Inseparable Bond (49 page)

Jennifer
slowly walked back to her bedroom and stared in the large dress
mirror, she looked tired and pale after her unexpected ordeal. She
looked out of the window as the bright autumn sunshine transformed
the mature and immaculately maintained garden.

George stood
by the back door looking down the rear garden, deeply upset after
the confrontation but deciding to leave the intended discussion
until the happy and joyful atmosphere returned to the house and
Jennifer had regained her mental strength.

Jennifer
washed her face and went to her wardrobe, picking out her most
cheerful winter dress. A red dress with a high collar, close
fitting and with a circular skirt, the many folds of which showed
off her slim figure.

She stared at
herself in the dressing mirror behind the door. She was far too
thin, keeping weight on had always been a problem for her, she was
still pale and there were shadows under her eyes.

She was sure
that she absolutely did not want anyone saying anything emotional
to her ever again. Everything appeared to have been taken from her
in a matter of two hours and she felt the blackest despair and
inability to see any point in living, and a gradual awareness that
there was still something to live for, the boy she had known and
loved all her life, her brother.

Jennifer heard
Walter clambering up the stairs and he raced into the bedroom,
running around her feet after his deep sleep by the warm boiler in
the kitchen. She picked him up, holding him tightly to her face and
he licked the tears from her cheeks with his soft pink tongue.

She went
downstairs where George was sitting at the kitchen table. She
joined him and poured herself a cup of tea. The atmosphere was
still tense. It was all terrible, just awful little words and
neither of them saying anything that was real, unlike before when
they would involve themselves in constructive conversation.

George sat
quiet, the lines around his mouth were tight and his eyes were no
longer perpetually filled with sudden joyous gaiety of life, with
the certain knowledge that something wonderful was about to
happen.

Jennifer
realised that the expression in George’s eyes was now watchful. He
stood up from his chair, reaching over the table and kissed her on
the lips, but his eyes said nothing at all.

They tried to
talk about normal events, but their earlier argument and George
watching the puppy had clouded any conversation, his eyes
deliberately avoiding hers, which irritated Jennifer.

She stood up
and walked into the lounge, Walter scurried behind her, weaving in
and out of her feet as she walked. Jennifer picked him up and sat
him on her knee as she lowered herself into the chair. The puppy
stared in amazement at the two Herend greyhounds facing each other
from each side of the fireplace.

George
followed a few minutes later and sat in the chair opposite, hoping
that all the stiffness would suddenly go and they could both laugh
and talk freely as they had always used to do.

Jennifer
stared into the fire as she stroked Walter on her knee until he
fell into another sleep, his droopy ears falling over his face as
he lowered his head over the arm of the chair. Jennifer’s heart
felt as though it had iced over. She straightened her back in the
chair and looked across at George, not wanting sympathy, but still
seeking some kind of understanding.

Jennifer
placed little Walter in his basket by the fire and picked up her
handbag as she left the room to start the evening supper. Her heart
was beating so fast it sounded like a drum in her ears. She moved
towards the door as George opened it for her. At the door she
turned her head and directed her large eyes at what she saw now was
a most arrogant face.

‘I realise
what you must be thinking, George, but I have had to live with this
all my life, you have only had to live with it for five hours,’ she
said to him as she left the room.

The kitchen
was hot as she had forgotten to turn down the oven, due to the days
upset. She opened the kitchen door to let the cool evening air
circulate around the kitchen. She could hear the sea beyond the
garden and stepped outside to take in a deep breath of fresh sea
air and to feel its cool breeze on her face, which lifted her to a
sudden dizzying sense of freedom, not feeling as she had earlier in
the day, but now only a profound sense of relief.

They ate
supper in the kitchen and not in the usual dining room. It was a
quiet meal, still with an uneasy and stiff atmosphere, which seemed
to follow them from room to room.

Jennifer went
to bed shortly after supper while George watched television. She
found it difficult to sleep, tossing and turning with her thoughts
of John at the forefront of her mind. She leapt out of bed and went
to the window, opening it to hear the sounds of the sea crashing on
the shore. She turned in desperation, near to despair, thinking of
her brother confined to a small cell. She looked around the bedroom
for reassurance, something to which she could cling, something that
would send those thoughts away. Finally she found herself reaching
to the bottom of her handbag searching for the key to open the
wooden box which contained John’s letters.

She held the
bunch of letter close to her breast, recalling the days when John
worked so hard on the garden and the night away in Keswick on his
birthday.

She heard
George turning off the lights and going though to the bathroom. She
quickly returned the letters to the box and replaced it under her
clothes in the wardrobe, quickly dropping the key back into her
handbag before George discovered her secret stash. She climbed back
into bed, switched the light out and pretended to sleep as George
climbed in along side her.

He had always
kissed her gently on the forehead before they slept, but tonight he
turned on his side without speaking.

Jennifer lay
silent listening to the sea lashing against the sea wall and the
wind rustling through the trees in the garden. It had been a
stressful and unpleasant day. She felt drained of emotion, her eyes
red and sore through constant crying. George soon fell asleep and
breathed deeply. Jennifer lay awake for another two hours before
drifting off into a deep sleep.

The following
morning’s October weather was perfect. Soft early sunshine beamed
over the Scarborough houses and the castle high above the busy
working harbour. Jennifer strolled along the promenade, standing to
watch the fishermen scrapping the barnacles from the bottom of
their boats as they were suspended high from the water.

The large
pleasure boat was tightly moored as the crew swilled the decks
after a busy summer season before covering the vessel for the
winter months.

The strong sea
breeze was fresh and invigorating and the sun was slowly losing its
summer warmth as it shone strong beams of light through the newly
gathered heavy clouds which hung low over the town as the local
shopkeepers prepared to close their small outlets for the long
approaching winter.

