Brides of War (17 page)

‘Gracie will be home among her family now,’ Valerie remarked. ‘I do hope she’s happy at last.’

‘I’m sure she is, darling. America wasn’t for Gracie, she was too far out of her element. But I got the feeling that Rick, her husband’s brother, was kind of important to her, am I wrong?’

‘No, I think you are absolutely right, but it was the wrong time and the wrong place, at least that’s what she felt.’

He put an arm around Valerie. ‘We were just so lucky to get together, despite the circumstances. I’ll always love you, you know that don’t you?’

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. ‘I do and I’m a very happy woman.’

Jeff Rider was far from happy. He’d returned home to live with his parents to save money, money that he needed to fuel his gambling habit. Since Gracie had returned to England, his drinking had increased and his Friday-night poker games were keeping him poor – he’d not had a lucky run for weeks. Even Velda, who could see nothing wrong with her beloved son, was being pushed to the limit of her endurance. He’d come back drunk tonight after losing yet again, and taken out his bad temper on a wooden chair in the living room, smashing it to smithereens.

For the first time in her life, Velda was scared of him and she recalled the story Rick had told her about Jeff putting his wife into hospital. She hadn’t believed it – until now.

‘Stop it! Stop it!’ she screamed as Jeff picked up another chair.

Her cries seemed to seep through the blind rage and he stopped, the chair held high. He saw the terrified look on his mother’s face and stopped, then put the chair down.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded. ‘This is my home! How dare you?’

Even in his fuddled alcoholic brain he realised he’d gone too far.

‘Sorry, sorry Ma,’ he murmured, and walked unsteadily towards the stairs and his bedroom.

Velda was shaking. She sat down and clasped her two hands together to try and stop them trembling, and this was how her husband found her a short while later.

‘Velda!’ He knelt beside her and took hold of her hands. ‘Whatever is the matter?’

She nodded towards the chair, now in pieces.

‘What the … what’s been happening here? Who did this?’

‘It was Jeff,’ she sobbed. ‘He came home drunk and in a foul temper.’

Her husband was furious. ‘Where is he?’

She grabbed his arm. ‘He’s gone to bed. It’s no good talking to him, he won’t remember in the morning and anyway, I think by now he’s probably passed out.’

Sitting beside her, Ben asked. ‘Has this happened before?’

She shook her head. ‘No, he’s been drinking a lot but tonight he went mad.’ She hesitated, then she told him about Gracie being in hospital and the rest of the story as told to her by Rick. ‘I never believed him, but after tonight I think it may be true.’

‘Right! In the morning I’ll have a chat with him, he will
not
behave like this if he wants to stay in my house. As for the other, that’s despicable and I’ll let him know what I think about that!’

‘Now Ben …’ Velda began.

‘This is not your business Velda, this is man to man stuff and you keep out of it, do you hear?’

She knew better than to argue.

The following morning, Jeff climbed out of bed. His head was pounding as he walked to the bathroom and poured cold water over it, then he washed and shaved as best as he could with his hands shaking. He slowly dressed and walked downstairs. He looked with surprise at the remains of the chair, which Ben had made Velda leave on the floor. His father was sitting waiting for him. He rose to his feet.

‘You! Outside in the yard, we need to talk.’ He walked away.

Jeff followed him, puzzled by the request. As he stepped through the door he was knocked off his feet by a blow to the jaw. Sprawled on the ground, his hand to his aching chin, he looked at his father.

‘What the hell was that for?’

‘You don’t even remember do you?’

‘Remember what?’

‘You came home drunk last night and started to smash up the furniture. You scared the hell out of your mother and I’m not having it! Get to your feet and take your punishment like a man!’

Jeff didn’t move. He remembered only too clearly the thrashings he and his brother had taken as children when they’d been in trouble. He held out his hand to stop his father.

‘Look Dad, I’m really sorry. Yes, I was drunk and yes, I don’t remember, but jeez, I wouldn’t do that to Ma, you know I wouldn’t!’

‘But you did! Your drinking’s got out of hand and so has your gambling. No doubt that’s what happened when you put your wife in hospital!’

