Inseparable Bond (58 page)

Jennifer
looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were underlined
with tiredness and they had certainly lost their sparkle.

They were
called through to the small ballroom which had been laid out with a
dozen round tables, consisting of six seats to each table. She
didn’t feel hungry which was as well, as the food, which was served
looked most unappetizing.

Once the meal
was over, she had to endure an agonising hour of speeches and
presentations along with the election of the new Rotary
president.

By the time
the meeting was over it was nearly dark. They didn’t get home until
after six. George parked the car in the garage while Jennifer went
immediately upstairs and ran a bath of hot water, generously
pouring lavender bath oil under the fast flowing water. Her hair
became damp in the steam filled bathroom as she gently lowered
herself into the warm water, relaxing her head on the towel she had
placed at the end of the bath. She wrapped her velvet dressing gown
around her and slowly walked into the lounge where George was
sitting by the fire reading his library book.

‘You were very
quiet over lunch my dear, is everything all right?’ he asked
her.

‘Yes,
everything is fine. I’m not a fan of group luncheons and dinners,
you know that all too well,’ she replied with hostility in her
voice. She picked Walter up, placing him on her knee as she gazed
at the crackling fire. Jennifer sat in the silent atmosphere for an
hour before going up to bed for an early night. Walter snuggled
back on his blanket by the boiler as George remained reading.

Jennifer woke
by 8.30. George had already gone downstairs to prepare breakfast as
Jennifer sat on the small bedroom chair by the widow, looking down
on the bare and bleak winter garden. As usual on the far horizon
there was a ship, or a tanker travelling slowly out of Whitby
harbour or from the shipping docks in Hull, slowly making its way
over the English Channel towards the Dutch port of Rotterdam.
Seagulls flew overhead, dipping towards the distant curves of the
cliff, preparing to land with their slow measured flight, but
happily too far away for their ugly looks and curved beaks to spoil
the distant impression of beauty their snow-whiteness created
against the grey backdrop of the clouds and dull December
weather.

Jennifer loved
every aspect and mood of the sea and the coast, but had never been
able to find a beauty in the gulls after being attacked by one on
the beach in Fleetwood when she was a small child.

It was
Wednesday. Two weeks to Christmas and the town would be getting
busy with shoppers. Jennifer rooted through the box she had taken
from the top of the wardrobe, which contained an abundance of
decorations she had used to dress last year’s tree.

She walked
into the guest bedroom, rearranging the awful old chintz curtains
so at least they did look charming rather than decrepit. Looking
around the room she realised it needed to be re-furnished
throughout, but had no time to do this before the invasion of the
grandchildren, Roger and his wife for the Christmas holidays.

She must
instruct Molly to dust through so there’s not a speck in sight as
Rogers’s wife can be rather particular at the best of times.

She carried
the box of decorations into the lounge as Molly cleaned the glass
of the French doors leading onto the garden.

She sat by the
window looking around the room in the blackest of despair and
inability to see any point in trimming up the house for Christmas
when John would not be allowed to share it with her.

George had
driven off to various garden centres on the outskirts of town,
looking for a suitable tree, which would fit handsomely in the
front bay window, yet denying her of the magnificent view of the
sea.

She set about
unpacking the box of decorations with as much enthusiasm as she
could muster. She sighed deeply as she open the box. Molly smiled
encouragingly at her as she dusted the mantelpiece. As she rooted
through the tinsel and baubles, Molly went into the kitchen to make
a pot of tea. She helped Jennifer untangle the Christmas tree
lights as they chatted inconsequentially about anything except
Christmas, a festive season Jennifer had never favoured since John
had been first arrested on Christmas Eve, throwing the families
festivities into turmoil and despair.

They turned
around to see George pulling into the drive, a large Christmas tree
hanging precariously out of the back of the hatchback car, fastened
down with string.

It was a cold
day, but clear, the frost skimming the paving stones of the drive
so that they sparkled when the rays of sun struck them.

George dragged
the tree up the drive, placing it by the side of the house until he
acquired a suitably sized pot to withstand its weight.

Molly
nervously placed the plug into the electricity socket to illuminate
the delicate tree lights, which were strewn across the deep yellow
lounge carpet as Walter sniffed them with inquisitive surprise as
they started to flash at regular intervals.

George came
into the kitchen, taking his large heavy overcoat off as Molly
wrapped up well in her overcoat, wrapping a long scarf over her
head as she left for home.

He walked into
the lounge and warmed his hands in front of the fire, rubbing them
vigorously as Jennifer poured him a large whisky from the drinks
cabinet.

Jennifer went
over to the window, watching a group of people joyously pass the
house in high spirits on their way to town for an early Christmas
celebration in one of the many pubs. The North Sea looked pale and
the wintry sun tried to struggle now and then through the thick,
lowering snow clouds which had suddenly appeared.

A slight fall
of snow had fallen overnight as Jennifer drew back the bedroom
curtains. It was only a small dusting and would quickly melt away
if the sun managed to break through the dark clouds.

With Christmas
rapidly approaching, she would need to start stocking up with
supplies, seeing the family were to arrive at the end of next
week.

George had
slept badly, coughing all through the night and feeling weak and
lifeless. Jennifer had left him a thermos of tea by the bed and a
bottle of night nurse medicine.

She briskly
walked into town, her large cashmere scarf wrapped tightly around
her head, held firmly in place by the large upturned collar on her
cashmere coat.

She would have
to call into see John as he would be bitterly disappointed if she
didn’t, she thought.

After a
lengthy delay, he answered the door, dressed only in his new boxer
shorts.

‘I didn’t
expect you today,’ he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

She walked
through to the kitchen, placing her plastic bags on the kitchen
unit, sighing with contentment. She reached deep into her shopping
bag for the new set of pillowcases she had taken from her laundry
cupboard at home.

