Secrets to Keep (34 page)

Aidy smiled warmly at the burly, middle-aged man facing her. He had been collecting the rent from the eighty houses his boss owned in these streets since the Greenwoods had first moved in, before Aidy was born. Leonard Trotter was dressed in a shiny brown suit, a white shirt, frayed around the collar and cuffs, and shabby brown overcoat on top. Covering his short back and sides was a black bowler hat. By his
black, steel-capped boots sat a square bag, not unlike the one Doc carried, but instead of medical equipment the rent man’s bag held his collections and the paperwork pertaining to his job. He also carried a cosh in a specially sewn pocket inside his coat, to fend off any potential attackers … he had actually been robbed of his takings three times in the past. He’d a broken nose, a deep scar down one side of his face, and walked with a marked limp – all injuries received over his years spent carrying out this thankless job. People begrudged paying rent to an absentee landlord who refused to sanction all but the most basic of maintenance on his crumbling properties, not caring a jot what conditions his tenants had to endure as it was their choice if they stayed or not. There were plenty more waiting to take their places.

‘Evening, Mr Trotter. You’re well, I hope. And Mrs Trotter?’

Greeting her back pleasantly, he flicked through the pages of the well-used rent book Aidy handed him until he found the place where the last entry had been made the previous week. ‘I need to start a new book for you. This one is full,’ he said, and bent down to access his bag. Rummaging inside, he pulled out a new book, then took a fountain pen from the inside of his jacket pocket, took off the lid and opened the book on the first page so he could fill in the tenant’s details.

Suddenly it felt to Aidy like a million fireworks were going off inside her brain. Her heart started to pound so hard she feared it would burst out of her chest. The only reason her father was at liberty to force his presence on his family, be a drain on their scant resources, generally make their lives a misery, was because he was the official tenant of the house they lived in. But if he weren’t any longer, he would no longer have any official reason to live here and wield power over them all.

The rent man was presenting her with a miraculous opportunity to oust Arnold from their lives.

Aidy’s mind raced frantically, hurriedly forming a plan of how best to achieve her aim. She was going to have to lie blatantly to this man before her. She also risked her father appearing in the kitchen while she was carrying out her plan, and showing her up for the liar she was. She must take the chance that Mr Trotter was not aware of Arnold’s return. This opportunity to be rid of the man who was blighting her beloved family’s lives was worth any risk to Aidy’s own reputation, she decided.

Taking a deep breath, she said to the rent man, ‘Pointless putting my father’s name down as tenant still, Mr Trotter, since he hasn’t lived here for years. Disappeared without a word nine years ago he did and we haven’t heard a word from him since. He could be dead for all we know. Even if he’s not, after
all these years it’s not likely he’s going to come back, not now Mam’s dead. Knowing what a selfish type he is, he’s certainly not going to give up the life of Riley to look after his own kids. Good job they’ve got me to look after them. As it’s me that’s paying the rent now, Mr Trotter, it should be my name on the rent book as the official tenant, shouldn’t it?’

Waiting for his response seemed to take an eternity to Aidy. In fact, he acted straight away.

Several minutes later she was clutching the new rent book to her chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world, a jubilant grin splitting her face as she watched her unsuspecting saviour depart for his next port of call. He was hoping that the tenants in that house parted with their rent as pleasantly and readily as the last one he had dealt with.

The first part of Aidy’s plan successfully concluded, she had to pull off the final stage without alerting her father to what she was up to. Nothing could stop his expulsion from their lives now she had the means, but until she had physically got him and his belongings out of the house she didn’t want to take any chances.

As she went into the back room, the only sound was of cutlery scraping against plates. Meal-times with Jessie had been social occasions, an opportunity for her family to share the events of the day. Upon his return however Arnold had made it clear
he would not tolerate any conversation at the table. He preferred to eat his food in silence, so that’s how it was now. Aidy inwardly smiled to herself. This was the last meal her family would eat under their father’s selfish discipline. Mealtimes in future would return to being events to which the family looked forward and actually enjoyed, not dreaded the thought of.

