A Family Scandal (17 page)

Later, Tommy smiled broadly as he shut the door behind them and flopped with exhaustion on the big double bed. ‘Did you see that? No danger of any sound getting through the walls.’ He patted the candlewick bedspread. ‘Come and join me.’

Mavis giggled and lay down beside him, propping herself up on one elbow. ‘Look at that view. I can’t believe we’re actually here.’

‘I can’t believe I’m actually here with you,’ he said, his big green eyes suddenly serious. He traced the line of her cheek, her jaw, and then kissed her long and hard. ‘That’s better. I’ve been waiting to do that all day, you’ve no idea. You are a temptress, Mavis.’

‘We’ve got all this time together,’ Mavis breathed, lying down properly, raising her arms above her head and stretching luxuriantly. ‘This room is lovely. Look at that high ceiling. I’m glad I don’t have to dust the corners.’

Tommy snorted. ‘Stop thinking about housework. You don’t have to do any all holiday. Your only job is to enjoy yourself.’ He bent over her and brought his face close to hers. ‘Think you can manage that?’

She gazed up into his eyes and smiled. ‘Oh I think so,’ she said, as she reached to pull him closer still. ‘But why don’t you show me how, just to be sure.’

Alec Pugh stood at the window of his stamp shop later that day, thankful to see the last of a difficult customer. He knew the man was a serious collector and therefore good for business but he couldn’t bear him. He was big and bluff, wore a loud tweed jacket and spent most of his time commenting on the women who passed by.

‘Look at her,’ he’d roar, rubbing his hands. ‘She’d be a handful, wouldn’t she? I’d like to see what she’s made of underneath.’

Alec had forced himself not to react as he really wanted to, unable to bring himself to join in with light banter. He saw nothing remotely attractive in the curvy figures his customer seemed to prefer, and the very idea of seeing what any of them were like underneath their skimpy sundresses made his stomach turn over. Now he breathed a sigh of relief as the big man disappeared around the corner, having at least bought a selection of very rare stamps. Alec knew he should record the purchases in his ledger in his meticulously neat handwriting, but he allowed himself a minute to take in the view. When he raised his sights above the crowd he could see the big sky and the distant horizon, all a beautiful blue today. He sighed. Despite having to deal with obnoxious creatures like that customer, he’d made the right decision coming here. Battersea seemed a world away.

His attention was caught by the sight of someone he’d seen only a couple of months ago. He’d tried to obliterate the memory but now it came flooding back, the insult of the man with the pretty woman laughing at his sign. His old neighbour from Battersea days: Stan Bonner and that meddling slut, Jenny. And there she was as well, damn them straight to hell.

Before he could turn away in deep annoyance, it got worse. There was their horrible little boy, a bit taller now, but still full of irrepressible energy, most likely still making far too much noise. He was carrying a football, which was just typical. He’d be one of those ghastly children who played games on the beach, kicking sand into respectable people’s faces, shrieking as he did so. He’d have expected no better from those parents.

Then his heart skipped a beat. The boy turned and it looked as if he was shouting to someone. Another boy came into view, younger, hair flapping, shirt untucked, and socks falling down around his ankles. But it wasn’t the untidy clothes that bothered Alec. He stared at the second boy’s face. It couldn’t be. He’d changed, lost his baby roundness, but there was no doubt who it was. There, running along the pavement in Torquay, miles from where he should have been, was his very own son. James.

Following not far behind came a woman in very tight clothes with bright blonde hair that couldn’t be, and never had been, natural. Alec felt the breath catch in his throat. It was his detested mother-in-law, the scrubber, Lily, and sure enough there was that child she’d had so disgracefully late in life, now running around, holding his little arms up to the man just out of his view, who most probably was the poor fellow who’d been sucked into marriage with the scheming bitch. Alec almost felt sorry for him, but then, it had been the man’s decision to shackle himself to such a vile woman. He shuddered.

Finally in the small group came a couple, swinging a child of about six between them. For a moment he couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl as the little figure wore bright green shorts and a matching sunhat. Then he caught sight of her profile. Of course. Again a bit older, but there was no doubt that he was looking at his very own daughter, that uncontrollably rude little girl, Grace. Closest to him, holding her hand, was a tall man with very dark hair, good-looking, well set, casually dressed. He was partially obscuring the figure on the far side of the group, but then Grace pulled her forward.

