Read the book: «A Father’s Revenge», page 2

Bessie opened her eyes again to look at Nora, forcing a smile to alleviate her fears. It was odd that Nora could predict too, almost as if they were meant to be together, and over the years Nora had become like the daughter that Bessie had never had, a woman who remained like a child, capable of some tasks, yet so vulnerable. There was one thing that Nora feared, and that was change, but Bessie had now taken steps to ensure that all that was familiar to Nora would remain.

With a croak in her voice, Bessie said, ‘Thanks for fetching my medicine, love.’

‘I look after you,’ Nora said gravely.

‘You certainly do,’ Bessie agreed as the door was pushed open and Pearl appeared carrying a tray. ‘It’s about time. I thought you’d gone to India to hand-pick the tea leaves.’

‘Very funny,’ said Pearl.

With a small, elfin face, Pearl had a delicate look about her, but Bessie knew she was stronger than she appeared. She was very fond of Pearl, and with no family of her own left Bessie felt there had been no choice – no other way to secure Nora’s future. Even so, she felt a twinge of guilt at the burden she was going to lay on Pearl. Would she agree to the conditions of the will?

Bessie longed for reassurance, for a glimpse of the future, but her second sight failed her.

Derek left the old people’s home, pleased to see that his gran was still happy there. At seventy-nine she had women of her own age to talk to and obviously enjoyed joining them in putting the world to rights.

His gran certainly hadn’t been happy when he married Pearl, and it hadn’t helped that he’d moved to Winchester. Despite all the years that had passed and all his attempts to persuade her, she still stubbornly refused to have anything to do with Pearl, though it didn’t stop her from complaining that she was the only one in the home who couldn’t brag about having great-grandchildren. He’d tried over and over again to tell her that he saw John as his son, but his gran refused to recognise him as such. It saddened Derek that he and Pearl hadn’t had children, but despite the pleasure of trying, it had never happened.

Battersea High Street was still busy, the market stalls doing a brisk trade, and for a moment Derek envied the costermongers their camaraderie. He had once had a pitch himself and there were a few men he’d known still working the stalls; one of them waved as he got out of the car, but mostly it was strange faces.

Pearl looked worried as they left Bessie’s and after popping upstairs himself to say hello to the old girl, he understood why. ‘She looked a bit rough, Pearl.’

‘I know, and thank goodness for Lucy. She’s been cooking meals for them both, and though Nora manages to do most things for Bessie when she’s ill, she can’t use the telephone. I’ve asked Lucy to ring me again if she thinks I’m needed.’

‘Lucy’s a nice girl,’ Derek commented and as always as he drove off he felt a pang at leaving Battersea. He liked Winchester, but this area would always feel like home to him. He knew they would never come back, never live here again … but a man could dream, couldn’t he?

Chapter Three

‘Granddad, what’s really wrong with Gran?’ John asked. ‘I’ve never seen her like that before.’

Driving the lad back to Winchester, Bernie knew he had to be careful with his words. In the past it had been easy enough to tell John that his gran suffered from headaches for which she took pills, but the lad was growing up now and Bernie doubted he could fob him off with the same story. He decided to tell him the partial truth.

‘Your gran had a nervous breakdown from which she never fully recovered,’ he explained. Though of course there’d been more to it than that. Dolly had lost her mind, ranting and raving like a mad woman. It was only the treatment and the pills she had been taking since leaving hospital that kept her on an even keel.

‘Was it because my real dad was sent to prison?’ John asked.

‘I’m afraid it was partly to blame. Your gran doted on Kevin and it knocked her for six.’

‘Poor Gran,’ John murmured.

‘Don’t worry. As long as she takes her medication, your gran is fine,’ Bernie assured him. John might be like his father in looks, but he was nothing like him in character. The boy was gentle, caring and it had become clear from an early age that he hated any form of violence. Growing up in Winchester, John had a love of the surrounding countryside, along with animals, wild or tame, and it was something they shared. With this thought, Bernie smiled. He wasn’t sure how Pearl would feel about it, but knew that John would love the gift he had planned. He was looking forward to the boy’s birthday.

The drive back to Winchester had the same soporific effect it always had on John and Bernie saw that his head was soon nodding. While the boy slept, Bernie reflected on Kevin’s letter and the news he would have to break to Pearl. He doubted she’d be pleased to hear that Kevin was up for parole again. When Pearl married Kevin, Bernie had hated the way that both his son and Dolly had treated her. At times he’d tried to intervene, to make things a little easier for Pearl, and the two of them had grown close.

‘Are we nearly there?’ John said sleepily.

‘No, we’ve a fair way to go yet,’ Bernie told him, yet a glance showed him that the lad had gone back to sleep already.

