That'll Be the Day (2007) (49 page)

His wife was in bed with David Barford.

‘Ah,’ Barford said, clearly endeavouring to sound calm despite the crimson flush stealing over his cheekbones. ‘Cats out of bags are the words which spring to mind.’

‘Leo, this is not how it looks,’ Helen whimpered, rather unrealistically, he thought.

He felt a surge of such hatred for her, such rage he could barely speak for a moment. All these years she’d accused him of having a mistress, had screamed at him, hectored and lectured him, searched his pockets for evidence, finding none; interrogating and berating him if he so much as spoke to another woman. And all the time she was the one guilty of infidelity, not him.

‘You surely aren’t trying to suggest that he took you by force? Don’t be ridiculous, Helen. Look at the pair of you . . . stark naked and suffused in guilt. Besides, it would only be yet another of your lies.’

‘I think I’d better leave.’ Barford slipped quickly from the bed and Leo tossed him his carefully folded shirt, crumpling it in his clenched fists as he did so.

‘I won’t give you the satisfaction of popping you one, tempting as it might be. As far as I’m concerned you’re welcome to her. She’s all yours, mate. You can have both my wife and the child.’

Barford went quite pale, pausing in his battle with his underpants, one leg suspended in mid-air. ‘Child, what child?’

Helen struggled to her knees on the bed, dragging the sheet with her. ‘Leo, this isn’t the time or the place. We’ll discuss this delicate matter later, in private.’

‘No, Helen, we’ll discuss it
now
.’ Leo stood in the doorway, arms folded, legs astride, face set grim with determination, blocking Barford’s exit which the man was clearly anxious to make. ‘Haven’t you informed your lover that you’re pregnant? Or did you decide not to confuse the issue by mentioning it, since I wasn’t supposed to realise that I might not be the father? I do wonder if you are you in fact pregnant at all, since you look remarkably slim and supple for a mother-to-be. Or could that possibly be a lie too, like the time you blamed my mother for starting that kitchen fire? Fortunately she is happy in the home you banished her too but . . .’

‘. . . there you are then, I was right to . . . ‘ Helen began.

Leo kept on talking. ‘. . . Dulcie is adamant she turned off the oven and never even used any of the top gas jets as she was only baking scones, so how come a tea towel caught fire unless someone did it deliberately? The fire brigade confirm that the seat of the fire was on top of the cooker, so what do you have to say about that?’

To his utter astonishment Helen burst out laughing. ‘Fair cop, m’lud. Caught red-handed all round. But what does it matter, I always get my way one way or the other, so why bother arguing? As you said yourself, Leo, Dulcie is perfectly happy in that place and if I did use that silly little fire to help her see sense, wasn’t it worth it to be on our own again? Plus, I even got a new kitchen out of the deal, paid for by the insurance company, so where’s the problem?’
 

Leo stared at his wife in total disbelief and was forced to draw a deep steadying breath before he could continue. ‘Aside from the fact that you could have burned the house down, as well as leaving an old woman not only homeless but accused of something she didn’t even do, our problem now lies in the fact that I can no longer trust you.’

As if to give credence to his words, Leo swivelled his gaze back to Barford, who seemed to be standing frozen in his shirt and underpants, taking all of this in and clearly wishing he were somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have to. Leo ignored him and returned his ice cold gaze to his wife.

‘I’ll give you ten minutes to pack your things and leave.’

‘Leave?’ Her beautiful cool grey eyes sparkled up at him in merry laughter, as if he’d made some sort of humorous remark. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Why would I?’

‘Perhaps because this morning, puzzled by a pregnancy which apparently requires no medical checks whatsoever, presents no difficulties over what you can eat, no morning sickness, no problems of any kind so far as I can see, I finally rang the doctor. I must say Doc Mitchell was surprised to hear that you were pregnant, Helen, although happy for you naturally. It was, apparently, the first he’d heard of it.’