Jeff paled. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘So you did? I may rule my house with a rod of iron but I have never ever raised my hand to my wife or any other woman. Call yourself a man? I’m ashamed to call you my son! That girl left her family and her country for you, she was a good wife and you treated her like that. No wonder she left you. Get up!’

Jeff did so very slowly, waiting for another blow, but his father said, ‘Inside.’ He pushed Jeff in the back, shoving him through the door into the kitchen. ‘Sit down!’

Like a naughty child he did as he was told.

‘If you want to stay in my house, this has got to stop – understand? No more playing poker, no more drinking. If you do, I’ll throw you out and you’ll have to fend for yourself. I’ll disown you!’

Jeff knew his father meant every word but he also knew that Ben was right. It had to stop or his gambling and drinking would destroy him.

‘Gee Dad, I’m really sorry and you’re right. I have to take control of my life. I’m real sorry about Gracie, she didn’t deserve that and if I could turn back the clock …’

‘But you can’t! I’ll give you one more chance, boy, and that’s all. You step out of line you know what to expect. Before you go to work you owe your mother an apology.’ He got up and left the house.

Velda had been watching everything through the window of the small anteroom and, when her husband left for work, she walked into the kitchen and faced her son.

He rose from his chair and made to walk towards her. To his horror, she quickly backed away from him. He saw the flash of fear in her eyes and was ashamed.

‘Ma, I’m really sorry. I’m gonna change, honest. I’ll buy another chair to replace this one.’ He hurriedly picked up all the bits and pieces and took them outside. Then he collected the things he needed for work and left.

Velda sat down and poured herself a coffee. She’d been worried that Ben was going to really hurt Jeff. She knew her husband had a temper and was as strong as a horse. To her mind, Jeff had got off lightly, but he was on borrowed time if he didn’t comply with his father’s rules.

As Jeff drove to work, he could feel his jaw swelling. He’d already been teased by his workmates when Rick had given him a hiding. He’d said he’d walked into a door, but no one believed him. What would they say today?

His boss took one look at him when he walked through the door.

‘Jesus, what happened to you?’

‘Someone tried to grab my wallet last night as I was getting into my car,’ he lied. ‘You should have seen the other guy!’

His employer said nothing more, but Jeff knew he didn’t believe him.

News of his brother’s dilemma filtered through to Rick. Barton was a small place where everyone knew what went down. Ben had mentioned what had transpired to a work colleague and it filtered through the grapevine.

Rick was delighted to hear that his father had laid down
the law to Jeff, but he also knew that as much as his brother might genuinely want to give up his addiction, he would falter eventually. It was only a matter of time.

Gracie had written to Rick, which delighted him. It was a long letter full of news about her voyage home, seeing her parents again, how great it was to be back in Britain and how she missed him. He read that bit over and over. She was now back working, saving until she could afford to rent a small flat. As she explained, it was lovely to be living with her parents in the beginning, but after being married and being her own person, she was anxious to have her very own place.

He smiled to himself as he read and re-read the letter and that night he settled down to answer it. He told her how well his business was going, about seeing Milly and Chuck, how they and all the customers missed her.

I miss you too, Gracie honey. Never a day goes by that you are not in my thoughts at some time or another.
He didn’t mention Jeff or the fracas with their father.

Jeff had managed to stay away from playing poker for three weeks and was drinking Coke instead of beer, but one night as the store closed, some of the staff disappeared up an alleyway to play craps and before he realised it he was rolling the dice.

‘Come on baby, do it for daddy!’

He couldn’t go wrong and at the end of the game when everybody called a halt, he left with loaded pockets. He was pumped up now, the same old thrill, which had kept him at the poker table was back.

The next evening he found out where there was a game
and took his money along and played. He lost a little but he won even more. Then the madness took over. He searched out other games, not caring that he was wandering and playing in the more dangerous areas of the town. He was on a roll, nothing could stop him now. But one night something did.