Going over to the mantelpiece, she made out she was picking something up off it, then clumsily dropped whatever it was by the side of the armchair her father used. As she bent down in her pretence of retrieving it, she steadied herself by putting her hand on the arm of his chair. Making out she had picked up whatever she had supposedly dropped, she righted herself and simultaneously took her hand off the chair arm.

‘I’m off then,’ she said, looking at everyone around the table but her father.

Bertha smiled over at her. ‘Take care, love. I’ll have your dinner waiting for you when you get back.’

‘I appreciate that, Gran, but I’ll see to it.’

‘Oh, it’s no trouble …’

Arnold erupted, ‘For God’s sake, woman, be told. She doesn’t want you to have her dinner ready.’ A nasty glint sparked in his eye. ‘Obviously don’t like the thought of the muck you serve up.’ Then he shot a look at George and snarled, ‘You, boy! Sit up
straight, shoulders back. And you …’ he was looking at Betty ‘… stop kicking yer feet against yer chair. And you …’ He never got to chastise Marion. She started crying, scraped back her chair and ran off up the stairs.

Aidy eyed him coldly. Considering he sat with his elbows on the table, scooping up food and shovelling it into his mouth as if he was afraid someone was going to steal it off him, he’d some gall pulling the children up for their small lapses. Bertha caught her eyes. Her expression was telling Aidy to get off to work before she was any later, and that she would see to Marion.

It seemed the one night Aidy was desperate for surgery to end so she could get home, all those who could afford the fee had turned up to see the doctor. The extended waiting room was heaving, and everyone who was sitting near enough to her insisted on engaging Aidy in conversation, which normally she delighted in but tonight found hard with her mind preoccupied with what faced her back home. Consequently surgery finished three quarters of an hour later than normal, and she still had to file all the patients’ records after Ty had handed them over to her before she could leave.

When he gave her the cards, wished her good night in his usual stilted manner and then went back to
finish up his own work, it didn’t escape her notice that her boss looked fit to drop. Aidy wasn’t surprised, though. She doubted he’d had much, if any, sleep for the last forty-eight hours. The previous day too had been busy, both during surgery and with house calls. Winter was upon them and people were falling ill with ailments related to the bitter cold. Severe chest infections, influenza, whooping cough and glandular fever were only a handful of the life-threatening diseases rampant at the moment. He would have been within his rights to insist on limiting the number of patients he could comfortably see during each session and the number of house calls every morning and afternoon, but he didn’t. Just kept going until all those who needed his skills had been tended. Aidy may not much like Doc as a person, and that was his fault for making it so difficult, but as a doctor dedicated to doing his best to cure the sick under his care, she had a high regard for him.

But if the man didn’t look after himself better, it was her opinion he’d be ill himself soon. There were only so many meals and nights’ sleep a body could go without before it began to retaliate. Aidy wouldn’t like to take a guess when he had last eaten properly, actually sat down and finished a meal, judging by the number of times she had arrived in the kitchen and found plates filled but abandoned.

Considering the constraints on his time, she
wondered why he didn’t employ a woman to come in and do for him. There were many around here who would jump at the chance of the opportunity to earn themselves a few shillings a week, to cook and do the doctor’s housework. She supposed he must have his reasons for not bothering although she couldn’t understand what they might be. He’d lived here for months, clearly a fish out of water in such a deprived area, and still they knew next to nothing about him. Aidy herself didn’t care about that. Whatever had caused him to come to this area, it had afforded her the means to support her family and for that she was grateful.

Having filed all the record cards away, she went into the kitchen to wash up her tea cup before she left and noticed a bought meat pie and a couple of potatoes on the kitchen table which the doctor had obviously taken out of the larder to make himself for dinner tonight. Her nurturing instincts rose up in her then. She felt a strong impulse to cook him his meal, stand over him while he ate it, see that he’d eaten at least one whole plateful for a change. She pictured him sitting alone at the table, eating his solitary meal, then clearing it away afterwards and sitting by himself in his armchair by the fire, no one to talk to, no one with whom to share the trials and tribulations of his daily life. No one to care for him. A great sadness filled her then. Everyone needed
someone. The doctor didn’t appear to have anyone or, to her observation, make any effort to do so. Aidy gave herself a mental shake. What on earth was she doing, feeling sorry for him? His lonely existence was entirely of his own making. He must be happy with his life this way or he’d do something about it. Just like she was doing something about getting rid of the cause of her family’s misery.

