That'll Be the Day (2007) (24 page)

His voice was all soft and wheedling, his expression so pitiful that Lynda felt herself start to weaken as she thought how lonely he must have been over the years with no family to call his own. But then she remembered the sight of her poor mother in pain after that long operation and hardened her heart.

‘I doubt you mean that. I’m beginning to think Mam was right about you. You’re nothing but trouble.’

‘Nay, don’t say such a thing, chuck. I know you like having me around really. We were getting on fine, you and me, getting to know each other at last. I’m right sorry I lost me rag, I am really.’

He did sound genuinely sorry for what he’d done, so pathetic, almost shrunken before her eyes. Lynda felt confused. How should she deal with this man she called father? Could she trust him? Should she force the issue, or not?

In her heart, Lynda knew there was much more to her reluctance to act than the pity she felt for him. There was something about Ewan Hemley that warned her not to challenge or defy him too strongly. His manner disturbed her, perhaps because his self-pitying words didn’t quite match the defiant stance he was taking, the way he hooked his thumbs in his thick leather belt, or the sidelong leering glances that followed her about as she paced the room in her agitation. Whatever the cause he made her nervous, and Lynda could feel herself beginning to weaken.

She didn’t have the power to order him out of the house. He knew it, and so did she.

Lynda made excuses, told herself that Ewan Hemley was still her own flesh and blood after all, the father she’d always wanted; that maybe later, when her mam was home again and on her feet, they could face him together and persuade him to leave then.

She salved her conscience, and her pride, by ending the conversation on a warning. ‘Well, keep off the booze then and try to behave better in future. And don’t think I’m going to wait on you hand, foot and finger while she’s laid up, because I’m not.’

Then Lynda went back to the kitchen to make him a cup of tea to sober him up so that he wouldn’t be sick on the green moquette sofa. What more could she do? She’d grown weary of arguing with him, and had far too many other concerns on her mind.

Chapter Twenty-Four

So long as she and Leo didn’t actually split up Helen saw no problem in continuing with her affair. She always made a point of choosing married men because apart from adding to the danger and thrill of the liaison, by the very nature of their situation a married man was obliged to be more discreet. Other than this requirement she wasn’t too particular who it was, nor did she object to the somewhat common sort like Sam Beckett. Sam might be a bit short on charm and conversation but he was fit and strong with good muscles, reasonably attractive, and certainly never left a woman dissatisfied.
 

And since Leo was still resisting the political plans she’d made for him, and had grown really quite distant and cool towards her recently, he was only getting what he deserved. All he did was either neglect her, or complain about not having any children. Too, too tiresome for words. Even if he did discover her secret, which was unlikely since she took every care, Helen was perfectly certain he would never risk the scandal of a divorce. She was therefore safe to enjoy herself as she pleased.

This morning she and Sam had made love in the back of his van among the detritus of tools: the hammers, pickaxes and shovels he’d bought at the wholesalers before picking her up on the corner of John Dalton Street and driving to a quiet corner of Salford Docks. She’d made him spread out an old car rug, so that she didn’t mark her new Mary Quant dress, but it was certainly a fascinating way to end a shopping session, and so very clever of her to manage her life so perfectly.

Afterwards, and for the sake of discretion, Sam dropped her some distance from the market on Water Street, which seemed ideal until she unexpectedly ran into Dulcie on her way home.

‘Have you been down to the docks to see Leo?’ her mother-in-law smilingly enquired, seeing this as an odd direction to be returning from the city centre.

Helen was momentarily at a loss for words. How could she agree that she had been to the docks when she’d been nowhere near her husband’s office? Nor could she deny she’d been into the city when she was carrying shopping bags with Kendal Milne splashed all over them. ‘Actually no, I was given a lift part-way home by a girl friend.’ Hoping that she hadn’t put too much emphasis on the word girl.

At precisely that moment Sam’s van drove past them and rounded the corner into Champion Street to park beside the market hall entrance.

