Mother’s Ruin

by Kitty Neale

  ‘I dunno. He’s very fond of Ruth and it might help him to know that he’s a part of her family.’

  ‘You may have a point, but do you mind if I consult with Ruth first? Angel will have to be told too, and maybe Tommy at the same time.’

  ‘It’s funny really. This makes me Sally’s uncle and she must only be a few years younger than me. I know I’m not her blood relative, but Laura was. Laura would have loved that.’

  Andrew’s stomach tightened with guilt. Once again he knew that despite their differences he should have kept in touch with Laura. Instead he now felt he’d abandoned her. All he could do now was to see that Laura had a good send-off, a decent funeral, and urged, ‘Come on, get yourself ready now. We’ve got a lot to sort out today.’

  Once the arrangements had been made, Andrew would have to ring his parents. They weren’t in good health and wouldn’t be able to undertake a journey to London, but they would want to send flowers. It had been so hard to tell them about Laura’s death, the news hitting his mother and father hard.

  Now Andrew had other news to break, but he felt it best to tell them about Sally face to face. How would they take it?

  Chapter Forty

  That same day, Joe was sitting in his car, his eyes fixed on the street door through his wing mirror. He’d been adding things up and was determined to check up on Patsy, sure that she wasn’t all she pretended to be. He found her finances a mystery, a mobile hairdresser who didn’t seem to work that many hours, yet who could afford the rent on her flat, along with expensive clothes. Then, when he’d given her the elbow, she had set her cap at Arthur. If she was looking for a meal ticket, why make it difficult for herself by choosing a married man? Was it that she saw Arthur as an easy target?

  Joe had hoped that the break-up between Sally and Arthur would be short-lived, that Arthur would come to his senses and finish with Patsy, but the opposite had happened, Arthur had turned it all on Sally.

  With a glance at his watch, Joe worked out that Patsy had been in the house for nearly half an hour, but with no idea how long it took to do a woman’s hair, he settled back to wait.

  Only ten minutes later the street door opened, and adjusting his mirror, Joe stared uncomprehendingly at the man who was seeing Patsy out. He was bald, totally bald, and at least seventy years old. Joe had intended to follow Patsy, to see just how many clients she had in one day, but now waited until she was out of sight before getting out of the car. There had been something strange in the old chap’s attitude towards the girl, something almost intimate.

  Joe straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket before approaching the house. He then knocked on the door, wondering what on earth he was going to say to the man when he opened it.

  As soon as the old chap saw him standing on his step his face showed alarm. ‘Yeah, what do you want?’

  ‘I’d like to ask you some questions about the young lady who just left.’

  ‘Blimey! Are you CID?’

  Joe blinked, wondering what made the man think he was a police officer, but quickly realised he could use it to his advantage. ‘That’s right and I’m investigating that young lady’s activities. Now, as I said,’ he stated officiously, ‘I’d like to ask you some questions.’

  ‘I won’t have to come down to the station, will I?’

  ‘I could interview you in your own home, but it depends on how cooperative you are.’

  ‘Come in,’ the man invited, obviously eager to avoid a trip to the station.

  Joe followed him down the narrow hall to a room at the back, and took a seat, still trying to sound officious. ‘Can you tell me why the young woman was visiting you?’

  The man’s face flushed crimson. ‘If you’re investigating her activities, surely I don’t have to spell it out.’

  ‘I’d still like you to tell me.’

  ‘She . . . she’s a prostitute. Look, I don’t know anything else about her. I’ve got her phone number, passed on to me by a mate, but that’s all.’

  Joe felt the colour drain from his face and fought to hide his shock, only managing to murmur, ‘I see.’

  The man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Here, hold on, I’m not sure you’re CID. Show me your warrant card!’

  Joe rose quickly to his feet and before the man could react he dashed down the hall and out of the house. Then, almost leaping the last few feet to his car, he jumped in and drove off, his hands moist with sweat as they gripped the wheel.

  As he drove a little further, Joe had a thought and chuckled, berating himself for running off like that. After all, it was unlikely that the old man would complain to the police – not after entertaining a prostitute.