Jennifer
walked over to the red telephone box on the corner opposite the
public toilets and rooted through her handbag for her address book,
which contained the Armley prison telephone number. She had always
called John from this public phone as George scrutinized the
telephone bill and she didn’t want him to notice any calls made to
the prison.

She would
phone each week from the same place and at the same time as John
would expect her call and wait by the line of telephones in the
recreation wing. It was a well-rehearsed system as they had kept in
weekly contact for the past six years.

George had
only been aware of their occasional visits and would strongly
disapprove of any further contact, particularly on such a frequent
basis.

They exchanged
words for ten minutes before she went into the harbour coffee bar
where she would take the seat by the window, watching the fishermen
unload their mountainous proportions of fish they had caught
through the night.

She walked
back along the beach, now deserted apart from a couple of local
walkers with their dogs, the tourists had long gone, giving the
quaint and vibrant sea-side town back to the local community.
Jennifer thought long and hard as she walked along the beach,
kicking the sand with her tiny feet, remembering the unspoken
closeness she and her brother had enjoyed when they were growing
up, as if in each other’s company they could find solace against
their father’s cruel treatment to their mother, and how at ease
they felt as children burying each other in the sand on Fleetwood
beach.

She also
recalled the happiness and security George had provided over the
past years, sitting in the lounge or driving in the car, not
needing to say very much, just understanding each other and being
happy. So now it was not very surprising for her to see George’s
eyes full of concern after realising the extent of her brother’s
cruelty.

She left the
beach and climbed the steep steps up to the outdoor concert hall
below the Crown Hotel, easing herself up by the handrail; her feet
were throbbing after undertaking a longer walk than normal. Once on
level ground, she walked briskly back to the house, desperate to
make up to George for the sadness which had been caused after so
many happy and peaceful years.

George looked
up from his newspaper as Jennifer walked into the kitchen from the
back door. He had a sympathetic smile as she took off her coat and
draped it over the kitchen chair.

‘I’ve booked a
table for lunch, dear, I hope you didn’t eat while you were out,’
he asked, pouring her a cup of tea as she sat down.

‘No, I just
stopped for coffee in the harbour coffee bar while I was shopping,’
she said, stretching her small back as she sat next to him.

‘I called into
the Crown Hotel on the way back from the library and booked for
1.30, I hope that’s not too late for you?’ he said.

‘No, that
would be fine, I’ll just go upstairs and get changed,’ she said,
sipping her tea.

They had
intended walking down to the hotel but the rain had started and it
looked as though it was set in for the day, so they drove the two
miles along the coast road.

The restaurant
was very quiet, they were the only two customers and Jennifer felt
conspicuous sitting at the centre table in the large dining
room.

George looked
over at her as the waiter poured the chilled Chablis. ‘I’m sorry we
are the only people here, I wanted to show you off,’ he said,
smiling at her over the table.

Jennifer held
her head high; her thin white hair glistened under the large
chandelier. She wore no make-up except for a little touch of
lipstick, her complexion looked smooth and wrinkle free as George
looked her up and down with outward appreciation. She spread her
starched linen napkin over her precious dress and looked up at
George. She thought that the expression in his eyes defiantly said
forgiveness as he smiled lovingly over at her. Jennifer smiled back
at him, because just for a moment it seemed a pity not to allow
herself a few seconds to enjoy the situation.

They ate their
ham salad lunch while looking at a fishing boat being thrown about
in the wrangling seas beyond the dining room windows.

‘I love the
sea when the sky is darkening,’ Jennifer said, watching the boat
tossing and turning in the sudden strong wind.

‘The sea is
always at its best when in dark and lowering mood,’ George
replied.

Jennifer
turned her gaze to the large heavy chintz curtains hanging at the
windows, rows of decorative bobbles adorning their swagged pelmets
and running down the long edges until they ended at the thick high
pile carpet where they lay an inch beyond the floor line in
extravagant spills. George noticed her inquisitive expression.

‘Are you
thinking of changing the curtains at home?’ he asked.

‘No dear,
they’ve just been changed. I only thought how old-fashioned they
seem in such a vibrant and colourful room.’

The decided to
have coffee in the lounge where conference delegates had gathered
for their coffee break. Jennifer liked being surrounded by people,
commenting on the latest fashions and hairstyles.

After lunch,
they drove back to the house. George slept by the fire as Jennifer
sat in the bay window watching the sea cascade over the harbour
walls, sending sea spray over the rooftops of the small houses as
they stepped high up to the castle walls.

Yesterday’s
lunch at the Crown seemed to ease the tension and eradicate the
stiff atmosphere in the house.

They had slept
in each other’s arms as normal, George gently kissing her brow as
he climbed out bed, as he would always be the first downstairs to
make the morning tea.

Jennifer heard
him whistling in the garden as he painted the fence that bordered
the private frontage of the house. Walter was happily running
around the garden. She was relieved and less anxious to hear him
back in his joyful mood.

Jennifer gazed
at the splendid sea view, now even more unobstructed due to the
leaves giving up their hold on the tree branches, fluttering to the
ground before the strong autumn wind blows them out to sea. She
straightened her back, pulling down her long velvet dress with its
old lace collar and cuffs, a favourite of George’s. She whipped a
hair brush from the window sill and began to brush her thinning
white hair before rearranging her black pearl-studded Alice band
and a small strand of coral beads round her neck, which George had
given her for an anniversary gift two years earlier.

Jennifer
looked at herself in the large dress mirror. She felt and looked
like an early Victorian lady with her long dress as she reached
into her silver jewellery box and selected a cameo brooch, which
she attached to the middle of her white collar. She stood sideways
looking down at her flat chest and drew a deep breath, disappointed
at what she saw. She had always wanted a large bosom but had always
been extremely deprived in that area.