‘You could be right.’ Linda wouldn’t put it past her cousin. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d pulled a stunt to get noticed. Although not one as drastic as this.
Clearly determined to prove she was calm, Nelly said, ‘So, you’ll let me know when she turns up?’
‘I will.’ Linda kept up the pretence.
‘Right. Where’s me glasses?’ Nelly half-rolled onto her side and fumbled around until she found them and squinted at the clock on the table at the side of her bed. ‘Gawd, quarter to twelve and me still in me pit. I must shift meself. Have you been to bed at all?’
‘No. I didn’t want to waste a nice day like this. I can catch up with my sleep tonight. I’m off until tomorrow night, now.’
‘What’re you going to do with the rest of your day then, pet?’
‘Nothing much. I was going to go into Manchester with Martin but I can’t face it.’
‘Why?’
‘I think Martin wants to get engaged.’
Nelly gave a mock shiver. ‘I were married with two kids at your age.’ The tone of her words spoke for themselves. ‘Biggest mistake of my life,’ she said. ‘Don’t do the same thing, pet.’
‘I shan’t.’
‘You think on; live your life first before you saddle yerself with a bloke. They’re worse than any kids yer can ’ave. Well, ’appen. Depends on the kids I s’pose.’
Linda saw the sadness flicker in Nelly’s eye. ‘You okay, Gran?’
‘What?’ Nelly stared blankly at her. ‘Oh, yes, love.’ She gave Linda a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Just old ghosts.’
Chapter 13: Jacqueline Howarth & Linda Booth
Bradlow: Thursday, September 18th
‘Hey, Lin.’ Waiting until a bus passed, Jackie Howarth quickly crossed Shaw Street to give her cousin a hug. ‘It’s been ages…’
‘I know. Sorry. Had a load of overtime this month.’
‘You look tired out.’ Jackie lifted her chin. Questioning.
‘Lack of sleep. I’ve been on nights. Always throws me.’
‘Tell me about it. Who’d be a policewoman? We’ve been run off our feet lately – a spate of burglaries. Been twice this last week on a twenty-four hour look-out shift.’
They smiled in sympathy with one another.
‘Anyway, I’m off today. It’s great we’ve got a bit of sun.’ Linda hitched her white Naugahyde bag further on to her shoulder and looked up at the sky. The light breeze wasn’t enough to move the few hazy clouds scattered against the blue. ‘I’ve been to see Gran. And it’s such a nice day I thought I’d walk home.’
‘She okay?’
‘Same as always.’
‘You sound worried?’
‘No… Well, yes. I suppose I am. She has a chesty cough. And at her age… I worry.’
‘She’ll be fine; she’s as strong as an ox. And you’re a born worrier.’ Jackie gave Linda’s arm an affectionate shake. ‘I love Nelly; she’s brilliant for her age. Last time I called in to see her I had trouble stopping her putting brandy in my tea.’
It made Linda smile. ‘She does love her drop of brandy.’
‘You can say that again.’ Jackie kept hold of her cousin’s arm. ‘Listen, fancy a coffee?’ Linda was obviously mithered to death about something and it wasn’t just about Nelly. Auntie Ellen? Jackie wouldn’t put it past her aunt to be the cause of her cousin’s worry. Linda was bottling something up, just as she’d always done. But one way or the other Jackie would get it out of her, would try to help. Wasn’t that what they’d always done for one another?
She glanced along the row of shops and cafes on Shaw Street. ‘There’s that new place, the Cottage, just down the road? Next to the Spar?’
‘“So near, so Spar,” as Gran always says.’
Jackie groaned. ‘That old chestnut.’ She linked arms with her cousin and looked her up and down. ‘Nice suit by the way. Blue always suits you – shows your eyes up. Off out somewhere?’ She tugged at Linda and they began to walk slowly along the street.
‘Was,’ Linda said, ‘I was going to Manchester to meet Martin but I’ve changed my mind. I really should go home. Things are a bit difficult there. Mum—’
‘I know. I’ve just been to Henshaw Street to check on things.’
Linda grimaced.
