That'll Be the Day (2007) (46 page)

‘And what about Mam? Where was she when all of this was going on?’

Jake shrugged. ‘Still at home, so far as I know.’

Lynda was struggling to hold on to her patience, her fingers itching to slap her stupid brother round his cloth ears. She almost spelled out the words for him. ‘Was - she - there - when - you - got - back?’

Jake shook his head to indicate he had no idea, eyes so wide and innocent Lynda had to believe him. ‘I never went in the living room, I just crept upstairs to bed though it was nearly dawn, lay on top of the covers and crashed out for an hour or two. She were gone when I come down an hour or two later.’

Lynda frowned. This wasn’t helping at all, but she believed Jake to be telling the truth. ‘I can only hope this will be a lesson to you, and you’ll stay well clear of Ewan’s mischief in future. In the meantime, you can come and help me look for Mam. She must be somewhere.’

Jake came readily enough, as anxious to find his mother as Lynda was, but even though they checked again, Betty still wasn’t in the churchyard. They searched every place they could think of, every lock-up that belonged to the stallholders, every warehouse within walking distance, every old shed and garage. They found no sign of her.

Lynda was in tears by this time and Jake was feeling decidedly sick, filled with guilt for all the hassle he’d given his mother over the years. He’d never meant her any harm, not in a million years. She was an old fuss-pot but he loved her, right? She was his Mam for God’s sake!

In the end, close to exhaustion, Lynda suggested they went back home for a bite to eat. ‘Happen she’ll have turned up by now. You never know.’

But the only person in the house was Ewan himself. He smiled grimly at the pair of them as they came through the door, took the pipe from between his clenched teeth and knocked it out on the corner of the mantelpiece, sending hot ash scattering all over the hearth-rug. Lynda stamped it out on a burst of anger at his carelessness.

‘Where the hell have you been? Have you seen Mam? We’ve been looking for her all day. Do you know where she’s gone? Have you hurt her? I’ll kill you if you have. I’ll knock you from here to the middle of next week.’

He considered her for some moments, a look she could only describe as low cunning on his face. ‘That’s a lot of questions in one breath, girl? And not a few threats.’

‘Answer me. I’m not in the mood for your nasty little games.’

‘If Betty is missing, why assume I have anything to do with it?’

‘Why do you think? Because you’re a piece of shit and I hate you.’

Jake sank into a chair on hearing his sister use such foul words, striving to make himself invisible.

Ewan got up to stand threateningly close to her, a smirk of satisfaction on his ugly ferret face. ‘And what if I were to admit that mebbe I do know where your mam is?’

‘I knew it. So where is she? What little game are you playing now?’

‘Oh, it’s no game, chuck. But I’m sure she’s safe and well. All I’m saying is that should you ever want to see her again, you and your dozy ape of a brother here had better start doing exactly as I tell you. I need your help in a little enterprise I’m planning and if you don’t cooperate, our lovely Betty will be dog-meat. Got that? Plain enough for you, is it? You can stop messing me about, the pair of you, and give me the obedience I deserve. Then when the job is over, I’ll be out of your lives for good and all. Otherwise, it won’t be a cat who’s drowned next time, it’ll be your bloody mother.’

Chapter Forty-Six

Helen fully anticipated this Festive Season being the worst ever. Dulcie would come for Christmas lunch, of course, which wouldn’t be easy as relations between them were so frosty they were barely speaking. But Leo absolutely refused to allow her to invite any other guests, which might have made the whole thing more bearable, insisting she take things quietly because of her condition.
 

He was constantly making remarks of this nature and the curtailment to Helen’s social calendar was beginning to gall her.

Nevertheless she felt quietly triumphant. She was quite certain that she’d won, though how long she could keep up this myth of a pregnancy was another matter. Long enough to screw up Leo’s little affair with the Beckett woman, that was for sure, and until Helen herself felt more sure of him.

