‘Don’t do that, Mum. You’re a bit better off in work than out of it.’
‘It’s a hard life, Jess. I’m struggling to keep up with the bills. I don’t suppose you could—’
‘What haven’t you paid this time?’
Nicola sighed. ‘The usual. I’m two months behind with the rent, I’ve got until next week to pay the council tax and they’re chasing me for the water rates. They put the prices up every year but wages never go up to the same extent. It’s scandalous.’
‘How’s your meters?’
‘I put a few quid on the gas and electricity cards last week, so if I’m careful I’ll last until payday.’
‘Have you got credit on your phone? You need that in case of emergencies, Mum.’
‘I’ll buy a ten-pound top up on Friday,’ Nicola promised.
‘And what about food? What have you got in the cupboard?’
‘Jess, stop interrogating me like I’m a special needs teenager,’ Nicola stormed.
‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I worry about you. It’s only natural. I am your daughter.’
‘If you were that worried, you’d put a few pounds in my bank account. You can afford it now, Jess. Don’t be mean. You know we should all have shared the money that Alice left.’
‘I don’t know why you always call her Alice, and not grandma,’ replied Jess.
‘She was never a grandmother to me. Grandmothers dote on their grandkids. She left us high and dry when we had our money worries. That’s the reason your father left and why I’m in such dire straits now.’
‘I’m not going to argue about this again, Mum. Nana gave you money and Dad squandered it, gambling.’
Nicola sniffed. ‘Well, she could have helped me when he left, but she did nothing, so don’t expect me to mourn her passing.’ She was quiet for a moment to let the message sink home, then she continued. ‘So, what is it you want, Jess?’
‘I rang to invite you out to a family dinner, Mum. I’m booking a table for four at the Café Blanc for this Friday evening. It will just be me, you, Grandma and Aunt Marjorie.’
‘What’s the occasion? Are we celebrating your inheritance or have you decided to do the right thing by us all?’
‘I’m not allowed to do the right thing, Mum, I’ll explain on the night. Nana tied all her money up in a trust fund. I couldn’t give you a decent portion of it if I wanted to.’
‘Typical!’ spat Nicola. ‘So, what’s the point in this family dinner?’
‘Mum, I just want us to be a family. I want all the back biting and nastiness to stop. Nana’s gone and I don’t want to be at the centre of hostilities like she was.’
‘Is there a bar at this Café Blanc place?’
Jessica sighed. ‘Yes, Mum, and don’t worry about money. I’m picking up the tab for the evening.’
‘I stopped worrying about money years ago, when I ran out of it,’ said Nicola coldly.
‘I’ll see you on Friday then, I’ll pick you up about six-thirty if that’s all right?’
‘I’ll be here,’ replied Nicola, ‘but, Jess… can you help me out with the rent? I’m sure there’s an eviction notice amongst the pile of mail on the mat.’ Her voice became tearful. ‘I daren’t open it, Jess. I just let it pile up. Can you help me? I’m begging you; I’ll have nowhere to go if they chuck me out.’
‘Mum, you know I won’t see you on the streets. Sort through that mail and give me the ones that are threatening court or eviction on Friday night.’
‘Bless you, Jess. I’ll pay them this time, I promise.’
‘You won’t need to, Mum. I’ll pay them by bank transfer. You won’t have to worry about going to the council offices and I’ve still got the estate agency’s bank details from last time, so all I need is to know how much you owe.’
‘Bank transfer….’ Nicola’s voice betrayed her disappointment.
‘Mum, you know what you’ll do with it if I give you cash. You really have to get yourself sorted out.’
‘I can handle it, Jessica,’ snapped Nicola. ‘I don’t have a problem; I can stop drinking whenever I want.’
‘Okay, Mum, but take it easy will you, and don’t have too much before I pick you up on Friday. The bar won’t run out.’ She paused. ‘Bye, Mum, love you.’
