Peppercorn Street (22 page)

Without a word, she went to fetch some peanuts and crisps.

That was how a wife ought to behave, Gary thought as he sat down in the armchair he always occupied when
he came here. He passed a beer across and waited till the mouse had gone upstairs before he started talking. ‘I saw her, your Janey.’

‘Bloody tart!’

Gary stared down at the rug, as if reluctant to speak.

‘What’s she doing with herself?’

He sighed.

Lionel thumped the arm of the sofa. ‘She’s giving it out again, isn’t she?’

‘Yes. Sorry to be the one who tells you.’

‘What if she gets herself up the duff again? What if she starts walking the streets? How do you think I’ll look then, with a daughter on the game?’

Gary shook his head and took a pull of beer.

‘You have to stop her.’

‘I’ve tried to talk to her a couple of times.’

‘And?’

‘This guy who lives in the same block of flats is acting as her protector. I reckon the only way to get her under control is to hit her through the baby, get it taken away from her for a while, to frighten her into behaving. She may not be a good mother, but she loves it.’

‘How can we do that?’

‘I’ve got a friend in the council offices.’ Gary tapped his nose. ‘Leave it to me. Only it’ll cost you. My friend doesn’t do anything out of love. She’s risking her job, after all. But she feels sorry for people sometimes, knows the law can be stupid.’

‘How much does she want?’

‘A thousand.’

Lionel yelped.

‘She wanted more. I bargained her down for you.’

‘You’re a good friend.’

At the top of the stairs, Dorothy pressed one hand to her mouth, tears leaking out of her eyes.

Janey wasn’t a bad girl, she’d always known that, and known how the child was conceived, too. But Lionel could be violent and it wasn’t wise to go against his wishes.

But this was going too far. To take the baby away! Only, what could she do? What had she ever been able to do against a heavy-handed man like Lionel?

She sat there, listening carefully, even though they were talking about football now. Then she heard Gary saying goodbye and crept into the bedroom before the two men came out into the hall, slipping quickly out of her clothes and getting into her nightie.

By the time Lionel came up to bed, she was pretending to be asleep, something she was very good at.

But he didn’t try to touch her tonight, thank goodness. And he was soon snoring.

It was well after midnight before she got to sleep. Guilt sat heavily in her chest. But so did fear.

She didn’t dare go against Lionel – especially when he was plotting something with Gary.

William rang the hospital to ask about his dad. When they put him on hold, he nearly dumped the phone and left, but then looked at his watch. He’d give them three minutes to put him through to whoever could tell him about his dad. No one could trace him that quickly from a public phone.

‘Mr Gainsford? How may I help you?’

‘I’m calling to ask about my father, Sam Gainsford. Are you one of his nurses?’

‘Um, no. Haven’t you seen your mother this morning?’

‘I don’t live with her. We don’t get on.’

‘Oh. Well, I’m the chaplain at the hospital and it’s my sad duty to tell you that your father passed away during the night.’

‘Oh …’ For a moment he didn’t know what to say, wanted to cry, but strong men didn’t cry so he fought the weakness back. Then something occurred to him. ‘Was my mother with him?’

‘No. Look, if you want to come and see him, say farewell properly—’

William slammed the phone down and leant against the wall beside it for a minute, glaring at a woman who was hovering, waiting to make a call. He’d known his father was going to die, but still, it was a shock that it had happened so quickly. And it surprised him how much it hurt. He hadn’t had much hope of his father finding his manhood again, as William had, but he’d been fond of him, remembered childhood outings.

And that unfaithful bitch hadn’t even stayed with him!

He thrust his hands in his pockets and walked out of town, taking a country path he’d followed a few times before. You had to exercise to build up muscle, even with the help of that stuff, so he walked and he did some of his other exercises where no one could see. He hadn’t missed a day’s workout, even now.

He tried to figure out what his mother would do next. Sell the house, of course, and then live off the profits of his father’s hard work.

First there would be a funeral, though, and William wouldn’t dare go to that. His father had always said he wanted to be cremated. The oldest son should be there to see his father’s coffin go down to the fiery furnace, but doing that would mean giving himself up to the police. No, thank you.

He had to mark the day of the funeral somehow. He’d mugged some old guy last night in a car park and scored plenty of cash, so he was OK for a few days. He’d buy some more stuff, then he’d make a gesture of his own, a warrior’s gesture, in his father’s honour. He stopped and
smiled at the thought.
Yes!
A warrior’s farewell.

He turned on to a side path, bumping into someone.

‘Watch where you’re going, lad.’

He swung round. ‘No,
you
watch where you’re going, fattie.’

‘Don’t you talk to me like that, you young—’

William punched him in the face and watched him fall, then roll to one side, cringing away, expecting another blow. But he didn’t hit him again. It was enough to show who was master. You didn’t need to beat someone senseless.