He wondered what effect Kevin’s release would have on John, and doubted it would be a good one. As far as Bernie was concerned, he felt that Kevin should serve his full time: after all, the jeweller that he’d bludgeoned over and over again, leaving the poor sod brain-damaged, was going to suffer for the rest of his life. He also thought that Kevin’s so-called religious conversion was unlikely to be genuine. Even before going to prison, Kevin had never done an honest day’s work. Dolly had funded his idleness, but if his son thought that things were going to be the same when he got out, he was going to be very disappointed.

Bernie smiled with satisfaction. He handled their money now, but after buying the cottage he knew the rest wouldn’t last forever. Though nervous at first, he’d discovered a talent when it came to investing in the stock market and had gradually quadrupled their savings. Fearful of his luck changing, he’d finally turned his shares into cash and with the interest it was earning, they were comfortably off.

‘John, we’re here,’ Bernie now said, gently nudging his grandson.

John blinked his eyes, then slowly unfurled his limbs to climb out of the car. Bernie followed him to the front door of the small, flat-fronted, terraced house.

‘Mum, Dad, we’re back,’ John called as they went into the house.

Pearl appeared, smiling when she saw them. ‘Bernie, thanks for bringing him home earlier than usual. My mother has no idea that we’re laying on a special tea for her fiftieth birthday and it wouldn’t be the same without John being there.’

‘Where is she, Mum?’

‘Next door with Tim.’

‘Tim?’ Bernie asked, his eyebrows rising.

‘Timothy Blake, our next-door neighbour. He hasn’t been the same since his wife died last year and Mum often goes round to keep him company. We got Tim to ask her to pop round when we came back, but it’s still been a mad dash to get everything ready and the table laid. Come and see the cake,’ Pearl invited as she led them through to the kitchen.

‘Derek, hello,’ Bernie said and after his greeting was returned he duly admired Emily’s birthday cake.

‘I won’t be a minute. I need the bathroom,’ John said, hurrying off.

Bernie took the opportunity to talk to Pearl and Derek out of the boy’s hearing. ‘Dolly heard from Kevin. He’s … well … he’s up for parole again.’

‘Do you think he’ll get it this time?’ Pearl asked worriedly.

‘With his so-called religious conversion, Dolly seems to think so.’

Pearl frowned. ‘What do you mean, so-called conversion?’

‘When it comes to Kevin, I’m not as gullible as Dolly, yet she seems convinced it’s genuine,’ Bernie admitted. ‘On her last visit Kevin was even spouting that if he’s refused parole again it must be because God has work for him to do within the prison; that his calling might be to help the other inmates. He says if he does get out, he’s going to start up some sort of refuge for alcoholics and homeless people – lost souls as he calls them.’

‘Goodness!’ Pearl exclaimed.

‘I doubt there’s any goodness involved,’ Bernie said, ‘especially as he was probably hinting for a substantial donation.’

‘Do you think he’ll want to see John?’

‘I don’t know, love. Dolly seems to think so, but she knows you’ve got sole custody. Mind you, John’s curious about his father and said today that he’d like to see him.’

Pearl’s face paled. ‘But what if Kevin tries to take John away from me?’

‘He’d better not,’ Bernie growled. ‘And anyway, if you tell John the truth about Kevin, he won’t be so keen to see him.’

‘No,’ Pearl protested. ‘He’s far too young to cope with it yet.’

There was the sound of footsteps and John appeared in the doorway, bringing the conversation to an abrupt end.

‘Well, lad,’ Bernie said, ‘I’d best be off, and Pearl, tell Emily I said happy birthday. I’m sure she’s going to be thrilled with that cake.’

‘Yes, she’ll love it,’ Pearl agreed, ‘and we’re taking her to the theatre tonight.’

‘That sounds right up Emily’s street,’ Bernie commented, then said his goodbyes. He was thoughtful as he got into his car. They were a happy family and having lived in Emily’s house since he was a baby, John had only ever known love and stability. If Kevin got out, all that could change, and Bernie found himself again hoping that his son would remain in prison.

At five thirty, Emily clapped her hands with delight. ‘Oh, look, Tim, it’s such a beautiful cake.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Tim agreed as he held out a chair ready for her to sit down.

The cake was in the centre of the table, and there were cucumber sandwiches, tiny rolls stuffed with tuna, some with egg, and lovely home-made biscuits. Emily smiled as she looked around the table. Her friends, Libby Moore and her husband, were smiling back, her gorgeous grandson too, and of course Derek and Pearl. From the day she had found her daughter again, Emily’s life had been full of joy. They had lived together for thirteen years now and were very close, with Derek moving in too when he married Pearl. They had been happy years, yet it still hurt Emily that she had missed so much of Pearl’s childhood.

