Inseparable Bond (67 page)

George arrived
back just after eleven.

‘Why is the
outside light on, dear?’ he asked, walking over to pour himself a
glass of malt whisky. Jennifer thought quickly before she
answered.

‘Well, with
you being out for the night and with Joyce saying she had noticed a
prowler at the fence, I felt safer with the light on,’ she replied,
avoiding his eyes.

‘Good
thinking, my dear, but I still think she was exaggerating,’ he
said.

Jennifer
sighed with relief as George had accepted her plausible excuse, but
she became inwardly nervous on foolishly leaving a clue of
suspicion behind her secret motive.

Jennifer
browsed through the rack of winter skirts in Marks & Spencer,
all half price, due to the unusual warm weather and the forecast of
an early spring.

She intended
to visit John, but needed to gain some courage and self-confidence
before going up to his flat.

After drawing
£200 out of the cash machine in the store, she hesitantly
approached his door on the top floor, breathing rapidly after
climbing the steep stairs.

It was after
12 o’clock, so she had assumed he would be out of his bed and
dressed ready for her visit, which had been arranged the previous
evening when he had telephoned her while George was at his Rotary
meeting.

Sadly she had
been too optimistic, as he opened the door in his boxer shorts,
wiping the sleep from his eyes, a cigarette hanging loosely from
his mouth.

‘What time is
it?’ he asked her, yawning widely, revealing his decaying yellow
teeth.

‘It’s after
twelve. You asked me to call, so I thought you’d be up and
dressed,’ she said, walking confidently through the door but
nervous tension gripping her body. She sat at the kitchen table as
he slouched over the kitchen unit, his eyes staring at the kettle
on the grease covered gas cooker.

‘You said you
needed to see me, John, are you in some sort of trouble?’ she
asked.

‘No, I’m just
a bit short of some cash, did you bring any with you?’ he asked,
looking over his shoulder as she reached for her red leather purse
from her handbag.

‘I’ve got £200
for you, try and string it out the best you can, it doesn’t grow on
trees, you know,’ she said, pushing the notes under the
ashtray.

He placed the
two mugs of coffee on the table, smiling as he counted the money in
front of her. ‘Who gave you this, your fancy man?’ he said, smiling
up at her with slanting eyes.

‘No, that’s my
own money and George is not my fancy man and I would appreciate a
little more respect from you,’ Jennifer said sternly, but with fear
in her eyes.

‘Respect, why
should I give you respect, you have no respect for yourself
shacking up with an old wealthy bloke, who can’t even get a fucking
hard on,’ he said, smiling.

Jennifer
closed her handbag and stood up from the table, slipping her
leather gloves over her tiny hands. ‘I’m not staying here to be
insulted by a loud-mouthed, unappreciative slob like you,’ she
said, walking down the hall towards the door.

He followed
her, placing his hand on her shoulder and spun her around, his face
ugly with venom.

‘If you lay
one finger on me again, I will call the police,’ she said, fixing
her eyes onto his as she pushed him so forcibly that he stumbled
against the wall. ‘I came here because you had invited me,’ she
said sternly. ‘I actually felt sorry for you, believing you
genuinely missed me, but now I see you for what you are. A violent,
bad tempered, wicked man,’ she said, slamming the door so hard it
could be heard throughout the house, if not the length of the
street.

John Bell
cowered on the floor, his head resting between his knees as he
sobbed like a baby after his humiliating ordeal.

Jennifer
straightened her coat, adopted a jaunty air and strode briskly down
the High Street, her head held proud and high after her first
retaliation towards him. She pushed her way through the tables in
the Victoria teashop, quickly sitting at the table in the far
corner.

Her nervous
energy slowly diminished as the menu shook vigorously by her
shaking hands. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her
handkerchief, correcting her posture as the waitress walked over
towards her.

‘Are you all
right, madam?’ the young girl sympathetically enquired.

‘Yes, I’m
fine. I’ll have a scone and jam and a pot of tea,’ she sternly
ordered.

