A Daughter's Disgrace (29 page)

Cora’s eyes blazed. ‘I keep telling you I’m fine. I’m telling you again. And I want to be on my own, is that clear? I don’t want help from you or anyone else.’ Cora reared to her feet. ‘Just go will you. I want to be left in peace to grieve for my Hazel.’

Terry waited on the platform for the train from London. He knew Linda didn’t have much to carry after only one night away but with June and the bump, he wanted to be there to meet her. Nervously he chewed on a thumbnail. He’d noticed a black van just outside the station car park, but hadn’t got close enough to check the number plate. Relax, he told himself. There are hundreds of vans like that. He’d heard no more from Vincent over the past couple of days but didn’t fool himself that this meant he was off the hook.

The train pulled in and Linda waved as June ran to meet him. He scooped her up and she laughed in delight. ‘I saw baby David and played with him,’ she said. ‘I helped give him his bottle. Auntie Alison said I was very good at it.’

‘Did you?’ he said, tickling her and making her squeal. ‘So when your little brother or sister arrives, you’ll know exactly what to do.’

Linda raised her eyebrows. ‘We’ll see about that.’

‘How was your mum?’ he asked her.

She shook her head. ‘I’ll tell you later. June had a lovely time, didn’t you, Junie? Saw how a nappy gets changed and everything.’

June wrinkled her nose. ‘I didn’t like that bit.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Terry, setting her down. ‘Here, walk like a big girl. Only big girls can give babies their bottles.’ He lifted the small overnight case and headed out of the station, past the car park.

June pointed. ‘Look, there’s that van.’

Terry’s blood ran cold. ‘What van’s that? There are lots of vans.’

‘That black one. It was outside my old nursery where they all got sick.’

‘You must have made a mistake,’ he laughed, as the van’s engine purred into life.

‘No, it’s the letters,’ June said, skipping along the street. ‘I didn’t tell you I knew them, it’s my secret. But look, it’s A for Alison, F for Fred and D for David, just like baby David. So I remembered, it’s easy.’

It was the same number plate.

The engine purred to life, and trying not to panic, Terry looked round. The van began to move towards them. He tried to see who was behind the wheel. He was pretty sure it was Vincent.

It started to speed up. It was heading straight for them.

Terry threw the case to the ground and shoved Linda and June into the nearest doorway as hard as he could, shouting ‘Sorry, stay there’, but with no time to explain. The van carried on aiming for him. It was only half a block away. He knew he had to draw it away from his wife and daughter but had no time to think of how he could save himself. It was hard to believe that Vincent was prepared to run him over right outside a busy station and yet it seemed that this was exactly what was going to happen. Terry ran, his legs pumping and his heart pounding with fear.

There was a small side road coming up and he darted into it at the last minute, giving the van driver no warning of what he was doing. What Terry knew, and he was banking on Vincent not knowing, was that there was a newly installed massive concrete bollard in the centre of the narrow street, stopping it being used as a rat-run. Everything depended on it being big enough, and solid enough, to stop the speeding van. If it wasn’t then that would be the end of him.

The setting sun was full in Terry’s face, and as the van screeched around the corner, it must have blinded the driver who, unable to see the obstruction ahead, hit the bollard head on. There was a sickening crash, the sound of metal crunching, and Terry froze in his tracks. Heart still pounding, he ran back to look through the windscreen. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel, blood pouring from his face and head where he’d hit the windscreen. But it was the eyes that held Terry. They were open but lifeless, and he knew the man was dead.

Time seemed to stand still but then Terry could hear screaming. To his dismay Linda had followed him and she was staggering towards him, holding her arm. June was cowering behind her, shielded by her mother’s body. ‘I’m hurt, I’m hurt,’ gasped Linda. Terry thought he was going to be sick. But he tried to summon words of comfort. ‘There, you’re going to be fine. Junie’s all right, aren’t you? She’s safe behind you.’

