That'll Be the Day (2007) (37 page)

 
‘I think not.’ Leo felt cold as ice inside, and his voice sounded as if it came from a great distance, echoing in the empty chamber of his marriage. ‘My mother doesn’t have an unkind thought in her head. She’s a sweet, gentle old lady who’s only crime perhaps is to be over-protective of her only son. If she’s wrong in her suspicions, fine. We’ll say no more on the subject.’ He turned to leave but Helen flung back the covers and threw herself into his arms.

‘Don’t let her do this to us! Don’t let her destroy us.’

Leo stifled a powerful urge to shake her and force her to tell him the truth, but instead he gently put Helen from him. She was still his wife, after all, even if her tantrums and her insincerity did sicken him. ‘Dulcie isn’t trying to destroy us. Perhaps she’s been a touch over-zealous, and maybe she has been listening to gossip, I wouldn’t know. You tell me. Is it true? Are you having an affair?’

‘With Sam Beckett? Of course it’s not true. Dammit what do you take me for? Some sort of cheap harlot that would sleep with any Tom, Dick or Harry?’

He looked at her hard, studying every flicker of muscle in her face, every darting movement of her eyes, trying to decide if she was telling the truth or not. It was hard to imagine that she would consider doing such a thing, that she would sink so low. But then if Helen had successfully conducted an affair without his knowledge, while accusing him unfairly of doing exactly the same thing, she must by now be skilled in the art of lying.

And then quite unexpectedly her eyes filled with tears and she began to weep. ‘How can you think such a thing? How can you believe your stupid mother and not me, your own wife? Dulcie hasn’t the first idea what she’s doing or where she is half the time. Why would you listen to malicious gossip rather than believe in my innocence? How can you be so cruel?’

Her voice rose on the familiar tide of growing hysteria and Leo inwardly groaned, anticipating all too accurately what was coming.

‘You want to divorce me and marry your latest mistress, that’s the reason for all of this, isn’t it?’ she shrieked. ‘Who is she? Just tell me that. Who is that you love more than me? Is it that little tart, Lynda Hemley?’

How was it, Leo wondered, that whenever they attempted to have a sensible discussion about the state of their marriage, or Helen’s own inadequacies as a wife and potential mother, the conversation always ended with the blame being put squarely upon himself.

And yet, on this occasion, didn’t she perhaps have a point? If Judy wasn’t exactly his mistress, he couldn’t deny that he loved and wanted her. Hadn’t he seen Helen’s alleged betrayal as a means to an end? If only he could be free, he’d thought, then Judy and he could be together. What would Helen say if she knew that he’d taken Judy Beckett, and her children, for a day out into the country on a day he’d claimed to be working? Wouldn’t that confirm all she’d ever accused him of over the years? What’s more, he’d enjoyed every moment of that day and had never wanted it to end.

Guilt made him turn from her now to take his favourite stance by the window, where he could stare out into the dark night and Helen couldn’t see the shame in his eyes.

‘Let’s say no more on the subject. I’ve no wish to upset you. No doubt you’re right and Dulcie has simply been listening to silly gossip.’

As she came to him on a sigh of relief, Leo moved briskly away. ‘I have some papers that need attention before I come to bed. Don’t wait up for me,’ and he walked from the room, desperately anxious to escape the accusation in her penetrating gaze.

The moment he left the room Helen began to search. Although this was a regular habit of hers, nevertheless she kept an anxious eye on the door, in case he should return unexpectedly. She went through every pocket in every suit that hung in his wardrobe. She riffled through the letters and papers that he’d left lying on his bedside table. Helen even examined every card and note in his wallet which Leo always kept in the top drawer of the tall-boy overnight. But she found nothing!

Who was she, this dratted woman who had come between them and ruined their marriage? Helen gave no thought to her own infidelities, as if they were of no account. She didn’t consider for a moment that her husband might have been entirely loyal throughout the years of their marriage, or that it was her jealousy which had driven a wedge between them. In her eyes, it was this woman, Leo’s imagined mistress, who was the source of their problems, and one way or another she meant to discover who she was.

