Changing Patterns (10 page)

‘You’re beautiful.’

‘Don’t look at me, I’m a right mess – no make-up.’ She dipped her chin.

‘You’re beautiful to me, with or without.’

‘Your mother said you don’t like slap, as she calls it.’

‘Ma?’ Ted stared at her. ‘I don’t recall ever talking to her about anything like that. Anyway, whatever she put on her face it wouldn’t improve it – unless it was a paper bag.’

Ellen laughed. He could always make her laugh. She sobered for a moment; pulling her knees up under her chin, she wrapped her full skirt around them. ‘Your mother…’ She was apprehensive. It was something she’d broached before, something they never resolved. She knew Ted felt beholden to his mother because of the money.

His face set. ‘Mary told me some of it. How bad is it?’

‘It’s worse than ever. And it’s driving me mad. She watches – and picks all the time. She’s nasty and she’s spiteful as soon as you’ve turned your back.’ Her throat tightened with misery and she struggled for breath.

He pulled her close. ‘That’s okay, love. I get the picture and I’ll make sure it stops.’

‘How, Ted?’ She pulled herself away from him. ‘When you’re not there? How can you do that?’

‘I’ll talk to her, tell her to stop.’

Ellen gave a small shake of her head. ‘It’s when she starts on about Linda that I really hate it.’

His face darkened. ‘What does she say?’

‘That I tricked you into keeping Linda, that she shouldn’t be with us, that she’ll grow up to be a whore like me.’

‘Right!’ A muscle in his jaw twitched as he clamped his teeth together.

For a moment Ellen was scared. She’d kept so much to herself for so long, thinking he wouldn’t believe her. He was used to Hannah’s whining but his mother kept the malevolence for when she was alone with Ellen. ‘She calls Linda “the bastard”, Ted.’

She heard his long muted breath. ‘It won’t happen again, Ellen. You’ll not have to hear that ever again, I promise you.’ He held her to him. She rested her head against his chest, relieved that at last she’d told him everything. He would make it all right. His voice echoed in her ear. ‘Whatever it takes, I’ll make sure she never speaks to you like that again. I love you more that I’ve loved anyone, ever. It’s you, me and the kids from now on, believe me.’

Ellen swallowed; for the first time in her life she felt she belonged to someone, that she fitted just right into someone’s life and she hugged that knowledge to herself.

‘So, Ted arrived then?’ Jean stood by the parlour window looking out at the front garden.

‘Yes, while you were out with Jacqueline.’ Mary dried the last plate and piled it on top of the others in the wall cupboard. Exhausted by the sleepless hours, the sick worry about the little girl’s revelation, she pressed her fingers to her temples. Folding the tea towel she came out of the kitchen. ‘Let’s sit down. I need to talk to you.’ How to start asking Jean about Patrick? She resented even having to think about him but she wasn’t going to ignore what Jacqueline had said.

‘What about?’ Jean pushed the net curtain to one side and settled on the windowsill. ‘Peter’s drawn a game of hopscotch on the path for Jacqueline,’ she said, filling in the pause. ‘I have to say he’s good with the kids.’

‘What did you expect? He’s the same man who looked after you when you lost your baby,’ Mary said, immediately defensive. ‘He’s just a man, Jean.’ She paused. ‘No, actually, he’s not
just
a man. He’s the man I love and I’ll thank you to remember that.’ Just as Patrick’s the one you’ve always loved, she thought, and Peter’s worth a million times more than him.

‘I was only saying.’

‘Like you did last night? What was it? Oh yes, I remember. “She’s enough to cope with living with that man. She’ll have the life of hell.” Something like that?’ Frustrated by the diversion yet unable to ignore her hurt, she spoke sharply.

At least Jean was mortified enough to redden. ‘I’m sorry. I’m only thinking of you.’

‘Even after all these years you still think you’re entitled to try to organise my life.’

‘I’m trying to get you to think about what you’re doing.’

‘I know what I’m doing, thanks.’

‘I doubt that. Look, there are plenty of jobs. Since Bevan opened the Park Hospital in Manchester they’ve been crying out for nurses. With your experience you’d have no trouble getting in.’ Jean took off her glasses and cleaned each lens with her handkerchief. ‘With Tom … gone there’s nothing to stop you coming home now.’

