Tommy followed, trying not to get depressed at the sight of the dark brown walls, the exact colour they’d been while he was growing up here. To this day he couldn’t stand that shade of brown.

  ‘How have you been, Mum?’ he asked as he went into the kitchen. This hadn’t been painted for years either, and now that his mother was on her own she didn’t bother cleaning it very often. Many years ago Tommy recalled she had been house-proud but now there was no reason for her to be as he was about the only person who came to see her – she had driven everyone else away, one by one, by being mean, miserable or both.

  ‘What’s it to you?’ she countered at once. ‘If you cared for me at all you wouldn’t have brought shame upon the family by getting divorced. You know full well I’ve never got over that and I never will. Don’t think you can come round here and butter me up.’

  Tommy shook his head. It was always the same. ‘Change the record, why don’t you,’ he muttered beneath his breath but she was on to him like a shot.

  ‘What’s that?’ she demanded.

  ‘Nothing. Just wondered if you aren’t too hot in that cardie.’

  ‘What, so I can’t wear what I want in my own home now?’

  ‘No, I was only worried that you’d be too hot.’

  ‘Hot? In this? Can’t you see all the holes that are in it? I’m hardly likely to be too hot in that, am I? Now if you’d stayed with that Belinda, she could have got me some new ones and I wouldn’t be forced to be seen out in this old rag.’

  Tommy reminded himself to count to ten and not let her get under his skin. He had offered her money time and time again, only to have it refused. He also knew full well that his ex-wife would sooner have died than set foot in this place, let alone help his mother to choose new cardigans. The idea would have been laughable if he hadn’t been face to face with this angry, bitter woman.

  ‘Suppose you want a cuppa, do you?’

  Tommy shook his head. He had no wish to put his mouth anywhere near one of the greasy-looking cups he could see draining by the sink. ‘I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble,’ he said instead. ‘Anyway it’s hot out, I’m roasting. That office gets like a furnace.’

  ‘I would have thought you’d have got yourself another one, a fancier place by now if you’re doing as well as you say you are. Further away from Battersea,’ she said pointedly.

  ‘I like it well enough where I am. Anyway it’s useful for seeing Jenny and Stan.’

  ‘Oh yes, I hear that you’ve plenty of time to go round there to see them. Suppose they’re more interesting than your poor old mother.’

  Tommy stopped himself from saying yes. He took a deep breath. ‘You know Stan’s travelling a lot now, going down to Devon?’

  ‘Is he, now?’ Olive’s eyes were beady in the dull light from the grimy kitchen window. ‘Nice work for them as can get it.’

  ‘In fact he’s found a good B and B and they’re taking Greg on holiday there, to Torquay.’

  ‘They spoil that child,’ she snorted. ‘It’s not as if he’s old enough to appreciate such things.’

  ‘Mum, he’s ten.’

  ‘It’s a wonder you aren’t trailing along with them, seeing as you think so much of them. More than of your own mother.’

  Tommy looked her in the eye. This was the moment to get it all out in the open. ‘As a matter of fact, they’ve asked me to join them and I’ve said yes. I’ve never been, and everyone says it’s beautiful.’

  ‘Beautiful!’ she cried in derision. ‘What use is that when it comes to putting money in the bank?’

  Tommy knew he had to continue and then brave the storm that would inevitably follow. ‘They’ve also asked their old neighbour Mavis, her two kids, and her mum and family.’

  ‘What!’ Olive’s head went back and she stared at her son as if he was mad. ‘You’re going away with that lot? That tart Lily Jackson, who’s no better than she should be? And her daughter, Dumbo?’

  ‘It’s Lily Culling now,’ Tommy pointed out, keeping his voice level with some difficulty. ‘You know I told you ages ago she married Pete and they’ve got a little boy …’

  ‘At her age! It’s a marvel she hasn’t dried up. Bet it’s all gone south now.’ Olive’s expression grew even more malicious. ‘As for that daughter of hers, Dumbo, she’s as thick as two short planks. What you want to go away with that lot for?’