The call ended. Nicola stared at the phone for a few moments then tossed it onto the sofa and walked through to the kitchen. She picked up the large, plastic cider bottles and shook them in turn. Disappointed, she dropped them onto an overflowing black bin bag near the back door, before opening the wall cupboard next to the sink and pulling out a half-full bottle from her emergency, vodka stash. She took a glass from the draining board, then uttering, ‘sod it’ to herself, put the glass down and took a deep swig from the neck of the bottle. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she walked back through to the living room, took another swig of vodka, placed the bottle on the table, picked up the phone again and pressed the buttons to speed dial the only name on her list.
Chapter 13
Jessica spent Tuesday clearing out Alice’s clothes and belongings. Because of the amount of time she had spent indoors over the last twenty years, the vast majority of her wardrobe items would be better suited to a company specialising in period drama costumes than the charity shop.
Jess bagged up the clothes, but placed the handbags, shoes and costume jewellery into a large box. Some of the items might be collectable and although Jess wasn’t interested in any money that could be made, she wondered if a charity like Help the Aged could make use of them. She decided to take the garments to a clothing recycling bank, where any unusable items were shredded and mixed with fresh fibres to make new fabric.
In the afternoon, she sat at the kitchen table with her laptop and an old notebook that she had recovered from the attic on Nana’s instruction. Written on the front, in Alice’s beautiful handwriting were the words, Alice Mollison. Aged 19. Personal Memoir. 1939.
Jess made a large coffee, picked up the notepad and pen from the worktop and returned to the kitchen table. She opened the pad to a new sheet and wrote 1939 across the top of the page, then she opened the hard-back notebook, only to find that the months from January to May had been roughly torn out. Jess was puzzled, she was sure that those entries had been there when she first brought the memoirs down from the attic. Then she remembered that Nana had asked for that particular volume to be left inside her bedside drawer a few days before she died.
‘What was so bad you felt the need to hide it from me, Nana?’ she asked aloud.
She decided to ask Gwen, Alice’s carer, if she knew anything about it when she called her to see if she could make use of Alice’s expensive hospital style bed.
Still puzzling over the missing pages, Jess took a sip of coffee and smoothed down the page titled, June 1939 and began to read.
June 1939
The summer has arrived at last. After a cool, damp April and May when we had to spend much of our spare time indoors, June brought sunshine and warm air with the promise of more to come. I set four of the farmhands to work shearing and dipping of our small flock of sheep and dehorning the young bovines while others were cutting the long grass in the fields left fallow, and piling it into tall haystacks that would be left to dry out before being made into bales and stored in the barn for winter feed.
Martha has been niggly for most of the spring. She loved being outdoors, it didn’t matter where, as long as she could feel the breeze on her face. Her favourite place on earth was the farmyard. She loved to watch the chickens scurrying about, pecking and scratching in the dust, but she saved her most excited squeals for when she was up close to the pig pens. She adored our big boars, Hector and Horace and would scream with delight when I held her up to the bars of the pen while one of them rubbed its wet snout on her bare tummy.
She would get seriously annoyed when it was time to go back inside again and nothing would placate her. She had begun to crawl about in early spring and we had to build her a playpen to stop her getting int
o places we’d rather her not get into.
On her birthday, after an hour of tantrums, I stomped out to the piggery, grabbed two of the smallest piglets and carried them back to the kitchen. Miriam wiped off the worst of the muck with a damp cloth while Martha watched, mouth agape, from the confines of her new built prison.
When I put the piglets into the playpen with her, Martha screamed with delight and spent the next half hour rolling around the floor of the pen with them. She was so happy. I suddenly dreaded the thought of having to explain to her why the piglets were taken away when they had bulked up. I have to admit, more than one tear came to my eye when, after about forty minutes play, the three of them curled up into one large, pink ball and went to sleep.
On the Friday of that week, I had just finished cleaning out the piggery when I heard the tooting of a car horn. Puzzled as to who it might be, I walked across to the big barred gate, stood on the second rung and looked up the dirt track drive at the side of the farmhouse.
Parked at the top, near the lane, was a sleek, black Alvis. Standing in front was a man, wearing a pin striped suit. He took off his hat as he spotted me, and waved it in the air. My Gangster Lawyer and occasional lover, Godfrey Wilson, was paying me a rare visit.
