‘I suppose we should be proud of him. When all’s said and done, you don’t achieve that unless you work damned hard.’
‘Or cheat damned hard.’
Aren’t you being a bit hard on Adam?’
Rosie’s lovely face set. ‘I don’t think so. There’s something else. According to Doug, his dad borrowed money from Adam in the lean times, and Adam used that to drive him under.’
‘Doug doesn’t always tell the true story.’
‘I know that. But the fact of the matter is this… Ned lost his business, and now he’s gone. Adam Roach has painted his own name on the wagon, added another two routes and expanded Ned’s old ones. That tells me the truth. He isn’t the man I knew and loved. As far as I’m concerned, Adam has beaten a good man in Ned, and I’ll never forgive him.’
‘Have you heard from Ned?’
‘Just that brief letter soon after he left, telling me he was all right and asking me to take care of his grandson.’ She recalled how there had been no mention of either Doug or his mam, and that night Doug had gone out on one of his worst drinking binges yet. ‘We knew Ned was having a job to make ends meet. It stood to reason, with Martha needing a nurse and everything. But I didn’t know how troubled he must have been, and I never imagined he would turn to Adam.’ She had tried so hard not to believe it, but she knew now that Adam really had taken advantage of the situation. ‘Ned lost everything he’d worked for. I can’t forgive Adam for that.’
‘Come on, gal.’ Peggy rose from the bench and stretched her limbs. Afterwards she surprised Rosie by saying softly, ‘One way or another, we’re all carrying a cross of sorts.’ When Rosie tried to draw her on the remark, she would have none of it. But it left Rosie unsettled, wondering whether she had misjudged Peggy’s cavalier attitude. Happen she was not so happy to be footloose and fancy free after all?
While Rosie was gathering the boy’s coat, Peggy made her way to the sand-pit. ‘Come on, young ’un,’ she said in a brighter voice. ‘We’re off home now.’
It was nearing midday when they passed St Peter’s church. The congregation spilled out of the great doors, keeping Rosie and Peggy to one side of the pavement. When the path was clear again, they went away at a slower pace. ‘I keep promising myself to go to Mass,’ Rosie murmured, ashamed. ‘Next Sunday, I will.’ And, come what may, she would, because lately she had a desperate need for the Lord’s guidance.
‘You know, I’m not sure we should believe everything we hear, gal,’ Peggy remarked. ‘Why don’t you contact Adam? Get his version of the truth?’
‘I know the truth, Peggy.’ Rosie had asked many questions after Ned’s disappearance. ‘There’s a pattern to it all. Adam Roach is eaten up with ambition. He buys out the smaller merchants to eliminate competition. It’s common knowledge. You’ve said so yourself.’ Soon after Ned went, she had been tempted to get in touch with Adam. But commonsense prevailed, and now she was glad she had resisted the temptation. ‘I never want to set eyes on him again!’ she said firmly.
‘Are you saying you don’t have any affection for him at all?’ Peggy sensed Rosie’s despair, and could only imagine what her friend was suffering.
‘I suppose if I’m honest I do still love the Adam I remember,’ Rosie reluctantly admitted. ‘No woman can easily forget her first love. But I loathe what he’s become. Doug has his failings and they’re many, but he’s weak more than wicked.’
‘You and Doug… how are things between you now?’
‘The same. He hates me when he’s sober, and wants me when he’s drunk.’ A wry little smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. ‘Fortunately for me, when he’s drunk he falls asleep before he can get his pants off.’
Peggy laughed out loud. ‘Poor sod!’ she cried. ‘What happens then?’
‘I throw a blanket over him and he sleeps where he drops,’ Rosie answered merrily.
‘It must be rotten when he wants it to stand up, and all it wants to do is lie down.’ Peggy’s laughter was infectious, and the two of them were still laughing when they turned into Castle Street.
The laughter was short-lived. At Peggy’s house they parted company and Rosie made her way along the street with a heavier heart. The thought of Martha sitting up there in the bedroom, waiting to spoil what little pleasure Rosie and her son had got from the morning’s outing, was more than enough to take the smile from her face. Little Danny said it all now when he whispered, ‘I don’t have to go and see Gran’ma, do I?’
‘Not if you don’t want to, sweetheart,’ she answered, giving him a hug. Fumbling in her purse she took out the key and unlocked the door. ‘If you like, you can play in the back yard while I get some food on the table. No doubt your daddy will be home soon, starving hungry as usual.’ She smiled, but there was no smile in return.