‘Sorry, Lin, it’s my job. My sergeant told me to call in and have another word with your mum.’ Jackie was careful not to say ‘warning’ which was what her sergeant had said. And she resisted the temptation to say how embarrassing it was to find her aunt in custody again. ‘She’s fine; anyway, she’d just got up. Your dad was going into the shop for a couple of hours. Richard’s keeping an eye on her until he gets back. It was good to see him again.’ Jacqueline had a fondness for her young cousin. Unlike his sister, Richard was always easy to chat to. ‘I hope he gets into the Manchester uni, it’ll be great to have him around.’
They stopped to look into the window of Madam Barbara’s Boutique. ‘That style went out in the fifties.’ Linda pointed at a blue polka-dot flared dress with a large bow-tie collar.
‘Watch it, she’s hovering behind that coat,’ Jackie mumbled, her head down. ‘Bet she can lip read.’
‘We’ll have to get our Richard to check.’ Linda smiled, then frowned. ‘Did he tell you about those idiots chasing him, yesterday? When he got off the train?’
‘Eventually. I mean, your dad told me first. Took me a while to get the details out of Richard and he won’t let me report it. Mind you…’ Jackie tightened her lips, ‘I do have an idea who they might be. Might pass on a few names.’
‘As long as Richard doesn’t find out – you know how he hates bother.’
‘He won’t,’ Jackie said. She hadn’t been a policewoman for the last six years without knowing how to make discreet enquiries.
They moved away from the clothes shop.
‘He told you about Victoria running away from home as well?’
‘He did.’ Jackie flipped a dismissive hand. ‘She’s always been a drama queen. It’ll be because he’s been getting attention, first that operation in summer and then coming for his interview in that university in Manchester.’
‘Gran said that as well.’ Linda hesitated. ‘Auntie Jean doesn’t know about it yet.’
‘No doubt she’ll have something to say about it when she does find out. My mother will blame Auntie Mary; she’s always said she’s too soft on the twins.’
‘And my mother says yours has always been too strict … with you, anyway.’
So, that’ll be both me and Victoria turned out wrong, according to Mother’s opinion, Jackie thought.
‘Anyway…’ Linda paused again for effect. ‘Did he tell you he’d met a girl?’ She grinned, pleased she could pass on a bit of nice family gossip.
‘What, in Wales?’
‘No, here. In Bradlow. Yesterday. Apparently she rescued him. Picked him up in her Mini when she saw what was going on and took him to our house. Dad says she’s really something and Richard’s told him they’re going to see one another again.’
‘Fast worker, our little cousin, eh?’ Jackie gently punched Linda’s arm.
‘And here’s us, always thinking he’s so shy.’
They shared the laugh. It’s as though we’ve always presumed he would never have a girlfriend just because he has to wear those horrible hearing-aids, Linda thought. But what do we know? He’s a good-looking lad; he might have had loads of girls chasing him in Wales.
‘He did tell me he lost his stuff when he was being chased, though.’ Jackie scowled. ‘And he said Uncle Ted’s lent him money to get a new suit and what-have-you for his interview. You’re so lucky; you do know that, don’t you? Your dad’s a lovely man.’
Unlike yours, Linda thought. ‘I know. But I really should get back, if Richard wants to go shopping.’
‘No.’ Jackie settled her arm further into Linda’s and walked faster, taking her cousin with her. ‘I mean, like I said, your dad was only g
oing to the bakery for a bit. He’ll be back by now, so no need to rush home. And you’re not going to Manchester, so time for a coffee, I think. One of my mates from work says it’s a decent cup at that place, and there’s a jukebox. Should check it out, huh?’ She watched Linda struggling to make a decision as they stopped opposite the Spar shop. ‘Twenty more minutes won’t hurt,’ she cajoled.
‘Okay then. Might grab a butty as well, it’s past dinner time.’
‘Great.’ Jackie grinned; if Linda was eating it gave her an excuse to eat. She was always hungry. ‘Might force something down as well, then.’
‘Force?’ Linda laughed. ‘When have you ever had to force food down? You’ve got the appetite of a horse.’
‘Cheeky!’ Jackie pulled in her stomach. ‘I might have you know these jeans are a size twelve.’ She sniffed. ‘Mind you, they are getting a bit tight. And I have had trouble fastening the buttons on the jacket of my uniform lately.’