He ran off, laughing quietly at the memory of the fat bloke tumbling backwards. Not until he got further out into the country did he let his laughter loose, a great belly laugh of triumph.

As he laughed, he saw some hikers, all togged up in fancy gear. They stopped as he strode towards them, then scattered like a flock of pigeons when he didn’t slow down. He walked through the gap they left, still laughing.

They were frightened of him. And so they should be. He was a real, old-fashioned man, powerful.

She
would learn to fear him, too. He was going to teach her to respect the stronger sex. That would be his farewell gift to his father. She was going to regret baling out on her family and leaving his father to die alone.

William walked on, climbing over a fence on to private property and ending up down by a lake. He did some upper-body exercises, then sat down on the ground, with his back against the trunk of a big tree that was just coming into leaf. It’d been a long winter! March now. Spring coming. Before summer he’d become a full
member of the group, then he’d have friends to watch his back and could stay in the clubhouse.

He looked up at the grey sky, working out what to do with himself until the day of the funeral. Time passed slowly when you didn’t have a telly to watch. He’d have to see if he could snatch an iPod from someone younger.

Once it was dark, he’d go back into town and buy some food, then he’d sleep at home, as usual. No one had even thought to look in the roof and though they’d locked the doors, he had the keys.

The morning was fine, with a feel of spring in the air. Winifred hummed as she prepared breakfast, then ate it while reading her newspaper, sitting in a patch of sunlight near the rear kitchen window.

When the phone rang, she picked it up, expecting to hear Hazel or Dawn. Instead, a woman said, ‘Miss Parfitt?’

‘Yes. Who is this?’

‘I’m from the council.’

‘Could I have your name, please?’

Silence, then the phone was put down.

Now, what did that mean? Was it someone playing tricks on her? Her nephew came to mind straight away, only he’d gone back overseas again, so it couldn’t be him.

She didn’t want to stay in and fret about the call, so decided to call the lawyer who was handling her friend Molly’s will. Luckily, they could fit her in that morning, so an hour later, dressed smartly, she called a taxi. She was a regular customer of the taxi company, so they didn’t usually keep her waiting long.

The lawyer’s practice was quite large, with several
names on the gleaming brass plaque outside. She was shown into a comfortable waiting room and picked up a magazine to read. Magazines were something she didn’t buy these days. Too expensive. There was more to read in a book. Anyway, who wanted to read about the doings of celebrities? She had better things to think of. But still, she’d just have a glance through this one while she waited.

‘Miss Parfitt? Would you please come through to the interview room? Ms Rosher is free now.’

She put the magazine down and followed the clerk into a bare room, containing only an oval table and matching chairs, with a small sideboard against one wall containing a carafe of water and some glasses.

A woman in a smart navy suit held out one hand. ‘Dale Rosher. I’m so glad to see you. We were beginning to think you were avoiding us. Do sit down. Would you like a glass of water or a cup of tea or coffee?’

‘Nothing, thank you.’

‘Now, as you know, this is about Molly Hooper’s will – were you aware she’d be leaving you something?’

‘She said she’d leave me her books and bookcases, which I’d very much enjoy having, both in memory of her and because I love reading. Is that what she’s left me?’

The lawyer smiled at her. ‘She left you a little more than that – her whole estate, in fact.’

Winifred couldn’t form a single word, so surprised was she.

‘It’s quite a valuable legacy because her house is in a good suburb and there are some pieces of antique furniture plus some rather fine china.’

Winifred found her voice, but her words came out
breathless and scratchy. ‘Didn’t she have a cousin she was going to leave it to?’

‘Molly changed her will in your favour last year because the cousin upset her. Clearly, she didn’t tell you.’

‘No.’

‘You know the house?’

‘Yes. I’ve been there many times. We were such good friends. I still miss her.’ She blinked to dispel the tears in her eyes at the thought of Molly.

‘We have to get probate first. I’m the executor, so I’ll deal with all that and keep you up to date on what’s happening, if that’s all right? Good. Do you have a lawyer? Do you want him involved?’

‘Yes.’ She gave the name. When she stood up, she felt dizzy for a few seconds.

‘Are you all right?’

Winifred managed a smile. ‘Oh, yes. I stood up too abruptly, that’s all. I’m still – in shock. Could someone call me a taxi, do you think?’

‘Of course.’

She gave the driver Hazel’s address and fortunately caught her friend in. As Hazel oohed and aahed over her news, it gradually began to seem real. The relief was tremendous. Winifred wasn’t going to be scratching for money now, scrimping to pay her council taxes so that she could stay in her home. She could enjoy her life, maybe take a holiday abroad – she’d always wanted to see Paris.

She smiled at her friend. ‘When this is all finalised, I’d like to take you and Dan out for a special meal to celebrate. Will you come?’

‘Of course I will. Now, about the computer classes. I’ve
rung them up and got Dan a place. We start this week.’

