by M K Turner
“Dear, dear.” Shaking her head, Bridget pressed him. “But, in your opinion, the ladies of the house were looking for something more exciting than the truth.”
“Probably. Beryl was adamant, she phoned you know, to tell them another one had arrived. Karen spent half an hour in the bedroom window hoping to catch a glimpse. I told her they were making stuff up, but she was having none of it. Told me Beryl had seen the one at tea time, and the later arrival and she was next door so she had a better view. But there were lots of comings and goings that night. The street was full because it was Mr and Mrs Brown’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how come you remember all this in such detail? After all, it was a long time ago, and only a bit of gossip.”
Although it rang true, Margaret couldn’t help wondering if they weren’t listening to the tales of a lonely old man. It was clear that Karen no longer lived there. The house, although clean and tidy, had nothing lying around to indicate a female presence while evidence of Stanley lay on every surface, from his pipe on the side table, to a tin of fishing flies on the mantel.
A grin appeared briefly and Stanley looked away. “It was an important time for us.” The nod that followed told her he thought that was enough.
“Important how?” Leaning to tap his knee, Bridget grinned at him. “Come on, Stanley, I saw that grin.
“With all the excitement, Mother went to Beryl’s after the phone call, then when the police came, she was back down there again. Let’s just say we took advantage of her absence. Gary was born nine months later.” His grin was back.
“How delightful.” Clapping her hands, Bridget laughed. “Well, we’ve taken up enough of your time.” Getting to her feet, she waved her hand to stop him moving. “No. Don’t get up, we’ll see ourselves out, you stay there with your happy memories.”
Ignoring her, Stanley got to his feet and followed them into the hall. “I’ve got nothing but time to remember. I hope that was of some use.”
“Everything is of use, Stanley.” Margaret shook his hand. “It’s simply a case of working out how. Thank you. I . . . Oh, excuse me, my phone.” Dropping her hand, she rummaged in her bag, but the ringing stopped before she found her phone.
Shutting the gate, Bridget, waited while it was retrieved and checked.
“Angie. I’d better give her a ring.” On the walk back to the car, Margaret tried several times to call back, but only got the answer service. “Must be on another call.” She handed Bridget the phone. “Keep hold of it, she might call while I’m driving.”
* * *
Pulling into a layby, Angie raised her eyes at Tipper as she tried to reason with Robin Cooksey.
“Okay, I’ve stopped driving. Sorry, Robin, I don’t understand. I haven’t spoken to your grandfather, so I’m not sure how I could have upset him.”
“I never said you had, I said he was. He doesn’t like to think about that time, it was very difficult for him, and when Mum told him you wanted to speak to him, he became very agitated. He’s old and doesn’t need any crap in his life. So I’m just phoning to tell you that.”
“Well that’s a shame, because we are getting somewhere, but, as I promised your mum, we won’t bother him if he doesn’t want to talk to us.”
“Thank you.” His tone abrasive, Robin sighed. “I doubt we’ll ever know the truth of it.”
“Oh, I believe we will, we are making progress, perhaps when I speak to your mother—”
“No!”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me, I said, no. Seeing Grandad like that upset her. Leave her alone too. Thank you for your interest, but it’s been so long I can’t see the point.”
“What if he was murdered and we can find out who did it?”
There was a silence and Tipper waved his finger to encourage Angie to keep talking.
“Robin, are you still there? I said I believe that your father was killed, perhaps not intentionally, but killed none the less, and we’re close to finding—”
“I heard you, and I doubt it. Even if you did what good would it do? Thank you for your interest, Angie, but put this one back on the shelf, I don’t want my family upset any more than they already have been.”
“But—”
“Goodbye, Angie.”
“Well, in my experience, he’s got something to hide,” Tipper observed.
“But not to do with Henry. He’d only just been conceived.” Starting the engine, Angie took out her phone. “I’d better phone Mum back, she’ll be wondering what I’m playing at.”