Leo sensed, rather than heard, Barford’s sigh of relief but still chose to ignore the man. He knew now that Barford wasn’t her only lover, and merely a pawn in whatever little game she was playiing. ‘If this pregnancy is indeed genuine, how come you haven’t even seen a doctor, particularly considering your life-long fear of the condition.’

On this occasion Helen remained silent, merely pouting sulkily at him.

Leo gave a half smile, though it did not reach his eyes. ‘What I suggest is that you get on with your packing rather quickly, so that your lover here can help to carry your cases out to your car.’

For the first time he saw panic in her eyes. ‘You can’t be serious?’

‘Never more so.’

Barford said, ‘I say old boy, that’s cutting it a bit rich. Where could she go at this time on a Saturday afternoon?’

‘Do you know something, I really don’t care. I’m sure you can find her a good hotel, or perhaps your wife could lend her a bed for the night? Actually, I’ll pack for her, shall I? Much quicker and easier all round. I’m sure she doesn’t need much, and the rest of her considerable wardrobe can be sent on later, or perhaps given to a suitable charity.’ Striding over to his wife’s wardrobe Leo began to toss dresses, skirts and blouses out on to the bed. Naked, as she was, Helen flew at him.

‘Stop that Leo, stop it at once, do you hear? You’re acting like a mad-man. I absolutely refuse to be bullied out of my own home.’

‘Indeed? But that is exactly what you did to my mother. You bullied her constantly, over which fork to use, where she could sit to read the paper, whether she could put a picture on the wall, if she should be allowed to stay in what used to be her own house. And no, I haven’t gone mad. I’m simply acting like an irate husband who’s reached the end of his tether.’

‘How dare you accuse me of such horrible things? How
dare
you!’

While Helen flew about the room desperately picking up discarded underwear and clothes and struggling into them, Leo pulled a suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and began tossing in her Dior suits and Yves St Laurent dresses as if they were old rags. Barford, he noticed, had taken advantage of the fact Leo had left his station by the door, and had beaten a hasty retreat. He couldn’t really blame the man for that, even it was rather ungallant of him to leave Helen without either assistance or sympathy. But then she didn’t deserve any.

Having found her bra and panties and pulled on a skirt and blouse, Helen came at him again, flailing, punching, screaming and kicking his shins with her bare feet. Leo grasped her by the wrists and flung her back on to the bed.

‘Don’t tempt me to retaliate. Just tell me the truth for once -
are you pregnant
? Are you carrying my child?’

‘
No, I’m not
!’ Her screaming response left him in no further doubt that his mother, old and confused at times though she may, had been absolutely correct. Leo picked up the suitcase he had packed, snapped it shut and walking to the front door, tossed it out on to the pavement. Then he snatched up a pair of shoes and coat, grabbed his wife’s arm and thrust her into the street after it so that she fell in a crumpled heap in the snow.

‘Go and live with one of your lovers. I’m sure you have plenty to choose from. Oh, and I recommend you find yourself a good lawyer.’

Her screaming response was drowned by the slamming of the door. Leo leaned back against it feeling cleansed, as if he’d been liberated. But although he’d rid himself of a lying, cheating wife, he was no nearer to finding the woman he loved.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Jake was doing his best to help, albeit in his own ineffectual way. He’d searched every alleyway and outbuilding for his mother, including Betty’s lock-up where she stored the flowers, and even Barry Holmes’s shed on the allotments, though why she would be there he didn’t stop to think. But then Jake was not strong on thinking.
 

It upset him that he couldn’t find her, but hoped that if he kept on good terms with Ewan, his father might start trusting him a bit more, might even let slip some vital piece of information which would lead him to her, even after all this time. Not that he was certain he would recognise such a clue, even if one were dropped, but he lived in hope.

She’d been missing for a couple of weeks now, since just before Christmas. Could she still be alive in these sort of temperatures? And if so, what game was his father playing, and why was it taking so long?

The trouble was that Ewan rarely let him out of his sight, save for those occasions when he himself demanded privacy and would send Jake off on some manufactured errand. Yet despite the difficulties, and his own feeling of inadequacy, Jake did manage to keep a close eye on Ewan’s activities, sometimes secretly following him for days on end, trying to work out what his plans were.