  Tommy had managed to avoid mentioning Mavis to his mother in the time they had been dating, even though he had assumed word would have reached her somehow on the gossip grapevine. Maybe it hadn’t. She knew he’d been keen on her ages ago but not how far things had gone since then. ‘Mavis and Jenny are good friends, they have been for years. You know that. Besides, Mavis isn’t thick. She’s got a medical condition that stops her being able to read properly. She’s got as much sense as anyone else and she’s brilliant at art …’ Tommy stopped before he said any more, but the change on his mother’s face showed that she’d put two and two together.

  ‘Medical condition my foot. She’s as daft as they come, Tommy, and so are you if you’re mixed up with the likes of her. How you can do that after being married to a woman like Belinda …’

  ‘Let’s leave Belinda out of it,’ growled Tommy, feeling his face grow hotter still with the effort of keeping his temper.

  ‘How you all travelling down there, then?’ Olive wanted to know.

  ‘We’re taking two cars. Stan’s got his big estate from his firm and can take Greg and Jenny, as well as Lily and Pete. Then I’ve got a new car that’s big enough for me, Mavis and her kids, and Lily’s little Bobby.’

  ‘So you’ve got yourself a new car to ferry that lot around? You must have it bad,’ his mother said, her expression one of disgust. ‘You’re driving that thicko and her two brats plus that scrubber Lily Jackson’s last-minute sprog down to Devon? Now I’ve heard it all.’ She sank on to a spindly chair, seeming exhausted by all the revelations. ‘Well, good luck to yer. You’re gonna need it. You wouldn’t catch me cooped up in a car with three little kids puking their way all the long journey down there. I’d sooner roast in hell.’ She looked up at him. ‘Hope you’ve got a strong stomach.’

  Tommy had had enough. ‘I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.’

  Olive barked out another mirthless laugh. ‘Worry about you? That’ll be the day. You don’t know what worry is. When I think of what you’ve put me through, getting that divorce, and now you’re taking on another man’s litter …’

  ‘Must be off,’ said Tommy, before she could say anymore. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m back. Look after yourself.’

  ‘Ha! Who else is going to do that, I’d like to know? Especially as my only son is now too busy with someone else’s brats …’

  Tommy could hear her voice echoing down the dark, mean little hall as he headed for the front door and let himself out. Once back on the street he drew in a deep breath. The air tasted much fresher
than when he’d arrived, but that was because it had been so close inside the old house; his mother didn’t believe in opening the windows, just in case germs got in.

  Well, that was that over with for a while. Maybe he’d send her a postcard, Tommy thought. It might cheer her up. Then he shook his head. Who was he kidding? She’d probably rip it into tiny pieces. He sighed, aware that she was a sad woman facing old age on her own – and yet she wasn’t that much older than Lily. If his mother was determined to be miserable then there wasn’t much he could do about it, other than make sure she didn’t actually harm herself.

  Tommy turned back towards the yard, where he’d left the new car. Not long now before the holiday, and he’d have all those nights with Mavis in his arms. At once, his mood lifted.

  ‘Are we nearly there yet?’ Grace asked, bouncing up and down with excitement. She’d been asking the same question ever since they’d got on to the A303.

  Bobby caught her mood and began clapping his hands. ‘Want to be there, want to be there,’ he chanted.

  ‘We are, or very nearly,’ said Mavis with as much certainty as she could manage. Really she hadn’t a clue as she hadn’t been to Devon before, but they’d passed a sign for Newton Abbot so she knew from the large map spread on her lap that they must be close. She picked up the handwritten instructions Stan had given her for the final leg of the journey in case they got split up. She was glad, as they’d lost sight of the other car somewhere close to Exeter when Stan had overtaken a tractor while Tommy had got stuck behind it. James had been worried, but Tommy had laughed and said that’s what they had to expect if they came visiting farming country.