It was Bridget who answered. “It’s me, darling, your mother is driving. How did you get on?”
“Well, we’ve found where Henry is buried, but I’ve just had the most bizarre conversation with Robin. What about you?”
“We’re on our way home. Your mother has something, but she wouldn’t tell me until she’s spoken to you. How long will you be? We’re only ten minutes away from yours.”
“Much the same. See you there.”
When they got back to the cottage, all things Henry were put on hold. Lily in his arms, Ryan stepped out to greet Angie and Tipper.
“Any success?” he asked, passing Lily to Angie.
“Yes, but let’s go inside. Why are you two dressed up?”
“My mum phoned, Rachel is going there tomorrow with her kids, and she thought it might be nice if we went too. I told her we would, but you were working, so she invited us to stay the night. I couldn’t say no, is that alright?”
“Of course. Lily will love it. She’s not seen your sister and her cousins for a while. Have you packed?”
“Nana!” Spotting Margaret, Lily was waving frantically, and when Bridget also appeared, she almost jumped out of Angie’s arms.
“Blimey, she’s going to have Nana overload when she sees Mum later. Yes, we’re packed, it’s only one night. But I’d like to get going now, or Mum won’t get to see her before bedtime. We were waiting for you to get back, I did try calling but kept getting the answer machine.”
Angie handed him the car keys. “Yes, sorry I was on a call. Call me when you get there, and I’ll tell you the latest. Now, Frank, go and put the kettle on while I see this little monster off.”
Ten minutes later, Lily waved goodbye to the Bearing women, and they trooped into the cottage. Tipper had made tea, and set it on the kitchen table.
“All ready for the debrief, but I couldn’t find the biscuits,” he joked.
“I can do better than that. Gran bought a fruit cake this morning. Grab some plates.”
Once settled at the table, Angie recounted the call with Robin. “It was most odd. Yesterday he was all smiles, and looking forward to finding out more, and today it’s the total opposite. I think I’ll give Lorna another ring, despite what he said.”
“I think I might know why.”
Everyone looked at Margaret.
Chapter Twenty Nine
As the record moved to the next track, there was a brief silence, and the sound of a cough came from outside. Chelly hurried to the window, watching as Chris stepped up to the door without acknowledging her. Looking across the road, she saw the curtain twitch a brief flash of light in the gloomy dusk, and wondered where he had parked the car. He would usually park immediately outside, but her car was there, and a saloon she’d not seen before was in front of it. The street was full of cars, someone must be having a party. Well lucky them. Drawing the curtains as the front door banged shut, she turned to face him, tightening her robe. What the hell was he doing home?
Instead of coming into the sitting room she heard him hurry upstairs. Walking into the hall she was going to call to him, but heard the flush pull so went back into the sitting room and paced up and down in front of the fire.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Hands on hips, she was aware her gown had fallen open but ignored it.
“I live here. Sit down, we have to talk.” Walking to the radiogram, he lifted
the needle from the record. “No wonder she complains, I could hear that halfway down the road.” Glancing at the window, he added, “It’s busy out there tonight, someone must be having a party.”
“And we didn’t get an invite. How rude. What are you doing here, Chris?”
“How can you ask me that, apart from anything else, I live here? This is my house, my home.”
“Well you can have it all to yourself soon enough.”
“So you keep saying, but yet here you are, spewing your hatred and bile.”
“Well, we know whose fault that is. Why are you here?” Chelly grasped the tear shaped pendant which hung from a long gold chain around her neck, and slid it back and forth along the chain.
“I want to talk to you.” Pointing at the sofa, he instructed, “Sit.”
“Don’t order me around. I’m perfectly happy as I am. Talk about what?”
Slumping onto the sofa, Chris rubbed his hands over his face. “You know damn well what.” His head tilted and he looked at the two glasses on the coffee table. Clenching his teeth as a heat rose from the pit of his belly, he raised his eyes looked at Chelly and then back at the glasses.
Chelly shrugged. “What does that look mean?”