The waitress
didn’t reply, backing away from the table and hastily going through
the kitchen door. Jennifer anxiously peered around at the other
customers, hoping they had not witnessed her speedy and hostile
entrance.

She buttered
the scone, smiling to herself at her courageous stand against John,
leaving him afraid and humiliated. An immense feeling of
satisfaction bubbled inside her as she recalled John’s amazed
expression on his face when he stumbled against the wall.

She continued
her walk towards the harbour, her thin lips pursed, her eyes
blazing, but although she looked fierce she was enjoying every
minute of it as she took to her heels and trotted down the hill,
deeply breathing in the strong sea air.

After a brisk
stroll along the deserted beach, she returned home to find George
in the garden with his cheery disposition and smiling face as he
looked up from his trowel, Walter running up to her as she came
through the garden gate.

As the kettle
boiled, she briskly walked through to the hall to answer the
telephone, expecting Roger needing to speak to his father.

He heart
stopped when she heard John’s voice on the other end of the line.
‘Sorry if I upset you, Jennifer, but I was still half asleep and
had a headache,’ he said with false remorse in his voice, breathing
heavily down the receiver.

She thought
quickly before answering, being careful not to disturb their
amicable relationship at this crucial time. ‘That’s all right,
dear, but you must try to control your bad temper and aggression,
otherwise I won’t be coming to visit you anymore, anyway I can’t
talk now as I have friends for lunch,’ she said nervously before
putting the receiver down.

Jennifer paced
up and down the lounge, feeling uncomfortable with a fixed smile on
her face, telling herself to look and keep cheerful even if she
didn’t feel it, but her heart was heavy.

She showed no
sign of nerves as George came in from the garden for his cup of
tea.

‘Did I hear
the phone ring, dear?’ he asked, looking up at her flushed
face.

‘Oh, yes, you
did, it was a wrong number,’ she quickly replied.

‘I’m expecting
a call from Roger. He’s in the middle of a messy divorce that
involves a substantial payout and needs some advice,’ he said,
pouring the milk into his tea.

‘Well, I’m in
for the rest of the day, so I’ll call you should he phone,’
Jennifer said.

‘I’ll be in
the garden with Walter. It’s such a glorious day,’ he said, taking
his cup of tea through the kitchen door and into the garden.

‘Be careful
not to damage that toe,’ she said, looking down at his muddy
boots.

The hospital
had sent George an appointment date for the removal of his
in-growing toenail, which had been getting progressively painful
over the past few weeks. The removal wasn’t serious, but he would
be admitted as a day patient going in at 9 o’clock and back home
before three, being virtually housebound for the following three
days afterwards.

Molly was
vacuuming the stairs as the telephone rang again. Jennifer stumbled
over the cord as she went to answer it. It was the expected call
from Roger, needing to speak to his father.

She stuck her
head out of the front door and yelled for George. He was beside her
in seconds, spurred by the urgency in her tone. Molly considerately
switched off the vacuum cleaner as he took the receiver from
Jennifer’s hand.

Molly climbed
back up the stairs to continue changing the bed sheets and dusting
round the spare rooms upstairs. Jennifer went through to the
kitchen and rooted in the deep freezer, looking for something
suitable for supper.

Molly came
through to the kitchen, carrying a bundle of bed sheets towards the
washing machine.

‘I saw you in
town this morning,’ she said to Jennifer. Her heart missed a beat
as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

‘Yes, I went
to see what was left after the Christmas sales,’ she confidently
answered.

‘I was going
into the chemist for my mother’s prescription and noticed you going
into that large house in Castle Lane.’ Molly said, heaving the
sheets into the washing machine.

Jennifer
thought fast and hard, thinking of a plausible excuse before George
returned from his telephone call. ‘I called in to see a lady from
the Inner Wheel society,’ she said nervously.

‘Well, I don’t
want to appear rude, but next time you see her you might want to
mention the state of her front room nets, they’re filthy,’ Molly
said, shaking her head as she walked out of the kitchen, squeezing
past George on the phone as she walked back upstairs.