As soon as they were inside, the boy lost no time in making his way to the back yard. ‘Wish I could do the same,’ Rosie muttered, watching him through the window. No sooner had she spoken than Martha’s voice called down, ‘Rosie, you bugger! Is that you?’
Going to the foot of the stairs, she called back, ‘Can you wait a minute? I’m just about to get the food ready.’
‘No, I bloody well can’t. Get up here now.’
Rosie shook her head. Every day she hoped Martha’s mean mood would improve, and every day it seemed to get worse. ‘On my way,’ she replied, reluctantly climbing the stairs. As she went, she mimicked Martha’s voice, muttering beneath her breath, ‘Where’ve you been all this time? You’re a heartless bugger, Rosie Selby, leaving a poor defenceless woman to fend for herself. One o’ these days you’ll come back and find me lyin’ here dead! But I expect that’s what you want, ain’t it, eh? Clap your bloody hands if I should pop off, wouldn’t you, eh?’
At the top of the stairs, Rosie took a deep breath. ‘Do your worst, you old sod!’ she said, glaring at Martha’s bedroom door and imagining the hostile face behind it. Going the remaining few steps along the landing, she pushed open the door. Straightway Martha’s voice took up where Rosie’s had left off, repeating word for word what she had said while climbing the stairs. And all the while, Rosie stood by the door, waiting for the tirade to end. But when it did, it was on a note of such malice that it made Rosie shiver. ‘You’ve been with a fella, ain’t you?’ Martha sniggered. ‘Look at you, you dirty little bitch, breathless and red-faced, still panting from what you’ve been up to.’
Tempted to cross the room and ram the pillow down that wicked throat, Rosie forced herself to remain calm. ‘If I’m red-faced and panting it’s because no sooner am I back from a long walk in the warm sun, than you’re yelling for me to run straight up the stairs. You don’t even give a body time to get her breath!’
‘Been for a walk, eh? More like you’ve been rolling in the grass with a fella. What! You’ve only to look at your face to know you’re guilty as hell. And I’ll tell you this – our Doug will know the minute he gets home, because I’ll make it my business to tell him.’
‘Well, now you’ve got all that off your chest, Martha, what can I do for you?’ Rosie’s voice was deliberately kind and soft, and there was even a smile on her face.
‘I’ve shit the bed!’
The smile fell from Rosie’s face. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘What? Same as I don’t believe you?’ She chuckled and clapped her hands at the horrified expression on Rosie’s face. ‘Don’t smell too sweet, do it, eh?’ she pointed out with glee.
‘If you have messed the bed, you’ve done it on purpose.’ Rosie made no move. Instead she remained by the door, letting her disapproval be known.
‘So say you.’ The ugliness of Martha’s soul showed in her countenance. Her eyes had grown smaller from years of being narrowed with hatred. Her brow was furrowed in a permanent deep frown, and her greying hair stood up round her large head, as though she’d been caught in a high wind. There was shocking satisfaction in her smile. ‘You’d best clean me up, hadn’t you? Miss High and bloody Mighty.’<
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Rosie stood her ground. ‘You’ve never messed yourself before.’ She had always admired Martha for her ability to do most things in spite of her disability. ‘How come you can manage to use the pan yourself whenever Doug’s home, but when I’m out, you find it impossible? You did do it on purpose, and I’ve a good mind to let you swill in it.’
Martha was pleased. ‘Be very careful, lady,’ she warned gruffly. ‘My Doug would be upset to hear you threatening me like that.’
‘Happen “your Doug” should clean you up then.’
Rosie turned as though to leave, but swung round when Martha screamed out, ‘Don’t you dare turn your back on me!’
Rosie was suitably wide-eyed and innocent. ‘I’m so sorry, Martha, was there something else?’ she asked in a dignified voice.
‘All right, you bitch! I did do it on purpose, but I ain’t sorry.’
‘Well, you should be. Your grandson hardly ever moves out of this house, and today was the first time he’s been to the park in weeks. I don’t often leave you, but when I do I always make sure you’ve everything to make you comfortable. And I always ask Ma Rushden next-door to keep an eye on you. You know perfectly well you’ve only to knock on the wall and she’ll be here in a minute.’
