Cruel Legacy

by Penny Jordan

  ‘Then why?’ Sally demanded bitterly. ‘You must have known how upset she would be… She ordered that paper specially, Joel. She saw it in a magazine. Imagine how she must have felt when her neighbour told her that it was on upside-down… how humiliated and mortified…’

  Just as he had felt when Sally had practically ordered him to go round and do the work, Joel reflected grimly.

  ‘Your sister’s a snob,’ he told Sally flatly now. ‘All that matters to her is impressing other people, showing off in front of them. She watched me working.’ Watched him… she had practically stood over him like a gaoler; at lunchtime there had been a cup of tea and a couple of semi-stale biscuits. ‘She could have told me it was on the wrong way…’

  Sally’s face was flushed and angry.

  ‘I know you’ve never liked her, Joel, but I never thought you could behave so… so… so badly… You must have known that she’d discover what you’d done.’

  Joel shrugged. He had had a bit of trouble deciding which way the paper’s pattern should run himself at first, and if Daphne had bothered to treat him half decently he would have told her so, but her arrogant attitude towards him had irritated him to such an extent that, when she had come into the room to complain that he had only hung one piece of paper, instead of telling her that he had not been wasting time as she was implying but had actually been carefully studying the paper, he had said nothing.

  It was Daphne herself who had bossily instructed him on how she wanted it to be hung; all he had done was follow her instructions.

  ‘I did what I was told to do,’ he told Sally flatly now.

  ‘But you knew it was on the wrong way,’ she insisted. ‘Don’t bother denying it, Joel. I can see it in your eyes. You should have told Daphne…’

  ‘Since when did your sister listen to anything I might have to say? I’m nothing… no one. I’m not entitled to have an opinion. I’m too thick to have an opinion—that’s what she thinks.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Sally protested, but her voice lacked conviction. ‘You’ll have to go back and redo it,’ she told Joel.

  ‘I can’t,’ he responded. ‘I’m too busy down at the centre…’

  Sally stared at him angrily.

  Daphne had rung her up right in the middle of one of the specialists’ rounds. She had tried to tell her sister that it wasn’t a convenient time to speak to her, but Daphne had ignored her hints as she’d told her furiously what Joel had done, her voice rising so sharply that Sally had suspected that half the ward must be able to hear what she was saying.

  In the end she had had to cut her short, apologising and assuring her that Joel would repaper the room.

  Fortunately it obviously hadn’t occurred to her that Joel had hung it incorrectly deliberately. Tears of frustration and anger clogged her throat. How could Joel have behaved so stupidly? He must have known what would happen, and all the extra shifts she had been working to pay the bills and to try to put a bit of money on one side would have to go towards paying for Daphne’s wallpaper now.

  ‘Too busy doing what?’ she demanded. ‘Wasting time with your friends? Joel, you know…’

  ‘Mum, Dad’s coaching the——’

  ‘Be quiet, Paul,’ Sally told him irritably. ‘Go up to your rooms, both of you.’

  Out of the corner of her eye Sally saw the looks Paul and Cathy exchanged as Paul shrugged and walked towards the door. She wasn’t used to hearing either of them, but especially Paul, defend their father, and for some reason the fact that he had done so grated on her, adding to her anger.

  ‘How could you be so irresponsible, Joel?’ she demanded after they had gone. ‘You must have known what would happen. Have you any idea how many extra hours I’ll have to work to pay for that paper… ?’

  ‘We’re not paying for it,’ Joel told her.

  ‘No,’ Sally agreed fiercely.’ We’re not… I am. Something about the look on his face made her feel sore and unhappy inside, but somehow she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. She had felt so guilty when Daphne had told her what he had done, torn between wanting to placate her sister and conversely wanting simply to put the phone down and walk away.

  Couldn’t Joel see that his petty revenge on Daphne for what he considered to be her snobbery was hurting her much more than it was her sister?

  To tell the truth, Joel was beginning to feel guilty about what he had done: not on Daphne’s account—nothing could change his opinion of her—but on Sally’s.