Exhausted, and with nowhere left to search Helen flopped back on to the bed, but even then she couldn’t sleep. Her mind was too busily occupied trying to decide how to deal with Dulcie.

Ever since the woman had moved in Helen had felt that her life was falling apart. First Dulcie would lecture her on not doing her duty by providing the required heir, then she hung pictures on walls that no longer belonged to her, and she made the place look untidy scattering her
Manchester Guardian
and her
Woman’s Weekly
all over the place, not to mention embarrassing her in front of her friends.

Now she was spreading lies about her, well not lies exactly, but certainly stirring up suspicions that Leo would never even have considered without his mother’s interference. The woman was quite impossible.

Helen had expected Dulcie to stay for no more than a few weeks, instead she appeared to have taken up permanent residence. She’d taken up again with all her old friends, no doubt relishing the opportunity to spread malicious gossip about her daughter-in-law behind Helen’s back. She’d even got herself elected as President of some local Ladies’ Luncheon Club or other. Preposterous!

How could the old dear possibly be capable of such a task when she could barely remember where she’d put down the magazine she was reading, or remember to switch off Helen’s new electric kettle. Dulcie might claim that it was no more than an honorary position with no work attached, since that was all done by the secretary and chairman, but it put Helen in a bad light. Here she was going around telling everyone that her mother-in-law was growing increasingly senile, and there
she
was proving her wrong by appearing both sociable and capable.

This latest move on her mother-in-law’s part seemed to indicate that she was hell-bent on destroying her son’s marriage. Well, it wasn’t going to happen. Not if Helen could destroy her first.

Helen bided her time, waited until one afternoon when Dulcie was in the kitchen baking scones, as she so loved to do. The woman lived to entertain her friends. She was constantly inviting people in for jolly little tea parties or coffee mornings, without even asking Helen’s permission.

‘Let her enjoy herself,’ Leo would say. ‘What harm is she doing?’

Every harm, Helen thought, just by being here, by insinuating herself into
my
kitchen, into
our
lives.

Helen sat quietly in the lounge flicking through
Vogue
and patiently waiting until she was done. The smell of freshly baked scones drifted through the house, making even her own mouth water. It would be a different story very soon.

‘Aren’t they ready yet?’ Helen asked, stepping into the kitchen to peer over her mother-in-law’s shoulder.

‘Not yet. Five more minutes. That’s why I’m waiting here, dear, so that I can keep track of the time.’

‘Not easy, for a woman of your age,’ Helen dryly remarked. ‘I’m sure you do your best, Dulcie, but why put yourself through all of this. You could quite easily buy a dozen perfectly good scones at Georges’ bakery.’

‘Bought scones are nowhere near as good as home made. Leo will tell you that. He always appreciates my baking.’

‘He eats what you bake without complaint, certainly. But that’s not quite the same thing, is it? I know he feels it wouldn’t be polite to do otherwise, if you’ve gone to all the trouble of making whatever it is.’ Helen smiled into Dulcie’s horrified face. ‘Leo has acquired a more educated taste these days, I’m afraid. Well, I’ll leave you to it. See that you remember to switch off the oven when they are done. We don’t want any little accidents, do we?’

‘I’m not quite in my dotage,’ Dulcie snapped, hurt by the thought that even her own son might be growing tired of her baking, or perhaps of having her around. She saw now that it had been a mistake to stay this long. She should have gone back to Lytham weeks ago.

Impossible as it may seem, relations between the two women had, if anything, worsened since Dulcie had taken her suspicions to Leo. They barely spoke a word to each other, and Dulcie had taken to eating all her meals alone in her room unless Leo were present to act as a buffer between them. In fact, this was the longest conversation they’d enjoyed in quite a while, if that was the right word.

Helen returned to her seat on the sofa and picked up her magazine while Dulcie stood in the kitchen miserably waiting for her scones to cook.

