A Daughter's Disgrace (27 page)

‘Nev, that’s enough now,’ said Frank, leaning in to catch the young man’s arm, but the damage was done. Bill’s mouth hung open as the penny finally dropped.

‘What, you mean Hazel hit you?’ he gasped, just as the conversation at the bar went quiet. ‘Those shiners was from her?’

Nobby lurched forward. ‘What’s this I hear?’ he shouted. ‘You let a woman beat you, Nev? A woman? You didn’t stand up to her and show her who’s boss? You’re a disgrace, you are. You let us all down, all of us here, all your mates. You some kind of pansy or something? What’s wrong with you? You get back and show her tonight. You let her get away with this and there’s no telling what she’ll do next.’

‘Nobby, shut up,’ said Frank bluntly. ‘That’s stupid talk. It’s none of your bloody business. Go home before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.’

‘And you can fuck off an’ all, Mr high and mighty Dalby,’ raged Nobby. ‘You let your missus get away with talking back all the time. I wouldn’t stand for it.’

‘We might be off work premises, Nobby, but one more remark like that and you’re sacked,’ said Frank, staying calm because someone had to. ‘See that door over there? Well, go through it now. Maybe the cold air will sober you up. God knows you need it.’

Nobby flailed around, catching the remains of Frank’s pint and sending it crashing to the floor. ‘I’ll go all right. I can’t stand to be near you bunch of poofs any longer. That’s all of you. All you lot.’ He pointed wildly. ‘I’m off, see if I care. But you, young Nev, you go back and show her who’s boss.’ He staggered to the door, barely managing to keep upright.

‘Drunken old pisshead,’ laughed Dennis as the door blew shut behind him, its brass finger plates flashing. ‘He ain’t been with a woman for years. They won’t go near him and who can blame them? He’s got nothing better to do than insult his friends. Frank, another pint for you, your last one went all over his legs and he didn’t even notice. Marian’s a diamond, don’t let no one say anything different. Three cheers for Mrs Dalby, now.’

Everyone cheered, raising pints and chasers.

Neville leant back against the mirror, his face bright red with humiliation. It didn’t matter that everyone seemed more taken up with the insult to the boss’s wife than the revelation about Hazel beating him. Nobby’s words rang in his ears. ‘Show her who’s boss.’ Even though he was drunker than he’d ever been before, he knew he was ashamed and hurt to the core. He gritted his teeth. ‘Maybe I will,’ he muttered.

‘Is he asleep?’

‘He’s just gone off.’ Alison pulled the door nearly shut and backed carefully out into the corridor. She held David’s bottle in her hand. It had been a big relief to stop feeding him herself, even if she no longer hated the sight of his face. Somehow that emotion had faded, along with her fears of being touched. The confession to Fred and her vow to try to change her attitude had started off the process, and she kept telling herself that it didn’t have to happen all at once. She just had to hang on to the idea that history must not repeat itself. Slowly, bit by bit, everything seemed to be falling into place. She wouldn’t call herself a perfect mother and there were plenty of times she felt like climbing the walls, but Vera assured her plenty of women felt like that even if they didn’t admit it. Her aunt Beryl had been the same and it didn’t mean she loved her children any the less. When it came down to it, they were hard work.

‘Come and sit down and I’ll tell you about my plans for the backyard,’ said Fred, slipping an arm around her waist as they went into the living room. ‘I’ve been looking at it and thinking we don’t need it all for the deliveries and the car. We could divide it so that we had somewhere to sit outside once it gets warm. We could make a playpen for David once he’s old enough.’

Alison turned to face him. ‘Yes! Let’s do that. We could work out which bit is sunniest and have it there. Somewhere far enough from the storerooms so we won’t smell what’s in there.’

‘I thought you didn’t mind that any more?’

‘I don’t,’ said Alison, ‘but other people might. I don’t think Vera’s very keen on it for a start.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Fred. ‘We don’t want to stop her coming round.’

‘It’s funny, I quite miss it,’ Alison admitted. ‘I think I’d like to come back to work. Maybe not full time but if we put David in the back room, he’d be all right. Either of us could go to him if he cried or needed looking after.’

‘Are you sure?’ Fred’s face lit up. ‘I’d love it if you did. I tried that new assistant but she was terrible. She couldn’t add up and kept mixing up the orders. I was glad when she told me she’d got another job. As long as you feel you’re up to it.’

Alison laughed. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not some frail creature who needs wrapping in cotton wool. I’ve had a baby, not a major illness.’ She took his hand and he rested it on his stomach. ‘I like it when we work together. I don’t want to get out of touch with how the business is going. I haven’t seen some of the customers for ages, they must think I’ve left the country. No, I’m keen to start again. Let’s say next week. Then I can go shopping over the next few days and get anything we need.’ She stared at where their hands lay. ‘Fred Chapman, I do believe you’ve lost weight. That waistband looks as if it’s loose.’

