A Daughter's Disgrace (7 page)

Paul grandly opened the door for her. ‘Do you bring sandwiches in for lunch?’ he asked casually.

‘No,’ she said, ‘I usually eat with Fr … Mr Chapman. We’ve got chicken casserole today.’

‘Pity,’ he said.

But when she turned to ask him what he meant, he’d already shut the door.

For the second time that day she stood under the awning not understanding what was going on. She was annoyed that she was at a disadvantage, having had so little experience with men. Then she gave herself a shake. Whatever was going on, she decided she’d enjoy it for all it was worth.

Jill Parrot sat at her kitchen table, several sheets of paper in front of her. There was nothing she liked better than a project to organise. They had about six and a half months to plan the wedding and she couldn’t wait to get started. With Cora, Hazel and Neville working full time and beyond, she was the best person to step in.

She made several headings: Guests, Venue, Catering. Then she divided the remaining space into six columns, one for each month. How long would it take to decide on a venue and how much notice did they need? She wrote a target date in pencil. When it had been confirmed she would write over it in pen. Maybe she should colour-code it according to who was going to do what. Should she assume that it would be at the local church and then they could use the hall? She’d better check. Neither she nor her husband Lennie had any special ties to the parish, and her children would only go to church if it was Christmas, Easter or a special event. Cora was born and bred here, though, and might have strong views.

Jill didn’t mind as long as the young couple had a good day and a proper celebration to start their life together. She smiled as she remembered her own wedding day – how happy she’d been. Neville had come along a year later and Kathy not long after that. Neville was a hard worker, she’d give him that, and such a good-looking lad. Kathy was the brains of the family; she’d got herself a job in an office and was planning to work for the civil service. Jill hoped her daughter wouldn’t put everything into her career and delay having a family of her own. It wasn’t that she objected to women working – she just didn’t want the girl to miss out. Office jobs were all very well but she couldn’t see how that would match the satisfaction of keeping a house, even a small one, and raising children.

Sighing, she thought of her youngest. Richie at fourteen was rock-and-roll mad. He drove them all crazy by playing his records at top volume, which meant they could be heard in every room and probably through the neighbouring walls too. There would be trouble with that one day. And the music was terrible, not what she thought of as music at all. She could only hope he’d grow out of it soon.

Well, she wasn’t going to let that spoil her plans. Gathering her pieces of paper together she decided the next thing would be to go through her lists with Hazel, Neville and Cora. Then she would really get to work. This was going to be an unforgettable day.

‘Kenny, you are going to lose your money, mate.’ Paul grinned wolfishly at his friend as they stood at the bar early that evening waiting to be served. They didn’t usually come to the pub on a Monday but Paul had had enough of the filthy flat. After a weekend of heavy losses his father was in a worse state than ever and was liable to fly into a violent rage at the least thing. Paul intended to put off going home for several hours by which time the old bugger would be asleep or in a drunken stupor – he didn’t care which.

‘You sound pretty sure of yourself.’ Kenny was convinced Paul was all mouth and no trousers when it came down to it. He’d been friends with him since they were at school and had never known him to have a proper girlfriend. It wasn’t for lack of trying but there was something about Paul when you got to know him that seemed to put the girls off. Maybe it was down to his mum dying when she had. He didn’t seem to know what to do with a girl beyond flirting – which, Kenny had to admit, he was quite good at. ‘So how is the ugly bird, then?’

‘She’s like putty in my hands,’ Paul said, signalling to the barman for two pints. ‘I don’t even have to try. She’s after me all the time. If I could only get rid of my boss for a bit I could have her against the storeroom door.’ He paused at the thought. That would be perfect – it would be dark enough not to have to look at her face and then every time he was sent to the storeroom he could remember what he’d done. He almost spilt the drinks at the idea.

‘You filthy sod.’ Kenny raised his glass. ‘To you getting the sack. Because you will. You said yourself that your boss never lets you alone for a minute, and a minute wouldn’t be long enough even for you, mate.’

‘Shut up,’ said Paul easily. ‘I’ll think of something. She ain’t worth losing a job over. I’m not prepared to go short of cash for her. But I won’t have to. She’ll follow me wherever I ask her. So maybe the storeroom will have to wait.’

‘And who said romance was dead,’ Kenny sniggered. He didn’t want Paul to lose his job – that would put the kibosh on their nights down the pub, which were more important than any stupid girl. ‘I’ll want a full report, mind. You seen what’s under her coat yet?’

‘Mind your own business.’ Paul had been certain he could have got beneath her horrible mac earlier in the day if his boss hadn’t called him. She’d been trembling in front of him. What a pushover.

‘That’s a no, then,’ said Kenny triumphantly. ‘Never mind, spring is round the corner. Be able to get a good look then, won’t you? All those lovely girls taking off their winter gear and going round in tight jumpers. Maybe the ugly bird will be one of those. Reckon she’ll wear one of those low V-necks? You can see everything that’s on offer with one of those. We said end of March, didn’t we?’