‘Sod Ma Rushden!’ Martha began thumping her fists against the covers. ‘You’d best clean me up or I’ll yell blue murder!’ Seeing that she was fighting a losing battle, Rosie conceded. ‘All right. Give me a minute to boil the kettle, and I’ll be straight back.’
‘And fetch the boy.’
Rosie glared at her. ‘We’ll see.’
‘I need to see him now! Or shall I tell Doug that on top of everything else, you’re trying to keep my own grandson from me.’
‘You know that’s not true, Martha. I’ve never refused to let you see him.’ Not that she wouldn’t like to because the boy was obviously frightened of his grandmother. ‘It’s just that I’d rather you were in a better mood, that’s all.’
‘You bloody well fetch him, do you hear?’
All right, I’ll fetch him. But not until after you’re washed.’ Martha’s smile widened and Rosie hurried from the room.
Downstairs, Rosie was shocked, when she glanced at the clock over the firebreast. It was almost two o’clock. ‘God Almighty! He’ll be in any minute, and no food on the table.’ Before she went out that morning, she had cleaned the fish, prepared the vegetables and set the table, so all that remained was for her to place the fish in the oven and put a light beneath the pans. She did that now, then checked that her son was all right, and finally boiled a kettle full of water and got the bowl ready for Martha. And, above it all, she could hear her mother-in-law shouting for her to: ‘Get up here, damn and bugger you!’ To which Rosie replied under her breath, ‘Your language doesn’t change, Martha. It’s still colourful as ever.’
A short time later, after the vegetables were nicely simmering and the aroma of baking fish was gently issuing from the oven, Rosie tested the water in the bowl, making sure it was neither too hot nor too cold. She dropped a flannel and soap into it, draped a large towel over her arm, and went back upstairs, being careful not to slop the water over her own legs.
‘About time too,’ Martha complained. She complained when Rosie turned back the covers and she complained when her clothes were stripped away. She swore that the water was: ‘Hot enough to scald the skin from me back,’ and she grumbled the whole time she was being washed, dried and dusted with powder.
Finally the task was done, and Rosie prepared to leave. ‘Your dinner won’t be long,’ she said. Her every bone ached. Martha was no easy handful, and had gone out of her way to make the job more difficult.
‘You can fetch the young ’un now.’ Sitting up in bed, Martha finally looked presentable, with her freshly laundered nightgown and pretty pink bed-jacket, and her hair combed to a semblance of order. ‘I’m waiting, so get a move on.’
Rosie’s answer was a forlorn shake of the head. She had hoped Martha would change her mind about wanting to see the boy. Instead she was adamant, and Rosie was obliged to comply. But she would watch her! Like a hawk, she would watch Martha’s every move.
‘I don’t want to go up.’ Danny tugged at Rosie’s skirt and pleaded with big frightened eyes. ‘She’s been shouting again. She’ll shout at me.’ Martha’s room overlooked the yard where he had been playing, and her voice had carried to its every corner.
Rosie’s heart went out to him, but she knew it would be wrong to encourage the bad feeling that was beginning to develop between her son and Martha. ‘Your grandma’s not well, sweetheart,’ she explained. ‘She didn’t mean to shout.’
He blinked away the tears, dropped his head to his chest and cast his gaze to the floor. ‘If I go, will you come too?’
‘’Course I will.’ She took hold of his hand. Slowly, the two of them went up the stairs, he in front and Rosie behind, and it was hard to tell whose heart was sorrier for that short journey.
Martha’s smile was terrifying. ‘Come to see your gran’ma, eh?’ she asked, grinning through yellowing teeth. ‘Come on then, right up to the bed.’ She beckoned him closer and, on hesitant footsteps, Danny went to her. Anxious as ever, Rosie stayed close behind.
At first, it seemed as though the boy would turn tail and run. But then Martha became surprisingly charming, asking him about the park and the sandpit where he played. ‘And did you build any castles?’ she asked, affectionately ruffling his hair. Her warm smile was totally disarming. Slowly but surely the child warmed to her, and Rosie began to think she had judged Martha a little too harshly after all.
