Paint on the Smiles (11 page)

The voice went on but she no longer listened. The only words she heard were ‘You should pay, you should pay’ as though they were weapons with which he was beating her. He was mad. She had to get out of the room but how could she with him in the doorway?

‘All right, Phil, you go home now and we’ll talk about this later, all right?’ She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. How could she encourage him to go home to Ada? Who knows how his confused mind would make him behave with her?

She moved slightly as though to get up but he didn’t change his position and he didn’t stop staring at her in that frightening intensity.

Hoping that reasoning with him was the wisest way of dealing with him, she asked, ‘Pay, Phil? Why do I have to pay? What have I done?’

‘Taken another woman’s husband. Had a child by someone else’s man.’

She was startled. ‘What I’ve done has never harmed anyone.’

‘Illegitimate daughter, going with another woman’s man. You should be punished, like I was. I did wrong but I’ve faced my punishment.’

Slowly she rose from the bed, carefully covering herself as she eased back the covers. Her heart was painful in its drumming, she felt the beat of it in her face and throat. He stood watching her, his mouth slack, and she felt like a mouse at the mercy of a crouched, ferocious cat.

Then he seemed to snap out of the strange and dangerous mood, and in a normal voice, said, ‘All right, then, we’ll talk about it later.’

He left the doorway and she darted onto the landing and saw his shadow slipping down the stairs. She followed without asking herself why she was suddenly so brave, only wanting to know how he had got in, to make sure he wouldn’t do so again. He opened the back door and ran out, through the stables, and she heard the sound of the small door set in the big sliding doors open then slam behind him.

She ran back through the house and checked all the doors, slamming all the bolts firmly into their place. Willie would have checked the back door before he went; Phil must have unlocked both that one and the stable door ready for when he came back. She was trembling, wondering what to do, worried about her sister. If only there were someone near. The neighbours? No, this had to be kept in the family until it was sorted out.
Willie? No, it wasn’t fair to worry him. Danny? Yes, he’d know how to handle this. She had to go to make sure Ada was all right.

Putting on all the house lights, she ran back upstairs and hurriedly dressed. Nervously she went back to the yard, which was illuminated only by lights shining through the windows. Starting at every shadow, frightened by a cat running in front of her, expecting to see Phil jump out from a corner, she reached the car and fumbled with the keys. She turned the starting handle and it fired at once. Pulling back the sliding doors, she backed out into the lane and it took all her nerve to get out and pull the heavy doors shut. She sprang into the driving seat and headed for the village, where Danny had a room. She had no idea of the time but the blackness around her suggested it must be two or three o’clock.

She stopped near his lodgings and glanced at Phil Spencer’s cottage. There were no lights. She hesitated, wondering if she should go first to see Ada, make sure she was safe, but decided that with Phil so unpredictable a man would be necessary.

She didn’t know which was Danny’s bedroom in the cottage were he lodged but presumed that he would have been given the one at the back.

She guessed correctly – after throwing a number of small stones against the window she was rewarded by seeing it open and Danny’s head appear. He came down and she clung to him and explained what had happened.

‘In your room? How did he get in? Ada’s keys, I suppose.’

‘No, when he ran off he went through the stable so he must have left doors open for some reason in his distorted mind. Hurry, I want to make sure Ada is all right. I’m so afraid for her. There’s no telling what he’ll do.’

Danny knocked loudly on the door. It was Ada who answered, throwing open a window and demanding sleepily what he wanted at three in the morning.

‘It’s me,’ Cecily called. ‘Open the door, will you?’

They waited for Ada to come down the stairs and open the door. She was clutching a dressing gown around her and had a scarf over a head of curlers.

‘Is Phil here?’ Cecily asked.

‘No. He often can’t sleep and goes for a walk at night. He’ll be back soon. Why? What’s happened?’

‘Can we come in, love?’

Ada stepped back in the narrow hallway and closed the door behind
them. They went into the living room where the fire glowed a faint pinky grey. Automatically, Ada livened the fire and turned the kettle on its swivel. Whatever was happening, tea was an essential ingredient.

‘Mind if I look around while Cecily tells you why she’s here?’ Danny asked.

