The Letter (3 page)

She leant against him welcoming the comfort of his arms.

‘I’m not doing it, Graham,’ she said quietly. There was a steeliness in her voice that told Graham arguing would be futile.

‘It’s your choice, Tina. I’ll be here for you whatever happens.’

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

‘ You’re a good mate, Graham. Thanks.’

Graham looked away, slightly embarrassed.

‘Anyway,’ he said brightly, ‘You never know, you might find a fifty quid note in the pocket of that old suit.’

Tina scoffed. ‘Do fifty pound notes actually exist? I’ve never seen one.’

Graham managed a laugh. ‘I’d better get back,’ he said, standing up. ‘Nigel will be wondering where I’ve got to.’

‘Of course. I won’t keep you any longer. What time’s the race?’

‘Three-fifteen.’

Tina glanced at her watch. Only six hours to go.

‘Let me know if you change your mind and want to put the bet on.’

‘I won’t, but thanks.’

Tina turned her attention to the bag of clothes that had been left outside the shop. She held up the jacket of the suit once again and remembering Graham’s words, she slipped her hand into the inside pocket. She suddenly felt a bit foolish, but then her hand touched what appeared to be paper and her heart skipped a beat. She pulled out the paper and turned it over. It was not a fifty pound note, but an old, yellowing envelope.

Chapter 2

Tina smoothed out the creamy envelope and regarded it curiously. She pressed it to her face and inhaled its musty smell. It was addressed to Miss C Skinner, 33 Wood Gardens, Manchester. In the corner was an unfamiliar postage stamp, not one bearing the picture of Queen Elizabeth II as expected, but a man Tina presumed to be King George VI. She turned the envelope over and noticed it was still firmly sealed. Looking again at the stamp, she was surprised to see there was no postmark. For some reason, this letter had never been posted. To open it seemed a terrible intrusion somehow, like she was prying into someone else’s business, and yet she couldn’t simply discard it. The doorbell on the shop door rang again, making her jump, and she felt her face inexplicably redden as she stuffed the envelope into her handbag and greeted her first customer of the day.

‘Morning, Mrs Greensides.’

‘Morning, Tina, love. Just come for my usual root round. Anything new?’

Tina regarded the bag of clothes that had been left on the doorstep and eased it round the back of the counter with her foot.

‘Erm, later maybe. I’ve got some to sort out.’

She wanted to have a good look through the bag for any clues as to where it may have come from before putting the clothes out on the racks.

A steady stream of customers throughout the morning managed to take Tina’s mind off the forthcoming race, but at three o’clock she turned on the black and white portable television set that was kept in the back room. The horses were making their way down to the start and Tina looked for the one that was going to seal her fate. He was easy to spot with his big furry noseband, and the jockey had a huge diamond on the front of his jersey that the commentator had said was yellow. The horses all lined up behind the tape, dancing on the spot, eager to get away. Finally, at three-fifteen, the flag went up and the commentator shouted ‘They’re off!’

Tina could hardly bear to watch as they approached the first fence. So far, Red Rum hadn’t even been mentioned by the commentator. There was a faller at the first and Tina desperately tried to make out if it was him, but no, he was safely over. Another faller at the second, but Red Rum was over again, although a long way behind. She could imagine Rick at home now, shouting at the television, urging him on, riding the armchair as though he himself were the jockey, can of lager in one hand, cigarette in the other. He probably wasn’t even dressed. As they headed towards Becher’s Brook for the first time, she covered her eyes with her fingers. She didn’t know much about horse racing but even she knew that this fence was notoriously difficult and had claimed many horses over the years. Julian Wilson was commentating now.

‘Over Becher’s, Grey Sombrero’s over from Crisp in second, Black Secret third, Endless Folly fourth, fifth is Sunny Lad, sixth is Autumn Rouge, seventh is Beggar’s Way and he’s down. Beggar’s Way has fallen at Becher’s’

Tina let out a huge sigh. She hadn’t realised she had been holding her breath and she felt a little dizzy. Red Rum had not even warranted a mention and she dared to relax a little. Rick couldn’t pick the winner in a one-horse race.