  But at the same time he was also angry at the way she automatically took her sister’s side, refusing to see his point of view, dismissing his work at the centre as unimportant, a waste of time, making him feel useless, worthless.

  ‘We’ll have to pay for it now. I’ve told Daphne we would, and you’ll have to go round and apologise to her.’

  Joel swung round. ‘Me, apologise to her?’ His mouth hardened. ‘No way,’ he told Sally curtly.

  ‘You can do it when you go round to repaper the room,’ Sally continued doggedly. Panic was twisting her stomach. In order to get Daphne off the phone she had agreed with her that Joel must apologise, and if Joel continued to refuse to do so…

  ‘I’m not going round,’ Joel told her. ‘Not to apologise and not to redo her bloody dining-room. As I just said, I’ve got better things to do.’

  He watched her broodingly five minutes later as she left the room and went upstairs. She did look tired and drained, and a part of him had longed to go over to her and take her in his arms… to hold her as he used to… as she used to want him to do when they were first married and she had needed and wanted him.

  He remembered how, when she was first pregnant with Cathy, her back aching with the weight of the baby, she had used to nestle gratefully in his arms while he held her and rubbed her aching muscles. He had felt so guilty and responsible for her discomfort, but she had laughed at him, saying that an aching back was a small price to pay for the baby they both wanted.

  Now he felt equally guilty, but for different reasons. But how could he go to her and hold her, reassure her and comfort her, when both of them knew that he hadn’t been able to keep the promises he had originally given her?

  ‘I’m pregnant,’ she had told him, awe and wonder in her voice, her expression quickly changing as she asked him, ‘How will we manage, Joel, without my wages? I…’

  ‘We’ll manage,’ he had said then. ‘I’ve got a bit put by and I’m due to get a rise soon.’

  How proud and confident she had made him feel as she’d looked up adoringly at him before snuggling back into his arms, her fears put to rest by his reassurance.

  These days she’d treat that kind of comment from him with contempt and derision… and with good reason, he acknowledged grimly.

  * * *

  It was about a week later that the sound of the telephone ringing woke Sally up from a deep sleep. Joel had gone out, down to the leisure centre, no doubt, and the children were back at school.

  Groggily she got out of bed and went downstairs to answer it.

  ‘Sally… it’s Kenneth.’

  Her heart flipped over and then started to race. ‘Kenneth…’ She leaned weakly against the wall, her face flushed and hot.

  ‘When can I see you?’ she heard him asking.

  She wasn’t going to see him again; she had already made that decision. It was safer… wiser.

  ‘I’ve got an appointment at the hospital on Monday,’ Kenneth told her without waiting for her to reply. ‘What time does your shift end?’

  ‘Two o’clock,’ she told him automatically, adding quickly, ‘But Kenneth, I can’t——’

  ‘I’ll be waiting for you,’ he told her softly, cutting across her anxious objections.

  He had hung up before she could make a firm denial. Shakily Sally leaned against the wall, cradling the receiver against her body as she closed her eyes guiltily.

  She should not be doing this; she was a married woman and, no matter how physically plat
onic her relationship with Kenneth might be, she knew that her feelings for him, the happiness she experienced in his company, did threaten her relationship with Joel.

  As she replaced the receiver, she swallowed uncomfortably. How many times recently had she inwardly made comparisons between Kenneth and Joel; how many times had she found herself looking at Joel, watching him, listening to him and wishing that…?

  That what?

  It was Joel’s fault she was feeling like this, she reassured herself angrily. If he weren’t so wrapped up in his own life, if just for once he asked her what she wanted, how she felt, if just for once he would give her the same consideration and support he expected to receive from her, things might be different.

  Daphne and Kenneth were both right. He did take her for granted. He was selfish and inconsiderate.

  But he was still her husband.