‘Oh, stop worrying. You’re looking great. And I’m sure Nicki loves you, whatever size you are.’
‘She does.’ Jackie smirked. ‘She says more to get hold—’
‘Enough!’ Linda put her hand over Jackie’s mouth for a moment.
Jackie laughed through Linda’s fingers.
‘Okay.’ Linda said, ‘Come on.’ They waited for a lorry to pass before running across the road. ‘But remind me to call in at the Electricity Showroom afterwards, will you? I need to pay Gran’s bill before she gets cut off. At least that’ll be one worry out of the way.’
One worry? Jackie thought. She pushed open the orange door of the café.
Jackie wove her way across the café, carrying two mugs of coffee and a menu, to the table by the window where Linda was sitting. ‘I’ve put a couple of records on.’ She jerked her head backwards towards the jukebox. She unzipped her short leather jacket and sat down. ‘I need this.’ She touched the mug with her finger. ‘I thought I might as well go to see Mother now I’m in the area. Duty visit.’
‘Everything all right?’
Jackie pulled a face. ‘Jack saw me and Nicki in Yates’ Wine Lodge a couple of days ago. I think it’s time I bit the bullet and told Mother about us before he does. That’s if he hasn’t already.’
‘Would he?’
‘Jack? You must be joking, Lin.’ Jackie clenched her fists on the table. ‘I mean, he’s the biggest shit-stirrer in the world. If he hasn’t, I bet he’s enjoying dropping hints about it all over the place so it gets back to them eventually.’
The first few notes of ‘The Carnival Is Over’were almost inaudible below the buzz of chatter from the other customers until the vocals started.
‘You and Judith Durham,’ Linda laughed.
‘Love her.’ Jackie grinned, running her fingers through her short curly hair. ‘Who couldn’t?’
‘So that’s my news, such as it is,’ she said, settling back in her chair. ‘What about you? What’s mithering you?’
Linda blew at the froth on the surface of her coffee. ‘It’s Martin. I’ve put off going to meet him today because I think he’s going to push for us to get engaged, again.’
‘And you don’t want to.’ It was as much a statement as a question. They’d discussed this often enough.
‘I’m not ready.’ Would she ever be? The thought took Linda by surprise.
‘And anyway you’ve realised he’s a tight-arse?’
‘Jackie!’
‘Sorry.’ Jackie tipped the chair back on two legs and rocked slightly. ‘I mean, he’s your choice and he is a nice bloke, Linda, but you have to admit he is a bit tight with his money…’
‘Suppose. But it’s not that. I just don’t want to get married. Not yet anyway. I want to see how far I can get with my job … have a career.’
‘So tell him.’ The chair landed with a thump on the floor as Jackie leant forward, grabbing hold of Linda’s hands.
‘How can I, Jackie?’ Her voice came out husky and she cleared her throat. ‘We’ve been going out for four years. I’ve been sleeping with him for the last three. He expects us to get married and I don’t want to hurt his feelings.’ Sudden guilty tears stung her eyes.
Jackie gave her a few moments. She blew her cheeks out, making a popping noise with her lips. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Okay.’
‘Are you saying you don’t want to go out with him any more?’
‘No.’ Linda looked up, her eyes wide with shock that her supressed thought was being voiced. ‘I don’t know… I still love him.’ She stared at Jackie. Who was she trying to persuade? What a mess everything was.
Chapter 14: Jacqueline Howarth
Ashford, afternoon: Thursday, September 18th
Jackie stopped, the wooden gate smooth under her hand, and stared up at the house she’d been brought up in. As usual the green paintwork on the downstairs bay window-frames and door was immaculate. The brass letterbox glinted in the sun. A jittery feeling rose in her throat; she felt breathless. She reached over and clicked open the latch.
She hoped Jack wasn’t at home. There was no doubt he’d seen her and Nicki in the Wine Lodge. Well, hopefully she’d be able to beat him at his own game; she’d tell her mother first. With a bit of luck her father would be out as usual.