The door in the shop opened and Tina cursed to herself as she went to serve them. To her immense frustration, it was old Mrs Boothman. She loved to stay and chat with Tina and on any other day Tina would have been more than happy to oblige. Mrs Boothman lived a lonely existence since she’d been widowed and her two sons didn’t bother to visit her much. A cup of tea and a natter with Tina was the highlight of her week.

‘Hello, Mrs Boothman,’ greeted Tina. ‘I’m just busy in the back at the moment. I won’t be long. You have a good look round.’

Mrs Boothman looked perplexed and Tina knew why. She didn’t need to look round. Not once in all the time she had been visiting the shop had she ever bought a single thing.

‘No problem, love. I’ll just perch here until you’re ready.’

She pulled up a stool and plonked her bag on the counter.

‘Is that the TV on in the back?’

Tina felt inscrutably guilty.

‘Err, yes. I was just watching the Grand National.’

Mrs Boothman looked surprised.

‘I didn’t know you were interested in horse racing.’

‘I’m not, it’s just that......’

‘Have you put a bet on?’ Mrs Boothman interrupted.

‘No! God, no,’ Tina spluttered.

She wasn’t sure why she was in the position of having to explain herself to Mrs Boothman.

‘I’ve never gambled in my life,’ Mrs Boothman continued. ‘My Jack always said it was for fools. Why waste your hard-earned money like that?’

‘I haven’t put a bet on, Mrs B,’ said Tina patiently. ‘I’m just interested that’s all.’

Tina stood in the doorway between the shop and the back room so she could still hear the television. Peter O’Sullevan had taken up the commentary.

‘It’s Crisp in the lead from Red Rum, but Red Rum’s making ground on him.’

He was second! How on earth had that happened? Tina felt as though the breath had been knocked out of her.

‘Are you OK, Tina? You look a bit peaky all of a sudden,’ enquired Mrs Boothman

‘I’m f...fine’.

‘Here, you’ll never guess what’s happened,’ whispered Mrs Boothman conspiratorially. ‘Her from number 9, you know that bit of strumpet, what’s her name?’

‘Trudy,’ replied Tina absently, straining to hear the television.

‘That’s the one. Been caught shoplifting in Woolies, she has.’

Mrs Boothman folded her arms under her ample bosom and pursed her lips waiting for Tina’s reaction.

‘Oh,really?’

‘Is that all you can say?’ exclaimed Mrs Boothman. She didn’t seem pleased that this juicy piece of gossip was being received so casually.

Tina ignored Mrs Boothman’s indignation and concentrated on Peter O’Sullevan.

‘Crisp is still well clear with two fences to jump in the 1973 Grand National. He’s got twelve stone on his back and ten stone five on the back of Red Rum who’s chasing him and they look to have it absolutely to themselves. At the second last, Crisp is over and clear of Red Rum who’s jumping it a long way back.’

Tina gripped the door frame and breathed deeply.

‘Are you sure you’re OK, Tina?’

Peter O’Sullevan’s voice carried on relentlessly in the background.

‘Coming to the final fence in the National now and it’s Crisp still going in great style. He jumps it well. Red Rum is about fifteen lengths behind him as he jumps it. Crisp is coming to the elbow and he’s got two hundred and fifty yards to run.’

Tina was sure she had made the right decision not to put the bet on. Red Rum looked beaten with far too much ground to make up now. She cheered up a little.

‘I’m fine. Let’s have a cup of tea, shall we?’

This gave Tina an excuse to go into the back, where she could see the television and put the kettle on. She picked up two cups and saucers and then froze in front of the screen. Peter O’Sullevan’s tone had changed.

‘Crisp is beginning to lose concentration. He’s been out there on his own for so long and Red Rum is making ground on him. They have a furlong to run now, two hundred yards for Crisp and Red Rum is making ground on him.’

The cups began to rattle in their saucers as Tina stared in horror and disbelief at the television.

‘No! No!’ It was a hoarse whisper. ‘Please, God, no.’

‘Crisp is getting very tired now and Red Rum is pounding after him and Red Rum is the one who finishes strongest. Red Rum is going to win the National. At the line Red Rum has just snatched it from Crisp and Red Rum is the winner.’

Tina felt the blood drain from her face and her bowels turned to water as she dropped to her knees, the teacups shattering into a thousand pieces. She held her throbbing head in her hands and trembled like a cornered stray dog. Tears burnt their way down her cheeks as Mrs Boothman came through uninvited to the back.