His father had spent half the morning at Potato Wharf, though Jake hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly what he was doing there beyond talking to a group of shady looking characters. After that he’d gone on to the Dog and Duck for a bite of dinner and to haggle with his mates over where to place his bets for the afternoon races at the dog track.

Jake joined them there, as instructed, and was made welcome enough, but he was careful to say little himself in the hope the men might forget he was present and mention something useful. They never had before but he still lived in hope.

Their conversation was largely concerned with how much they’d won or lost from the bookie, and who was working on which boats down at the docks and Jake soon grew bored.

 
He found himself lamenting his own loss of freedom to cruise around the neighbourhood in his flash car with his mates, which was now a thing of the past. Nor was he in the mood these days for teasing Lynda with his favourite slang, and he couldn’t even go dancing or dating chicks. He’d no money, for a start.

Jake had been forced to give up working at Smithfield. It was either that or start stealing from his employer and he’d absolutely refused to go that far. It was bad enough having to ask his mates to procure items for his father to fence. Ewan had bought an old van and it was scarily nerve-wracking driving the stuff around. He lived in fear that Constable Nuttall might stop him at any time and ask to look inside. But he’d certainly no intention of getting involved in any stealing himself. His terror of getting caught was even greater than his fear of Ewan and so, for once, Jake had stood up to his father’s demands.

‘No, I’ll not do it. You can’t make me,’ he’d yelled out in sheer panic when Ewan had outlined what he expected from his son. ‘I’d be the first they’d suspect if stuff went missing. Anyroad, it’s mainly flowers and fruit and veg that I deliver, so where’s the profit in nicking that sort of stuff?’

He’d regretted this remark almost the moment it was out of his mouth because Ewan had nodded in thoughtful agreement. ‘You’re right, son. Why waste time and talent on trivial rubbish, we’ve enough of that already. Far better to concentrate on summat worthwhile, summat big. Don’t worry I’m on the look out. I’ll find something. I can concentrate now I don’t have that wife of mine nagging me the whole bleeding time.’

Jake experienced a surge of protective anger on behalf of his mother. He felt certain this was all his fault. If he hadn’t wanted his dad back in the first place, if he hadn’t been so awful to his mam, or if he hadn’t planted the idea in his father’s head that he should be looking for bigger fish to fry, happen they might not be in this mess and she’d be sitting on her flower stall like always, chatting to her customers.

‘I’m not doing anything more for you unless you let Mam come home.’

It had been a brave remark, perhaps even foolhardy, and Jake’s heart had hammered in his chest while he’d said it, but his father had put back his head and laughed as if he’d said something funny.

‘I don’t think you’re in any position to bargain, son. But don’t worry, you’ll get your share, so long as you do as you’re told. Then, who knows, you might be lucky and see your mam again. She might rise like Frankenstein from the deep.’

Fussy and irritating though Betty might be at times Jake really couldn’t let that pass. The thought of his mam’s possible suffering in some dank cellar gave him the courage to press his case, to forcibly point out that she’d want him to keep his nose clean and stay on the straight and narrow.

‘She’d leather me if I did anything wrong. I’m not getting involved in anything illegal. I’ve an aversion to confined cramped spaces, and I’ve no wish to spend time in a prison cell, ta very much, so count me out.’

Ewan had stopped laughing by this time and his expression was grim. ‘You’ll get involved if I say you will, make no mistake about it, so shut your gob or I’ll shut it for ya.’ He’d accompanied this warning with a punch that knocked out one of Jake’s front teeth.

Jake still shivered at the memory of that moment, had sleepless nights over it. Now the sound of raised voices muttering something about Irish narrow boats brought him back to the painful reality that despite his protests events seemed to be escalating like a steam train out of his control. His mam was still missing and he was in the Dog and Duck with his father and a bunch of dodgy blokes planning some big robbery that he’d no wish to be a part of.