“You’ve had company?” This time his eyes travelled her body. It was clear that she was naked under the robe, the only thing she was wearing was the necklace. “Who is he?”
“Don’t get all dramatic, I’ve got a bit of a headache I was about to go to bed.”
“With whom?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yes. I fucking would!”
Jumping to his feet, he took the stairs two at a time and the bedroom door slammed back against the wall as he flung it open. The bed was neatly made and a damp towel was draped across the dressing table. Picking it up he went to the bathroom and hung it on the rail. Before he went back downstairs, he checked the other bedrooms, all were empty, although he couldn’t bring himself to check under the beds. He went back to Chelly.
Blowing a plume of smoke at him, she shook her head. “So dramatic. Go back to your precious, lovely girl. You’re not wanted or needed here.”
“Not until you explain what you meant earlier.”
“For God’s sake, I was winding you up, drunk. There, that gave you satisfaction didn’t it, me admitting I was drunk.”
Back on the sofa, Chris shook his head. “No. None at all. I loved you, Chelly, really loved you and I didn’t think that would be possible again. I know . . . I know how you feel about Lorna and—”
Chelly flew across the short space that divided them and pointed at him, her nail barely missing his eye.
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you bloody dare mention it. We have never been a happy family, and now it’s impossible. Get out of here, Chris, go back to the little . . .” Seeing the anger in his eyes, and his fists clenched, she didn’t finish the sentence. Stooping, she stubbed out her cigarette and lit another one before walking away to recommence her pacing.
“I will go back, later. First, I want an explanation, and then I want you to pack your things and be gone before I get back.”
Shaking her head, Chelly stared at him. Her bags were already packed, they stood by the dressing table. The dressing table had been cleared, all packed neatly in her overnight bag. When Chris had gone upstairs, he’d noticed none of that. He really couldn’t see what was under his nose. Her eyes glanced towards the study, before she closed them with a sigh. Chris suddenly thumped the table with both fists. One of the glasses fell to the floor, and she jumped. With her hand on her chest, she stared at him in disbelief.
“Tell me what you meant.”
“When?”
“Don’t mess about. When I called you earlier.”
“Which bit?” Her heart started to beat a little faster, she needed to avoid this. Why the hell had she said that?
“About Henry.”
“I was joking.”
Chris got to his feet. “No, you weren’t. What did you say to him?”
Blowing out a plume of smoke, Chelly closed her eyes. He’d misunderstood, he hadn’t realised what she meant.
“Nothing much.”
“Had you been sleeping with him?”
“What?” Chelly’s protest had no effect, her eyes revealed her amusement.
“Had you been, what, what’s the current slang? Fucking, screwing, shagging? DID YOU?” His eyes bulged as he shouted.
“We’re going to do this publicly, are we?” Chelly jabbed her finger at the wall. “Evening, you nosy cow.” She shouted at her neighbour, convinced she’d have her ear pressed onto a glass.
Walking to the radiogram she lowered the needle back onto the record and increased the volume a little. Then lifting the glass which had fallen to the floor, she went to the cabinet and filled it with gin. She took a deep draft and smacked her lips. “Now, where were we?”
“I asked you a question.” Chris had now calmed himself. If Chelly thought they needed music to keep their private lives private, then that suited him.
“But do you really want the answer? You know he was a . . . which word did you prefer, fuck, shag, screw? No matter.” Drinking the remainder of the gin, she covered her mouth as she belched. “Excuse me! Back to the point I suppose.” Wandering back to the cabinet, she topped up the glass, swinging the bottle towards him. “Drink?”
“No, and I’m guessing you’ve had enough. Answer the bloody question.”
“Ah yes, was the big, strong, handsome and very virile, young Henry screwing me? Is that what you want to know? Is it really?”
Swallowing, Chris wondered if he could keep his temper. Their relationship was over, that he had already decided, so why put himself through this hell? When it came down to it, what did it matter? All that really mattered now was protecting Lorna and his grandchild, and that meant getting Chelly to leave before her poisonous ways contaminated their lives too.