‘Whatever’s going on? You did have a bet on didn’t you?’ exclaimed Mrs Boothman. ‘What did I tell you? Nothing good ever comes of gambling. My Jack always…’

‘Please, Mrs Boothman. I just need to be left alone.’

She ushered Mrs Boothman out of the back room, through the shop and out onto the street. Mrs Boothman could hardly get her words out as Tina slammed the door shut, bolted it and turned the sign around to read ‘closed’. She pressed her forehead against the glass in the door, welcoming its coolness. She felt as though she was going to vomit and could actually feel the bile rising and the juices flooding her mouth. She swallowed hard and rubbed her face. Overcome with despair she crept into the back room and turned out all the lights. She needed to think what to do next. Rick would be expecting her home with God knows how much money. She didn’t even know the starting price, didn’t think she would need to know, and now this. There was no way Rick was going to let her off this one.

*

Tina didn’t know how long she had sat there in the dark but she was startled by a tapping on the shop door. Tina’s eyes widened with fright at the thought it might be Rick.

‘We’re closed,’ she said wearily.

‘Tina? It’s Graham. Let me in.’

That’s all I need
thought Tina. Graham’s sympathy and kindness were sure to tip her over the edge.

She heaved herself up and unbolted the door.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get round any earlier. It’s been manic in there today.’

‘It’s OK, Graham.’

He stared at her tear-stained face.

‘You watched it then?’

‘He’s going to kill me,’ she said simply. ‘I mean I actually think he’s going to kill me.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wad of notes.

‘What’s that?’ asked Tina.

‘Four hundred and fifty quid. Here.’

He pressed the money into Tina’s hand.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Sshh.’ Graham pressed his finger to her lips. ‘I put the bet on for you.’

‘You?’ Tina couldn’t take it in. ‘But you’re the bookie, Graham. You can’t have a bet with yourself.’ There was no fooling Tina.

‘I know. I sent Nigel down to Ladbrokes.’

Tina could feel her chin beginning to wobble.

‘You did that for me?’

‘I just had a feeling about that horse, Tina. I couldn’t risk it. There was so much money going on him he started as 9/1 favourite.’

‘But it was so close, Graham. He nearly lost.’

Graham shrugged. ‘Look, you’ve got four hundred and fifty quid there to give his lordship and you’ve still got your fifty quid, so everybody’s happy.’

‘If he
had
lost, you would never have told me about this, would you?’

Graham shook his head. ‘But he didn’t. Let’s not dwell on what might have been.’

‘I honestly don’t know what to say, Graham. I think you may have actually saved my life.’

‘Now, now, don’t be so dramatic.’

Tina cupped Graham’s face in her hands and pulling him towards her, planted a kiss firmly on his lips.

‘Thank you,’ she said simply.

Graham blushed. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said. Then he added more seriously, ‘I’d do anything for you Tina, you remember that.’

‘I won’t forget this, Graham,’ Tina said as she stuffed the money into her handbag. ‘I’d better go, he’ll be waiting. At least he’ll be in a good mood for once.’

Chapter 3

When Tina put the key in the lock of the front door, her head was pounding, her mouth dry and her hands trembling so much she could hardly turn the key. As she entered the dark hallway she could hear the television. Dickie Davis was just wrapping up ‘
World of Sport
’ and Rick was no doubt slumped on the settee, probably asleep, certainly drunk. She peered into the lounge but it was empty.

‘Rick, I’m home.’

‘Upstairs,’ he answered.

She rummaged in her handbag and pulled out the £450 as she climbed the stairs.

‘In the bathroom,’ Rick encouraged.

Tina pushed the bathroom door open and gasped. He had run a lovely deep bubble bath, with gallons of piping hot water. He had even lit a couple of candles. Condensation ran down the windows and Tina struggled to see through all the steam.

He bent over the bath and swirled his hand around in the bubbles. ‘I’ve had the immersion on,’ he explained.

‘The immersion? But that costs.....’

Rick put his finger to her lips to silence her.

‘Haven’t you got something for me?’

Tina handed over the £450.

‘I’ve kept the £50, if it’s all the same to you.’ She sounded bolder than she felt.

Rick ignored her tone and pressed the banknotes to his nose. He took a deep breath and inhaled their inky smell before stuffing them into his back pocket.