‘This is not what I want to talk about. Jacqueline—’

‘Is really upset about Tom,’ Jean butted in. Mary had a sense that she was being warned off. ‘She’s having all sorts of nightmares. Sometimes she’s mixing bad dreams up with things that have actually happened.’

She knows what I’m going to say. Mary was determined to keep calm but her voice still trembled when she spoke. ‘Is that what’s she’s doing when she tells me Patrick’s hit you?’

There was a silent plea in Jean’s eyes. ‘Mary…’

‘Is she
mixing that up?’ Mary stressed the words. ‘Or has he actually hit you?’

Jean slid off the windowsill and stood motionless. ‘Mary…’

‘Has he?’ She knew the answer, saw the humiliation in her friend’s eyes. She moved swiftly from the sofa and grabbed Jean’s arms. ‘You have to tell me. Is it true?’

Jean lowered her head.

‘Oh Jean.’ The distress merged with the rush of rage. ‘I am so sorry.’ She gathered her in her arms, frightened by the ferocity of her friend’s sobs. ‘It’ll be all right. We’ll sort something out. You can stay here as long as you want.’ Mary ignored the sudden vision of Peter’s reaction; he’d understand when she explained. ‘As long as you want,’ she said again.

‘I can’t. I can’t leave Mother.’

‘Then move back in with her.’ The solution came with a sense of relief that shamed Mary. ‘You have to. You can’t stay with him.’

Jean shrugged her away and turned back to the window. ‘It’s not that easy. Jacqueline…’

‘Is frightened.’

‘I’ll make it right with her. Tell her she was mistaken.’

Mary gave a cry of derision. ‘Mistaken?’

‘It was only the once. He was upset about Tom.’

‘He thumped you because of Tom? I don’t believe that. He hated Tom.’

‘He didn’t. You should have seen him, Mary, he was heartbroken.’

‘Huh!’

‘He was.’ Jean spun around to face her. ‘I should have left him alone.’ Her face crumpled. ‘I should have left him alone but I didn’t. I wanted to comfort him. I tried to hold him.’

‘So he hit you.’ Mary dragged out the words.

‘It was the first time.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Jean flushed. ‘Then don’t, but it’s true.’ She looked out of the corner of her eyes at Mary. ‘Please don’t tell the others.’

‘Ellen already knows, I’ve told her.’ Mary folded her arms, angry her friend wanted to cover up what Patrick had done.

‘How could you? You know what she’s like about me.’

‘She has a right to know, he’s her brother too.’

‘She’ll tell all and sundry,’ Jean muttered, leaning on the windowsill.

‘She won’t … and if she did, it’s not you who should be ashamed. It’s him.’

‘I pushed him into it. I should have left him alone,’ Jean said again.

‘Leave him, Jean. You have to.’

‘No!’

‘Then you’re a bloody fool.’

Hard rain splattered on the window. Mary drew the curtains against the night. ‘Everything’s okay then?’ she said.

Sprawled on the sofa, holding a cushion to her, Ellen glanced up at Mary. ‘Yeah, I’m going back with Ted on Wednesday. He’s promised to tell Hannah to leave me alone. I’ll be all right.’

‘Let’s hope she does then. And the other thing? What did he say about that?’ Mary perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘You did tell him what you thought was going on between him and that girl?’

‘Yeah, of course. He’s promised not to have Doreen in the shop ever again.’

‘So it was true?’ Mary looked incredulous. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it.’

‘Course it wasn’t true. I was being daft.’

Ellen wanted to tell Mary about Patrick but Ted had made her promise. ‘For the time being, we’ll keep out of it, wait to see what happens,’ he’d said. ‘Don’t say anything to Mary, she has enough on her plate.’

‘He’s going to give the job to Evelyn Stott,’ Ellen told Mary.

‘Who?’

