Secrets to Keep (11 page)

That was true. Aidy had had no stomach for food at all today. Just the thought of it had made her feel
sick. She didn’t want her grandmother worrying about her, though, so fibbed, ‘I had my share. Want a fresh cuppa?’

Bertha drained the dregs in her cup and held it out to Aidy, smiling warmly. ‘Never say no to a cuppa, yer know that, love. Where’s Arch, by the way? I ain’t seen him for ages.’

‘Oh, he … er … went to the pub for a pint. He’ll be home when he’s home. I’ll get you that cuppa,’ said Aidy, going off into the kitchen.

Bertha looked after her, frowning. She had such a strong feeling that something wasn’t quite right between those two. But then, it had been an awful day and none of them was their usual self.

Bertha heard the back door open and bang shut, then heard Aidy say, ‘Good God, George, look at the state of you.’ She heard Marion’s voice too but couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. George arrived in the back room then and threw himself down into the armchair opposite his grandmother’s. Bertha looked over at him. He looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards and thrown in a muddy puddle. Thankfully he had changed out of the borrowed suit into his old playing-out clothes of a shabby pair of short trousers and a well-worn shirt, patched at the elbows. There was a bruise forming on one cheek and a drying bloody cut on his lip. ‘You been fighting, our George?’ she challenged him.

It was Aidy who answered. Arriving to stand next to Bertha’s chair and stare at her brother, she shot at him, ‘Marion has just told me you have been, George. How could you, today of all days? I hope the lad you was fighting with ain’t in the same state as you or I’ll have his mam round here, playing merry hell, and that’s the last thing I need right now. What was it over?’ Marion, having come in to stand by her elder sister, went to speak up but Aidy silenced her with: ‘I asked George, Marion. Answer me, George, or you’ll have a red bum as well as a bloodied lip.’

He knew his sister’s threat was no idle one. His head bent, he muttered, ‘Arthur Dunn reckons now our mam is dead and we ain’t got no dad, me, Betty and Marion are orphans so we’ll be going to the children’s home. And as Gran’s old, she’ll be going in the workhouse. He was making Marion cry so I thumped him.’

George jumped up from his chair then and rushed over to Aidy, throwing himself on her. There were tears in his eyes that he was fighting hard to hold back when he lifted his head to look up at her beseechingly. ‘We ain’t going to an orphanage, are we, Aidy? Please say we ain’t?’

Crossing her legs and pressing her head to them, Marion burst into a flood of tears and wailed, ‘I don’t wanna go, Aidy. Please don’t send us.’

Aidy could just picture the other lad goading her
siblings with his taunts. After the day they’d had, it was taking all her strength of mind not to go and seek him out herself and give him a piece of her mind for putting them through this unnecessary anguish, just for the sheer fun of it. Grabbing Marion to her and then hugging both children fiercely, Aidy told them, ‘Neither of you is being put in an orphanage and nor is Betty. Gran is certainly
not
going in the workhouse. Do you think I’d ever let that happen to you? Me and Arch will be moving in here to look after you all.’

Wriggling free from her sister’s hold, Marion wiped her wet face with the back of her hand. Hopping from one foot to the other, she cried out, ‘Really, our Aidy?’

Looking up at her earnestly, George urged, ‘Honest?’

Aidy smiled down at them ‘Cross me heart and hope to die.’ Then she ordered Marion, ‘Get to the privy quick, before you have an accident. George, get in the scullery and clean yourself up. I’m going to make a start on your tea. In the meantime, if you’re hungry there’s some sandwiches left, but make sure you leave some for Betty.’ Marion had shot out and George was making his way to the scullery to clean himself up. ‘Where is Betty?’ she asked him.

He stopped to think for a moment, then continuing on his way told her, ‘Last time I saw her, she was
sitting on the wall with Mary Riddle and a couple of other gels.’

‘Well, when you’ve cleaned yourself up, you can go and fetch her in.’

A few streets away, Arch was back in the pub, downing his third pint on top of the two he’d had previously to summon up the courage to face his mother. He was now trying to summon up the courage to go and face Aidy and tell her that, despite his best endeavours, his mother wouldn’t accept her refusal and Aidy was going to have to dissuade her herself.