Cecily told her briefly what had happened. She didn’t mention that he had been in her bedroom watching her as she slept, but instead said he was in the house and the sounds woke her. ‘Confused, he was, and I thought I’d better get Danny and come to make sure you were both all right.’

Both women looked up as Danny returned.

‘Ada, love,’ he said, kneeling down beside her. ‘There’s no easy way to say this. Your mother-in-law is dead. She’s lying on the floor of her bedroom, laid out neat as neat.’

Cecily saw the colour fade from her sister’s face and reached out to hug her. Ada pulled away and went to the stairs, the others following. Mrs Spencer was in the middle of the room, dressed in a nightdress and dressing gown. Her hair looked freshly combed and she was holding a Bible in her hand.

‘What happened?’ Ada whispered. ‘She couldn’t have died like that.’

Danny ran to the corner to phone for the police and a doctor and then waited with the two stunned women, listening for their arrival, or that of Phil. The police were first and Ada seemed not to hear what was being said, although she answered the few questions they asked her; she was waiting for Phil.

It was Willie and Annette who opened the shop that morning. The rest of the night had been taken up with police, doctors, all asking searching questions. Cecily was at first as vague as she could be about the reason for arriving at her sister’s home at such a time, and with Danny. But most of the truth came out before Phil had returned and explained in a most convincing and lucid way how he’d gone to fetch his sister-in-law to come and help him to tell his wife, who loved his mother very much. He added with a controlled sneer how his presence at night had been misunderstood by a woman whose sexual appetites were well known.

There were a lot of questions for Phil to answer, mainly about why he hadn’t called the doctor and the police earlier. In this instance his answers were less clear and he spent a long time giving his explanations.

When they were free, Cecily took Ada back to the shop. ‘Best you come
away, love, Phil will be talking to the police for a while yet. There’ll be a lot to sort out. We’ll come back later. Try and rest, then tomorrow you can start arranging the funeral, you and Phil.’

They told Willie what had happened and at once he began to organize the day. He called on Jack Simmons, who would take the orders out. Willie would stay with Van in the shop. Annette came to prepare food. She carried baby Claire Welsh-fashion in a blanket around her shoulders and under the baby, keeping her warm and safe and allowing Annette to have her hands free. Victor came too and was excited at being allowed to explore the large house, the stables and the newly furnished cellar. He ran up and down stairs, and in and out of the house, banged noisily but tunelessly on the piano and thoroughly enjoyed himself. Once his morning tasks were done, Danny was his willing accomplice.

Cecily sat talking about what arrangements were needed. They ate very little. The police called several times with more questions but it was long after the shop had closed before Phil arrived. He was weepy at the loss of his mother. A constable accompanied him but seemed irritated rather than sympathetic. The weeping hadn’t begun until they reached the shop and Ada could comfort him.

‘Heart attack, the doctor thinks,’ the constable said.

‘You’d think I killed her, the way they’ve gone on and on about me laying her out. Grieved I was, and wanting to do something for her. Can’t anyone understand that?’

Cecily glanced at Ada. The possibility that Phil had murdered his mother had filled her mind all that awful day. ‘You’ll stay here tonight, Ada, won’t you?’ she almost pleaded.

‘No, we won’t,’ Phil said. ‘They’ll be bringing Mam home and we can’t have her coming back to an empty house. We’ll go back now.’

‘But she won’t be home tonight, Phil,’ Ada said. ‘I think we should stay and go back in the morning.’

‘We’re going home.’

‘D’you want me to go with you?’ Cecily asked.

‘Yes, that would be—’ Ada began.

Phil just shook his head and, reaching for Ada’s coat, helped her on with it and they left, Phil hurrying his wife away in a manner that frightened Cecily. She looked at the policeman, an unspoken question in her eyes.

‘He won’t harm her, if that’s what you’re thinking, miss. Sure I am that it was grief that made him act a bit peculiar, like.’

But Cecily was uneasy. ‘He’s been … unwell for a long time, you know.’ She was hesitant about blurting out the full story of the burglaries and the violence but the policeman clearly knew.