  He still couldn’t really take it in. Patsy a prostitute! Who’d have thought it? Yet somehow it all made sense, Arthur a meal ticket to get her out of the game. Somehow he had to break the news to him and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

  With most of the arrangements made, Andrew and Denis returned to Candle Lane. Denis was maudlin, saying he needed a drink and soon after went off without thought of going to see his son.

  Andrew was hungry and went to a nearby café to have an evening meal before going to Ruth’s, warmed by the pleasure he saw in her eyes when she let him in. ‘I know we can’t talk in front of the children so I waited until I felt they’d be in bed,’ he told her.

  Sally greeted him with a huge smile and then asked, ‘Did you manage to sort out the funeral?’

  ‘Yes, it’s on Friday.’

  ‘No, no, it’s Tommy’s birthday on Friday,’ Ruth protested.

  ‘Are you sure? Denis didn’t mention it.’

  ‘I can’t believe that the man forgot his own son’s birthday.’

  ‘Nor can I, but we’ll just have to hope we can change the date.’

  ‘What about your parents?’ Ruth asked. ‘Will they be travelling down?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. They aren’t in the best of health.’

  ‘Have you told them about me? About Sally?’

  ‘Not yet. I’d prefer to tell them face to face.’

  ‘I’ve just realised something,’ Sally said. ‘They’re my grandparents.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right and you are very much like my mother. I rang my son too, but as his wife is close to having a baby he needs to stay with her and won’t be able to attend the funeral.’

  ‘Your . . . your son,’ Sally gasped. ‘But that means he’s my half-brother!’

  ‘Sally, I’m sorry. Of course . . . you don’t know about Donald. I should have thought before I spoke.’

  ‘Stone the crows! This gets more and more complicated,’ Sadie said. ‘I’m beginning to lose track.’

  ‘Andrew,’ Ruth said, ‘I think it would help Sally, and my mother, if you tell them about your family.’

  ‘Yes, I think you’re right,’ he agreed. ‘Now, where shall I start? My father, Duncan Munro, was a surveyor and I took over the firm when he retired. My mother’s name is Jane, and she was a McFarland before she married my father. They had two children, myself and Laura, and we grew up in a hamlet just outside of Edinburgh.’

  ‘And Donald?’ Sally asked.

  ‘I married Moira and we had one son. My wife died just over a year ago.’

  ‘Is Donald older than me?’

  ‘Yes, he was born in nineteen-forty.’

  ‘Do . . . do we look alike?’

  ‘No, not really. Donald takes after my wife, though he does have auburn hair. In fact, it’s rather like Tommy’s.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Sadie said. ‘I wonder what your son will make of having a skin and blister?’

  ‘Skin and blister?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s cockney rhyming slang for sister. There are lots of them. Apples and pears for stairs and—’

  Ruth broke in, ‘Andrew, have you told Denis?’

  ‘Yes, and he wants Tommy to know that you’re related. What do you think?’

  It was Sadie who answered. ‘I don’t think it would hurt.

  K
ids are more resilient than we give them credit for. While he’s just lost his mother, it might help him to know he’s got other family.’

  ‘I think my mother’s right,’ Ruth said. ‘I’m very fond of the boy, and since Laura died he’s clinging to me.’

  ‘All right, if you think it’s for the best, perhaps we can do it tomorrow. Is that all right with you, Sally?’

  ‘Yes, it’s fine.’

  ‘Sally, I hope you don’t mind me mentioning this,’ Andrew said, ‘but I haven’t heard any mention of Angel’s father?’

  Sally started hesitantly, telling him why her marriage had broken up, and Andrew was unable to miss how wounded she looked. He was angry that Sally had been driven out of her home and said, ‘He should have been the one to move out, not you.’

  ‘I couldn’t live there again, not after seeing him with Patsy. When Mum gets re-housed, if there’s no room for me I’ll find another flat.’

  ‘Re-housed! What do you mean?’

  It was Ruth who took over then, telling Andrew that Candle Lane was scheduled for demolition.

  ‘When are you moving?’

  ‘We don’t know yet.’