As John went
through to the bathroom, she took the pillowcases into the bedroom
and stopped in her tracks as she noticed a young man sleeping in
his bed, the sheets and duvet pushed down the bed revealing his
naked torso. She quickly returned to the kitchen, closing the
bedroom door behind her.

‘I didn’t
realise you had a friend staying, John,’ she said, as John walked
through to the kitchen, toothpaste dribbling from his mouth which
was wedged closed and his yellowing teeth gripping his
toothbrush.

‘Have you some
problem with that?’ he asked, glaring at her with wide, cruel
eyes.

‘No, dear, not
at all. But I didn’t know you had any friends in Scarborough,’ she
said.

‘I don’t
remember you disallowing friends to visit,’ he replied sternly.

‘Well, it’s
nice that you are meeting people, who is he?’ she asked
innocently.

‘It doesn’t
matter who it is, it’s not your concern, so don’t let it worry
you,’ he said.

‘You’re right
dear, it’s none of my business who you invite back to your flat,’
she said.

She didn’t
stay for the coffee John had offered and left after only five
minutes, clearly embarrassed and surprised on her unexpected
discovery.

As she walked
out of Castle Lane, a cold and steady wind started, then the snow
began. Despite the force of the blizzard all she could think about
was the man on her newly purchased sheets, in her brother’s bed and
wondered why he would be still in bed after 11 o’clock in the
morning.

She could
hardly see more than a foot or two through the thickly whirling
flakes, and her cashmere coat was no barrier against such weather.
Her hair was soaking, her hands and feet so cold she could scarcely
feel them.

She ran into
Boots chemist, desperate for the warmth in the busy store, which
was packed with Christmas shoppers milling around the large
displays of gift sets.

She had
expected John to have accompanied her, but he was otherwise
engaged.

After being
warmed by the hot air which circulated around the store, she
decided to postpone her shopping day and trudged her way back home.
She was deeply upset at what she had witnessed in the flat and
could not remove it from her mind. John’s attitude was becoming
increasingly worse by the day, and she felt intimidated and at
times frightened in his company.

Tears rolled
down her face as she kept her head low against the swirling
snowflakes. The snow was thick on the pavement and the wind was
vicious as she looked up at the flat through the whirling flakes as
she passed. Despite the appalling weather, she walked down to the
coast for a moment’s quiet, bravely trying to collect her thoughts
as she walked into the harbour coffee bar.

She rested her
head in her hands in despair, realising her mistake in generously
providing for her brother in the hope of offering him a new
beginning in life, but it was all too late. She desperately tried
to rid her mind of such thoughts, but the same conclusion kept
returning.

She shuddered
with fear, yet the sudden realisation seemed to give her a strange
feeling of encouragement, a feeling she could not explain. As she
sat with her cold hands cupped around her mug of hot coffee, her
attention was drawn to silver BMW parked opposite the café on the
other side of the road.

She sat
upright in her seat, her eyebrows raised and her wide eyes
transfixed on the car, not being sure if it belonged to George as
he had previously pointed out to her how many similar looking cars
were in the town.

Not being able
to contain her curiosity any longer, she left her table and walked
across the road and peered through the window of the car. The black
umbrella lying across the back seat and tiny Christmas tree
needles, which littered the interior, identified the car as
belonging to George.

She looked up
and down the promenade through the large snowflakes, but he was
nowhere to be seen. She walked back into the café, returning to her
cup of coffee keeping her eyes firmly on the stationary car.

It was over
ten minutes when George eventually appeared from the public toilets
and approached his car, driving off speedily in the direction of
the house.

She could not
understand why he would need to use a public toilet when he was in
such close proximity to the house. He had regularly complained
about the condition of public conveniences, and avoided them unless
absolutely necessary.

Scrambling to
her feet, she made for the road and trudged through the deep snow
towards the house, passing the museum and the library on the way.
It took her ten minutes to walk from the coffee shop to the house.
It would take less than two minutes to drive and although George
was facing eighty, he had never complained of a bladder disorder
needing sudden relief in a place which he despised, particularly
being in such close proximity of his own clinical bathroom.

She entered
the garden gate, brushing the snow away from the latch as she
opened it. She looked up at the imposing house, hesitantly. The car
was not on the drive, but deep fresh tyre marks were leading up to
the closed garage doors. She shook her head in disbelief of her
horrendously unexpected nightmare morning.

George was
cooking scrambled eggs as she walked through the kitchen door. He
helped her to remove her coat and squeezed her tightly. She
shuddered as he placed his hands around her. For the first time she
felt uncomfortable by his touch as she quickly moved away from
him.

She sat at the
kitchen table for a couple of minutes before gaining her strength
to enquire into his whereabouts.

‘I thought you
would still be in bed,’ she asked George.

‘No, I felt
much better shortly after you left for town, I didn’t expect you
back as soon as this, you normally spend all day in town,’ he
replied, stirring the eggs in the pan.

‘So you
haven’t been out then?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Out,
certainly not, you wouldn’t get me out in this weather,’ he
replied, confidently.

She reached
down and picked Walter up from his blanket, walking through to the
lounge clutching him tightly against her chest as she slowly
lowered her body into the chair by the fire. Her heart sank, tears
desperately tried to release themselves through her closed eyes,
but she bravely held them back.

Even if she
had mistaken the car, she did not mistake the tyre marks in the
snow, she thought, racking her brain into why he should need to be
so deceitful after innocently leaving the house. She thought of the
previous occasion when she had noticed him leave the public
toilets, of which he had again denied. The unusual position of her
seat in the car, again denying it had been changed. The stranger in
the car who had followed him out of the toilet. It all didn’t make
sense to her.