A Family Scandal (10 page)

This morning Marilyn Foster took one look at her daughter as she came downstairs and shook her head. ‘My God, Rhona, what you been up to now?’ She poured her some tea. ‘You better have this and see if it helps. Blimey, what you been doing? Smoking too much and wrecking your voice? Hanging round till all hours in those smoky clubs again? You have, I can smell it on your hair. How are you going to work like that?’

Rhona shrugged and slurped her tea, desperate for the hot liquid to numb her agonising throat. ‘It’s not that,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t feel well. I lost my voice last night and it wasn’t the staying out that caused it.’

‘In that case I think you should go back to bed.’

‘No, I’ll be all right,’ Rhona croaked but, unable to eat any breakfast, she made do with another cup of tea. It eased her throat just a little and then, despite her mother nagging, she left for work.

She slowly dragged herself along the familiar route, pulling her scarf tight, but it didn’t help. She felt chilled, even though the days were getting warmer and it would soon be Easter. Glancing at her watch as she approached the factory door Rhona saw that by a miracle she was on time. Even better, the first person she saw when she went inside was Jean, putting on her overall.

‘Blimey, you look terrible,’ said Jean. ‘What on earth were you doing yesterday? I’ve seen you looking rough but this takes the biscuit.’

‘I’m not well, it’s not anything to do with yesterday,’ Rhona protested, only it came out all wrong. ‘It’s my voice. It’ll be all right soon, I just need to take it a bit easy today. Can I do that?’

‘You better stay out of Forsyth’s way or he’ll find a way of making it worse for you,’ Jean predicted. ‘As it happens someone’s got to go round to the store room to sort out anything that’s nearly out of date. It won’t be heavy lifting and you won’t have to speak.’

‘Yes please,’ said Rhona.

By the time the tea break came round Rhona was exhausted. She’d tried to make sense of the vast array of boxes in the store room, but she’d come down with a headache so bad that she couldn’t read the labels properly. The room was quiet and warmer than the factory floor and before long she’d been unable to resist the urge to sit down on one of the dusty chairs, just for a minute. She propped her arms on one of the grimy shelves and rested her head on them. Ten minutes later, as Penny came through the door unannounced, that’s how she found her friend: fast asleep and snoring gently.

But she hadn’t come there alone. Mr Forsyth stood just behind her and looked over her shoulder. Penny did her best to shield his view, but he could see over her head. He allowed himself a quick, sharp intake of breath before bellowing at the top of his voice, ‘What’s the meaning of this? What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Wha …’ Rhona slowly raised her head, totally confused.

Penny backed away, not wanting to be part of this.

‘You’ve abused my trust once too often.’ Forsyth was going red in the face, getting worked up and vengeful. ‘I’ve given you chance after chance even though your timekeeping has been appalling, and you ignore it. You’ve already had your final warning. This time, Miss Foster, you are sacked.’

Stan pulled into the car park in Honiton so that he could eat his sandwiches before the long drive home. His landlady had kindly made them for him, even though he’d offered to go out and get some, or buy bread and cheese to make his own. She wouldn’t hear of it, and had fussed over him, insisting men shouldn’t have to make their own lunch. Stan had smiled to himself, wondering what Jenny would have said about that. He was grateful, though, because the landlady had made him a pair of doorstoppers stuffed with cheese, ham and lots of pickle, just how he liked them.

This was his second trip to Devon and he was getting to know his way around a little. For his first trip he’d only gone as far as Exeter, which had plenty of potential customers who had taken up all his time. On this occasion he’d gone further afield, heading for Newton Abbot and Torquay. He was growing to like the scenery, the green hills and the sweep of the bays. There were plenty of hotels too, which made him remember his promise to Jenny that they spend a long weekend in the county. Visitors were plentiful in this run-up to Easter, and with the schools on holiday Greg could come too. There were children everywhere he looked, enjoying themselves, just as Greg would do if he came with them. He’d love the beaches, Stan was sure, even though they’d never taken him to one. He realised his son had never seen the sea, and this had brought him up short. What sort of father was he, not taking the boy to the seaside?