  The phone rang again and she tensed immediately, her hand shaking slightly as she picked up the receiver. If it was Kenneth ringing again then she would tell him that she had changed her mind and that she couldn’t meet him. Couldn’t ever see him again…

  She swallowed hard against the depression and sense of loss constricting her throat. But her caller wasn’t Kenneth, it was her sister Daphne.

  ‘Joel still hasn’t been round to do that wallpapering,’ Daphne informed her.

  ‘I’ll speak to him about it,’ Sally promised her wearily ten minutes later, cutting through her sister’s tirade.

  Sally was still smarting from Daphne’s criticisms and complaints half an hour later when Joel walked in. She saw him frown as he glanced across at her, and then placed the pile of books he was carrying down on the table. The table she had so recently cleared of all its accumulated clutter.

  Her temper, so often recently on a short fuse, flared as she shouted, ‘Don’t you dare leave those there, Joel. Can’t you see that I’ve only just finished cleaning up in here?’

  She stopped abruptly. Her whole body was shaking inside; she felt sick and shocked, her sudden unprovoked outburst both frightening and yet exhilarating her somehow at the same time.

  Joel said nothing, made no response to her anger—he just stood there, looking at her.

  Couldn’t he see that it was his fault that she was behaving like this? She could feel the anger surging through her again at his refusal to respond to or acknowledge her feelings.

  ‘I’m going to be working a double shift on Monday,’ she told him, turning her back to him as she spoke.

  As soon as the words had left her mouth she wanted to recall them. That hadn’t been what she had intended to say at all. Her face burned with heat; she felt light-headed and dizzy, like someone in shock, and she waited for Joel to say something, to object or protest, hoping almost that he would.

  She had never lied to Joel before, never deliberately deceived him in any way, about anything—had never felt any need to—and yet here she was lying to him so that she could see another man… be with another man…

  A man who treated her far better than Joel did, she reminded herself fiercely. A man who valued her… who put her first. A man who could see, as Joel apparently could not, how much she needed someone in her life to support her, to cherish her.

  Still, though, she felt shaky and light-headed, frightened by the enormity of what she had done.

  She waited for Joel to say something, accuse her, to sense her betrayal, but he was already turning away from her, uninterested in what she had said, unconcerned, unaware of what she was feeling.

  The leisure centre seemed more important to him than she did these days, she reflected bitterly. He spent more time there than he did at home. He and Paul—listening to the two of them talking about events and people that meant nothing to her gave her a sense of alienation, made her feel excluded from their lives.

  All she was to Joel these days was someone who paid the bills, she decided bitterly. He probably wouldn’t have cared if she had told him about Kenneth. He never listened to her when she tried to talk to him.

  Angry tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

  * * *

  ‘Hello, there.’

  Philippa tensed as she recognised Joel’s voice, replacing the library book she had just been reading. Joel’s eyebrows lifted as he read the title.

  ‘Home Maintenance Made Easy? Having problems?’ he asked her.

  ‘It’s the washing machine,’ Philippa admitted. ‘It isn’t spinning properly and the service people charge twenty-five pounds just to come out…’

  ‘I could come and take a look for you,’ Joel offered.

  Philippa flushed. ‘No, it’s all right,’ she assured him uncomfortably, not wanting him to think that she had been deliberately trying to get him to offer to do so.

  Or that she was using the washing machine as an excuse to see him again?

  Her discomfort increased. He was a very attractive man and she had found herself thinking about him rather more than she liked. She had, of course, told herself that it was because he had been one of Andrew’s employees and because they were, as he had so succinctly said, fellow victims of Andrew’s egomania, but somehow her arguments had not been totally convincing.

  ‘You don’t trust me, eh…?’ Joel teased her.

  ‘No… no, it isn’t that,’ Philippa hurried to assure him, laughing herself when she saw the amusement in his eyes.

  ‘You’re learning to swim?’ she asked him, eyeing his own books.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Joel told her, briefly explaining why he wanted the books.

  ‘Coaching—of course, I should have realised,’ Philippa responded warmly. ‘I thought it odd that you should just be learning…’

  ‘Too old?’ he queried wryly.