  ‘I just hope they don’t stick us in one of them bleedin’ tower blocks,’ Sadie exclaimed.

  While walking around with Denis to make the arrangements for the funeral, Andrew had seen the council estates and nodded in agreement. ‘I can’t imagine anything worse, it’s a shame you have to live around here. There are parts of England that are lovely, and of course Scotland is beautiful.’

  ‘I’ve never been out of London, not even during the war and I don’t intend to leave it now. What part of Scotland do you come from?’

  ‘Edinburgh and it’s a bonny place.’

  ‘You . . . you live so far away,’ Sally said and paling she fled from the room.

  Andrew was dismayed and rose to his feet to follow her, but Ruth’s voice stayed him. ‘Leave her, Andrew. She’s only just found you, and now she has to accept that soon you’ll be leaving again.’

  Andrew sank back onto the chair, realising that Ruth was right. They lived so far apart, and he too was saddened.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Arthur opened his door on Sunday morning, surprised to see Joe. He looked worried and said, ‘Hello, mate, can we talk?’

  ‘Of course,’ Arthur agreed, getting the man a beer before they both sat down. ‘Now then, what’s the problem?’

  ‘I found something out yesterday, but I’ve only just plucked up the courage to tell you.’

  ‘Spit it out then.’

  ‘Arthur, Patsy isn’t all she pretends to be.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Never mind, it doesn’t matter anyway, if you must know I’m getting fed up with her. I keep telling her that I don’t want to take things further, but she won’t listen and is constantly pressuring me to move in. It’s getting on me wick, and I don’t know why she’s in such a hurry. She’s got a decent flat upstairs and we see a lot of each other, but she’s getting more and more possessive.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I know why.’

  ‘All right, tell me.’

  Arthur’s jaw dropped as he listened to Joe, at first unable to believe what he was hearing. ‘All right, she sees me as a meal ticket, but I can’t believe she’s a prostitute. That bloke told you a pack of lies.’

  ‘Arthur, he was as bald as a coot and she certainly wasn’t there to cut his hair.’

  If Arthur had any strong feelings for Patsy, he might have been deeply upset, instead he only felt bewildered. His stomach churned. He’d been sleeping with a prostitute. Bile rose in his throat and he stood up abruptly. ‘I’m going to have it out with her.’

  ‘Do you want me to join you? I’d love to see the look on her face.’

  ‘All right.’

  It wasn’t long before Arthur was thumping on Patsy’s door, glowering when she opened it. ‘You bitch!’ he spat. ‘Thanks to Joe, I’ve found out what you do for a living.’

  Her eyes widened and she poked her head out to look up and down the terrace, saying quickly, ‘Look, you’d better come upstairs.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you want the neighbours to hear this?’ Arthur asked sarcastically as they followed Patsy up to her living room.

  ‘Right, what’s all this about?’ she asked.

  ‘You’re a prostitute.’

  ‘How dare you! I’m no such thing.’

  ‘Don’t bother to deny it,’ Joe said. ‘I followed you, spoke to one of your clients, the daft old sod took me for CID and spilled his guts.’

  ‘Who the fuck are you to spy on me?’ she screeched, her veil of innocence dropping. ‘What I do for a living is none of your business.’

  Patsy’s mask had well and truly slipped and once again bile rose in Arthur’s throat. ‘It make me sick to think that I slept with you. How many men have been there before me? No doubt hundreds, you filthy bitch.’

  ‘Yes, and all of them were better at it than you. Now get out of my sight, you bloody cripple, and take your so-called mate with you.’

  Arthur blanched and as soon as they were back in the flat Joe asked, ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘She’s the first person to call me a cripple and it wasn’t pleasant.’

  ‘Patsy’s just ignorant and what she says isn’t worth worrying about.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Arthur said, yet despite his bravado her words kept echoing in his head. ‘I’m well rid of her.’

  ‘You sure are, mate, and I had a lucky escape too.’

  Arthur only nodded. Yes, he was well rid of Patsy, and Sally too for that matter. Women, he was sick of them. Patsy had turned out to be a prostitute, and his wife a bloody liar.