  ‘Here we are. Next junction,’ said Mavis with relief. She’d enjoyed the drive, or most of it, and they’d broken the journey halfway and eaten their sandwiches, but she’d be glad to get to the guesthouse now. Her calves were aching, as she’d had to put one of their bags under her feet because the boot was full, and she could tell the kids needed to be let out again to stretch their legs.

  Carefully she read out the list Stan had made, getting the children to watch out for landmarks as they gradually approached the seaside resort. James pointed at the palm trees. Bobby and Grace stared at them, unsure what they were. Tommy was probably just glad they were distracted, as she could tell he’d been a bit worried they would get lost. But now here they were, in the street just as Stan had described it, and there was his car parked at the end.

  Pete was standing by it, waving, as Tommy pulled up alongside. Mavis wound down her window.

  ‘There’s a parking space over there,’ Pete grinned. ‘Can you smell the sea air? Ain’t it great? I tell you, I feel better already.’

  Tommy pulled into the space, reflecting that Pete did look happier than he’d seen him in weeks – months, come to think of it. He wondered again what that was about, but decided it was up to Pete to tell him if he wanted to. He wasn’t going to cloud their holiday by raising the subject.

  Mavis held her nerve as they went into the B and B, keeping her fingers crossed that the landlady wouldn’t ask if she and Tommy were married. She needn’t have worried. Mrs Hawkins had clearly decided they were all to be on first-name terms, as that’s how she addressed Stan and Jenny. Mavis had also wondered how her children would react when they saw the sleeping arrangements but all James cared about was that he was sharing with Greg.

  Mrs Hawkins had found a put-you-up to place in one of the single rooms as an extra bed and the boys were fascinated by its mechanism, so the adults left them to it, with plenty of warnings not to stick their fingers in the hinges. Grace was to share with Bobby, in a little room connected to one the main double bedrooms. ‘It must have been a dressing room once,’ said Mrs Hawkins. ‘I don’t like to let it on its own but its fine when there are families.’

  ‘You don’t mind being next to Granny’s room, do you?’ Mavis asked as her mother demonstrated how the dressing room door led in to their room.

  ‘No, and I can look after Bobby,’ Grace said, seemingly delighted to be in charge of him, whilst Mavis quietly slipped Little Ted under her daughter’s pillow, just in case there were bedtime tantrums. A bathroom separated Lily and Pete’s bedroom from the large one allocated to Mavis and Tommy.

  Later, Tommy smiled broadly as he shut the door behind them and flopped with exhaustion on the big double bed. ‘Did you see that? No danger of any sound getting through the walls.’ He patted the candlewick bedspread. ‘Come and join me.’

  Mavis giggled and lay down beside him, propping herself up on one elbow. ‘Look at that view. I can’t believe we’re actually here.’

  ‘I can’t believe I’m actually here with you,’ he said, his big green eyes suddenly serious. He traced the line of her cheek, her jaw, and then kissed her long and hard. ‘That’s better. I’ve been waiting to do that all day, you’ve no idea. You are a temptress, Mavis.’

  ‘We’ve got all this time together,’ Mavis breathed, lying down properly, raising her arms above her head and stretching luxuriantly. ‘This room is lovely. Look at that high ceiling. I’m glad I don’t have to dust the corners.’

  Tommy snorted. ‘Stop thinking about housework. You don’t have to do any all holiday. Your only job is to enjoy yourself.’ He bent over her and brought his face close to hers. ‘Think you can manage that?’

  She gazed up into his eyes and smiled. ‘Oh I think so,’ she said, as she reached to pull him closer still. ‘But why don’t you show me how, just to be sure.’

  Alec Pugh stood at the window of his stamp shop later that day, thankful to see the last of a difficult customer. He knew the man was a serious collector and therefore good for business but he couldn’t bear him. He was big and bluff, wore a loud tweed jacket and spent most of his time commenting on the women who passed by.

  ‘Look at her,’ he’d roar, rubbing his hands. ‘She’d be a handful, wouldn’t she? I’d like to see what she’s made of underneath.’