‘I didn’t know what was happening … why you pushed me into the doorway … I wanted to see where you’d gone … and that van clipped me.’ Linda was having trouble speaking. ‘I nearly fell, I banged my head on something. Maybe a wall. My arm … I can’t feel it properly. Oh God, what about June, I didn’t realise she’d come after me …’

Terry kept on talking, trying to calm them down, trying not to think of what might have happened. That van really had been out to kill him. If it hadn’t been for the way the sun was setting …

Gradually he was aware that people had come out of the houses that surrounded the station. Somebody must have called for help as finally ambulances arrived. Linda was escorted into one of them, tearful now, worried about her husband and daughter. ‘We’re fine,’ Terry assured her. ‘You caught the worst of it. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.’

‘Not your fault,’ she whispered.

But Terry knew that it was.

Linda was kept in overnight and when Terry went in the next day, the doctor took him to one side. ‘We want to keep her in,’ he said. ‘The arm will heal as long as she takes care of it but her blood pressure is very high. That’s not good in her condition. Has she been under stress lately?’

‘Her sister just died,’ Terry said shortly. He couldn’t face explaining the full circumstances of Hazel’s death. ‘So there’s that and she’s worried about how her mum’s taking it.’ He still didn’t know exactly what had happened in Battersea but he’d seen enough from Linda’s expression when she got off the train to understand that it must have been an ordeal.

‘That might be it, then.’ The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘We’ll have to see, take it day by day. She’s better off staying here for the time being. You can visit her for a few minutes but don’t tire her out.’

Terry felt a lump in his throat. Here was his wife, coping with the murder of her sister, her mother’s collapse, and a pregnancy, and he’d put her in danger from a criminal who’d tried to kill them all. What had he been thinking of? He carefully made his way to her bed on the ward and drew back one of the curtains around it. She looked up at him, her dark hair spread out on the pillow, and smiled weakly. It was the loveliest smile in the world.

‘I won’t stay long,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘Just checking you’re all right.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m sure the doctor told you it’s just a bit of blood pressure.’

‘Yes, he did and they want you to rest.’

‘Terry, what happened? Why was that van trying to run us down?’

‘Don’t be daft, love. Of course it wasn’t,’ Terry lied. ‘The brakes failed and the poor sod of a driver couldn’t stop.’

Linda managed a smile. ‘The brakes. I should have realised. I’ve got too much of a vivid imagination, that’s the trouble. Terry, I want to come home.’

‘You can’t, not at the moment. You’ve had a bit of a shock and they want to keep you in until your blood pressure comes down.’

He squeezed her hand as he told the lie. ‘You have a proper rest and June and me’ll look after the house for you. She’s in charge.’ He tried to raise a smile.

‘I was worried about Mum,’ Linda whispered. ‘I asked her to come down here for a bit but she wouldn’t. Just as well. I couldn’t have her now, if I’m stuck in here.’

Terry closed his eyes for a moment. That had been a narrow escape. He realised he was safe now; it had been reported that Vincent had died in the crash and he was the only one who knew Terry’s name or what his family looked like. There was no need to worry any more.

‘She’s not on her own,’ he said. ‘Alison’s there, she’ll keep an eye on her. You concentrate on getting better. Keep that baby safe. I love you very much, you know.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I just want you to be all right. You’re my world, you are.’

‘I know. And you’re mine.’ Her voice was very quiet and he could tell she was about to fall asleep.

‘See you tomorrow.’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead and backed away from the bed, faint with guilt and relief.

Alison fell into a routine over the following weeks of working in the shop for most of the day, with David in the back room where she or Fred could go to him if he needed anything. In the afternoon she would go round to her mother, taking her something to eat, but it was always a struggle to persuade her to open the door. She was more likely to shout ‘Leave me alone’ through the letterbox. On the occasions when she did manage to set foot inside the house, Alison was horrified to find that her mother had completely let things go. The once-immaculate front room was a shambles, with dust gathering, bits of clothing strewn over the furniture, and mouldy cups left on the side table or shelves.