Alec felt a loud hiss escape his lips and he staggered a little. There was a tightness in his chest as he fixed his gaze on the creature he had come to loathe most in the entire world.

There, strolling along without a care in the world, a happy smile on her upturned face, the breeze blowing through her dark, wavy hair, was his wife, Mavis.

Chapter Seventeen

Rhona slumped in the lumpy old armchair beside the empty fireplace in the little living room, wishing she had something to do. She was bored. Now that she wasn’t friends with Penny anymore, she didn’t have anyone to go out with, or anyone to visit. Mavis was away with all the family.

Jean had asked her if she wanted to come over after work and they could maybe go to the cinema but Rhona had sensed her colleague was just being kind. She knew Jean would be seeing her boyfriend. Rhona had met him a few times as he would come to the factory now and again to see Jean after one of their late shifts. He was nice enough, and Jean was obviously very happy with him, but Rhona couldn’t see him being a bundle of laughs somehow. He was older for a start, in his early thirties, with a steady job and the odds were that he’d soon ask Jean to marry him and then they’d settle down and that would be that. Rhona wondered if she could persuade Jean to come out on her own, maybe to a bar in town, but it didn’t seem very likely she’d accept. It wasn’t her sort of thing.

Sighing, she flicked through the local paper, but none of the articles grabbed her attention. There was something about a corrupt police officer, a Sergeant Fenton, which vaguely rang a bell – perhaps something to do with a story about some raids Penny had mentioned back when they were still talking to each other. Rhona couldn’t be bothered to read it. A summer sale at Jones & Higgins – big deal, she still wouldn’t be able to afford anything. A market trader cautioned for counterfeit goods – Rhona glanced at his picture and recognised him as the one who always held your hand too long when giving you your change. Good, serve the dirty bastard right.

She came to the ‘what’s on’ section, and sighed even more deeply. Usually these would be the first pages she’d turn to, eager to see what entertainment was on offer. Now she couldn’t see the point. There wasn’t much listed anyway; it was always quieter in August.

Then her eye was caught by a small advertisement for a bar she knew that wasn’t much further away than the factory. They were having an open mic evening, so anyone who fancied trying out a few numbers could come along. Normally she would have turned up her nose at such things; she only wanted to see the cutting-edge, sharpest bands, not any old Tom, Dick or Harry who fancied they could have a go. But if she went along she’d be bound to see someone she knew. It was on Sunday, so it wouldn’t go on till late, and she wouldn’t have to work out how to get home; she could walk it.

Before falling ill she’d barely spent any time considering such things but somehow now she was more cautious. She’d felt she was invincible, no matter what hour she’d had to make her way across the vast spread of the capital; now though Rhona felt she wasn’t. Still, she couldn’t sit round here moping all the time. It was time to get back in the saddle – or at least back on the music scene.

‘Sunday night,’ she said to herself. After all, how hard could it be? She might even enjoy it. She’d missed her guitar lessons and now she had more energy she was pleased at the thought of getting back to what she used to love so much, music. Maybe she wasn’t ready to break away from the factory into the big time but there was nothing wrong with seeing what was going on just up the road.

‘Over here! Pass it over here!’ James yelled, belting along the sand as fast as he could go.

‘Goal!’ shouted Tommy, shooting the ball past the pile of jumpers.

‘No, it should be on the other side!’ protested Greg, who’d failed to make contact with the ball as it shot past him.

‘Nonsense! That was a goal, fair and square,’ said Tommy, puffing a bit. The boys had kept him running around since shortly after breakfast. As he’d been up half the night making the most of his precious time with Mavis, he could have done with a rest this morning, but the boys weren’t having any of it.

‘Where’s the ball gone?’ asked James, spinning round. Then he saw that it had rolled off towards a pair of middle-aged holiday-makers who were reading the newspapers, sitting in striped deckchairs. He trotted over, putting on his politest face.

‘Please may we have our ball back?’ he asked, remembering how his teacher had taught him to speak in school.

The man in the deckchair beamed. ‘Of course. Help yourself. Aren’t you lucky your daddy plays football so well? I bet he’s shown you how to kick for goal.’