  Alec had forced himself not to react as he really wanted to, unable to bring himself to join in with light banter. He saw nothing remotely attractive in the curvy figures his customer seemed to prefer, and the very idea of seeing what any of them were like underneath their skimpy sundresses made his stomach turn over. Now he breathed a sigh of relief as the big man disappeared around the corner, having at least bought a selection of very rare stamps. Alec knew he should record the purchases in his ledger in his meticulously neat handwriting, but he allowed himself a minute to take in the view. When he raised his sights above the crowd he could see the big sky and the distant horizon, all a beautiful blue today. He sighed. Despite having to deal with obnoxious creatures like that customer, he’d made the right decision coming here. Battersea seemed a world away.

  His attention was caught by the sight of someone he’d seen only a couple of months ago. He’d tried to obliterate the memory but now it came flooding back, the insult of the man with the pretty woman laughing at his sign. His old neighbour from Battersea days: Stan Bonner and that meddling slut, Jenny. And there she was as well, damn them straight to hell.

  Before he could turn away in deep annoyance, it got worse. There was their horrible little boy, a bit taller now, but still full of irrepressible energy, most likely still making far too much noise. He was carrying a football, which was just typical. He’d be one of those ghastly children who played games on the beach, kicking sand into respectable people’s faces, shrieking as he did so. He’d have expected no better from those parents.

  Then his heart skipped a beat. The boy turned and it looked as if he was shouting to someone. Another boy came into view, younger, hair flapping, shirt untucked, and socks falling down around his ankles. But it wasn’t the untidy clothes that bothered Alec. He stared at the second boy’s face. It couldn’t be. He’d changed, lost his baby roundness, but there was no doubt who it was. There, running along the pavement in Torquay, miles from where he should have been, was his very own son. James.

  Following not far behind ca
me a woman in very tight clothes with bright blonde hair that couldn’t be, and never had been, natural. Alec felt the breath catch in his throat. It was his detested mother-in-law, the scrubber, Lily, and sure enough there was that child she’d had so disgracefully late in life, now running around, holding his little arms up to the man just out of his view, who most probably was the poor fellow who’d been sucked into marriage with the scheming bitch. Alec almost felt sorry for him, but then, it had been the man’s decision to shackle himself to such a vile woman. He shuddered.

  Finally in the small group came a couple, swinging a child of about six between them. For a moment he couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl as the little figure wore bright green shorts and a matching sunhat. Then he caught sight of her profile. Of course. Again a bit older, but there was no doubt that he was looking at his very own daughter, that uncontrollably rude little girl, Grace. Closest to him, holding her hand, was a tall man with very dark hair, good-looking, well set, casually dressed. He was partially obscuring the figure on the far side of the group, but then Grace pulled her forward.

  Alec felt a loud hiss escape his lips and he staggered a little. There was a tightness in his chest as he fixed his gaze on the creature he had come to loathe most in the entire world.

  There, strolling along without a care in the world, a happy smile on her upturned face, the breeze blowing through her dark, wavy hair, was his wife, Mavis.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rhona slumped in the lumpy old armchair beside the empty fireplace in the little living room, wishing she had something to do. She was bored. Now that she wasn’t friends with Penny anymore, she didn’t have anyone to go out with, or anyone to visit. Mavis was away with all the family.

  Jean had asked her if she wanted to come over after work and they could maybe go to the cinema but Rhona had sensed her colleague was just being kind. She knew Jean would be seeing her boyfriend. Rhona had met him a few times as he would come to the factory now and again to see Jean after one of their late shifts. He was nice enough, and Jean was obviously very happy with him, but Rhona couldn’t see him being a bundle of laughs somehow. He was older for a start, in his early thirties, with a steady job and the odds were that he’d soon ask Jean to marry him and then they’d settle down and that would be that. Rhona wondered if she could persuade Jean to come out on her own, maybe to a bar in town, but it didn’t seem very likely she’d accept. It wasn’t her sort of thing.