Jennifer
fidgeted nervously through the items in the freezer, her eyes full
of fear and her stomach churned at the thought of being seen going
into John’s flat. She sat down at the kitchen table and heard
George place the receiver back on the telephone. He walked through,
shaking his head as he sat alongside her, happily munching on a
piece of cooked ham he took from a plate on the kitchen table.

‘Is this ham
for supper?’ he asked her.

Jennifer just
shook her head, her face was flushed with pink as George looked up
at her, oblivious to the undercurrent as she pushed her chair back
and sprang to her feet.

She made her
way up the stairs. She sat on the lavatory seat with her head in
her hands, shaking with agitation on knowing that Molly had spotted
her.

When she came
back downstairs, George was still sitting where she had left him.
There was such a look of despair in his eyes, either from his son’s
handling of the divorce case or Jennifer’s sudden change of
attitude, or both.

The cold
winter appeared to be behind them as another fine day approached
over the horizon, the early morning sun shining down on the
peaceful blue sea.

Jennifer was
clearly in a good mood as she adjusted her hat in the hall
mirror.

George had
suggested they went for a drive in the country, being their last
opportunity for the next few days.

He was due in
hospital tomorrow and the surgery on his toe would prevent him from
driving for a few days afterwards.

They drove
over the Yorkshire Moors on the coast road towards Whitby, emerging
into the warm sunshine as they parked outside the Smugglers Cove
Inn for a traditional roast beef lunch. Despite the fact that the
roast potatoes were hard and cold, they enjoyed it.

A group of
heavy drinkers had climbed out of a mini-bus and noisily stormed
into the normally quiet pub, ruining the peaceful atmosphere for
everyone else.

George felt
threatened by their obnoxious attitude and they quickly left,
George adamantly refusing to visit the establishment again.
Jennifer quickly realised that it was the constant irritation of
his painful toe, which had caused him to be unusually impatient and
irritable, but he suffered in silence to avoid spoiling Jennifer’s
day.

Several people
were sitting in the warm sun outside the pub as George hobbled over
to the car. He was definitely in discomfort, but put on a brave
face as they drove through the open countryside towards Whitby.

George decided
to stay in the car for an afternoon snooze, with the pretence of
his eyes being sore and not his toe. Jennifer ambled her way along
the small cobbled streets of Whitby.

As she walked
along Crab Lane, still full to bursting with her love for the town.
She recalled how she had been scarcely a child when her parents
came on a two week summer holiday, staying in a small caravan
overlooking the sea.

Now she was an
old woman and could feel and appreciate the deep, abiding love for
this place, which had been growing in her all her life. She would
never have imagined living so close to this beautiful fishing town,
still unspoilt by the thousands of people who visited year after
year to sample the fresh cod and haddock landed daily from the
North Sea.

She sat in the
late afternoon sunshine, watching the activities in the busy
working harbour. She walked along to the open fish stall and
purchased four large haddock, two for her and George, the other two
for Molly and her housebound mother.

It was an
unforgettable afternoon, being alone with her thoughts in a town
which she loved and surrounded by the sea, the boats and the fresh
air.

She returned
to the car to find George fast asleep in his reclined seat, snoring
loudly. He was disturbed when she climbed in beside him, quickly
putting his seat back into its upright position.

It was a dry
afternoon as they headed back to Scarborough.

As they
arrived home, dark clouds were gathering on the horizon but the
sudden light drizzle did not dampen Jennifer’s spirits after an
enjoyable day.

It was
Thursday morning. The gloomy dull weather didn’t help the quiet
atmosphere that prevailed inside the house as Jennifer cooked the
breakfast as George sat patiently at the table like a condemned man
waiting for his last meal.

A taxi had
been booked for 8.30am, giving him plenty of time to find his way
to the outpatients department of the hospital.

After his
breakfast, he paced up and down the lounge, frequently looking
through the window for the arrival of his car.

Jennifer
washed the breakfast pots as the taxi driver rang the front door
bell.