“No, forget it.” He got to his feet. “I don’t care anymore, I thought I did, but I don’t. Be gone by Monday.” Turning his back, he stepped towards the door.
“Oh no you don’t. Let me tell you what you’ve driven so far to find out. Yes, he fucked me.” Pointing at the seat Chris had vacated, she laughed. “Right there. To be fair to the boy, that time I took advantage of him. But for a virgin he was remarkable. Some of the best sex I’ve ever had. You know they say size doesn’t matter - well, guess what? It does.”
Chris had stopped walking, and turned slowly. “I don’t care.”
Chelly bristled. He should bloody well care, she’d make him care. “Then we had a hotel room. That was better, more comfortable, more time, more options. Henry was a game lad, he took them all. What one would call a fast learner.” Emptying the gin, she refilled her glass. “Are you sure you won’t join me? No?” She looked at the inch or so of gin left in the bottle, “Probably for the best, this is nearly empty. Now, where was I? Ah yes, shagging the well-endowed, imaginative, young Henry. Then there was the back of my car, so bloody intense, I thought I’d explode.”
Chris could see from her expression that she wasn’t exaggerating for effect. She really was reminiscing, and his fists clenched. Not for his own sake, but for Lorna’s. What had the bitch done, and why? Jealousy? He thought about it for a moment, did it matter? Henry had gone. Lorna would be better off not knowing. If he could get Chelly to leave, they could get on with their lives, there was no going back for any of them. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and a kind of peace came over him.
Back in the real world, Chelly looked at him, her frown deep. “You don’t care?” At first it was a question, then the realisation kicked in. “You really don’t bloody care, do you?”
Chris shook his head. “No. Not any more. What does it matter? You ruined everything. I’ve realised that’s what your problem is . . . has always been. You take something good, but it’s never good enough, so you break it.” Walking to the door, he pulled it open.
“Well all this is broken, we’ll be fine without you. Bye, Chelly.”
“Don’t you dare walk out on me.” Chelly marched to the sofa, her drink slopping on the carpet. “You broke us, you. Not me. You, with your lies and your useless little prick.” Gulping back a sob. “All I wanted was a baby. A family, but you couldn’t give me that, could you? Bastard!” Launching her glass at him, she winced as it hit a picture on the wall and it crashed to the floor.
The record had reached the end, and the arm lifted and went back to the beginning. Chris glanced at it briefly. When he looked back at her, there were tears in his eyes.
“I asked you if you wanted children. You said no. I never lied to you.”
“I said no so you didn’t panic. I said no because I wasn’t sure I did, not with you, not then. You lied. Even if you didn’t say the words, you lied.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve said it a million times, and I truly am sorry. Look Chelly, let’s not part on bad terms. I’ll still give you an allowance, until you sort yourself out, or find someone else. Like you said, at least there won’t be a divorce to get through. I wish you all the best. It hurts me, what you’ve done, but I suppose I understand . . . almost. But we’ve reached the end of the road.”
Pulling his wallet from his back pocket, he took out several notes and placed them on the table. “That will be enough to get you going. I can’t give you more until the bank opens. I’ll transfer the first payment into your account on Monday.” He paused, his eyes locking hers. “Providing you’ve gone.”
“Oh, I’ll be gone. I’ll be long gone.”
“Thank you. It’s for the best. Lorna will . . .”
“Lorna nothing. Lorna, Lorna, Lorna. Why is everyone obsessed with that girl?”
“Because she’s sweet, and kind, and loving. Because she thinks of others before herself, and because she makes the best of the hand she’s been dealt. Because she’s a good person.”
Chelly knew he was not listing Lorna’s virtues, but showing her her own deficiencies. Snatching the glass from the table, she emptied the remaining gin into it, and knocked it back in one. Opening her hand, she let the glass drop onto the table. Surprisingly, it didn’t break, but bounced onto its side and rolled onto the floor intact.