The Legacy: Trouble Comes Disguised As Family (Unspoken Book 2)

by T. A. Belshaw

  ‘If he really loved you, he’d be there every day, professing his love, whispering poetry through the letterbox.’

  I looked at her quizzically. ‘Have you been reading Shelley again?’

  Amy sniffed and popped the last of her chips into her mouth.

  ‘Might have,’ she said.

  ‘I can always tell,’ I said. ‘You get all mushy.’

  ‘I do,’ agreed Amy. ‘Though it might be…’ she pointed downwards, ‘I always get a bit emotional at this time of the month.’

  We screwed up the sheets of newspaper our chips had been served in, dropped them into a metal litter bin and walked quickly across the road as our bus turned the corner further along Middle Street. We joined the queue of chatting cinema goers and a short time later we arrived at the Old Bull, where I was greeted with a chorus of Happy Birthday as we walked into the lounge.

  I was surprised to see Big Nose Beryl standing with the factory girls at the bar. Beryl doesn’t have a particularly big nose, but gets the nickname because she can’t keep it out of other people’s business. She usually frequented the Red Lion in town. Amy had been gunning for her for months.

  ‘Happy Birthday, Alice,’ she gushed as I took my G and T from Amy who always bought the drinks on my birthday.

  ‘Thank you, Beryl,’ I replied and waited for the follow up barb, there always was one with Beryl.

  ‘How old are you now, nineteen is it?’

  ‘Twenty, Beryl.’

  ‘And, how old is little Martha? I bet she’s getting big now.’

  ‘She’s fifteen months, and yes, she is growing quickly.’

  Amy took my arm and began to lead me across to a group of girls we went to school with. Most of them worked at the factory with Amy, although a couple had jobs in the shops in town. Beryl hadn’t finished though.

  ‘Has Martha’s dad been in touch recently? I heard he’d written to someone saying that he met a woman in Dover and was starting a new family there. You’d think he’d ask for a divorce first, wouldn’t you?’

  Before I could say anything, Amy turned around, took three large paces forward and stuck her face up close to Beryl’s. Beryl suddenly looked like a cornered fox, her eyes darted left and right as if looking for a way out.

  ‘Frank is with the Merchant Navy, working out of Liverpool, so take your malicious gossip and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.’ Amy spat the lie through gritted teeth. Frank was dead, but Amy and I were the only people who knew it.

  Beryl backed off.

  ‘I’m only saying what I heard,’ she whimpered.

  ‘You’re a scheming, despicable, two faced, liar.’ Amy stuck out her chin and fixed Beryl with a glare that would have scared Joe Louis, the world’s most famous boxer. ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten the lies you told about me at work. There will be a payback one of these days if you don’t start keeping that snake-like tongue of yours in check.’

  Jan, one of the women that Beryl had been drinking with, reached to grab her coat from the peg on the wall.

  ‘I’m nothing to do with this, Amy. You know me, love. I’m not a muck spreader.’

  Amy continued to glare at Beryl who looked around desperately for support. When none arrived, she slammed her drink down on the counter and followed Jan to the door.

  ‘I didn’t mean anything by it, Alice, honestly. I was just telling you what I had heard.’

  ‘Keep it to yourself next time, she isn’t interested.’ Amy delivered her parting shot and turned back to me.

  ‘Blimey,’ I said, mouth gaping. ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘Oh, she’s been asking for it for ages,’ Amy replied. ‘And, I did tell you that my hormones are all over the place at the moment.’

  We turned towards Joyce and the girls who were still laughing at Beryl’s embarrassment.

  ‘What did you get for your birthday?’ asked Joyce.

  ‘All sorts of useful stuff, from winter socks to bath salts. Amy got me Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Serenade record from America. I haven’t stopped playing it all day.’

  ‘Oh, I’d love to have a record player,’ said Joyce wistfully. ‘I have to make do with the versions they sing on the radio. They’re pretty good, but the BBC Light Orchestra isn’t exactly Glen Miller, is it?’ She turned towards the bar to get a refill, singing the first line of the ballad.