In a shabby room in a seedy area, Jeff sat down to play. He had a wad of money on him, but he was smart enough to secrete it in smaller amounts in different pockets so as not to pull out a fat roll of notes, but his luck had deserted him. He looked around the table at the players with suspicion. He was sure that someone was cheating. He’d been playing the game for long enough to know when things weren’t right and eventually he thought he’d found the culprit and challenged the man.

There was a furious argument, which became even more heated until he threatened to call the police. The man he’d accused of cheating, pulled a gun on him – and a shot rang out.

Later that night Jeff Rider’s body was found dumped in a side alley, his wallet and pockets empty. Only his driving licence left to identify him.

The news of Jeff Rider’s murder reverberated around the town. The community wasn’t without a certain amount of crime, but murder was not usual. A man walking to work early the next morning discovered his body and called the police.

Ben and Velda had been shocked when a police officer arrived at their door to give them the sad news. Velda collapsed in a heap, sobbing. Ben comforted her as best he could and called a friend in to sit with her while he went to the mortuary to identify the body.

As he looked down at his son, he was stunned. He was both desolate from the loss and at the same time angry that Jeff had thrown away his life over a pack of cards. He nodded to the assistant and left the room. Outside he lit a cigarette, drawing deeply on the nicotine for a modicum of comfort. There was none.

The police had informed him that until they had gathered all the evidence, the body would remain in the morgue. That was the hardest part. It meant that his wife would have to sit with her sorrow for even longer, waiting, in the hope that the perpetrator would be found.

When Rick heard the news from his father, he drove round to his parent’s house and tried to offer some comfort to Velda. But she was still in shock. The doctor was called and he gave her a sedative and whilst she slept Ben and he discussed the tragic event.

‘I warned him!’ said Ben angrily. ‘If only he’d listened.’

Rick placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Dad. Gambling is a disease and much as Jeff might have tried to beat it, he couldn’t. If a bullet hadn’t stopped him, his drinking would have. He was on a downward spiral I’m afraid.’

‘Will you write and tell Gracie what’s happened?’ Ben asked. ‘She has a right to know, after all, she’s still his wife.’

When he returned home, Rick took out a pad and pen, but sat staring at the blank page. How was he to go about it, he wondered? It was a hell of a thing to have to tell anyone. But in the end he decided just to give her the facts, there was no way he could soften the blow. He started to write.

Gracie heard the postman put the mail through the door and walked down to retrieve the post. When she recognised Rick’s writing she was thrilled and sat at the kitchen table and eagerly opened the envelope. But as she read the contents she went cold and gasped out loud, making her mother look up from the newspaper.

On seeing how pale her daughter was, she asked, ‘What’s wrong love, bad news?’

Gracie looked up. ‘Jeff’s been murdered! He was shot and now he’s dead!’

‘Oh my God! How dreadful, what happened do you know?’

Gracie read the rest of the letter. ‘The police think he’d
been playing poker and maybe there was a fight, but they’re looking into it.’

‘His poor mother,’ was her own mother’s response.

Gracie hadn’t liked Velda Rider but knowing how she felt about Jeff, Gracie did feel for the woman. ‘They can’t arrange a funeral yet, not until they investigate further.’

‘Did he play cards often then?’

‘Yes, Mum, it was something we did quarrel about, but I don’t want to go into it.’ She rose from her chair. ‘I’ve got to go or I’ll be late for work.’

Gracie was grateful she was employed, because for the next few hours she would be busy and wouldn’t have time to dwell on her bad news.

When she got home, she sat and wrote back to Rick.

She put the letter in an envelope to mail the next morning.

Over the next few weeks, the police eventually gathered the information and evidence they were seeking and the man who shot Jeff was arrested. One of the men who had been
playing cards that night had shopped him, not wanting to be involved in a murder charge and so, Jeff’s body was released for burial.

It was a sunny day as the hearse drove into the cemetery. Velda was dressed in black, as were the other women who had come along. Milly and Chuck were among the mourners and they stood near Rick, to give him their support.

He stood on one side of his mother, his father on the other as the coffin was lowered into the grave with the preacher standing, Bible in hand.

‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’

Rick felt his mother’s legs give way and he held her tight to preventing her from falling.

‘Deep breath, Ma,’ he said quietly, which seemed to give her strength.

After the ceremony, several people returned to the house, where caterers had prepared a buffet. Rick helped his mother out of the car.

‘You have to be strong now for Jeff’s sake,’ he told her quietly. ‘Come on Ma, I know you can do it!’ He squeezed her arm and led her inside.

Thankfully the wake went well. Old friends of Jeff talked about his teen years, of his leaving to join the army, his time spent fighting for his country, giving his mother better memories to hold and alleviate her grief. At last it was over and the three of them were alone and Velda went to lie down.

Ben took off his jacket and tie, then poured two glasses of beer, handing one to Rick.

‘Thanks son, you were a godsend today. Without you,
your mother would have gone to pieces.’

‘It was harder for her than anyone,’ said Rick, ‘but it’s over and we can get on with our lives. Ma too, in time.’

His father looked at him. ‘What plans have you got for your life, Rick? Thank God I’ve one son with a future!’

‘Oh, I’m working on a few things, Dad. I’ll be fine.’

As Rick drove back to his place, he thought of his brother. He and Jeff had never been close, but he was sorry about his demise and the way he met his death. Even so, he could never find it within him to forgive Jeff for the way he had treated Gracie. But now he was free from the demons that drove him and, of course, so was Gracie, now a free woman and that made him feel good. At least she wouldn’t have to go through with a divorce, which was a blessing.

Gracie had been with the family in spirit as Rick had written and told her when the funeral was to be held. She had said she wanted to arrange to send flowers, but Rick had said he’d see to that for her and had arranged for a spray to be sent along with his own. But at the time of the ceremony, Gracie found herself a quiet corner and said a prayer for the man she’d once loved. She suddenly realised she was now a widow, which felt very strange as she no longer felt a married woman. Since she’d come home, it was as if her marriage and time spent in America had all been a bad dream … apart from meeting Rick – that still felt very real.

She’d written to Valerie telling her the sad news. Her friend had sent a cable saying how sorry she was and would be writing.

When she’d read the letter from Gracie, Valerie Johnson had been shocked. Not that murder in the States was unusual. Guns were a way of life here, something she’d never ever got used to, but when something like that happens to someone you know, that’s different.

Max was sorry to hear the news. ‘It seems to me that Gracie had a narrow escape. Who knows what would have happened if she’d stayed there. Thank heavens her brother-in-law intervened.’

‘Yes, he sounds a decent man and I believe there could have been something between them had things been different, but that’s life.’

Valerie hadn’t been feeling well and eventually Max had insisted she visit the doctor. After his examination, the doctor told her that she was about fourteen weeks pregnant.

She was shocked. ‘But I’ve still been having my period,’ she told him, but after thinking for a moment, she added, ‘although the flow wasn’t as heavy as normal, but I didn’t think too much about that.’

‘That happens sometimes, Mrs Johnson. Just take things easy for a while. Don’t pick up anything heavy, but other than that, carry on. Childbirth is not an illness after all. Come back and see me in a month, unless you’re worried about anything. And congratulations!’

Max looked up anxiously when she returned to the studio. ‘What did the doctor have to say?’

‘He told me I’m pregnant,’ she said, wondering what his reaction would be. Until her divorce, they’d taken precautions before having sex and after, but once in a while, lately, passion had overtaken them.

Max looked delighted. ‘Really? But how marvellous!’ he took her into his arms and hugged her. ‘That’s the best news you could have given me.’

‘Honestly?’

He was astonished. ‘I can’t believe you would think otherwise darling. I think it’s wonderful. Are you all right?’

‘Apparently so.’ She did a quick calculation. The baby should be born in late March.

‘Come and sit down,’ he said and led her to the settee. ‘We must arrange to get married. After all, we were going to do so eventually, but now I think it would be wise to do so very soon, don’t you?’

‘Oh Max! You don’t have to marry me because I’m going to have your child,’ she protested.