Fred nodded. ‘I’ve noticed that myself. I had to use the next hole on my belt. It must be all that walking you make me do.’

‘You enjoy it, don’t complain. You would miss taking David out so everyone can stop to admire him. It’s the highlight of your day.’

‘It is,’ he admitted. ‘Or at least, it’s one of them.’ He cast her a glance. ‘How about an early bed? What do you say?’

Alison smiled at him. ‘I’d say that sounds like a good idea.’ She stood up and held out her arms to him. She couldn’t believe that she’d spent months terrified that Fred would try to touch her but now spent all day longing for him to do so. Here she was, in a beautiful flat, with a healthy baby, and a good man who loved her. Life was finally coming right for her. She sighed with contentment.

Hazel jumped as the street door slammed. She’d just finished the washing-up from her lonely meal, yesterday’s reheated stew. That had better be Neville, home at last. What did he think he was doing, coming in so late? He needn’t think she was going to stand for it, being left on her own, which she hated. There were often strange noises coming from the neighbours and she always imagined burglars creeping across the backyard. He had no business deserting her like this. It was bad enough when he was on lates but at least then she knew what time to expect him back. He had no such excuse now.

‘Is that you, Neville?’ she called.

The kitchen door opened and there he stood, swaying slightly, hanging on to the door frame.

‘God, you’re drunk!’ she said in disgust. ‘Where’ve you been all evening?’ Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘Who’ve you been with? Who was so fascinating that you’d rather be with them than me? Who was worth leaving me here on my own for?’ She paused to take a breath and caught a strong whiff of alcohol. ‘Ugh, that’s revolting. Look at the state of you. Who was it, tell me?’

He said nothing.

‘It was that tart Vera Jewell, wasn’t it? Go on, admit it. You’ve been meeting up with her behind my back again. Answer me, why don’t you? Cat got your tongue? That stopped working as well as everything else?’

Neville stared at her, wondering what he’d ever seen in her. His wife was a monster. She would never forgive him, even for such a small thing as one drink with a friend. She would taunt and torment him every day of his life if he didn’t do something about it. Suddenly it occurred to him that Nobby was right. He’d let her get away with it for too long. His confused mind hung on to what his colleague had said.

‘How could you go out with that scheming bitch?’ she screamed. ‘Don’t you know what everyone says about her? Think you’re special, do you? Is that what she tells you? She says that to everybody. You won’t last long with her. Meanwhile I’m stuck in here, waiting, cooking for you, fool that I am. You don’t deserve it. That’s the last time I do this for you. You’re a drunken, cheating bastard.’ She threw herself across the room and lifted her arm, ready to slap him.

In a flash he grabbed her, twisting her arm behind her back. ‘No you don’t, not this time. You keep your hands off me. You want to know where I was? I was down the pub with my mates, because anything’s better than being back here with you.’

‘Let me go!’ She was wriggling around, trying to get herself free, but he had a strong grip, fuelled by the drink and his determination not to give way this time. She turned her head, trying to scream in his ear. ‘You lying, cheating scum! I hate you!’

Suddenly she broke away, twisting around, ready to hit him, but her heel caught in the rug on the floor. Unable to stop herself she fell, catching the side of her head on the corner of the table. Before he knew what was happening, she was lying motionless on the ground.

Without fully realising what he was doing, he reached across the sink to where the washing-up was draining and grabbed the carving knife. ‘You bitch!’ he shouted. ‘You mean, evil, conniving bitch! I’ll show you who’s boss! There! How do you like that?’ and he plunged the blade into her, again and again, unable to stop the rage pouring out of him.

Beryl thought she was having a nightmare, dreaming that the Lannings were back and they were fighting, screaming insults she didn’t want her children to hear, banging on the wall, crashing over furniture. But then she woke up and realised it wasn’t a dream. Something really was happening on the other side of the bedroom wall. She could just about make out what somebody was screaming, and her blood ran cold. ‘Roy, wake up!’ She shook her husband, who groaned. ‘Roy, something dreadful’s going on next door! Get the police, quick!’

‘What?’ Roy sat up, rubbing his eyes, unsure of what was happening. ‘Are you sure you aren’t imagining it?’

‘Listen! Someone’s shouting “I hate you, I hate you”. That’s not right, Roy. It sounds really bad. Go on, get your shoes and coat on and go for the police. What if they break the wall down and come in here? What about the children? Hurry, get on with it, come on, do it for me and the kids. Hurry up, Roy.’

Still groaning, Roy struggled into his trousers over his pyjamas and dragged on a big jumper before finding his keys. He knew he’d have no peace from Beryl until he did as she asked. And, now he was more awake, he had to admit it sounded like someone was committing murder next door.

Jill Parrot was fast asleep when someone started banging on her front door. She turned over towards Lennie, not wanting to wake up after a hard day. But the banging carried on.