Emily would never forget how furious her father had been when she had become pregnant out of wedlock. She had been kept a virtual prisoner in her parents’ large house, out of sight of anyone, and when she had given birth she was heartbroken to be told her baby was stillborn. Many, many, years later, when her father was on his deathbed, he had taken great delight in telling her that she would inherit nothing. He had then confessed that her baby hadn’t been stillborn after all, that she had lived, and he’d abandoned her on the steps of an orphanage. Her baby had been found clutching a tiny button, and with no other form of identification that was how she’d been named: Pearl Button, though of course she was now Pearl Lewis.

Derek laughed at something Pearl said, breaking Emily out of her reverie. She hadn’t been sure about Derek at first. She had heard all about Pearl’s first husband, Kevin Dolby, and Emily feared that as the two men had known each other, Derek would be cut from the same cloth. Thankfully she’d been wrong: Derek was a wonderful man and she’d become very fond of him.

‘Happy birthday, Gran,’ said John as he held out a package.

Emily unwrapped the gift, loving the pretty box of handkerchiefs with lace edging and her initials embroidered in one corner. ‘Thank you, darling. They’re beautiful.’

‘This is from us, Mum.’

In the small box, Emily was thrilled to find a delicate gold chain hung with a pretty pearl locket. ‘I just love it,’ she said, smiling with happiness.

‘Emily, I’m so sorry,’ Tim said softly, obviously embarrassed. ‘I haven’t got you a gift.’

‘It really doesn’t matter,’ she told him, just glad to have him there. She had been friends with Delia, Tim’s late wife, and had always been fond of them both. Tim had been lost when Delia died, but just recently Emily’s platonic friendship with him had slowly begun to develop into something more. Of course he was still grieving and it was far too soon to take things any further, but maybe, in the future … just maybe …

Chapter Four

Derek awoke earlier than usual on Friday. Careful not to wake Pearl, he climbed out of bed, shivering as he threw on his dressing gown before making his way to the kitchen. It was still cold, but perhaps next month they’d see a decent rise in the temperature. He lit the fire, and then placed the kettle on the gas stove, unable to stop his thoughts turning to Kevin Dolby. There had been no news from Bernie about the parole hearing, and with any luck that meant he’d been turned down.

‘I thought I’d be the first one up this morning.’

Derek turned to smile fondly at Emily. ‘We’re both early birds then,’ he said, struck as always by her tiny, birdlike appearance. Some people assumed that Emily was frail, yet although she had angina, she hadn’t had a bad attack for many years. He’d heard all the jokes about mothers-in-law, but none applied to his relationship with Emily. From the day he’d married Pearl and moved in, Emily had given them plenty of space, even using her bedroom as a sort of sitting room too, with a couple of chairs on each side of a small fireplace, along with a radio and television. They’d protested, but Emily insisted that she liked it that way and it meant that she could watch the TV programmes she preferred.

‘I see you’re making a pot of tea,’ Emily said.

‘Yes, it won’t be long now.’

‘I’ll take over if you like,’ she offered.

‘Thanks. I’ll go and get ready for work while it’s brewing,’ Derek said. As he went up to the bathroom his thoughts returned to their living arrangements.

Even now, when Emily wasn’t next door with Tim, she spent most of her evenings in her room, watching programmes like All Creatures Great and Small, while Derek preferred The Sweeney. It was a good choice of title for the police series – Sweeney Todd, slang for the flying squad. Over the years Derek had suggested that they find a place of their own to rent, but somehow it never happened, both Pearl and her mother happy to keep things the way they were.

Derek hadn’t found moving to Winchester easy. He’d managed a boxing gym in Battersea, but a similar role had been impossible to find here. With no other skills, or choice, he’d started out as a painter and decorator’s labourer, but he’d learned quickly and his capabilities increased until he became proficient enough to start out on his own. He didn’t make a fortune, his jobs only small ones, but he was working for himself and preferred it that way. Recently though, he’d quoted for a job on a housing development, a big one with a great profit margin, and now his shoulders straightened. If it came off they would have a deposit, a chance to buy a house. Surely Pearl would love that?

After taking Clive to school, Lucy was now at the shop. She switched on the lights and then went through the back to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Nora, it’s me,’ she called. ‘I’m just going to open up.’

All was quiet and, worried, Lucy shouted again, ‘Nora! Nora, are you there?’

There was still no answer and, seriously concerned now, Lucy hurried upstairs. Nora was usually up by now and would have managed to prepare a simple breakfast of cereals for herself and Bessie.