‘Hello, Alice,’ he called.
‘Hello, stranger,’ I shouted. ‘Go to the front door, I’ll be there in a jiffy.’
I raced for the back door, stopping only to pull my dirty wellies off on the top step, then yelling, ‘It’s Godfrey,’ to Miriam, I hared through the kitchen into the front room.
At the front door, I took a deep breath, patted the headscarf that protected my curls from the worst the pigpens had to offer, and yanked the door open with a flourish.
Godfrey stepped inside still holding his hat. Smiling, he looked me over. ‘You look as beautiful as ever, Alice.’
I had completely forgotten that I was still wearing my dirty, work overalls that were covered with splodges of farm detritus. I looked down at myself and screwed up my face. If I could smell the pig muck on my clothes, he must be able to as well.
I pointed to the chairs that were tucked neatly under the round dining table and backed away towards the door.
‘Take a seat, Godfrey, I’ll be back in five… possibly ten… just let me get out of these… this…’
I stepped into the kitchen and ran through the parlour to the bathroom, pulling the buttons of my overalls open as I went.
‘Miriam, make tea… keep him company… Help!’ I hissed.
Miriam stepped away from the big Belfast sink where she was hand washing my smalls and picking up a tea towel to wipe her hands, she ushered me away and went to take my place in the lounge. Miriam was my live-in housekeeper, baby-minder, head cook and bottle washer, although she was paid for fulfilling her duties, she was more a part of the family than an employee. More than that, she was one of my closest friends.
In the bathroom I stripped naked as I ran hot water from the Ascot boiler into the sink. Picking up a flannel I soaped it up and had an all-over wipe down, paying particular attention to the bits and pieces that might have got a bit whiffy as I was going about my duties in the piggery.
Grabbing a towel, I gave myself a quick rub down and leaving my shed clothing on the bathroom floor, I hurried back through to the kitchen, holding the towel across my front. Miriam was standing at the big oak table, pouring boiling water into the teapot as I sped by, bare arsed.
She laughed as her eyes followed my bare backside across the kitchen. ‘Would you like some talc dabbing on it?’
I gave her a look over my shoulder. ‘Don’t let him leave,’ I said, and took the stairs two at a time, stepping onto the towel, tripping, and ending up on all fours, naked and frustrated.
Finally making it to the bedroom, I finished drying off, quickly brushed my hair into some sort of shape, sprayed a couple of puffs of perfume onto my chest, neck and wrists, and dragged my bluebell print dress over my head. Suddenly realising that I hadn’t put on any underwear, I cursed, turned around towards the dresser, decided I didn’t have time, and pulled a pair of shoes from the bottom of the wardrobe while staring up at the clock. I pulled them on as I hopped across the bedroom, checking myself in the mirror as I went.
Back in the kitchen Miriam was pouring the tea. I looked at her and held out the palms of my hands, a pleading look on my face.
‘You’ll do,’ she said softly, and went back to making the tea.
As I walked breezily into the living room, Godfrey got up from his seat and gave me an approving look.
‘Stunning, simply stunning,’ he said.
I blushed, as I tended to under Godfrey’s gaze. ‘Miriam’s bringing the tea,’ I said, still trying to regain my breath after the hectic ten minutes I’d just spent.
Godfrey gave me his best smile, and my heart skipped a beat. ‘I particularly like the odd shoes.’
I looked down and my heart sank. I had picked up one white Oxford heel and one black.
I felt myself reddening. ‘I was… I… I’ve got another pair like it upstairs.’ I turned and hurried out of the room giving Miriam a stare and pointing to my feet as I stomped past her.
Less than a minute later I was back, with matching feet. I walked back into the front room and bent forwards slightly, pointing at them.
‘I decided to wear matching shoes after all,’ I said.
Godfrey grinned. ‘I just thought I’d let you know.’
I rolled my eyes heavenwards, walked towards him and kissed him on the lips.
‘To what do I owe the honour?’ I asked.
‘I was hoping that we might have a ride out, to take advantage of the glorious weather. It’s the first decent day we’ve had since last autumn. I couldn’t bear to waste it sitting in a stuffy office.’