‘I won’t even need that,’ said Paul confidently. He didn’t intend to wait much longer. If she was as keen as she seemed he wanted to take full advantage of it.

‘Are you coming down the pub, Nev?’

Neville was so tired he was swaying on his feet. It was eight o’clock and after working all weekend, he’d just done more overtime. Now all he wanted to do was to get home, eat his dinner and then collapse into bed.

‘No, not this time,’ he said. ‘Mum always does a stew on Mondays and she’ll be keeping it warm for me.’

‘Seeing the lovely Hazel after, are we?’ asked Bill. ‘Maybe taking her down the Granada?’

‘Nah, staying in,’ said Neville, smiling weakly. They hadn’t been to the cinema for weeks. He knew he had to keep saving to come anywhere close to meeting Hazel’s high hopes.

‘Time enough for staying in when you’ve settled down,’ Bill teased him. ‘You know what they say, all work and no play …’

‘Makes Neville under the thumb already,’ Nobby cut in.

‘Leave it out, Nobby,’ said Neville, irritated. ‘It’s Monday night for God’s sake.’

‘Yes but when was the last time you came down the pub on a Friday?’ Nobby asked. ‘See what I mean? Dull boy, Neville. Don’t you go letting them women tell you what to do. Once they realise they can get away with that, there’s no stopping them. You have to be firm from the beginning. Show them who’s boss.’

As if you’d know, thought Neville. The only women Nobby went near were on the pages of the smutty magazines he kept in his locker. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, lads,’ he said. ‘But I don’t miss Mum’s stew for nothing. If you can’t keep your mum happy then what’s the point?’

‘True,’ said Bill. ‘Off you go, then. But maybe come with us on Friday or you’ll never hear the end of it.’

‘Good idea,’ said Neville, and headed for the factory gates. He missed going down the pub with his mates. It wouldn’t hurt to join them at the end of the week. He never said he would give them up completely and he was sure Hazel wouldn’t begrudge him one night off. All she wanted was for him to be happy.

Over a week had passed, and on Tuesday morning Cora pondered Jill’s ideas as she sat behind the newsagent’s counter. She’d been impressed by the level of planning her neighbour had suggested and was almost reassured they could afford it all. As long as everyone kept their jobs and nobody did anything stupid they should be all right and Hazel could have her big day almost exactly as she wanted it – although the wedding dress would have to be home-made. Jill turned out to be good at dressmaking as well, for which Cora was grateful. She could do it if she had to but her hands were so stiff and painful, any kind of sewing soon became agony. Jill had a Singer sewing machine. So that was sorted out.

Cora had volunteered to have a word with the local vicar as she knew him best. Hazel had been christened at his church but wasn’t exactly a regular member of the congregation, especially as Sunday was now her only day off. Cora went every now and again, more for the social side than anything else; it was a sure way of seeing people who didn’t come to the shop. As long as it wasn’t too cold and wet everyone would gather in the churchyard after the service, exchanging small talk, and Cora often picked up snippets that were invaluable. Thanks to one overheard conversation, she already had a good idea of what the going rate for the church hall was, and didn’t intend to be overcharged when the time came.

She looked up as Winnie Jewell came in. ‘Morning, Winnie.’

‘Morning, Cora.’ Winnie didn’t look like her usual chipper self. Cora didn’t have to wait long to find out why. ‘I’m flippin’ well worn out, I am.’

‘Why, Winnie, whatever’s the matter?’ Cora was keen to know the reason. The entertainment from all the local gossip was one of the main reasons she enjoyed her job. ‘Would you like me to make you a nice cup of tea as it’s quiet?’

‘Would you, Cora?’ Winnie brightened a little. ‘I won’t say no. I’m glad to be out of the house.’

Cora kept a kettle, some mugs and milk in a cooler in a corner behind the counter and she soon had a hot drink ready. ‘You take your time, Winnie, and tell me all about it.’

‘It’s my poor sister.’ Winnie blew on her tea. ‘You know she’s having a dreadful time with the neighbours. It’s got much worse. This weekend they were all fighting and she could hear everything through the wall. The old man was drunk and swearing something dreadful, and our Beryl has young kids. Well, they could hear the lot. They’ve started using some of those words and they got in trouble at school for it. Beryl’s at the end of her tether. Also, she thinks they’ve damaged the wall throwing things at it. Sounded as if the father was trying to kill one of the boys. All over a racehorse. I don’t know what to advise.’

‘All you can do is listen, Winnie.’ Cora hoped there would be more. This was payback time for Winnie’s snobby remarks about her bloody Vera working at Arding and Hobbs.