‘Isn’t that Sam Beckett over there, just parking his van?’ Dulcie mildly enquired, giving her daughter-in-law a rather arch look. ‘Was he the one who gave you the lift? Are you sure it wasn’t a
man
friend who brought you home, dear, and not a girl at all? I can’t see you walking very far with those bags on your arm.’

Helen was furious. The woman was too nosy for words, clearly suspicious and if she mentioned any of this to Leo could spoil everything. ‘What fantasies you do have, mother-in-law. Anyway, where have
you
been? What were
you
doing wandering so far from the market? Not lost again, were you?’

‘I was going to see my friend Doris.’

‘Doris lives in Whitworth Street, nowhere near here. Are you sure that’s where you were going. Not lost, are you?’

Doubt came into Dulcie’s eyes and she looked momentarily confused. ‘I
was
going to see Doris. Or did I decide to call on Alice instead?’ It took only the fierce glare of her daughter-in-law’s gimlet eyes and she practically forgot her own name.

‘I’d better get you home and put the kettle on. I think you’re in need of a little lie down, don’t you? Besides, I need a rest myself. Spending your son’s money always tires me out.’

Judy was waiting at the door of the little ironmongery shop when her husband drew up in the van. She’d arrived early, hoping to make one last effort to persuade him to allow her to reopen her stall.

She’d had a quiet word with Tom’s teacher about the bullying, although not the headmaster. The woman had really been most understanding of Judy’s dilemma, agreeing that men often viewed these matters differently and she promised to be discreet, to say nothing to Tom but keep an eye out for any sign of future problems.

After a week or two of towing the line, of picking her children up regularly and on time, providing beautiful meals for her husband and making every effort to be pretty and welcoming, Judy had hoped to win him round.

Judy longed to get back to her painting but daren’t, not without Sam’s say so. She couldn’t bear the thought of painting new pictures only to have those slashed too. Besides, he’d thrown away her oil paints and even broken her easel. She’d have to start again from scratch which would cost more than she could afford just at present, unless she were certain of selling her work.

So it was that this morning Judy had again spoken to Belle, asking if it might be possible for her to start up the stall again. Belle had given her lazy, knowing smile, carefully licking her crimson-coated lips before replying.
 

‘Not without Sam’s agreement, dearie. I heard what happened, along with everyone else on the market, and your husband isn’t a man I’d care to cross. We certainly don’t want him wrecking your pictures in public next time, now do we? We’ve enough problems in that direction with the Poulson’s frequent feuds and dramas. Family squabbles of that nature do tend to give the market a bad name.’

‘Sam would never do such a thing.’

Belle lit up a cigarette, narrowing her eyes against the curl of blue smoke. ‘Well, as his
wife
, you know him better than me, lovey.’

Judy inwardly squirmed. Painfully aware of the one-time relationship between this woman and her husband, Belle’s body language seemed to be telling her the exact opposite, that she knew Sam only too well.

Now here he was, and as he walked past her with scarcely a glance, his arms full of new tools wrapped in brown paper and string, she caught the unmistakable scent of expensive perfume.

Judy followed him into the stock room and closed the door. ‘You’re late opening this morning. It’s nearly twelve o’clock.’

‘So?’

‘You’ve been with
her
, haven’t you?’

‘What are you twittering on about now?’

‘You’ve been with your latest woman. Who is she? Anyone I know? Who is making a fool of me now?’

Sam gave a heavy sigh. ‘As you’ve just pointed out, I’m late. I took a morning off. So what? If you don’t mind, I’ll open up and get on with earning our living.’

‘Don’t walk away from me, Sam. I’ve had enough, do you hear? I’m a person in my own right, not just someone to do your every bidding, someone with no other purpose in life but to skivvy for you and care for your kids while you sleep with whoever you choose.’

He glanced down at her then, a sardonic curl to his lip. ‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous?’

