That'll Be the Day (2007) (42 page)

Judy dragged herself from the bed where she’d lain sobbing her heart out for hour upon hour, took one look at him standing in the rain and, hoping the landlady wouldn’t notice, allowed him to gather her in his arms and join her in it.

She gave herself up to his loving on an emotional tide of pain and joy. It felt like bliss, like coming home, just as if she belonged there. Leo made love to her as Sam had never done, with passion and tenderness, with a slow caring sensitivity and on a rising crescendo of desire so that neither could have prevented what followed, even had they wished to.

But what did it matter? What more did she have to lose?

The very next evening when the day’s work was done and they were sitting at the dinner table supposedly enjoying a civilised meal together, Leo calmly asked Helen for a divorce. He gave no explanation but simply and politely made his request, claiming their marriage was nothing but a sham and it was time they put it to rest.

Helen sat frozen for a whole half second and then picked up her glass of red wine and flung it in her husband’s face. Fortunately he ducked and it hit the imitation Chinese silk wallpaper instead, leaving a dreadful stain that would surely never come out. Helen didn’t even notice.

Pushing back her chair she got shakily to her feet and faced him with ice-cold dignity, so controlled and collected that Leo should have been concerned. As it was he was too busily engaged sweeping a few stray droplets of red wine from his best tweed jacket.

‘Don’t imagine for one minute that I’m completely stupid, or ignorant of the identity of this mistress of yours. I know who she is. You’ve been sleeping with Judy Beckett, haven’t you? That’s the reason she’s lost her children, because of
you
.’

Leo took a breath, somewhat surprised and shaken by the accusation but determined not to be thrown by it. ‘I’m afraid that’s true, although I wasn’t sleeping with her at the time,’ and then devastated his wife by adding, ‘although I am now.’

By way of response Helen picked up the fruit salad and Leo leapt from the table, holding up his hands as some sort of inadequate shield.

‘Hey, I am at least being honest with you, as I have been throughout our married life. I want you to know, Helen, that I was totally loyal until last night. But your jealousy, your manipulations, your determination to take, take, take, and never give of yourself or show any sign of affection is what has brought an end to this marriage, not my sleeping with Judy. You can’t blame her for this, or me for that matter, much as you might like to. You can only blame yourself.’

Leo braced himself for the tirade, for her rage and fury, for her to fly at him with talons outstretched, with or without the dratted fruit salad. Instead, after a long and telling pause in which she was clearly considering her options, Helen placed the cut-glass bowl carefully back upon the mat and smiled serenely at him.

‘I’m so sorry. My nerves are somewhat jangled at present, not surprisingly. I believe it is quite common for a woman in my condition.’

A deathly pause. ‘Your
condition
?’

‘Yes, my darling. You say that I take, take, take, well that’s not strictly true. I do listen to your heartfelt requests occasionally. In fact, I’ve done more than that. There is one thing I’m about to give you, with all my love and joy. I’m having a baby, Leo. You’re going to be a father at last.’

Chapter Forty-One

Betty had always enjoyed Christmas. She loved the cold crisp days, the general feeling of anticipation in the air as people chose gifts for their loved ones. She always did a roaring trade selling mistletoe and holly, all the while grumbling that she’d do better if the gypsies didn’t steal so much of her trade by undercutting her.

Her stall this morning was bright with pots of azaleas and cyclamen, hyacinth and of course roses and her favourite chrysants. She could hear the Salvation Army playing
While
Shepherds Watched Their Flocks By Night
, and Lynda happily singing silly words to the tune. It was good to see her daughter more cheerful, but her mood swings were very worrying. She was up and down like a yo-yo.

‘Your good mood couldn’t have anything to do with that young man who keeps winking at you, could it?’ Betty suddenly asked, her face a picture of innocence.
 

Lynda flushed bright red, knowing full well that her mother was referring to Terry who seemed to be constantly hovering on the periphery of her vision. She really must speak to him about that. It would never do for Ewan to notice and have his suspicions aroused.