It didn’t help that they couldn’t hold Hazel’s funeral until the post-mortem had been completed and then they had to wait for all the paperwork to be sorted out before the body could be released. Cora was totally incapable of making any decisions, and Linda was still in hospital, too ill with her high blood pressure to be asked what she thought should happen. So it fell to Alison and Fred to arrange everything. Of course Hazel had never said what she wanted for such an occasion, and Alison felt out of her depth trying to imagine what her sister might have approved of. Fred decided it would be best to play it safe and be very traditional. They didn’t feel anyone would be able to face the funeral in the same church where Hazel had married Neville, so with much sadness they opted for a service at a different one.

When the sad day arrived, it was a sombre procession to the church and, unlike Hazel’s wedding, there were no bright flowers decorating the pews this time – just the spray of white lilies on top of Hazel’s coffin. It wasn’t a huge gathering, just some of Hazel’s friends and her workmates from the café, along with a few market traders who had known her.

Alison fought back tears. She had suffered at Hazel’s hand, but now that her sister had gone, all she could feel was grief.

Cora had closed in on herself. She felt distant, barely aware of being in the church or of the service, but when the curtain closed around Hazel’s coffin to take her for cremation, her feelings returned. She felt a well of anguish rising. Sobs racked her body, and though she felt Alison trying to take her hand, she wrenched it away. Fred put an arm around her shoulder and gently urged her to her feet before leading her outside the church. He led her over to where the flowers lay, but she didn’t want to look at them or read the accompanying cards with condolence messages. She just wanted to go home – to be left alone to grieve.

‘Fred, I want to go home,’ she said, her voice strangled.

Thankfully, he led her to the black limousine, and as he held the door for her, she was aware of Alison getting in behind her. She didn’t want Alison. She wanted Hazel and closed her eyes rather than look at her youngest child.

When they arrived at her house, Cora refused any offers of company, adamant that she would be better off on her own. With a gathering of Hazel’s friends due at the flat for tea and sandwiches, Alison had to let her have her way, but she was far from happy about it.

The only good thing to happen was that the results of the post-mortem came out. It was highly likely that Hazel had not been killed by the knife wounds but had died instantly from a blow to the head. Neville had been overcome with remorse during his imprisonment but still couldn’t remember what had happened that night. He was distraught at Hazel’s death, and wasn’t interested if he himself lived or died. He didn’t care that he wasn’t going to be sentenced to be hanged for murder, and would be facing a lesser charge. For Alison and Vera, though, this was a relief. He’d done an unspeakable thing in causing his wife’s death, but they also knew what Hazel was like, and how she could make someone’s life hell. However, Cora, when she said anything about it at all, still referred to him as ‘that murderer’.

At least that meant Cora was drinking something, Alison thought one afternoon in early June as she collected the latest batch of mouldy cups and washed them in boiling water. There was a funny smell in the kitchen and she traced it to some beef that had gone off. It was worse than offal, she decided, as she gingerly threw it into the rubbish and set the bin outside. She glanced around the small yard, only to find her mother hadn’t put the rubbish into the alley for collection and it too was stinking in the tiny backyard. Grimly she tidied up some of it that had spilt, trying not to think about rats, and counted on her fingers what day it was. Tomorrow was bin day so at least she could get rid of this lot. ‘Mum, you have to bring the dustbin in tomorrow,’ she called. ‘Promise me you will.’

Cora grunted in what sounded like reluctant agreement.

But the next afternoon when Alison went round, Cora had forgotten or hadn’t bothered. There was also an unpleasant smell coming from upstairs.

‘Here, where do you think you’re going?’ Cora protested as Alison ran into her bedroom.

‘Mum! You haven’t washed your clothes, have you? There’s a big pile here.’

Cora set her face. ‘So what? There’s no one to see except you, and you don’t count. Mind your own business, this is my home and I’ll do what I want.’

Pulling a face, Alison gathered the dirty clothes into a bag and carried them downstairs. ‘I’ll do them. Fred’s got me a new washing machine.’

‘Of course he has.’ Cora looked at her daughter with disgust. ‘Got everything, you have. God forbid you have to work at anything.’