‘No, I’m not jealous as a matter of fact. I’m just heartily sick of being used. You can’t keep me a virtual prisoner in my own home, expect me to be satisfied with cooking and cleaning, denying me any chance of a life and yet treat our marriage with such complete contempt. It’s not fair! I have rights too, you know. Marriage is a democracy not a dictatorship.’

He laughed. ‘And when did you suddenly start learning such big words?’

‘Don’t patronise me, Sam, I’m not stupid. It’s time you treated me with more respect.’

‘You’re wrong! Marriage is not a democracy, or a partnership, so you can banish that modern rubbish from your head right away. Didn’t you agree to love, honour and obey when we stood at the altar together? When you married me we became
one
person, and
you
don’t have any say at all. So what are you going to do about it, eh?’

Fury roared through her veins. ‘I’ll show you what I’m going to do. I’m leaving you, and I shall take the children with me.’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’

She strode over to the door. ‘Watch me.’

‘Don’t do this, Judy. You’ll regret it.’

‘I know you love them, that you’re a good father to your children if not a good husband to me. The choice is simple, either you let me have my stall, allow me to do my painting and live my life as I choose -
and
agree to give up all your
other women
– or it’s over between us.’

He was still laughing when she marched away, slamming the door behind her.

Judy stopped off at the flower stall to see Lynda, mainly because she needed to sit down, her limbs were shaking so much. Lynda watched with some concern as she stumbled and half collapsed on to an upturned orange box. ‘By heck, you look in need of a mug of strong tea, or happen a double brandy.’

‘I’m moving out. I’m leaving Sam and taking the children with me.’

Lynda stared at her friend in total shock. ‘Heaven help me, I never thought to hear you say such a thing. Where would you go?’

‘I don’t know yet. I have . . .’ she glanced at her wrist-watch . . . ‘four hours to find us somewhere and pack a few things before I pick up the children from school.’

‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

‘Never more so. Do you want to come with me? We could prop each other up, you escaping Ewan, me running from Sam. And I could do with your help, to be honest.’

There was sheer agony in Lynda’s face. ‘Oh, I’d love to say yes, but I can’t leave the house with Mam still in hospital. Nor could I leave all her things to –’ she’d been about to say to the mercy of the man who put her there, but pride prevented her . . . ‘and leave me dad on his own. It wouldn’t be right.’

‘Oh Lynda, I forgot for the moment about all your troubles. How is Betty? Is she making a good recovery?’

Lynda’s face took on an anxious look. ‘She’s been there weeks and still can’t walk. The doctors say it’s too soon to know if she’ll ever walk again.’

‘That’s awful. I didn’t realise it was so bad. And all from falling down the stairs.’

‘Yes.’ No one knew the full story and Lynda certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell, not if Mam didn’t want her to.

‘I must call in and see her. I haven’t been for a while and I do miss seeing her cheery face on the market every morning. Anyway, I’ve decided. I’m leaving Sam. I have to do this, Lynda.’

‘I can see you’ve made up your mind. But don’t go far away, I need to know you’re around.’ The thought of losing her best friend made Lynda feel sick. Life was difficult enough right now. A thought occurred to her. ‘Look, what about that little bed-sit overlooking the fish market? Would that do for a start? Speak to Amy George. She and Chris lived there for a while during the first traumatic weeks of their marriage when they were in the middle of that family feud, and before them Dena Dobson once occupied it with her illegitimate baby.’

‘Oh, Lynda, that would be perfect. I’ll go this very minute. Say a little prayer for me, will you?’ And she was gone, leaving Lynda staring after her friend in deep distress.

The bedsit was small and cramped, one of several in a tall three-storeyed Victorian house that overlooked the fish market, and a little too close to home for comfort. Yet it felt like a small refuge from her pain. It would do for now, Judy thought, until she could find something bigger and better. She would have to get a job. Her small amount savings wouldn’t last long, that’s for sure.