Albeit Pat had had her own selfish reasons for picturing his future life, Arch had been in complete turmoil since his mother had made him see what lay ahead for him, should he go along with Aidy’s plan and help her care for her family. He hadn’t liked what he had envisioned, didn’t like the idea of giving up his own home to move into his late mother-in-law’s house. Wasn’t happy at the thought of never having a penny of his earnings to spare for himself in the future, as it would all be needed to look after others. But he loved Aidy, couldn’t bear the thought of not being with her, and if he wanted to stay married to her, it seemed he had no choice but to hide his true feelings and go along with her plan. And, in fairness to her, she had no real choice but to do what she was
or she’d condemn her beloved family to lives of hell, being cared for by the authorities. And Aidy would never do that.

But then, just when he had about come to terms with his own fate, out of the blue an idea struck him. It was the perfect solution to the problem of caring for Bertha and the children, and it didn’t involve either Aidy and himself or his mother and father. He was surprised Aidy hadn’t thought of it herself. A surge of gladness rushed through him. His life with his wife and their own future plans were not going to be abandoned after all. Though his mother wouldn’t be happy when she discovered that all her devious planning to get the Greenwood house had been in vain.

He downed the dregs in his glass and left the pub to go and break his brainwave to his wife.

Back in the Greenwood house, George had finished his ablutions. Having forgotten to fetch Betty as Aidy thought he was off doing, he was sitting in an armchair, engrossed in a tattered old copy of a
Triumph
comic he’d borrowed from his mate; Marion was playing with her Shirley Temple cut-out doll on the clippy rug in front of the range, and Bertha was dozing in her chair. Aidy was in the scullery peeling potatoes to cut into chips, pondering whether to fry enough for Arch along with the rest, but deciding to do him fresh when he
arrived. As she put the chipped potatoes into the pan of hot fat, she called out, ‘Betty, set the table, please.’

There was silence for a moment before George responded, ‘Betty ain’t here.’

The chips merrily sizzling away, Aidy popped her head around the back-room door and addressed her brother. ‘You did fetch her like I asked?’

He dragged his eyes from his comic to stare blankly at her. ‘Eh?’

He’d forgotten. Normally she would have given him a reprimand for this lapse but today she could overlook it. ‘Go and fetch her now, please.’ She heard the back door open. ‘Oh, it’s all right, she’s here.’

Aidy turned around, fully expecting to see her sister and inform her dinner wouldn’t be long. Instead she gawped at the sight of her mother-in-law, struggling to heave a heavy, battered suitcase over the threshold.

The appetising aroma of cooking chips wafted up Pat’s nostrils. Licking her lips, she said, ‘Oh, good, dinner’s on the go, I’m starving. Get that young lad of yours to come and gimme a hand, and then he can help Mr Nelson with the trunk. He’s borrowed a handcart ter bring that round. He’s not far behind me.’

Aidy was staring at her, stupefied. ‘But Arch went to tell you that we wouldn’t be taking up your offer, Mrs Nelson. We’ll be looking after Gran and the kids ourselves.’

The heavy case was half in the doorway and half out. Straightening herself up, Pat looked across at Aidy, irritated that no one was rushing to help her. ‘And as I told Arch, yer in mourning, not thinking straight. No one in their right mind would lumber themselves with what you and Arch are about to. Not if they had a get out. Now, get that lad of yours to gimme a hand,’ she ordered, bending over to continue with her task of shoving the suitcase into the kitchen.

Aidy felt her hackles rise at this woman’s blatant refusal to give up her scheme to get her hands on the house. ‘I can assure you, my thinking has never been straighter, Mrs Nelson. Now, as I’ve already told you, we won’t be accepting your offer.’

A desperate Pat was pushing the case with all her might now, clearly of the opinion that once she’d her belongings inside the house, she had every right to remain in it. But the case had caught on the edge of a flagstone and was refusing to budge. In desperation she bellowed, ‘Eh up, lad, come and give us a hand.’

Aidy snapped at her, ‘You’ve known him long enough to remember my brother’s name is George, Mrs Nelson.’

Still shoving at the obstinate suitcase, Pat snapped back, ‘At the moment I don’t care what the hell his name is, as long as he gets his arse in here and helps me get this bleddy case inside.’