‘He’s not my daddy,’ said James without thinking. Then he caught the expression on the woman’s face and hastily added, ‘He’s my Uncle Tommy.’

‘Well then, you’re very lucky to have an uncle who’s so good at football. Enjoy your holiday,’ said the man, and went back to his newspaper.

James picked up the ball and strolled back to the others. He didn’t want to think of his daddy, whom he’d grown to fear. He didn’t particularly want another one. He much preferred Tommy, who didn’t mind getting covered in sand, was not bad at football and never, ever hit him.

He glanced across to where his mother was sitting on a picnic blanket, chatting to Greg’s mum. They had on sunglasses and straw sunhats with big brims, and were drinking tea from a flask. The landlady had packed them all a picnic hamper this morning and had been careful to ask the children what they wanted in their sandwiches.

‘No cucumber!’ Grace had shouted. ‘I hate cucumber!’

James had groaned inwardly as he’d heard the same complaint all summer, and it was a pity as Granny Lily had managed to grow lots of cucumbers in their new back garden. He suspected if she hadn’t then Grace would have demanded cucumber for breakfast, dinner and tea, because last year she’d loved it. He wondered if Granny would tell her off, but Mrs Hawkins had simply said, ‘Well, I shan’t put any in, then’, and made no fuss at all.

‘Look at them, they love it here.’ Mavis sat back, leaning on her elbows, peering at the boys over the top of her new sunglasses. She felt quite self-conscious wearing them but Jenny had told her to stop worrying and that she looked like Jackie Kennedy. Mavis was sure Jackie Kennedy never got sand in her sandwiches but on a beautiful day like this she wasn’t going to protest. She was just relieved that it was all going so well.

‘Yeah, I knew they would,’ said Jenny, reaching into the hamper for a banana. ‘I don’t know about you but this sea air makes me famished. I must have put on a stone.’

Mavis shook her head, laughing. Her friend was slimmer than ever, and getting the beginnings of a tan.

‘I didn’t know how the children would react, seeing me with Tommy all day every day, but they don’t seem to mind. It’s all gone smoothly, or so far. Touch wood.’ She tapped her hand on the little toggle holding down the hamper lid.

‘Well, why wouldn’t it?’ Jenny pushed back her sunhat. ‘They’ve known him for ages, and let’s face it, he treats them better than their own father ever did. Look at him there, having a kick about, like a big kid himself. They love him because they know they’re safe with him and they just relax.’

Mavis let out a sigh. ‘I’m so relieved. You know, I kind of looked on this break as a bit of a practice run – for what it might be like if we ever get together for good. God only knows when that will be. I keep hoping for news of Alec so that I can at least file for divorce.’

‘Before the seven years since Alec’s disappearance and you can have him declared dead, you mean?’ asked Jenny. ‘That’s a long time to wait. Still five years to go, aren’t there?’

‘Afraid so.’ Mavis’s face fell. ‘It seems ages when you put it like that. But who knows, something might happen before the time’s up. We could hear something definite, either way. That would help. Anything’s better than not knowing.’

‘You should get some legal advice, but in the meantime you’re both happy. Any fool can see that you’re made for each other, it’s obvious,’ Jenny said as she put the banana peel in a paper bag and shoved it back inside the hamper. ‘What’s Grace up to?’

‘She’s down there at the shoreline, with Lily and Bobby. They’re having a paddle. She can’t get enough of the sea now she’s got used to how cold it is.’ Mavis laughed. ‘I reckon she thought it was going to be like a bath. She got the shock of her life when she first stuck her toe in. That, and the way the tide brings the waves back and forth, but now she loves it, and keeps bringing back shells. I don’t know where she thinks they’re all going to go when it’s time to go home.’

‘Don’t even talk about it,’ said Jenny, rolling on to her front. ‘I could stay here for ever. No smelly tube trains, no South Circular. Imagine, just fresh air and blue skies.’

‘You’d be bored, you know you would,’ smiled Mavis. ‘I’m sure it isn’t sunny all the time either. I know what you mean, though. I bet loads of people settle down here when they’ve had enough of London.’

‘Hmmmm.’ Jenny knew the idea of staying was pie in the sky but it didn’t hurt to dream. ‘You know what, after that banana I could do with an ice cream. What do you say?’