An hour later Helen saw Dulcie putting on her coat and hat to go for her usual afternoon stroll. The scones were stacked on a cooling tray, waiting for the proposed tea which would take place at four o’clock precisely. Helen immediately set aside her magazine and headed for the stairs.

‘I shall take my shower and nap while you’re out walking. Do try not to get lost this time, Mother-in-law, because I won’t be in a position to come and look for you.’

‘I’m sure I can manage. I’ve lived in Castlefield a good deal longer than you, dear.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ Helen icily responded. But not for much longer, she added silently to herself as she went upstairs to her room and quietly closed the door. She made no move to undress or to lie down, but stood listening to the sounds of her mother-in-law leaving the house. Her plan was risky but then nothing was gained without taking chances.

Five or six minutes after Dulcie had gone, Helen was clad in her dressing gown, ready to put the plan into effect. She made her way back down to the kitchen.

After lighting the gas burner on the stove Helen took a tea towel which Dulcie had set to dry on the rack and put it to the flame. It caught instantly, filling the small room with smoke in seconds as the flames leaped and danced. Helen held her nerve for as long as she dared, watching as the smoke blackened, the flames travelled and caught the blue check curtains that hung at the kitchen window. She was tired of those curtains in any case, and these kitchen cupboards. Only when she judged sufficient damage had been done did she turn on the cold water tap and begin to fill the washing up bowl. It seemed about the right time to have smelled smoke, rushed downstairs and to start throwing water about.

But somehow the fire had taken a greater hold far quicker than she’d expected. Filling and flinging bowlfuls of water didn’t seem to be having much effect on damping it down. In genuine distress now, Helen ran to the phone to call for the fire brigade.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

‘Your usual, is it, for your lovely mam?’ Betty glanced up at Leo, and wondered how a man who had it all could look so tired and depressed. He made no reply so she kept on talking, as was her wont. ‘Carnations are lovely just now. Red for “alas my poor heart", yellow for disdain, pink for a woman’s love. I’ve some garden ones here, shorter stems but with a wonderful scent. Course, standard carnations, or dianthus, as we should rightly call them, don’t have any scent. But they’ll last three weeks if you look after them properly. Are you not feeling too well, might I ask?’

Leo forced a smile. Last evening at six o’clock he’d witnessed the removal of Judy’s children from her care. He’d been hovering around the market, hoping to speak to her and discover the outcome of the case when Sam had arrived in his van and the children and all their goods and chattels had been loaded on board. He’d kept well back in the shadows, silently watching and his heart had gone out to her because he could see at once this wasn’t an example of Sam’s visiting rights. This was something much more permanent.

Judy had stood at the door white-faced, steadfastly brave for the sake of her children. He thought he had never seen such courage, and such stark despair, in his life before. The bleak terror in her eyes had chilled him, and the silence in the street when the van had driven off in a cloud of dust would echo forever in his soul.

He’d hurried straight across to her but she’d regarded him as if he were a stranger and uttered just two words. ‘Stay away!’

‘Judy, let me help, for God’s sake. I heard about your losing the job. If you’ve lost the children too, let me help you get them back.’

Wild-eyed, she’d screamed at him. ‘
Haven’t you done enough? Keep away from me
!
.’
And she’d rushed inside and slammed the door.

‘I’ve got the black dog on my shoulder this morning,’ Leo admitted now to Betty. ‘Feeling a bit low, though not as low as some. You’ve heard about Judy . . . Mrs Beckett, I suppose. She lost custody.’

‘Oh, my giddy aunt!’ Betty put a hand to her mouth. ‘I’ll send our Lynda round right away, though she hasn’t been too well lately either.’ Betty frowned. ‘Nay, what’s happening to the world? It’s sick, that’s what it is, taking babbies away from their mother.’

They discussed the case for a while, and Leo managed to get the message across that he could do little to help without compromising her and Betty promised to keep a motherly eye on Judy. ‘I’ll take her some flowers,’ which brought their attention back to the carnations for Dulcie.