Danny told her about this and that, and Martha kept on with her questions. When they discussed his grandad’s soldiers, and Martha asked whether he would like to keep them, Danny nodded excitedly. Chuckling, she produced the soldiers from the bedside cupboard, and he was enthralled. He even laughed a little and seemed to forget his past unease with her. Watching from nearby, Rosie was delighted that they were getting on so well. It was all she had ever wanted. If Martha was bound to remain in this house, and it seemed as though she was, then it would certainly be wonderful if they could all live peacefully together. For whatever reasons, her son had already lost his grandfather. It would be some compensation if he should gain a grandmother who came genuinely to care for him. After all, she did once love him dearly. Surely that feeling was still alive deep down in Martha’s heart?
When Doug’s voice called from downstairs, Rosie had few qualms about leaving the two of them together. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ she promised, and they hardly glanced up as she departed. However, Martha did bestow a smile on her, and Rosie hoped that at long last everything might be coming right between them.
Doug wasn’t drunk, but he was merry. ‘I’ve been at a mate’s house,’ he explained. ‘Had a game of cards, and look at this!’ He produced a wad of notes from his pockets and grabbed her into his arms. ‘Your old fella’s a canny bugger when it comes to cards.’ His open smile took her back to when she first fell for his charms. Even now, after all that had happened between them, he could still raise a smile from her.
‘It’s nice to see you’re not drunk on your winnings,’ she said simply. ‘Happen you can fork out for some new clothes for your son.’ When he pushed a couple of notes into her hand, she could hardly believe it. ‘What are you after?’ she asked light-heartedly. When he was like this, she could forgive him at least some of his behaviour.
He tickled her under the chin and clicked his tongue at her. ‘You’re a real beauty, do you know that, Rosie Selby?’ His lascivious gaze travelled over her classic features, the small heart-shaped face and the straight proud nose, her rich brown hair that looked the colour of ripe chestnuts against her pale skin, and those pretty brown eyes with their long lashes and perfectly shaped eyebrows above. Pushing closer, he put his arm round her, his eyes boring into hers. ‘Where’s the boy?’ he asked in a voice hoarse with passion.’
‘Upstairs with you
r mam.’
‘We’ve time then?’ His fingertips crept over her throat, then down to the neck of her blouse. Sliding his hand in, he stroked the small taut breast, expertly rolling the hard nipple between finger and thumb. Bending his head, he opened his mouth over hers, at the same time gruffly whispering, ‘I’ve wanted you all day.’ Pushing her backwards against the sideboard, he began undoing his trousers. ‘We’ve time,’ he kept saying. ‘We’ve time.’ In a minute his member was thrust out, large and erect in his hand.
‘What the devil’s the matter with you?’ Rosie was mortified in case the boy should see. ‘Have you no sense of decency?’
‘Aw, come on, we’ll be over and done before they know it.’ He was frantic by now, and in no mood to be refused.
Before Rosie could push him off, he was all over her. But then he was startled by the sound of Danny’s voice calling out for his mammy. ‘Ignore the little brat,’ he gasped, his whole body forcing her down.
When Rosie heard the boy running down the stairs and loudly sobbing, she gathered every ounce of her strength to push Doug’s weight off her. ‘You’re like an animal,’ she accused. ‘If you ask me, you wouldn’t even care if the boy saw us at it.’
His face was flushed with anger. ‘To Hell with him,’ he snapped. ‘To Hell with both of ’em!’
Astonished to hear him cursing his mother, Rosie pushed him aside and ran to meet the child. He was deeply distressed. When she opened her arms to him, he collapsed into them. ‘Gran’ma hurt me,’ he cried, lifting his face to show the red weal that went from one side of his forehead to the other.
He was still crying bitterly when Rosie brought him into the living-room. ‘You’d best have a word with her,’ she told the disgruntled Doug. ‘Because if you don’t, I will. And I can promise you, I won’t be so particular in what I have to say!’
Incensed at being cheated out of his lovemaking, the anger was still on Doug when he stormed towards the door. ‘Is there no peace for a man in his own house?’ he demanded. When he ran up the stairs two at a time, Rosie took the child into the kitchen and set about washing the wound on his forehead. Thankfully the skin was unbroken, but he had been badly frightened. Little by little, Rosie discovered what had taken place up there in Martha’s room. First she had quizzed Danny about whether his mammy had met a man in the park. Then, when they were playing cowboys and Indians, she took a knife to his head and threatened to ‘scalp’ him if he didn’t tell her ‘the truth’. Rosie was made to wonder whether the old lady had finally lost her mind.
More Than Riches Page 22