‘I don’t want to marry you just because you’re pregnant. How could you think that? I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so why wouldn’t I want to marry you? The baby is a bonus. Unless you don’t want to be my wife?’

‘You silly man, of course I do!’

‘Then we’ll go to City Hall and get a special licence, or did you want a big affair?’

‘No I do not! After all the press coverage in the past, that’s the last thing I want. Just two witnesses and a nice meal would be my idea of heaven … mind you, I’ll need a new outfit!’

He burst out laughing. ‘How typical of a woman!’

They were married three weeks later. Carl Blackmore and his wife were the witnesses and after the ceremony, they all dined at the Waldorf Astoria. It was a quiet but joyous occasion.

Valerie wore an ivory coloured dress and matching hat
and shoes and an orchid. Max and Carl were in smart suits, sporting buttonholes to match. Jane Blackmore was elegantly attired in a pale green dress and hat. The party enjoyed their meal and the chef had made a small one-tier wedding cake for the occasion.

Max had been given strict orders by Valerie not to make a speech, but he picked up a glass of champagne that the waiter had just poured and remaining seated he spoke.

‘I wish to propose a toast to the wonderful woman who walked into my life and today made it complete!’

They all raised their glasses and drank. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered and kissed her husband.

The following morning, Max and Valerie took a flight to Jamaica for a two week honeymoon. As he had said, ‘You need a break now because when the baby is born, things will be different. These two weeks are just for us.’

Despite the fact that it was October, the time when storms could sweep through the islands in the West Indies, the weather was kind to them. They lay on the beach beneath palm trees, relaxed, swam to keep cool and, of course, took their paints and the opportunity to capture the tropical scene before them. They took a cab into Kingston, the capital, and shopped: buying straw hats, linen trousers and local necklaces made out of beads, sold at the roadside by West Indian women trying to earn a living from the tourists. Valerie was delighted by the custom of the shopkeepers offering small glasses of rum as soon as you entered their premises. She allowed herself just one.

Laughing she turned to Max. ‘One could finish shopping and be legless here, if you accepted all that was on offer!’

‘They figure if you’ve drunk enough, you’ll buy even more is my guess,’ he said.

They sat outside a café and had a cold drink as they took out their sketchbooks and drew the colourful locals, capturing the vibrancy of the Caribbean, knowing that on their return, the paintings in oils would bring onto the canvas Jamaica in all its glory.

Another day they were driven to Montego Bay, a favourite spot for tourists, but the beach was big enough to still be comfortable and when Max hired a glass-bottomed boat, Valerie was thrilled to be able to see the world deep beneath them, full of fish swimming in the sea that was an unbelievable shade of turquoise.

They dined that night at a restaurant outside, beneath palm trees with fairy lights threaded through them, moving and sparkling in a soft breeze as they danced to the captivating music of a steel band.

‘Oh Max, you couldn’t have picked a more romantic place to spend a honeymoon,’ she whispered as he held her close.

‘I’m so pleased you like it darling. This is just the beginning of our life together and the baby will make it just perfect. I’m a lucky man.’

They returned to New York and put away their summer finery. There was now a chill in the air as winter approached. But in the studio, all the vibrancy of the Caribbean was being composed on canvas as they worked. Inside it was still summer, with palm trees and a turquoise sea in the background and on another, the streets of Jamaica came alive.

It seemed no time at all before Christmas was looming. Valerie loved New York at Christmas. She thought the London shops were superb during this time, but the shop windows of New York were magnificent. At the Rockefeller Center stood a tall conifer tree, decorated with fairy lights, which reminded Valerie of the one in Trafalgar Square. There was an outside skating rink and they sat inside the restaurant watching the skaters through the window as they drank their coffee. On each corner of the streets stood a man dressed as Father Christmas with a tin, collecting for charity, and the smell of chestnuts roasting from various stands filled the air. Christmas in New York was unbeatable!

Max and Valerie had invited several friends to spend Christmas Day with them and ten of them sat down to eat turkey and all the trimmings. They pulled crackers, read the mottos and had a high old time. There was no King’s speech of course, but it was only a passing thought as Valerie cared for her guests.