‘Evelyn Stott. You know, lives in those old back-to-back houses on Church Road, due for demolition. Her granddad was that champion clog fighter in Bradlow, went round all the pubs. Remember, he once challenged Dad in the Crown. Little man with long straggly grey hair, big red nose, bow-legged…’

‘I remember!’ Mary exclaimed. ‘The one our Mam always said—’

‘Couldn’t stop a pig in a ginnel,’ Ellen laughed. ‘That’s the one.’

‘Our Mam … all her sayings.’

Ellen rubbed her hands over her face. She felt odd, strangely emotional. Through the laughter she could feel the quiver of impending tears. ‘She could be a right scream … until Dad came in the house.’ She suddenly calmed. ‘I do know what he was like you know, I wasn’t that daft. It was just that he…’

‘Let you get away with murder.’

‘Until Linda.’ Ellen would never forget her fear when their father found out she was pregnant.

‘Don’t.’ Mary pulled her closer, their heads together. ‘He didn’t remember … at the end, he didn’t remember. You were still his little girl.’ She rocked Ellen. ‘And, you know, our Mam, she loved him. I heard her once, at the end … just before he died. I heard her tell him she loved him. I didn’t understand it at the time. I only ever knew him as a nasty old beggar.’

‘Hmmm. Which reminds me.’ Ellen snuggled closer, her arm across Mary’s waist. ‘Did you have a word with Jean about Patrick?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’ Ellen said. ‘Did you get anywhere with her?’

‘No, she won’t leave him. She said he’d only hit her the once … as though that was okay.’

‘Do you believe her?’

She felt Mary shrug. ‘I don’t know. I can’t get her to say anything else about him. Except she’s asked me not to tell anyone. You’re not to either.’

Ellen admitted to herself she wasn’t good at keeping secrets. She’d probably tell Ted. Avoiding having to promise she said, ‘She’s a fool.’ In more ways than one, Ellen thought, really tempted to tell Mary about Patrick’s messing about with Doreen Whittaker.

‘I’m thinking I should go back with her after … after the funeral. Make sure she’s all right.’

‘And tell him exactly what we think of him, I hope.’ Ellen pushed away the feeling that she should help Mary deal with Patrick. She sat back on the sofa pondering. If Mary was going to go back to Ashford, she was bound to find out about the affair anyway. ‘I think you should know something,’ she said, finally, ‘that Ted told me this afternoon.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted it. Mary looked immediately concerned.

And yet she sounded irritated when she spoke. ‘What now?’ Mary got up and began to pace up and down in front of the fireplace. ‘What’s happened?’

Ellen pushed the cushion to one side and shuffled to the edge of the sofa. There was no going back now, and anyway, she persuaded herself, Mary should know. Jean wasn’t only their sister-in-law; she was Mary’s best friend. ‘Don’t tell Ted I’ve told you. Promise?’

Mary nodded resignedly. More secrets, she thought, more things to worry about.

‘It’s not him having the affair, it’s Patrick.’

‘Will you be all right?’

‘I’ll be fine,
cariad
.’ Gwyneth gave a finger of toast to William. ‘Better here than there, see.’ When she glanced up her eyes were blurred with tears. ‘Can’t be there today, I’m sorry.’ She lifted the hem of her apron and dabbed at her face. ‘I’ll be thinking of you though.’

Mary nodded, pensive. ‘I know, love.’ They didn’t touch. Mary thought that if they did, if they hugged, they would both give way to the enormous flood of grief that was just held at bay. ‘Ellen, Jean and me should be back by three o’clock at the latest. The men are going to the pub afterwards. They’ve laid a spread on for them.’ Gwyneth was following an old Welsh tradition, strange, she thought, that only men should go to funerals. As though only they were strong enough to stand the grief in public. Gwyneth hadn’t even gone to Iori’s, her only son’s, funeral. How must she have felt that day? Mary felt a twinge of disbelief mixed with rebellion. No one could have kept her away from the service today. Tom was her
brother. No one knew him as well as she did.

She stood at the back door, watching the two little girls skipping on Gwyneth’s path. ‘You’ll come in to us then?’ she said.

‘I will.’ Gwyneth sniffed loudly and forced a false smile at William. ‘We’ll have a little play, you and me, isn’t it?’ William laughed, arching his back in his high chair. She made a small wheezing noise as she lifted him out and set him on his feet.