He was glad he’d been recommended the bed and breakfast as when he’d arrived the landlady, Mrs Hawkins, had assured him lots of places were full at this time of year. ‘And they put up their prices for Easter,’ she’d said, ‘not that I blame them, but you’ve got to be careful.’ He began to plan ahead. If he came down and worked the Thursday and Friday, then Jenny and Greg could get the train after school on the Friday evening and he could collect them from the station at Newton Abbot. The landlady had shown him a small single room that would be just right for Greg, and she’d seemed very keen to meet the boy. ‘My grandchildren are around the same age,’ she’d said. ‘I can tell you all the things they like to do. He’ll have the time of his life.’

Stan took a big bite of his sandwich, which was as delicious as it had looked. He’d fallen on his feet with the kind landlady. She’d told him of a friendly pub where he could have a decent pint after a long day calling on customers, and provided slap-up full English breakfasts. She’d been in the area ever since getting married to a Torquay man and knew everyone. She regaled him with tales as he ate his fried egg and excellent sausages, of town scandals and local eccentrics. ‘We get all sorts down here,’ she’d remarked. ‘Some come to retire, others because they’ve been on holiday in the summer and think it’s like that all year round. They don’t last long, not when they see the rain we get in winter. Then there’s those who love the walking, or sailing. Then others I don’t understand at all. There’s one bloke, been here a couple of years, who runs a shop and won’t let women in! Can you imagine? How he’s going to keep a business afloat with that sort of attitude I wouldn’t like to say. When you deal with the public you’ve got to take the rough with the smooth, and I should know, present company excepted of course.’

Stan smiled to himself now, as he finished the last crust and scrunched up the paper bag. He checked his map. Yes, nice and easy, up the A30 then the A303, all the way to London and home in time for the Easter long weekend with Greg and Jenny. His smile broadened as he thought of how Jenny would react to the ridiculous idea of not being allowed into a shop.

Tommy pushed away his account books with a sigh of satisfaction. He was relieved to have finished them all in one session and that meant he could spend some of Easter with Mavis and some with his cousin Jenny with a clear conscience. He’d just been paid for the job at the pub, and he considered it well worth the money as the place looked a whole lot smarter now. The landlord had given the bar a lick of paint inside as well, along with buying new tables and chairs. He’d also sacked the surly barmaid and got in new staff. Tommy had ended up getting to know them quite well after working there on the signs for a number of days; he had decided to do it himself rather than ask Jerry or one of the others, as he needed to keep his hand in.

One of the reasons the barmaid was sacked, apart from being completely uninterested in most of the customers, was that she’d been caught taking from the till. Tommy had overheard it all, hidden as he was behind the scenes, preparing the new wooden sign to be hung. The barmaid had protested she hadn’t meant to and the money wasn’t even for her but for her new boyfriend, who was going to beat her if she didn’t do what he said.

Tommy knew this was true. He’d been packing away his equipment one day and had paused for a breather in the little hall behind the bar where he’d been told to keep his bags. The barmaid, Patty, must have assumed she was the only person on the premises, as he could hear her singing to herself, unusually cheerful. Next thing a man’s voice could be heard, shouting as he came in from the street. Having heard it himself recently, Tommy recognised who it was at once. Larry Barnet. He decided to stay put and keep quiet.

Larry immediately started having a go at Patty, asking her when he was going to get the cash, demanding she hurry up about it or he’d give her another taste of the back of his hand. Patty’s cheerfulness vanished and she’d sounded frightened. Larry threatened her some more, warning her not to think he wouldn’t hurt her. He then began to reel off names of places he’d robbed, men he’d done the jobs with, and who for, adding that they couldn’t fence the stuff yet until a local policeman that he named had been bribed to look the other way. In the meantime he needed money from Patty to live off.

Tommy had stood stock still during all of this, listening hard. He didn’t like hearing a woman being treated in this way, even though she had barely bothered to acknowledge him all the days he’d been there. If things got physical he decided he’d come out and defend her, knowing what a coward Larry really was, like all bullies. But as long as things didn’t go that far, he’d stay hidden.

Now he drew towards him another piece of paper he’d tucked into the account book to keep it safe. He’d written down the names of the locations Larry had mentioned and the policeman’s name: Sergeant Fenton. He hadn’t done anything with the information, not yet anyway. He intended to hang on to it for insurance. He didn’t know why he felt it would be useful, but something told him to bide his time. This piece of paper could be dynamite.