Alison bit her lip, not replying that she’d been on her feet in the shop since half past seven. She remembered how, even when they were at their poorest, her mother had never sent them out in dirty clothes. She’d taken in washing for years and would have been ashamed to send her daughters out in anything but the cleanest things, even if they were hand-me-downs and patched and worn.

‘He’s put up a new clothesline for me in the backyard as well. We’ve rearranged it to give us somewhere to sit out and for David to play, now summer’s almost here. You’ll have to come round and see it.’ Alison thought that might do the trick – she might want to visit her grandson.

Cora wasn’t interested. ‘Very nice, I’m sure. Now you’ll want to be getting back to them, I dare say. Don’t let me keep you.’ She practically bundled Alison out of the door.

Fred was pacing around the kitchen when she got back, with David crying on his shoulder. ‘He just started when we came up,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him but he doesn’t need changing or feeding.’

‘Here, let me.’ Alison reached out for the little boy. It was strange how natural this felt now. ‘Maybe he just wants a good cry. I know how he feels.’ She rocked him up and down and he snuffled against her hair. ‘Honestly, Mum’s getting worse, not better.’

‘Ah, well.’ Fred looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t want to make things even worse but I had better tell you. Just after you left, her boss came in. He’s not very happy.’

‘What did he want?’ Alison felt a sense of dread.

‘He wanted you or me to take a message to Cora. He doesn’t want to go round there himself. She hasn’t been to work since … since Hazel died, so he’s given her the sack.’

‘Oh no.’ If she was honest Alison knew this was coming but she’d hoped her mother would get better and go back to the job she’d enjoyed so much. ‘Then how will she pay the rent? She hasn’t got any savings. Did you ask him to think again?’

‘Of course,’ said Fred. ‘But as a business owner I have to say he’s got a point. He’s had to take on someone new. Your mum won’t like it.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Beryl. Winnie Jewell’s sister. She jumped at the chance apparently. She’s moved to a new flat after all the trouble first with the Lannings and then with Hazel and Neville, and it’s even closer to the newsagent’s. Her new neighbour will take her children to school and she’ll be finished in time to pick them up. She’s already started and the paperboys love her.’

Alison groaned. ‘I’ll talk to Mum again when I take her laundry back, but a fat lot of good it’ll do. She’s in no state to get herself another job. Oh, now, now, don’t start crying again.’ She began to walk around, trying to comfort the baby. ‘He’s usually so good. I hope he’s not going to start doing this a lot. What’ll we do in the shop?’

Fred went over and gave them both a hug. ‘It’ll pass. We’ll worry about that if we need to. Got enough on our plates at the moment as it is.’

‘I suppose you’re right.’ Yet she knew David wouldn’t stay quietly in the back room for much longer. They’d have to come up with something soon. For the moment, though, Fred was right – they had enough on their plates.

It took Alison quite a while to persuade Cora to open the door the next day, even though she had the bag of clean laundry with her. Alison tried to reason with her mother through the letterbox, aware that several of the neighbours were watching from behind their curtains. Just what Cora wouldn’t want. ‘Open up, Mum, they’re all looking and you’ll get a reputation,’ Alison called, crouching down to call through the slit. That worked. There was the sound of a key turning and Cora stood there, her expression stony. ‘Come on then, don’t just stoop there.’

Alison followed her in, dragging the heavy bag. ‘Here you are, all fresh and ironed. What’s this?’ She almost tripped over a pile of paper, pushed to the side of the door. ‘Oh, Mum, it’s your post. You haven’t been opening it, have you?’

Cora threw her a look. ‘Why would I? Nobody’s got anything good to say.’ She turned her back and went through to the kitchen.

Alison flicked through the envelopes, opening them and growing more anxious as she did so. ‘Lots are letters of condolence, Mum.’

‘I don’t want them.’

‘Well, I’ll keep them in case you do later. Hang on, what’s this?’ She reread the final letter. ‘Oh Mum. Looks like you’ve got behind with your rent.’

‘What if I have?’

‘But this isn’t the first letter from the landlord. What did you do with that? Did you read it?’

Cora stood in the kitchen doorway and shrugged. ‘Can’t remember. I might have burnt it.’