Lennie struggled to sit up, shaking his head. ‘I’ll go. You stay here where it’s warm. God almighty, don’t some people know what time it is?’ he grumbled, making his way to the bedroom door by light of the streetlamp outside.

‘I’ll come with you, it could be anything.’ Jill reached for her faded old dressing gown. Still half-asleep she followed her husband down the steep stairs.

The banging got louder and more frantic as they reached the door.

Jill looked at Lennie. ‘Shall we let them in? They could be crazy, making a din like that.’

‘Stand back and let me handle it,’ said Lennie. He opened the door and they both gasped.

Neville stood there, covered in blood.

‘Oh my God, oh my God.’ Jill went weak with fright. ‘Whatever’s happened? Are you hurt? Come in, come into the kitchen and let me have a look.’ She switched on the hall light and ran to the kitchen to grab something to clean Neville up with. ‘Let’s get you clean and we can see the damage.’

‘What’s happened, son?’ asked Lennie. He didn’t like this one bit. Neville didn’t seem able to talk, he just stared at his father with wild eyes. ‘Let your mother sort you out. Whatever it is it can’t be that bad.’

Neville threw him a desperate glance and started to sob in great gulping heaves.

Jill was shaking as she poured water into a bowl. ‘Let me clean you up a bit. Let’s see where it hurts.’ She reached for a rag. ‘We’ll call the doctor. Lennie, you get dressed and go round to his house.’

‘N-n-n-o,’ Neville managed to say. ‘Too late. Doctor’s no good.’

Jill gazed up at her husband in horror. Was their boy at death’s door?

‘What do you mean?’ Lennie hesitated. He couldn’t work out what was going on here.

Jill helped Neville out of his coat and shirt, washing away what blood she could, and slowly she realised that there was no deep wound on him. That could only mean one thing. ‘Neville,’ she said quietly, trying to keep calm, ‘whose blood is this? It’s not yours, is it?’

Neville sobbed again. ‘It’s Hazel, it’s Hazel. It was an accident but I made it worse. Mum, she’s dead, she’s on the kitchen floor, she’s dead.’

‘No, Neville.’ Jill couldn’t take it in. ‘She can’t be!’ she cried, close to hysteria.

Neville bent double in the chair he was sitting in, rocking to and fro. ‘I stuck the knife in her. I couldn’t take it any more. She’s dead, go and see if you don’t believe me.’

Tears streaming down her face, Jill hugged her son and tried to stop his desperate rocking. ‘Now then, start from the beginning. This doesn’t make sense. We’ll help you. You know we will. But I don’t believe you killed Hazel. You love her, you’re only just married, so that can’t be right.’

Neville let out a howl. ‘I did it, I did it. She was going to hit me, but then she tripped over and fell onto the floor. Then when she was down I got the knife, I couldn’t stand any more of it, I hated her. She was a monster!’

Lennie shifted uneasily. ‘Did this just happen, son? You came straight here?’

Neville nodded. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘You did right.’ Lennie was thinking hard. ‘Listen, we’ve got to get you away before the police get here. You said it was an accident but who knows what they’ll believe. Now that the blood is cleaned up we’ll get you new clothes and then you’ve got to go.’

‘Lennie!’ Jill gasped in terror. ‘He can’t just go off like that, what’ll he do? We have to look after him, he’s our son!’

‘We are looking after him,’ said Lennie grimly. He was the only one thinking straight. ‘Get into some clean clothes and bung some others in a bag. We’ll give you what cash we got here and some food, but then you got to go. There’s no other way. You make for my brother up north, he can get you away, he’s on the trawlers. When it’s all died down we can see what’s best then, but for now you’ve got to scarper. Don’t just sit there! Come on, Neville!’ Lennie yelled in an effort to get through to his son. ‘You don’t want to be here when the rozzers turn up.’

Trembling, Jill forced herself to step away from her boy. ‘Your dad’s right, Neville. Come on, you’d better get going. Give me those bloody clothes, I’ll get rid of them, and you can have some of your old things. I’ll make you up some sandwiches and cut you a bit of cake, that’ll keep you going. Stand up, Neville, come on, don’t just collapse, we don’t have long.’

But Neville couldn’t move. His panic had got him this far but now all his energy was gone. He couldn’t get out of the chair, let alone start planning an escape.

‘Come on, Neville!’ Jill shook him frantically. ‘This is the only way. Come on, shift yourself, think of your future.’

Neville shook his head, clinging to the back of the chair, seemingly unable to move.

‘Gordon Bennett, I’ll carry you if I have to but you got to go.’ Lennie stood in front of him, stern now. ‘Whatever you did, sitting there like this won’t help. Save yourself, boy. Get away up north and wait till we give you the word. It won’t be forever. Come on, up you get …’

But it was too late. Someone else was banging on the door, with authority this time.

Jill, Lennie and Neville’s blood ran cold as they heard the words: ‘Open up. Police.’