‘I can’t think what you’re talking about,’ Lynda said, but she cast her mother a sideways smile which spoke volumes. Betty simply chuckled.

Belle Garside interrupted them at that moment to say that the committee had decided to put up a Christmas tree, as usual, in the market hall, and could Betty order one from her own supplier?

‘I know we’re late in making the decision, Betty, but we’re a bit strapped for cash and there was a row about whether we could afford to have a tree this year. Anyway, it’s finally been agreed that the market hall has to be decked out properly or else trade will suffer. And being late, we’re in a bit of a hurry now, of course. Can you organise it?’

Betty agreed that she could, would in fact send Lynda round to Smithfield this very minute. ‘I’d go myself but these wheels don’t have an engine attached and although I can hobble a bit now, it might be next Christmas before I got there.’

Belle laughed. ‘I’m disappointed in you, Betty love. I’d’ve thought you’d be jet-propelled by this time.’

‘Nay, I’m training for the next Olympics, doing the hundred yard dash on me crutches.’

‘You’d win too, nobody can keep our Betty down for long.’

Betty turned to her daughter, her expression giving nothing away. ‘Do you want our Jake to take you to Smithfield in that fancy car of his, or can you cadge a lift with someone? Ask them to deliver the tree first thing in the morning, if they can.’

Lynda hid a smile. Good old mam, never missed a trick. ‘Oh, I reckon I can cadge meself a lift, thanks. I’ll see to it, Belle. Leave it with me. ‘
 

‘No need to hurry back,’ Betty said. ‘I can manage.’ She winked at her daughter, then Betty sent Lynda on her way, having issued a long list of instructions about what to look for and how not to be fobbed off with any old rubbish.

‘And take care. Don’t let your father catch you or he might send you off doing all sorts of jobs for him.’ Their eyes met, exchanging the kind of signals which indicated they were both aware Betty was issuing a different warning entirely. It was a dangerous path Lynda trod in re-establishing her friendship with Terry, and if they were to have any peace it was vital Ewan didn’t discover what they were up to.

Belle said, ‘Your ex still giving you trouble then, Betty?’

‘Not for much longer. I’ve got a plan. If he isn’t out of here by Christmas I’m going to put weed killer in his trifle.’

Belle went away chuckling, and the moment she’d gone Betty was inundated with customers, Leo Catlow among them. ‘Why is it when there’s two of us here we’re sat twiddling our thumbs, and the minute I’m on me own I’m rushed off me feet? Mind you, I dare say my feet could do with the exercise.’

‘Does anything rob you of your sense of humour, Betty?’ Leo asked and Betty pretended to give due consideration to the question.

‘Can’t think of anything offhand.’

Leo smilingly offered her a piece of advice. ‘I happened to overhear what you said to Belle, and I have to warn you that divorce is more practical than poison, and far less dangerous.’

‘Aye, I tried that once and it didn’t work. Don’t worry, Ewan Hemley will outlive us all. The good lord is in no hurry to have him come calling. Only the good die young, more’s the pity. How about you? You’ve been having it a bit rough lately too, from what I can gather. Got that new kitchen fitted, have you? Bet it cost a packet.’

They enjoyed their usual chat about his mother and the fire and the renovations, and how Dulcie was settling into the home while Betty made up a bouquet of carnations for the old lady. But her mind was elsewhere and she kept lapsing into silence.

‘Spit it out,’ Leo said at last. ‘I can see something is bothering you.’

Betty smiled brightly up at him. ‘I was just thinking about the things I see sitting here in this chair of mine. People coming and going, talking, gossiping, making assignations, having rows. I’ve sat here so long they no longer see me, if you catch my drift, so they sometimes reveal things about themselves without realising.’

Leo was frowning. ‘I suppose they do. Were you thinking of anybody in particular?’

‘Well now, that’d be telling, wouldn’t it? And you know I’m not one to gossip, not like some round here. If a bloke takes a married lady into his shop then shuts the door and puts up the closed sign, who am I to say what’s going on?’