There had been a certain rapprochement between herself and Leo. He was behaving as Helen would expect any caring husband to behave. He would urge her to put her feet up, bring her a cushion, or whatever took her fancy and Helen began to really quite enjoy the extra attention. It might almost be worth having a child if this was the kind of treatment she could expect.

And then she would remember her sister Harriet and her brood of noisy infants, and shudder with distaste. Playing a part was one thing, reality quite another thing entirely.

Oh, but she meant to win him back one way or another. She’d have him eating out of her hands in no time, just as he’d done in the early days of their marriage.

For her own part, Helen went through the motions of reconciliation, making every attempt to appear less critical, but she was bored out of her mind. But as she sat listening to Cliff Richard sing
Living Doll
on her new stereophonic radiogram, Helen was beginning to feel jaded and even rather old. Her life seemed so dull, so unexciting, despite all her best efforts to spice it up.

They seemed to have fallen into monotonous routine: Leo working long hours at the warehouse, still visiting his mother several afternoons a week, generally alone, although occasionally Helen would accompany him for form’s sake. Each evening they would sit and eat dinner in comparative silence, exchanging little more than cool pleasantries, and information regarding their respective schedules.

Helen would tell him of meetings she had attended, gossip she’d acquired from among her social set. Several times she mentioned Barford and tried to engage Leo’s interest in her lover’s plans for property development, but when still she got absolutely no response, she gave up.

Helen finally abandoned all hope of turning her strictly moral husband into the kind of entrepreneur capable of ever taking risks and bribes which others took for granted in their quest to make serious money. Unfortunately, Leo seemed to be shackled by too many scruples. In any case, what did it matter if Barford did spill the beans over their little liaison? Leo wouldn’t leave her now, not with the baby coming.

Sometimes Helen almost forgot that this baby wasn’t real, so convincingly did she play her part. Naturally it would become clear eventually that she’d lied, or at least been mistaken about the pregnancy. Surely she could manufacture a convincing miscarriage when her next period started?

Helen worried that if relations between them didn’t improve, she might be compelled to reconsider and actually produce a child. A drastic measure she intended to avoid at all costs, but nor did she have any wish to lose access to her husband’s lovely money. It was all most vexing.

But it did occur to her that perhaps it wasn’t going to be quite as easy as she’d first thought. Something had changed in him. He was no longer the man she’d married.
That
Leo had been attentive because he loved her, because he wanted to make her happy.
This
Leo was simply going through the motions and didn’t really seem to care.
This
Leo loved another woman, and Helen hated him for that, the jealousy eating away at her like a greedy worm. Their marriage had turned into nothing more than a sham, a sad and bitter union. They were drifting further and further apart and she couldn’t find a way to stop it.

How dare he prove her right and have a mistress after all?

Leo had grown tired of waiting. Helen seemed perfectly well with little sign of morning sickness, yet it was surely early days yet. If only he knew one way or the other? On impulse he made up his mind to speak to Judy. Leo felt a great need to discuss his doubts about this alleged pregnancy, on the grounds that perhaps Judy might be able to advise him on what other signs he should look for which would prove or disprove her condition. Pregnancy was something Judy would obviously understood a good deal better than he, having gone through it herself.

Besides, he really missed her and was desperate to see her lovely face again. He missed her dazzling smile, her pert nose that he loved to kiss, and the soft silkiness of her skin.

Unfortunately when he got to the tall terraced house beyond the Pomona Docks where she’d been staying, he found her gone and the room where they’d made love now let to somebody else. More worrying still, the landlady had no forwarding address, no idea where she’d gone.

He urged himself not to panic. Surely she couldn’t be far away. Her need to keep in touch with the children necessitated her remaining in the area.

And then he recalled how Betty Hemley had said that Judy was like a second daughter to her, and Leo knew Judy to be close friends with Betty’s daughter Lynda. He headed for the flower stall in case the old woman might have some idea where Judy might be, but was surprised to find that the stall wasn’t there.
 

Leo was upset, hoping Betty hadn’t suffered another accident, or was sick. As none of the other stallholders could tell him exactly when Betty and her flower stall would be back he went to her house to ask Lynda for help in finding Judy. She too was also desperately worried about her friend.
 