  We stayed in the Old Bull until chucking out time, which was unusual for us. The six of us spent a happy hour and a half singing our favourite songs. Stan, the landlord, came in to tell us to, ‘keep it down’, after receiving several complaints from the miserable shower of men in the bar, who thought they owned the pub and hated the thought of women having a good time without them.

  Amy gave me a big hug at her front gate and I walked on down the lane to the farmhouse. When I stepped into the kitchen, Miriam was hopping from one foot to the other in excitement.

  ‘Oh, thank goodness you’re home. Mr Wilson, your lawyer, has been ringing you for the last half hour. I think he has something important to discuss with you.’

  ‘Has he really?’ I looked at the big clock on the wall, it was ten to midnight, I usually got home well before eleven thirty.

  ‘It must be important for him to call at this time of night. I had to get out of bed to answer the telephone. If I hadn’t been looking after Martha, I’d have come up to the pub to let you know.’

  I patted Miriam on the arm reassuringly.

  ‘Go to bed, Miriam, I’ll sit up in case he calls again.’

  I made myself a cup of Ovaltine and walked through to the front room. As I sat down at the old round table, the telephone rang.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Happy Birthday, Alice. I hope you’ve had a lovely day.’

  ‘It’s been fun, mostly,’ I replied.

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get over. I’d have loved to have spent a bit of time with you today. We attended a wedding. I didn’t get home until after nine.’

  ‘There’s no need to feel sorry, Godfrey. I know how things are. I honestly didn’t expect you to drop by.’

  ‘Even so, I’d much rather have been in your company than the dreadful people who attended the wedding. Society people are so boring. They only ever talk about what they possess, or hope to possess in the near future.’

  ‘Well, it’s very nice of you to think of me,’ I replied. ‘But it’s late, Godfrey, your wife will be wondering what you’re up to.’

  ‘I told her that awful wine had given me heartburn. It’s true too, it did. I switched to cocktails half way through the evening.’

  ‘Did you have a Martina?’ I laughed to hide the embarrassment I still felt after asking him to buy me one at a posh restaurant we had visited. The young naïve me had mispronounced Martini. Godfrey had promised to invent a cocktail with that name in my honour.

  ‘I haven’t actually got round to mixing one myself yet, but when I do, you will be the second person to test it out.’

  I yawned, then apologised.

  ‘You’d better get to bed, Alice, I’m being very selfish, I know full well what unearthly time you have to get up in the morning. I just felt the need to hear your voice, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll be fine, Godfrey, I’m used to early mornings. It was very sweet of you to call. Good night.’

  ‘There is one more thing,’ he said with a note of excitement in his voice. ‘I had to register for the military yesterday. I’m within the age range for the call up. Because of my education and family ties, they’re going to send me for officer training. I have to report to a military camp in Chatham for the preliminaries and a medical on Thursday, so… well, I hoped I might see you before I go.’

  ‘Not you as well!’ I almost shouted down the telephone line. ‘Damn Hitler, damn Chamberlain. They are determined to take away everyone I ever cared about.’

  ‘It’s my duty, Alice. I missed out on the first war by just a few months but they managed to snare me this time.’

  ‘Bugger d
uty,’ I said angrily. ‘You can’t go, Godfrey, I…’ I tailed off knowing that nothing could stop the inevitable.

  ‘Can I see you on Monday?’ he asked, quietly.

  ‘Of course, you silly man. Make it after lunch. I’ll have done with the pigs and I’ll have time to change. I can’t have you going to war remembering me in my filthy pig-stained overalls. Make it about two o’clock if you can. I’ll get Miriam to take Martha for a long walk.’

  ‘Monday it is then,’ Godfrey replied. There was a long silence and I began to think we’d been cut off. Then his smooth, velvety voice returned to my ear.

  ‘I love you, Alice. Good night.’

  Chapter 21

  At seven o’clock on Saturday evening, Nicola took a deep swig from her glass of strong cider and unfolded the paper wrapping from the two portions of fish and chips she had just bought from Jackson’s chip shop on Middle Street.

  Tipping the contents onto two warmed up dinner plates, she carried them through to the front room, placed them carefully down on the coffee table, then went back to the kitchen to retrieve her cider. When she returned to the living room, Bill was typing something into his phone.