‘Beryl would like to stay at my house, but I just haven’t got the room. All we can hope for is that her neighbours will quieten down. If they don’t, she’ll just have to report them to the landlord.’

‘That’s what I’d do,’ said Cora. Thank God her neighbours weren’t anything like as bad. She knew young Richie over the road played his music very loud but it never went on late. She could always go over and have a word with Jill about it if she needed to. She wouldn’t get sworn at if she did, either – she’d never heard Neville or any of his family be rude or coarse.

‘They were at our place until the kids’ bedtime on Sunday night,’ Winnie went on. ‘I fed them and everything – Beryl’s not happy using her kitchen what with the worry about the rats. It’s enough to shred your nerves. I don’t know what Vera’s colleagues will say if they get to hear about it.’

‘I’m sure they won’t, Winnie. Anyway, it’s not your kitchen that’s got rats. If you ask me, it’s good of you to do so much for your sister.’

‘You’ve got to look after your family, that’s what I always say,’ Winnie said as she drained the last of her tea and asked to buy ten Woodbines. ‘That was a lovely cuppa and it was good of you to make it for me, Cora. You must be bored to tears with hearing about my sister’s problems with the Lanning family.’

‘Think nothing of it, Winnie,’ said Cora, smiling as she completed the sale, at the thought of this nice bit of gossip that she could pass on.

Alison tried to time her arrival at work to coincide with Paul putting up the awning but she was disappointed. As she drew closer to the row of shops she could see the old man, Paul’s boss, arranging the last of the boxes outside. He nodded briefly but didn’t look as if he was in the mood for conversation.

‘What’s up with him?’ she asked Fred as she hung up her coat. ‘Looks as if he got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning.’

Fred was weighing out some mince. ‘He said his assistant is off sick today so he’ll have to do all the lifting himself, and he’s not really up to it any more. Takes its toll after a while when you’re his age.’ He didn’t sound very interested and so Alison didn’t ask if he knew how sick Paul was. ‘Here, take this and put it out the back in one of the fridges. There’s room on the bottom shelf.’

Alison took the tray of mince, wondering if Paul was really sick or if he’d just fancied a day off. She wouldn’t put it past him to fake it, as she knew he got bored standing around in the ironmonger’s with just the old man for company. I must find a way of going in there and seeing him more often, she thought. She began to daydream about how much he’d enjoy her company, and what they might talk about. Would he like to know about Hazel and her plans for the wedding? No, maybe that would put him off. She didn’t want to jump the gun. He’d probably think she was reading too much into their few encounters. But all the same she’d like to know more about him, about his family, what he did when he wasn’t at work.

‘Alison, are you back there?’ called Fred. ‘I could do with a hand out here.’

Shaking herself out of her fantasy, she realised she’d been standing by the back door for ages, imagining how things would be the next time she saw Paul. Well, it didn’t look as if it was going to be today. She’d have to put those hopes on hold. It didn’t hurt to daydream though.

Hazel had been rushed off her feet in the café all morning. They were one person short and the result was she hadn’t sat down since the start of her shift. At least she’d had an early night last night and so had plenty of energy. That was one good thing with Neville doing so much overtime and not taking her out as often – she didn’t stay out late and wake up feeling as if she’d already done a day’s work. She told herself she should be glad about that but couldn’t help the resentment at having to stay in with her mother and sister every evening. It was enough to make anyone depressed – her mother’s constant whinging and Alison’s long face staring into space for hours on end. Roll on the day when she and Neville had their own place and didn’t have to put up with her family any longer.

‘All right, Hazel? How are the wedding plans?’

It was Joe Philpott from the market. He headed for the corner table which had a big padded bench down one side. He was so big he found it hard to sit on the usual chairs and his long legs barely fitted under the table.

‘Coming along fine, thanks,’ she smiled. She reached in her apron pocket for her notepad and pencil. ‘What’ll it be today, Joe?’

‘I was going to have just a cup of tea,’ he said, ‘but now I’m here and there are all those lovely kitchen smells I think I’ll have a bacon sandwich as well.’ His mouth watered at the thought of it.

‘Cup of tea and a bacon sandwich coming right up.’ She wrote the order on her pad.

‘Still not bought you a ring, then?’ he said, glancing at her left hand.

Hazel tried not to show how irritated she was. ‘We’ve been too busy to go and look for one. Nev’s working every shift he can and the only day off I get is Sunday. By the time I’m finished here every day I’m too spent to go trailing round the shops and Nev would still be at the factory anyway.’ For a moment she felt sorry for herself. Then she straightened her shoulders. ‘Still, it’ll be worth it.’ Who needs a ring anyway, she thought as she made her way back to the kitchen. It’d be nice but I’d rather have the big wedding.