‘Forget the tea, Miriam,’ I shouted. ‘We’re going out.’
Back outside, Godfrey opened the passenger side door and waited for me to climb in before shutting it firmly and stepping around the back of the car to get to the driver’s side. I lifted my bottom off the seat and smoothed my dress. Suddenly remembering that I wasn’t wearing anything underneath, I screwed up my face and bit my lip.
Godfrey took his seat and turned towards me. ‘Something wrong?’ he asked, noticing my expression.
I shook my head. ‘No, it’s okay, I thought I’d forgotten something, but it doesn’t matter now.’ I smiled at him, then looked straight ahead, hoping against hope that the slight zephyr of a breeze that had been wafting around all morning, didn’t pick up during the afternoon.
‘Where do you fancy?’ he asked. ‘We could do a late lunch at the Café Blanc, or we could find a hostelry and have a drink or two.’
‘By hostelry, I assume you mean, pub?’ I replied.
‘Indeed,’ he said.
‘Well, I’m not going to the Old Bull,’ I said firmly. Going sans knickers in a strange pub garden is one thing, doing it in my local is another thing entirely.
‘What about the Green Man near Aylesford. Would that be far enough away?’
I’d never been anywhere near Aylesford in my life, but it seemed to be quite a distant place and no one would know me there, so I nodded.
‘That sounds perfect.’
As it happened, Aylesford was less then fifteen miles away and we arrived at the village pub about two miles outside of the town, half an hour later. The Green Man had a nice garden at the back and we sat amongst the early roses and hydrangea shrubs as we ate sandwiches and sipped at gin and tonic water.
After ordering my third gin (Godfrey only had two), and feeling utterly relaxed, I began to tell him about my life since we had last met back in October.
‘It seems such a long time,’ I said.
‘If only you knew what a struggle I’ve had, keeping away,’ he replied. ‘I’ve reached the top of your lane three or four times only to turn back. I didn’t know what your circumstances were, whether Frank had come back or not, so I thought it better to wait until yo
u contacted me.’
‘Frank never came back,’ I lied, trying my best to keep the events of that dreadful Christmas Eve when he had attacked me and Amy, out of my thoughts.
‘I wish you’d have let me know. I’ve missed you, Alice.’ Godfrey leaned forward and took my hand across the table. ‘Missed you so much,’ he added.
I sighed audibly as my heart melted again under the influence of that smile.
‘I missed you too, Godfrey, but I thought it best to let things lie, your circumstances being what they are. We couldn’t allow ourselves to be seen together on a regular basis. We’d have been the talk of the town.’
Godfrey patted my hand. ‘I have thought about leaving her you know.’
‘Don’t, Godfrey.’ I pulled my hand away. ‘I’d never be able to live with myself if I thought I’d caused your wife and kids to suffer. Families need a father figure. I know, I still miss my dad.’
Dad had died an alcoholic almost a year before, leaving me to run the farm on my own.
‘I knew it could never work, Alice, not on a permanent basis, but it was nice to dream for a while.’
I reached out and took his hand again. ‘We have today,’ I whispered.
Twenty minutes later we had parked up at the edge of a small wood, just off a narrow country lane on the outskirts of the village. We climbed into the back seat, and without even a hint of small talk, threw ourselves at each other. Godfrey smothered my neck and face in kisses and after fumbling away at his trousers, slipped his hands under my dress.
‘My goodness,’ he gasped, eyes wide.
‘I came prepared,’ I said with a husky laugh.
He kissed me again, I hastily unbuttoned the front of my dress and spread myself across the back seat. Godfrey lay on top of me and with his hot breath on my neck and one hand on my breast he guided himself into me.
Our lovemaking was urgent, hurried and over all too soon, but I loved every brief moment of it. I had missed the closeness of his body, the musky smell it gave off as he began to sweat. When he was finished, he withdrew and, still panting, leant on one elbow and looked into my eyes.
The Legacy: Trouble Comes Disguised As Family (Unspoken Book 2) Page 8