‘Mum! This is serious. You’ll get evicted.’ Alison did her best to stop her voice from rising. ‘You’ve got, let’s see, three days to pay the back rent or you’re out. Mum! Listen to me.’ Cora had wandered into the kitchen. ‘You haven’t got the money, have you? And you won’t be getting any in, because you haven’t been going to work. Mum, look at me. You haven’t got a job any more. Your boss came round and told Fred he’s had to take on somebody else.’

For a moment Cora showed a spark of interest. ‘Who?’

‘Beryl, Winnie’s sister.’

‘Oh, her.’ Cora turned away again. ‘Good luck to her. She’ll need it. People coming by and pestering you all the time. Winnie will be pleased. That bloody family.’

‘Steady on, Mum,’ Alison protested. ‘Vera’s my friend.’

‘Might have known it.’ Cora sounded triumphant. ‘A right pair you make. Well, you’ve said your piece. Time for you to go.’

Alison couldn’t keep the despair from her voice. ‘Mum, haven’t you been listening? You’re going to be evicted and you haven’t got a job to pay any rent. What are you going to do?’

Cora shrugged again. ‘Sleep on the street. What does it matter?’

‘But you love this house. We’ve lived here for as long as I can remember. You said it made you feel closer to Hazel. Linda told me.’

‘Well, I was wrong,’ said Cora. ‘That was just after she died, but I don’t feel like that now. I might have been a bit crazy then. I know she’s not here any more, God love her. Not here nor anywhere else. So it doesn’t matter where I go. Anyway, what’s going on with Linda? She ain’t been round for ages.’

‘Mum, you know she’s in hospital,’ Alison sighed. ‘I told you. She’s got high blood pressure and they’re worried she’ll lose the baby. So she’s there until it comes down again, or the baby’s born. You know that already.’ She didn’t mention the car crash. Terry had rung to tell them what had happened but asked them to keep quiet about the accident as there was no point in upsetting Cora any further.

‘So she is.’ Cora lost interest in that as well. ‘Right, time you were off. There’s nothing you can do here.’

Alison cried all the way back to Falcon Road and had to pretend it was hay fever when an old neighbour stopped her. When she got back home, Fred rushed to her as soon as he saw how distraught she was. He held her hand as she gulped out what had happened in the little house which had been the only home she’d known as a child. ‘And the worst thing is, Mum doesn’t seem to care, not about anything. Not losing her job, the house, Linda being ill, nothing. I don’t know what to do.’

Fred rubbed his forehead. He’d never come across anything like it. It was so far from the Cora he knew, the proud fighter with a scathing tongue, and before that the young woman full of hope and life, yet was it surprising when she’d lost a daughter? ‘Do you think …’ he began, but then a wail came from the back bedroom. ‘Sorry, love, he’s been like this more or less since you left. I thought he’d gone quiet at last but there he is again.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Alison, glad that at least here was somebody she could do something for.

‘As soon as I finish up and close the shop, we’ll take him for a walk,’ Fred suggested. ‘We can have our dinner after that.’

‘Yes, all right,’ Alison agreed as she hurried to see to David, lifting him tenderly into her arms. To think she had once rejected him. It didn’t seem possible when she loved him so much now.

At least if she kept going all day she fell asleep easily. She dreaded lying awake with all the worries flying around her head.

As soon as Fred closed the shop, David was tucked into the big Silver Cross pram and they set off along Falcon Road. Slowly the trundling along did its work and David grew quiet, leaving Fred to start putting his thoughts into words. ‘I was just wondering,’ he said. ‘Maybe it would help if your mum felt needed. She’s sat there all day, doing nothing, and now someone else is even doing her job at the shop. It’s not like her to give up. She could have done that when Jack died but she didn’t, because she had you three to look after.’

Alison stopped for a moment. ‘Yes, I can see that, yet she always said that she wished I hadn’t come along, but maybe I was good for something, after all. Funny, isn’t it?’ Before Fred could comment David let out another yell. ‘Oh no, do you suppose he’s teething? But isn’t it too soon?’