Lynda stood on her front doorstep looking really rather unwell, Leo thought, although he made no comment upon it. She’d always appeared to him such an attractive woman, now her hair was tousled and she appeared pale and fraught, older in some indistinct way. She didn’t seem to be in the mood for a chat, being fidgety, almost nervous. Nor did she ask him inside but at least made an effort to console Leo. ‘I don’t think Judy is missing as such. More likely hiding away, perhaps out of misery and depression over losing her lovely children.’

‘And even
I
let her down by telling her that I didn’t see how I could possibly get a divorce from Helen. Now I think there might be hope for us after all, although I’m not certain, not yet.’

‘Then leave her alone until you are,’ Lynda warned in a tired sort of way. ‘She’s been hurt enough already.’

Leo felt ashamed suddenly for being so selfish as to rush around looking for Judy on the pretext of needing her advice, when really he was simply anxious to see her again, to touch her, to love her. He missed her so badly.

Just before he walked away, resignedly accepting that Lynda was probably right, Leo asked, ‘Where’s Betty? I looked for the stall but it wasn’t there. She’s not ill I hope?’

Lynda didn’t answer immediately, seeming distressed by the question and again glanced anxiously behind her into the house. ‘Mam has been over-doing it a bit recently. I’ll talk to you later, right?’ and she shut the door in his face.

This was so unusual, the stallholders of Champion Street Market generally being a helpful, friendly bunch, that Leo was puzzled. But he had more personal worries on his mind so moments later he’d forgotten all about Betty Hemley.

Unable to persuade himself to give up, Leo trekked up and down streets, searching Castlefield high and low in the hope that he might spot Judy, perhaps on her way home having found a job in a shop or factory, or simply out and about shopping. He even went to Ruth and Tom’s school, watching from a distance in the hope that he might spot them and get the chance to ask where their mother was.

He did indeed see them being collected by an elderly woman but he hesitated about intruding, and then desperation overcame common sense and Leo quickly crossed the street and politely tapped the woman on the shoulder.

‘Excuse me, but I’m trying to locate Judy Beckett. I don’t suppose you would know where she is, would you?’

The old woman scowled at him. ‘Who wants to know? What’s Judy got to do with you?’

Tom beamed up at him. ‘Hello, Mr Catlow. It’s all right, Gran, this is the man who once saved me from some bullies. He’s nice.’

‘No, he’s not,’ Ruth sulkily interrupted her brother. ‘He’s the one who’s caused all this trouble between Mum and Dad. He’s her fancy man.’

Leo saw then that he’d made a bad mistake. He’d underestimated the anger that even her children, her daughter anyway, might feel against him. And how could he deny that he had indeed created problems for her? Was it any excuse at all that he loved her?

‘It wasn’t quite like that, Ruth. Sadly your parents’ marriage was over long before I appeared on the scene.’
 

‘And then you left her,’ Ruth cried, her child-woman eyes rounded in accusation.

‘No, it wasn’t like that at all. I love her. I couldn’t help it, I . . .’ But it was too late, impossible to explain to this young girl with her idealistic view of life how he’d tried to do the right thing by everyone and it had all turned out wrong. Nor was he given the opportunity.

By this time the old woman was wielding her umbrella, shouting at him to be off before she called the constabulary; that she hadn’t the first idea where her daughter-in-law was living but if she ever saw her again it would be too soon. And Leo could do nothing but apologise for troubling them and step back out of their path to allow them to go on their way.

Perhaps it was this painful encounter with her children, seeing the possible hurt he had done them as well as being unable to find Judy that decided him, but Leo went straight home and rang his wife’s GP. He didn’t get through immediately but intended to keep trying. He also made up his mind to speak to the fire brigade about what exactly they had found on the day of the kitchen fire. It seemed sensible to gather a few salient facts, which he probably should have done ages ago. Depending on the answers he got to his enquiries, he would then decide what course of action he should take.