Hearing Pat’s bellowing voice in the room beyond, George and Marion, closely followed by Bertha, appeared in the doorway to find out what was going on. They all looked astonished at the sight that met them.

‘Why’s Mrs Nelson bringing that case in here?’ George asked Aidy.

Pat’s head jerked up and she told him, ‘’Cos me and Arch’s dad are moving in to look after you lot, letting Arch and yer sister get on with their own lives, that’s why. Now get yerself over here and give me a hand.’

Looks of acute horror at the very thought of the Nelsons moving in, let alone looking after them, filled the faces of Bertha, George and Marion.

‘This true?’ a mortified Bertha demanded of her granddaughter.

‘I ain’t staying here with
her
,’ cried George.

‘Don’t make us, Aidy,’ pleaded Marion.

Pat scowled across at them. ‘Ungrateful lot! Well, that’s what’s happening so yer’d better all get used to the idea.’

Aidy hurled back at her, ‘That’s
not
what’s happening, Mrs Nelson.’ She turned to address her family then. ‘You have my word that Mr and Mrs Nelson are not moving in. There’s been a misunderstanding and I’m just putting Mrs Nelson right. It’s me and Arch who’ll be taking care of you all.’

Glaring at Aidy, Pat barked at her, ‘You seem to think my son is happy to go along with flogging his guts out to keep your family, but I can tell you, he ain’t.’ She heard the click of the back gate and spun her head to see Arch framed in the gateway, looking mortified to find his mother here before he could warn his wife that she was still persisting in her ‘offer’. He’d also been hoping to inform Aidy of his own proposed solution to their problem without his mother being present; it was his idea and he would suffer her wrath as a result.

Pat said to Aidy, ‘Here he is now so yer can ask him yerself.’ She then shouted to Arch, ‘Get over here and tell this wife of yours you ain’t prepared to take on her family. Today not termorra!’ she commanded him. When Pat saw he wasn’t budging, she stomped across to him, grabbed his arm and dragged him back with her to stand before his wife at the back door, urging him, ‘Tell her, I said.’

Arch was very conscious of Aidy’s questioning eyes boring into him. He swallowed hard, flashing a worried glance at his mother. He could see the look in her eyes, daring him to voice anything that would jeopardise her move into this house. He looked down at the ground, rocking on his feet, and chose his words carefully. ‘Well, Mam did point out a few things I hadn’t considered that … er …’

‘That what, Arch?’ Aidy urged him.

‘Scared the shit out of him,’ erupted Pat. ‘You caught him unawares when yer first told him yer intention of looking after yer family. But now he’s had time to realise just what he’s taking on, he don’t wanna go ahead.’

Aidy snapped at her, ‘I’m sure my husband is capable of telling me himself what he feels, Mrs Nelson.’

Pat retaliated, ‘Well, obviously he ain’t or he would have afore now. Poor lad poured his heart out to me. Some marriage you’ve got when yer husband is frightened to tell yer how he really feels. So I’ve no choice but to.’ She gave Arch a push on his back. ‘Go on, tell her what I’m saying is true.’ Before he could utter a word, she wagged a fat finger at Aidy and explained: ‘Now listen, and listen good – my Arch don’t wanna tek on someone else’s family. Your duty is to your husband. What he says goes.’

‘Well, that’s rich, coming from the likes of you, Pat Nelson! Your husband doesn’t get any say whatsoever in what goes on in his house,’ piped up Bertha, unable to contain herself any longer.

Outraged, Pat completely forgot it was in her best interests to present a false picture of herself as a warm, loving woman who’d care for her daughter-in-law’s family like they were the most precious people in the world to her … at least until she’d got her feet under the table … and bellowed back, ‘Who
asked you to stick yer interfering nose in, you wizened old crone?’

Outraged that anyone was addressing his beloved grandmother in such a way, George’s temper flared and he erupted at Pat: ‘Don’t you dare speak to my gran like that, you fat old bag!’

Clinging to her grandmother, Marion started crying.

A stricken Arch desperately wanted to come to the defence of his wife and her family while at the same time he dreaded going against his mother and suffering the repercussions in front of them all. He was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.