No such luck, she thought when she walked into the living room; Jack and he were on the settee in front of the television. Her mother was in her chair, knitting.
‘Hi,’ Jackie said.
‘Shut up.’ Jack glared round at her before turning his attention back to the screen.
Her father didn’t speak.
Her mother nodded warningly towards the television and mouthed, ‘Ireland.’
Jackie waited a moment and then went through the dining-room to the kitchen and, finding a glass, filled it with water, listening to the voice of the newscaster as she drank.
‘The August riots were the most sustained violence that Northern Ireland has seen since the early nineteen-twenties. Both Catholic andProtestant families were forced to flee their homes and The Royal Regiment of Wales is still in the Falls/Shankill area in a limited operation to restore law and order…’
Jackie sat at the dining room table watching her family through the door. Her father slumped, his belly straining the buttons of his shirt, his arm across Jack’s shoulder, still staring at the television. Her mother had dropped her knitting needles onto her lap, her hand to her throat.
‘So that’s it then,’ she said, turning to look at Jackie. ‘You know what this means?’
‘Shut up.’ Patrick and Jack spoke simultaneously. Patrick glowered at his wife.
‘The Prime Minister of the Irish Republic, Jack Lynch, has called for Anglo-Irish talks on the future of Northern Ireland. But this is deemed unnecessary by theNorthern Ireland Prime Minister, James Chichester-Clark, who has stated in the House of Commons that the riots are not the agitation of a minority seeking by lawful means the assertion of political rights. He believes it is the conspiracy of forces seeking to overthrow a government democratically elected by a large majority.
‘Further troops will be deployed there in the next week.’
‘I knew it,’ her mother said, ‘I knew it.’
‘That’s it, then.’ Jack stood up, rubbing his hands together. ‘That’s us, at long last. I’ll give my mate, Charlie Pearson, a call to see when he’s going back to barracks.’
‘You sound as though you want to go,’ Jackie said, putting the glass down and going to stand by the living room door.
‘Course I do … I’ll sort those bastards out—’
‘There are a lot of decent people over there.’
‘Well, Charlie says if they’re not bloody terrorists they’re bloody weird. And he should know, he’s been over there twice.’
‘And he’s an expert? A psychiatrist? Sounds to me like he’s the weirdo.’
‘Yeah, well, you should know.’ He smirked. ‘Shouldn’t you, sis?’
‘What’s that supposed to me
an?’ Anger boiled up inside Jackie and she felt like slapping him.
‘You know…’
‘No I don’t.’
‘Now, now, you two, don’t start. Don’t start.’ Her mother pushed herself out of the chair with a groan. ‘My knees are killing me today.’ She hobbled towards the door. ‘I’ll put a brew on.’ As she passed Jackie she said, ‘Our Jack’s going to that godforsaken place, so don’t start one of your arguments at a time like this.’
‘I’m starting nothing; I just want to know what he means.’ It was now or never – she had to tell her parents about Nicki, it wasn’t as though she was ashamed. Even so, she was relieved when her father spoke.
‘I’ve had enough of this.’ He swept his hair over his head with his fingers, went into the hall and took his overcoat and trilby off the stand. ‘I’m going for a pint. Coming, son?’
‘Yeah, the air in here suddenly feels all queer.’ Jack sniggered as he followed his father.
‘You little shit,’ Jackie hissed. That was it; she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist telling her parents. She would have to do it now. At least there was only her mother to face first.
She went into the kitchen. ‘You go and sit down, Mum, I’ll finish making the tea.’ Anything to make this easier, Jackie thought.
Jackie slowly stirred two sugars into her mother’s tea and put the spoon into the sink, thinking about how to approach the subject of her and Nicki. She picked up the spoon and rinsed it under the tap, dried it, put it into the cutlery drawer. Everything had its place in the kitchen. Except for a tray of scones covered by a tea towel, there was nothing on the worktops, no clutter anywhere. Her mother had always been house-proud; Jackie couldn’t remember her without either a duster or a dishcloth in her hand or her apron pocket. She even had a saying about it: something about ‘work in the morning, play in the afternoon.’ Not that Jackie could remember much playing here, only at Linda’s house.
Living in the Shadows Page 6