Aidy didn’t expect to find her father at home when she got back, and she didn’t.

Bertha was in the kitchen, mixing ingredients into a paste in a pudding basin, to make an ointment to soothe burns. She had a dozen little brown jars lined up ready to put the ointment in when she had finished making it, along with labels to write out and fix on the jars. She smiled warmly at her granddaughter when she walked in.

‘Hello, love. You really should have let me have yer dinner ready. Yer must be famished. Anyway, the kids are in bed. Marion took a bit of calming down but was fine after I’d talked to her. Oh, it breaks my heart that she still can’t understand her mam isn’t coming back.

‘She said to me, “Gran, Mam won’t let Dad shout at us like he does when she comes back, will she? Can’t we go to the cemetery and make a loud noise and wake her up that way, instead of waiting for her to wake herself up?”

‘What can you say to that, Aidy? We’ve tried to explain in every way we can think of that Jessie isn’t coming back. Nothing works. And anyway, why can’t Arnold leave the kids alone? Why does he always have to be picking at them? George wasn’t slouching at the table tonight, or if he was then I was bent double. Arnold’s got some nerve, chiding the kids for their table manners when
he’s
got the manners of a pig. I deserve a medal, love, for not taking a knife to him after today. I’m very afraid it will come to that, though, if he pulls any more tricks like that.

‘Anyway, seems we’ve had a small miracle. After he finished his dinner it was apparent he wasn’t going out as he ordered me to make him a fresh cuppa and the kids all to go upstairs out of his sight. He said he wanted peace to listen to the radio but he’d only just sat down in his chair when he told me to forget the tea, he was going out after all. Must have found some money after all.’ She gave a despondent sigh as she stopped her mixing long enough to scoop a spoonful of greyish powder from another bowl into the one her mixture was in and begin stirring again. ‘I know we were all mourning for Jessie, and for what happened between you and Arch, but we were a happy little band before Arnold dumped himself back on us, weren’t we, love?’

Aidy took the greatest of pleasure in responding
to Bertha with, ‘And we will be again in a few hours, Gran.’

Bertha looked at her, confused. ‘Eh?’ Aidy laughed. ‘Yes, you did hear me right.’ She pulled the rent book out of her coat pocket, opening the front cover to display the details of the tenant.

Putting down her wooden mixing spoon and giving her hands a wipe on the bottom of her apron, Bertha took the book off Aidy and stared at it. As her eyes scanned the words written in fresh ink, her face took on the expression of someone who could read perfectly well what the writing said but whose brain was having trouble accepting the evidence before it. ‘But … but I don’t understand? Your name is down as tenant.’ She lifted her face and looked in total confusion at her granddaughter. ‘But … but …’ As the significance of this registered, her eyes lit up. ‘But this is wonderful! It means … oh, God, we can get him out, Aidy.’

Her eyes were dancing merrily. ‘Yes, we can, Gran.’

‘But just how did you get the rent man to take Arnold’s name off without his permission?’

‘Lied to him. The old rent book was full so Mr Trotter needed to make us out a new one. I told him Arnold Greenwood was dead so far as we knew as we hadn’t seen him for years, and you can’t chase a dead man for the rent money, can you, Gran? Thankfully Arnold didn’t need to come into the
kitchen for anything at that moment and scupper what I was up to. And he didn’t suddenly discover he’d some money to go out with tonight, I left two tanners on the arm of his chair for him to find. I did it to make sure he was out of the house when I got back tonight, so we could pack his stuff up and have his bag waiting for him in the yard when he comes back. That way we won’t have the task of forcing him to leave ’cos I doubt he’d go quietly.’