Lucy looked in Nora’s room, but the bed hadn’t been slept in. She went up to the next floor and to her relief saw that Nora was there in Bessie’s room, sitting in a chair, bent double with her head resting on the bed, fast asleep.

The bedside lamp was still lit, and as Lucy crept forward she gasped. Like Nora, Bessie was asleep but she looked awful, her breathing shallow and wheezing. Lucy floundered, unsure what to do, but just then Bessie’s eyes fluttered open, and she struggled to sit up.

‘Here, let me help you,’ Lucy cried.

Nora awoke, her eyes cloudy with confusion for a moment, but when she saw Lucy trying to help Bessie, she joined in, plumping the pillows and putting them behind Bessie’s back. It didn’t seem to help and Bessie’s breathing was still ragged.

‘She really bad now,’ Nora wailed, her eyes filling with tears.

‘Don’t worry. I’m going to call the doctor,’ Lucy replied as calmly as she could.

‘No … No …’ Bessie managed to gasp. ‘I … I’ll be all right.’

‘You don’t look all right.’

‘Med … medicine.’

Nora poured it. After swallowing a spoonful, Bessie seemed to start breathing a little easier and asked for a cup of tea. Lucy still wasn’t sure, but as she stood looking down on her, Bessie said with more strength in her voice, ‘I’m fine and don’t you dare bother the doctor.’

Lucy knew better than to argue, but she wasn’t happy as she went back downstairs to make the tea. Bessie refused food, but Nora ate her cornflakes, though she remained sitting by Bessie’s side.

‘We’re fine,’ the old woman said. ‘Go and open the shop.’

Lucy thought Bessie looked a bit better, but decided she’d look in on her again in an hour or two. If there was no further improvement by then she was going to ring the doctor – whether the old woman liked it or not.

For Pearl, the weekday morning followed the usual routine. She made breakfast, Derek left for work and then John went to school. Her mother taught art in a local primary and had already left; the house now quiet as Pearl did a little housework before taking a break. While sipping a cup of coffee she let her gaze rest on one of her mother’s paintings that hung on the wall above the fireplace. Her choice of pastels was restful to the eye, the scene a cottage window dressed with soft, blue, gingham curtains and a toning vase of cottage garden flowers on a windowsill.

Pearl had always loved painting. She had inherited her mother’s talent but what with housework, cooking, and a part-time job in a chemist, her days were full. There had once been a time when Pearl had dreamed of being an artist, of her paintings being shown in an exhibition, but those dreams had long been put aside in favour of being a wife and mother.

Though she hadn’t wanted to think about him, the news of Kevin’s possible parole loomed heavy in her mind. The things he’d done, his violence, had sickened her, yet there was no denying that from the moment John had been born, Kevin had loved him. At his own insistence, Kevin hadn’t seen John while he was in prison, but Pearl felt he would want to see him when he was released. Her stomach lurched as the same fears made her hands tremble. What if he tried to take John away from her? He was certainly capable of doing that.

Her thoughts were cut off by the ringing of the telephone. It was Lucy.

‘Pearl, despite Bessie insisting that she’s fine, she’s getting worse. I know she’ll do her nut, but I want to call the doctor. What do you think?’

Frowning worriedly, Pearl asked, ‘Has she got a fever?’

‘No, I don’t think so and as I said, Bessie insists she’s fine. It’s just that her breathing is really bad.’

‘In that case, call the doctor.’

‘All right then. I just hope she doesn’t have a go at me.’

‘Bessie’s bark has always been worse than her bite, but if you like, tell her it was my idea.’

‘Thanks, Pearl. I’ll give that a try.’

‘There’s no need to thank me. I’m just glad you’re there to keep an eye on her. I’ve got to go to work soon, but I’ll give you a call as soon as I come home.’

‘Right, I’ll speak to you again then,’ Lucy said, saying goodbye before hanging up.

Pearl could just imagine Bessie’s reaction when the doctor walked in. Poor Lucy, she was right and fur would probably fly. She put on her white nylon overall, something the chemist insisted all the staff wear, and with Bessie on her mind, all thoughts of Kevin were put to one side. There was no news of his parole so perhaps it had been denied and she was worrying about nothing.

Pearl enjoyed her part-time job at the chemist’s but today the hours seemed to drag. At last she was on her way again and on arriving home she immediately went to the telephone. The news was reassuring. Lucy told her that the doctor hadn’t seemed overly worried, but he had put Bessie on a stronger dose of antibiotics.

Pearl at last relaxed, and after telling Lucy that they’d drive down to see Bessie on Sunday, she replaced the receiver, flooded with relief.