A small silence followed in which Leo fixed her with his penetrating gaze for a long moment before allowing it to drift over the market. There weren’t many actual shops, just a few on the periphery of the market hall. A tobacconist and Alec Hall’s music shop among others, and the ironmongery belonging to Sam Beckett. Was she hinting at something to do with Lynda and Terry, or something else entirely?

Leo looked back at Betty, eyebrows raised in enquiry, but she only smiled up at him.
 

‘How about a potted hyacinth for your lady wife? Hyakinthos was a handsome young Greek loved by Apollo, the sun god. Trouble was, the god of the west wind loved Apollo and he didn’t much care for his adored to turn his attention elsewhere. He was bitterly jealous. Then one day while they were all practising discus throwing the god of the west wind became so overcome with jealousy he blew the discus right back and it killed poor Hyakinthos. From his blood grew this lovely flower which Apollo named after him.’

Leo said, ‘A tragic tale, Betty, but why are you telling me this?’

Betty shrugged, her face devoid of expression. ‘I was just thinking that jealousy can be a wicked thing. It can destroy a marriage, or prove fatal for some poor victim, if you don’t watch out.’

‘Yes,’ Leo thoughtfully agreed. ‘I suppose it can.’

‘And often those who are most jealous, like the west wind, have least reason to be. Maybe he was just misguided, overcome by his jealousy but some people, in the real world I mean, aren’t always as innocent as they make out. They might be involved in secret affairs of their own, and put the blame for the failure of their marriage on to their spouse, as part of a cover-up.’

Betty smiled benignly up at Leo, allowing the silence to develop before continuing, ‘But, as you say, it’s nobbut a Greek love tangle, a myth, nothing to do with reality. So, what about a hyacinth then for your good lady wife? Bring a beautiful perfume into her lounge for Christmas.’

Leo accepted the suggestion though he said nothing more, and as he walked away with his flowers he lapsed into deep thought.

Judy stared at Leo transfixed, unable to believe what she was hearing. She’d found him waiting for her when she’d got home from the snack bar and had run to him in joy, eager to show that she held no regrets over what had happened the previous night.

Judy had made up her mind that she would fight Sam all the way, that she would go through with the divorce, then she and Leo could apply to adopt the children, as man and wife, just as they’d discussed last night. Judy’s heart was filled with happiness and new hope at the prospect. Everything was going to be all right, she knew it.

Now she stared at him in disbelief. ‘Helen is pregnant? But . . . I thought she didn’t want children? I mean, I thought you and she were no longer . . .’

‘We aren’t. We haven’t slept together - had sex - in several weeks.’ The deep-set dark brown eyes brooded more sombrely than ever, and a crease appeared between the winged eyebrows as Leo attempted to calculate dates. ‘Though probably there was the odd occasion in the last three months, while I was still trying to make a go of it. I can’t remember.’ He looked at her then with such agony in his eyes Judy could hardly bear it. ‘You know what this means, don’t you?’

She couldn’t bring herself to think, to view a life without either her children or Leo, not now when they’d both admitted how they felt about each other. ‘Don’t say it. Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.’

‘I’m so sorry, love, so desperately sorry but I can’t leave her now, not when she’s having my child.’ Leo captured Judy’s face in his hands to look deep into her blue eyes. ‘I’d give my soul for it not to be true. All these years I’ve longed, ached for a family. There was nothing I wanted more than to father a child of my own, but not like this when my marriage is in tatters and I’ve found you.’

Judy had to say it. It seemed that she was constantly driven to fight for the people she loved. ‘What if it isn’t yours?’

He paused then, wondered if those convoluted hints Betty had dropped had something to do with Helen having an affair? He couldn’t be sure, of course but they certainly tallied with what his mother had told him. And if the child were indeed Sam Beckett’s, or some other lover? How would he feel about that, even if he could prove it?

Leo dropped his hands to his side on a sigh, and shook his head. ‘She’s my wife so I have to assume the child is mine, which it may well be. In any case, for the child’s sake, if nothing else, I have to assume that it is.’