The kitchen always made a point of serving local customers quickly, knowing they usually could only spare a few minutes to take a break, so Joe’s sandwich was ready almost at once. Hazel took it over with a big mug of tea. ‘There you are, Joe. Extra large to keep you going out there. Is it busy today?’

‘Not bad for a weekday,’ he said, squirting ketchup over the bacon. ‘This is exactly what the doctor ordered. My compliments to the chef. So, Hazel, you thought any more about bridesmaid’s dresses?’

Hazel brightened. ‘Yes, Neville’s mother is going to help out. So we’re going to have our sisters in full-length dresses, and our Linda’s little girl is going to have some of the material to make up a waistcoat to match.’

‘Chosen your colours?’

Hazel nodded. ‘Blue or green. I’d like pale colours best.’

‘You stop by the stall after your shift and I’ll show you something I reckon you’ll like,’ said Joe. ‘We’ve got some gorgeous taffeta in, lots of shades, and not too dear. If you’re buying for all those frocks I can do you a discount.’

‘Would you, Joe?’ Hazel gave him a huge grin and flicked her hair over her shoulder. ‘You’re a star. Tell you what, I’ll nip back to Ennis Street and get Nev’s mum. She knows all about dressmaking and she’ll know what will suit the pattern. You’ll like her.’

‘See you later then.’ Joe raised his mug and Hazel hurried off to the next customer. She’d forgive Joe for going on about the ring if she could get some decent material at a knockdown rate. That would mean her own dress could be even more special.

Linda had had a couple of days to get used to the idea of Terry bringing home boxes to store by the time the first lot arrived. There weren’t many, and if she hadn’t known what he was planning to do then she might have missed them altogether. He arrived home later than usual, when it was already dark, and went at once to open the garden shed. Only a couple of minutes later he was coming through the back door, a big grin on his face.

‘Piece of cake,’ he said, kissing her. ‘You’ll hardly know they’re there and they’ll be gone before the end of the week.’

‘You make sure they are,’ said Linda. She still wasn’t happy about it. ‘I don’t want June or her friends going in there and finding them.’

‘You don’t let them, do you?’ Terry hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t asked many questions but some of the boxes sounded as if they contained glass bottles. His guess was they were brandy. He didn’t want his daughter getting her hands on them.

‘I don’t but you never know what can happen.’ Linda was if anything over-protective of her little girl but even she didn’t have eyes in the back of her head. Terry didn’t know what it was like to try to run a house and look after a lively three-year-old at the same time. ‘They go outside to play and there’s no knowing what they’ll do. They’ve gone in there sometimes before I caught them and brought them out. I tell them not to and they aren’t being naughty, they just forget. It’s bad enough that there are sharp tools in there, but now if there are boxes …’

‘I’ll fit a new lock on it at the weekend,’ said Terry hastily. He kicked himself, realising he should have thought of this before. If anything went wrong there would be very unpleasant consequences. His contact had made that abundantly clear.

‘Good idea,’ said Linda, but she thought that her husband’s boast of them hardly knowing the boxes were there was already untrue. Now she’d be worrying that there was something in there that would harm her daughter. ‘In the meantime I’ll keep her out of the garden. Maybe she can go and play at her friends’ rather than them coming here for a few days.’ Then she bit her lip. It sounded like she begrudged having June’s friends round. She didn’t – she just didn’t want any of them asking questions, seeing something they shouldn’t or, worse, getting hurt.

Terry noticed she’d gone quiet. ‘Chin up,’ he said. ‘Remember why we’re doing this. It’s for our family. We’ll get that big house and fill it.’ His eyes sparkled. ‘Shall we make a start tonight? Have a nice early bed?’ He hugged her again and allowed his hands to wander down her back and gave her bottom a squeeze.

‘Stop it, Terry!’ Linda pushed him away, trying to keep it lighthearted. Normally she’d pretend to be shocked but secretly loved the thought of an early bed. They’d get June off to sleep and then it would be just the two of them. She still fancied Terry as much as when they were newlyweds and she knew how lucky she was. Plenty of her friends complained they found sex a chore or their husbands were getting bored of them, or even having affairs. Linda loved Terry with all her heart and was absolutely confident he felt the same. She fought against the doubts filling her head. But somehow the boxes in the shed were casting a gloom over her mood. She tried to smile and look enthusiastic as she made her way over to the oven but her heart wasn’t in it.

Grimly she set the water to boil to cook the potatoes she’d already peeled that afternoon. She usually prided herself on having a meal ready for Terry almost as soon as he set foot through the door and she didn’t intend anything to spoil that routine. If he worked hard outside their home then it was her job to keep him well fed and wanting for nothing. She threw in a couple of pinches of salt, angry with herself for getting upset probably over nothing. She couldn’t complain – she’d agreed to this and it would get them what they both wanted in the end, so they’d all benefit. She should be glad of it, not feeling like crying into the vegetables. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the boxes in the shed.