‘Oh, my!’

‘Don’t lose your courage now. We all need to learn about computers.’

It was suddenly clear to Winifred that Dawn had got her pushy ways from her mother. Pushy in a nice sense, though.

‘Look, Janey said she was willing to help us if we’re struggling. But I think we’ll manage just fine. We’re not stupid, are we?’

‘No.’ Winifred knew she wasn’t at all stupid, but she was absolutely terrified of making a fool of herself, always had been.

Janey was woken by Millie whimpering in the cot nearby. She looked at the clock and gasped. Nearly nine o’clock. She’d slept late. Well, she’d been awake worrying till well past midnight and been up at two with Millie, cuddling her back to sleep.

She got up and soon had everything organised for breakfast, then gave her baby a bath. It was fine today, so she’d go for a walk. Tomorrow she’d go to the
Just Girls
meeting. She hadn’t clicked instantly with any of the other young mothers, who were all living at home or with their boyfriends, and were getting a lot of help. But it was somewhere to go.

Then there was college, which she was looking forward to. She had her homework to do, mostly reading at this stage, but one short essay had been set as well. If only she had a printer! It still hurt that her father would smash up a perfectly good printer just to stop her having it. She’d
wait till Millie went down for her nap to start on her homework.

By ten-thirty she was outside, striding along happily, breathing deeply. Gary couldn’t be watching her all the time and she’d looked up and down the street, but seen only empty, parked cars. She’d have liked to walk round the little park, but for security, she kept to the streets where there were other people. When she got fed up of that, she went across to the allotments, following two women carrying bags of shopping.

There were several cars parked outside the gates, one with a woman inside, reading a newspaper. No threat there.

Mr S was kneeling on his plot. It looked as if he was putting in seedlings. There was another guy working down at the far end and a woman digging at one side. Good. People around.

She waved and went across to greet him. ‘What are you planting today?’

‘I’m taking a risk with the weather and putting in a few early onions and shallots. I’m also going to set out some cloches to warm up the soil. I’m going to have to buy seedlings till I get my little greenhouse set up again.’ He looked regretfully towards his hut and the debris to one side. ‘I shall have to look at salvage and recycling places, see what I can pick up cheaply.’

She’d guessed from other chance remarks that he didn’t have a lot of money to spare, so didn’t comment on that. ‘Anything I can do to help, Mr S?’

‘Put the kettle on.’ He grinned. ‘I’m a devil for my cups of tea.’

She parked the buggy outside the hut, setting on the brake carefully as always, then got the kettle going and took down the mugs and tea bags. Outside the window at the end of the hut, she could see the jagged remains of the greenhouse, and that made her feel sad. Mr S didn’t have much and why someone would want to destroy even that, she couldn’t understand.

An hour passed pleasantly as they chatted together like old friends, then Millie started showing signs of sleepiness.

‘I’d better be getting back. She needs changing and it’s time for her nap.’

‘I’ll walk with you.’

‘No need. There are people around at this time of day.’

‘There’s every need, lass. You shouldn’t really have come here on your own.’

‘I was very careful, stuck to busy streets, followed two women along the last bit.’

‘And we’ll be even more careful as we walk you back. I could do with stretching my legs, anyway. I’ve been on my knees all morning.’

‘You’re a fine one to talk about security. I bet you were the first here.’

He gave her a wry smile. ‘I don’t think I’m at risk. That fellow was wanting money. He’ll have realised now that there’s none to be found here.’

‘Well, you still need to be careful.’

At the end of the path between the houses, she said firmly, ‘I’ll be all right from now on.’

‘I’ll stand here and watch you down to your flat.’

She was touched by his concern and felt really good as she went into her flat. She just had to be careful for
a while. Gary would get tired of pestering her. Surely he would?

As she was about to change Millie, the doorbell rang.

‘Sally here.’

‘Come up.’

The health visitor came in, smiling at Millie, who was kicking and squirming on her changing mat on the floor. ‘She looks in fine fettle.’

‘She is.’

Sally hesitated. ‘There’s been a query about you. Apparently your parents are worrying about you not looking after the baby properly.’

Janey knew
he
was behind this. She just knew. ‘Even if it was true, which it isn’t, what’s it got to do with them?’

‘They say they’re concerned grandparents. What I don’t understand is why people at the council have latched on to it. So … I thought I’d drop in regularly. I’ll be able to give you better support if I can say I’ve seen how carefully you look after Millie.’

‘That’s fine by me. You can come any time. Um, who is this social worker? Surely it can’t be Pam, who was my case worker till I moved in here?’

‘It’s someone called Stevenall, and she isn’t exactly a social worker.’

Janey gasped. ‘She came here once when my father accused me of stealing a printer – which I didn’t. She tried to take Millie away from me then.’

‘Did she now? Tell me exactly what happened.’