‘An experience like he’s had is bound to change a man,’ he said. ‘After all, it’s meant to be punishment and a deterrent. We can’t treat them so soft they don’t think they’ve had to paid for their crimes, can we?’

He left them, with reassurances for Cecily and Van that they would be all right. Nothing had changed, the house was still the same comfortable home it was before this tragedy happened. Danny was still there, sitting in a corner while the constable talked to Cecily. When she had shown the constable out she turned to Danny. ‘Danny, you will stay tonight?’ Cecily sensed rather than saw the slight reaction from her daughter. ‘We’ll be a bit nervous after the events of last night, won’t we, Van?’

‘Yes, I’ll stay. And we’ll make sure the bolts are across, won’t we, Van? We don’t want any more night visitors.’

Van just stared at him and gave an almost imperceptible smile.

Danny slept in the room that had been their father’s. Cecily had changed the white counterpane for a blanket of blue and cream check to add some cheer to the cold and unwelcoming room.

‘Thanks. I’d feel like a corpse myself sleeping in that white bed,’ he said with a grim smile.

He didn’t use the wardrobe but left a few clothes scattered about the room, on the backs of chairs, across the bed and folded in piles on the marble wash stand, printing his identity on the place but suggesting his stay was not permanent.

The newspapers made a lot of the story the following day and it was Cecily who came out worst. Her story about Phil appearing in her bedroom and how, worried about his sister, she had driven to the village to make sure all was well, had been turned on its head by Phil. He had gathered his wits and strength for the purpose of making her look a fool. He insisted that he had knocked on the shop door and Cecily had told him to go away, refusing to listen to his story about the death of his mother. Cecily pretended to ignore the unpleasant lie to people who didn’t matter but pleaded for Ada and Van to believe she had spoken the truth.

Only Peter believed her. She had gone to where he sat in the tea stall, selling ice creams and sweets and all the other needs of the visitors to the beach. She told him in detail everything that had happened and after that she avoided him, afraid that her company would bring him unpleasant publicity – and he didn’t deserve that.

Van believed the unkind version and went to talk to her gran about it. Kitty tried to persuade her not to believe what had been the ramblings of a confused mind but Van was unrepentant. ‘My mam is always in trouble. Why should I think this time is any different?’

‘Try to think about it honestly, Van lovey. Your mother wouldn’t do what the papers are saying. You know her well enough to believe her.’

Van smiled. ‘She’ll get what’s coming to her one day, you wait and see.’

Kitty was worried about the bitterness in her granddaughter’s expression and wished Cecily and Ada were willing for her to go and talk to them. They needed her and because of their refusal to forgive her for leaving them as she had, she was unable to help. ‘You don’t think, with all this going on, they might agree to see me, do you?’ she asked.

‘I try, Gran, I really do but they say they’ll never forgive you. Thank goodness I found you. I love you, Gran.’

The business wasn’t affected detrimentally. In fact, new or rarely seen customers filled the place, hoping for more facts or fantasies to add to the story that was buzzing around the town. There were some who came just to stare at the woman who invented stories about men wandering into her bedroom, and had shown no concern when her brother-in-law had knocked on the door and told her his mother was dead, but had sent him away. It was sickeningly hurtful and she wished Ada had been there with her to at least refute the worse exaggerations that were bandied about and growing in strength and imagination day by day. But Ada didn’t leave Phil’s side during the weeks following the funeral and when they did see each other it was clear that Ada believed Phil’s story about her refusal to help.

Danny wasn’t around much. He delivered the post in the morning then spent the rest of the day in the workshop he shared with Willie until late in the evenings. Willie asked him one day if he’d seen Cecily.

‘No, I don’t want to get my name mixed with hers with all the rumours that are going on,’ he admitted.

‘Got a reputation, hasn’t she?’ Willie said, and there was something in his voice that made Danny look at him. ‘And whose fault is that? What makes you suddenly feel innocent of it all? The woman is to blame, the man is just being a man, right?’

‘I thought it best to keep away until it all dies down.’

‘Phil lied, and you damn well know it. But you’re leaving her to face it alone. That’s typical of you, Danny Preston.’