Chapter Eleven

Lily had just rounded the dog-leg bend in the street when she saw her neighbour Muriel heading towards her. Lily was feeling relaxed after a lovely family Easter, during which she’d fed the children too many chocolate eggs and indulged them far too much, but what were holidays for if not to spoil your nearest and dearest? Besides she’d got the eggs at a last-minute bargain price from Woolworths and it had been worth it to see the kids’ faces. Mavis had painted them Easter cards and they’d had an egg hunt in the garden, which hadn’t been very difficult as James found everything almost at once, but it had been fun to plan. The kids had insisted they do the same next year so it had been a big success all round.

Now she decided she’d speak nicely to her miserable neighbour and not pretend to be too busy, which is what she’d found herself doing after their first conversation in the garden. Muriel’s coat was flapping open to reveal a faded cotton printed apron beneath, a look which Lily thought made her seem years older than she was. She herself wouldn’t be seen dead going out like that. She patted her hair, which she’d carefully sprayed into place before leaving the house earlier that morning. ‘Had a good Easter, did you?’ she began cheerfully.

‘Not particularly,’ said Muriel. ‘I heard your lot out in the garden, running wild. I take it you don’t take send them to church on Easter Sunday then.’

‘It was better to let them work off their energy outdoors, seeing as the weather was right for it,’ said Lily, refusing to be riled. ‘Which church do you go to? I wondered whether to start Bobby at Sunday school when he’s a bit older, be good for him to make friends his own age.’

‘Oh, I don’t hold with any of it.’ Muriel snorted. ‘Organ fund this, roof repair that. If they’re so high and mighty they can put their money where their mouth is. They ain’t having any of mine.’

Lily thought the woman contrary. If she didn’t go to church, why had she brought up the subject? ‘I’ll think about Sunday school when Bobby’s more the right age,’ she said. ‘He ain’t three yet.’

‘I take it your daughter doesn’t attend either, then,’ sneered Muriel, her eyes narrowing.

Blimey, thought Lily, what’s that about? Had Mavis done something to add to the neighbour’s sourness? It didn’t seem likely. ‘No, not really,’ she said neutrally.

‘Thought as much,’ said Muriel. ‘Not what with her having that young man round all the time.’

So that was it. Lily drew herself up to her full height, hefted her shopping basket on her elbow and looked her neighbour direct in the eye. ‘There nothing wrong with my daughter seeing a young man and he only visits, he doesn’t stay overnight.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ snapped Muriel. ‘’Cos if I had a house full of children I wouldn’t allow no hanky-panky going on in front of them and that’s a fact.’

Lily reckoned a bit of hanky-panky would have done Muriel the power of good, but she doubted if the older woman had ever gone in for that sort of thing even in her youth. Some people just didn’t have it in them to enjoy themselves.

‘Tommy has been a tower of strength to all of us in what has been a very difficult time,’ she replied, choosing her words carefully. ‘He’s a pillar of the community, owns his own business, doing very well too. So I won’t have him badmouthed in my own street. As long as we’re clear about that.’ She fixed her gaze on Muriel’s mean face.

‘Ain’t she lucky to have found such a paragon of virtue,’ Muriel snorted. ‘Well I can’t stand around here gossiping all day. I’ve work to do.’ She turned and sped down the road, nose in the air.

For the thousandth time Lily cursed Alec for leaving Mavis in such an impossible situation. If Mavis could get a divorce, then she’d be free to marry Tommy, but instead he’d just upped and disappeared. It was the cruellest thing he could have done, which was no doubt the reason for his actions. Lily cursed under her breath. If she were ever to catch sight of him again, she’d tear him limb from limb.

Mavis knew she was running late as she hurried back from Peckham Rye and its shops. Tommy was coming round for a meal and she’d run out of milk of all things, and then she’d decided while she was out she’d get some nice vegetables to go with the pork chops. She’d also seen some lovely cooking apples, going cheap because it was the end of the day, and she could almost taste the delicious sauce she could make with them. So she had a full shopping bag as she made her way home, hoping that Tommy hadn’t already arrived. Though she was still a little unfamiliar with the area she’d noticed people coming in and out of a side alley and reckoned it could be a useful shortcut. It would save her a few minutes. She’d told Lily she’d be back at half past and it was already twenty-five to.