  ‘I’m sorry, Arthur, but I’ve got to go. My mother’s expecting me for lunch, but I can ring her to put it off if you need me to stay.’

  ‘There’s no need, I’m fine,’ Arthur insisted, his anger calming and when Joe left he sat pondering all that had happened. It wasn’t long before he found himself thinking differently. Yes, Sally had turned his parents and sister against him, but she had probably done it out of a need for revenge. He couldn’t blame her for that, and let’s face it, he could have put his family straight. Instead he’d let his stubborn pride get in the way.

  It was time to mend bridges with his parents, to tell them the truth, but there was no way he was going to admit why he’d broken up with Patsy.

  They arrived an hour later, and after listening to what he had to say, his mother cried, ‘Why didn’t you tell us this before?’

  ‘You all chose to believe Sally, and I was angry, Mum. You condemned me without a trial.’

  ‘What do you expect?’ his father snapped. ‘You’d hardly been home for five minutes before you slept with that girl, you can’t deny that.’

  ‘I’m not denying it, Dad, but despite what Sally told you, I didn’t move her in.’

  ‘You carried on sleeping with her though.’

  There was no way Arthur could refute that, but how could he tell his parents that the sex with Patsy had become like an obsession, that for a while he couldn’t get enough of her? A wave of nausea made him gulp. ‘Anyway, I’ve broken up with Patsy now.’

  ‘What? But Sally said you’re going to marry the girl.’

  ‘It’s another one of her lies, and as I said, it was her idea to get a divorce, not mine.’

  ‘I can’t believe it. It’s so unlike Sally.’

  ‘I think it was her way of getting revenge.’

  ‘But that isn’t like her either,’ Elsie said, as she ran a hand through her hair. ‘It was Patsy who said to Sally that you’re getting married.’

  ‘What? I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Well she did, and let’s think about something else. Did Sally tell you that she wants a divorce, or did that come from Patsy?’

  At his mother’s words, Arthur hung his head, his thoughts racing. ‘Come to think of it, Mum, yes, it came from Patsy.’

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p; ‘Bloody hell, son,’ his father snapped. ‘It sounds like that girl has been stirring things up, probably to keep you and Sally apart, and you were a mug to believe her.’

  ‘I’m starting to realise that, Dad.’

  ‘Then get yourself round to Candle Lane and sort things out.’

  ‘She’ll be bringing Angel round this afternoon, so there’s no point in going there.’

  ‘You can’t talk properly in front of Angel.’

  ‘Dad, what’s the good of trying to sort things out? Sally still finds my leg repulsive.’

  His mother leaned forward, speaking earnestly. ‘She denied that and I’m sorry, son, but I’m inclined to believe her. I think you must have been imagining things.’

  ‘I don’t think I was.’

  ‘Talk to her, son. The least Sally deserves is an apology.’

  ‘She’d only throw it in my face. We’re getting a divorce and our marriage is in the hands of our solicitors.’

  ‘Come on, Elsie. If this is his attitude we might as well go,’ Bert snapped.

  Arthur was relieved to see them leave, yet thinking of all that had been said, he had to face the truth. Patsy wasn’t just a prostitute, she was a mischief maker too, and he’d been too wrapped up in anger and pride to see it. What had happened to him since he’d come out of hospital? What sort of man had he turned into? He’d let Patsy manipulate him and looking up at the ceiling he scowled, hating that she was living just above him.

  Unable to settle down, Arthur went to the pub for a lunchtime drink, finding that he couldn’t get any of it out of his mind. He had to go to Candle Lane, and speak to Sally alone. Swallowing the last of his pint, Arthur set off.

  When he knocked on the door, Sally opened it, looking shocked to see him, but she quickly recovered. She stepped beyond the door and pulled it almost closed, blocking off any view of the hall. ‘If you’ve come to collect Angel, it’s too early. She’s still eating her dinner.’

  ‘It’s you I’ve come to see. I want to apologise and to ask you to come home. I’ve finished with Patsy, and though I know she told you that she’d moved in and that I wanted a divorce, it was all lies.’