  Philippa shook her head, smiling.

  ‘No, of course not… no, it’s just that you don’t have… that you don’t look… Well, you look as though you would be good at sports,’ she told him lamely.

  What she had actually thought was that he had the kind of body that looked as though he knew how to use it in physical activities, but she had recognised as she’d started to voice the words that her remark could be misinterpreted as being sexually inviting, and the last thing she wanted him to think was that she was trying to flirt with him.

  ‘Coaching,’ she continued quickly. ‘How did you come to get involved in that?’

  Briefly Joel told her, warmed by her interest.

  ‘Of course it doesn’t pay anything,’ he told her self-deprecatingly, ‘and, although Neil thinks I ought to try to get some professional qualifications, there’s no guarantee that I can——’

  ‘Oh, but that’s wonderful!’ Philippa interrupted him enthusiastically. ‘And your wife must be thrilled as well?’

  ‘Sally? She thinks I’m wasting my time and that I ought to be out looking for a real job,’ Joel told her bitterly.

  Philippa looked at him. So things were no better between him and his wife. She felt sorry for them both. Everyone involved suffered when relationships went wrong.

  ‘Look, it’s really no problem to look at your washing machine,’ Joel told her. ‘In fact I could come back with you now if you like.’ Sally had said something about working a double shift and he had no more classes at the leisure centre today.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind.’

  ‘I could even throw in a few swimming lessons as well if you want,’ he added with a grin.

  Philippa laughed.

  It was a long time since he had heard Sally laugh, Joel recognised.

  * * *

  ‘There, that should do it.’ Joel grunted as he gave the spanner a final twist. ‘A nut had worked loose, that’s all,’ he told Philippa as he crawled out from behind the washing machine. ‘You shouldn’t have any problems with it now.’

  ‘I’m really grateful to you,’ Philippa told him ten minutes later as she poured him a cup of tea. ‘Even with the benefit of the book I doubt that I’d have even been able
to locate the problem, never mind fix it…’

  ‘It didn’t need much skill,’ Joel responded wryly. ‘Just a bit of brute force…’

  ‘Don’t do yourself down,’ Philippa told him. ‘Do you know how much I would have been charged if I’d called someone in to put it right?’

  ‘Perhaps Daphne’s right,’ Joel commented. ‘She’s always telling Sally that I ought to be out trying to make a bit of money instead of wasting my time at the gym.’

  ‘You’re not wasting your time,’ Philippa protested. ‘Not from what you’ve told me. It must be very satisfying, helping people to achieve something… teaching them…’ she said enviously.

  ‘It is,’ Joel agreed. ‘Before I got involved at the leisure centre I suppose I’d have laughed at anyone who told me how good it would make me feel watching those kids… They really put everything they’ve got into it, you know. Neil’s hoping that next year we’ll be able to make up a junior team at competition level as well as the seniors. He’s got this idea that if we can pick them out young enough——’

  He broke off, shaking his head.

  ‘Sorry, you don’t want to hear all this…’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Philippa contradicted him.

  He paused to look at her and then smiled. ‘Neil wants me to help out with the adult classes, but I’m not sure. It’s one thing to teach kids…’

  ‘You’ve got nothing to lose in trying,’ Philippa told him.

  He paused to take a bite of the cake she had cut him and frowned.

  She had been to see the boys at the weekend and thanks to Susie’s generosity she had been able to take them some of their favourite carrot and raisin cake. The slice she had just cut for Joel was a piece of it.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked him. ‘If you don’t like it…’

  ‘No… I do. I was just wondering what was in it, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, dear—are you allergic to…?’

  ‘No, it’s not that. It’s just… well, since I’ve been reading up on all these training manuals, I’ve been doing a bit of experimenting… with Sally working, she expects me to get some of the kids’ meals and… they’ve been complaining that the only pudding I give them is fruit salad,’ he explained bashfully, ‘and I was wondering…’