  ‘Eat them while they’re hot, Owen. I mean, Bill,’ she said. ‘Don’t waste them, they cost a fortune these days. Fish and chips used to be a cheap family meal back in the—’

  ‘For God’s sake, stop wittering on, woman. Can’t you see I’m conducting business here?’

  ‘Sorry… Bill.’ Nicola picked up a chip and nibbled on it.

  ‘They’ve never tasted the same since they switched from cooking them in fat to oil.’

  She dropped the half-eaten chip onto her plate and leaned back on the sofa with her glass in her hand. ‘Shall we see what’s on the tele?’

  Bill stood up, grabbed his dinner plate and stormed into the kitchen. ‘I said I was busy.’

  Nicola sighed and switched on the TV as the contestants taking part in Strictly Come Dancing, were giving their all. Nicola let the sounds of the excited audience wash over her for a few minutes, then, leaving her cooling dinner on the coffee table, she walked back through to the kitchen. Bill had finished texting for the moment and was washing his dinner down with a glass of Nicola’s strong cider as he scoured the day’s newspaper for the evening dog racing cards.

  ‘Haven’t you got anything better than this muck?’ he asked, pulling a face. ‘It’s sour.’

  ‘I had a bottle of wine from last night’s meal, but you drank it when we got home,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Nip over to the shop and get something a bit better, will you?’

  As Nicola held out her hand for the money. Bill widened his eyes.

  ‘What? Come on, Nic, you know I’m skint.’ He spread butter onto a thin slice of bread and heaped a pile of chips onto it. Folding it in half he bit into the sandwich and pointed towards the door. ‘Beer will do… and not that cheap crap either.’

  Ten minutes later, Nicola returned with a six pack of lager and another bottle of cheap, strong cider.

  Bill looked up from the race cards as she entered the kitchen.

  ‘What kept you? I missed the 19.34 race.’ He checked his phone for the result and shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t have won anyway. I picked traps five and two.’ He looked up from the phone at Nicola who was still holding the cans of bitter. ‘I hope you got cold ones. Pour one out, put the rest in the fridge.’

  Nicola rinsed a glass under the cold tap, snapped open a can and poured him a glass of beer. Placing it in front of him on the kitchen table, she opened the refrigerator door and put the remaining cans on the almost empty shelves.

  ‘When do you have to go home?’ she asked. ‘I thought we could do something tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll be busy tomorrow,’ Bill replied. ‘Look, Nic, can you transfer a few quid to my bank account. There are three or four dogs I really fancy tonight, but I’m short of funds.’

  ‘I’m short of funds too, Owen.’

  ‘Bill.’

  ‘I’m short of funds too, Bill. I had to buy groceries, and fish and chips… and your beer.’

  ‘You got paid yesterday didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but most of it goes on rent.’

  ‘I thought our Jess had sorted that out for you. Come on, Nic. I only want a hundred quid, I’m not after your whole month’s pay.’

  ‘I don’t have a hundred quid. I had to pay Mrs Saur for the credit I ran up over the month.’

  ‘How much have you got then?’

  ‘About forty. I don’t get my Universal Credit until next week.’

  Bill sighed. ‘Forty will have to do then.’ He held up his phone so that Nicola could copy down his account number.

  ‘How do I do it?’

  ‘Do what?’ Bill looked puzzled.

  ‘How do I transfer the money?’ Nicola said nervously. ‘I don’t have my bank on my phone. It’s too old.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Nicola, you really are useless. I’ll have to go to the bookies shop. Give me your bank card, I’ll draw the money from the cash point.’

  An hour later, Bill let himself into the house. Ignoring Nicola, he walked straight through to the kitchen and took a beer from the fridge. Snapping the ring pull, he took a deep gulp, and sat down at the table. Nicola followed him in, forcing a smile.

  ‘Did you win?’

  Bill scowled at her.

  ‘No, the races were fixed. That track is famous for it.’

  ‘So, why did you—’

  Bill threw the half full can of beer at her, hitting her on the cheek.

  ‘Get out of my sight,’ he said.

  Holding her hand to her face, Nicola ran to the stairs, then, turning back, she grabbed a cider bottle by the neck and hurried up the steps.

  At one o’clock, she was dragged into wakefulness as she felt a weight on top of her.

  ‘Owen,’ she whispered, as she opened her eyes. She held a hand up to touch his face. Ignoring her, he pulled up her nightdress, pushed his knee between hers and forced her legs apart.

  ‘There’s no need to be so rough I’m not going to fight you,’ she said soothingly.

  Bill, guided himself into her and began to thrust. Less than a minute later he rolled off, and pulling up his trousers, walked out of the room.

  The following morning, Nicola got up late, she walked into the front room to find Bill sitting on the sofa using her best coat as a blanket.

  ‘Get the kettle on, will you? I’m parched.’

  Nicola walked through to the kitchen, filled the kettle and plugged it in. ‘Tea or coffee?’ she called.

  ‘When have I ever drunk tea?’ he shouted back.

  By the time she had made coffee and carried it through to him, he was up and dressed. Her best coat was in a heap on the floor. She picked it up, smoothed it down and hung it on the back of the door.

  ‘Do you remember Paul Austen and Neil Redmond? Are they still about?’ he asked.

  ‘Probably, if they’re not in prison. What do you want them for?’

  ‘Oh, nothing much. I just thought I’d catch up, that’s all. Do you have any idea where they’re be if they are around?’

  ‘Paul will be at home with Irene, his long-suffering mother, I imagine. I’m not sure about Neil but I can’t see any decent woman taking either of that pair on.’

  ‘Does she still live on Ironmonger Row?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think so. I haven’t seen her for a few years now.’

  Bill sat quietly for a few moments. ‘Her house was the one with the red tiled roof, wasn’t it? They had to have a new one after Paul set fire to his attic bedroom.’

  Nicola nodded. ‘I remember that. He was smoking in bed, drunk.’

  ‘Right, I’ll nip over to see him, it’s only a couple of streets away. I have to be careful still. I don’t want to bump into the Duncan brothers after what went on back then.’

  ‘One of them is in prison, for sure,’ said Nicola. ‘I think the other one was crippled in a gang related a
ttack a couple of years ago. It was on the news at the time.’

  Bill clapped his hands, grinned a huge grin, then picked up his coffee mug. He sniffed at it, then put it down again.

  ‘Cheap crap,’ he said.

  At eleven o’clock, Bill set off to see if the Austens were still in the area. He returned less than half an hour later with a smile like a crescent moon on his face.

  ‘Get the beers in, Nic, it’s time to celebrate.’

  ‘I don’t have any money for beer… Bill. You took the last I had.’

  ‘Never mind,’ said Bill, pulling a twenty-pound note from his wallet. ‘I was saving this for emergencies, but I won’t be needing to now.’ He thrust the money into Nicola’s hand. Get more of that lager for me and grab yourself some cider… No! make it a bottle of wine, but don’t go over the top.’

  Nicola folded the banknote in half and stuck it into the pocket of her cardigan. ‘You found Paul then. I take it that it’s good news?’

  ‘The best.’ Bill punched his left palm with his right fist. ‘I don’t think I’ll have to worry about money again after this week.’

  As Nicola was crossing the road to the convenience store, she suddenly stopped dead. Was it Dougie Duncan that had been crippled in the gang fight or was it one of his attackers? She racked her brains but for the life of her she couldn’t remember. She decided to ask Mandy, who was on the till that lunchtime.

  Mandy could remember the incident clearly. ‘No, Nic, Dougie walked away without so much as a scratch. One of the London gang had to have a leg amputated afterwards. Tony Duncan was jailed for his part in the melee, but Dougie got off scot free. He lives in a big place off the Gravesend Road.’

  Nicola walked back to her house wondering how she was going to explain her mistake to Owen… no, Bill, she would have to stop calling him Owen. As she pushed the front door open, she decided not to mention the Duncan brothers for now. He was in such a good mood. She didn’t want to spoil it.

  Chapter 22

  Jessica slept in late on Sunday morning. She was woken at ten by the sound of a car horn. Slipping out of bed, she stepped across the landing and opened the curtain to look out onto the front of the property. Blinking in the bright autumn sunshine, she looked down onto the asphalt to see a long white van. Standing in front of it, waving up at her, was Gwen.