There was no respite when they reached home. Susan met them at the door with her baby on her hip, her face pinched with anxiety.
‘I’m so glad you’re back,’ she exclaimed. ‘Poor Mother’s so restless. She knows something serious is going on. She keeps asking for Frank.’
Lillian went to run up the stairs, but stopped with one foot on the bottom step.
‘What are we going to tell her?’ she asked the family in general.
Up till then, they had been maintaining a story that Frank had got a job up north.
‘We can’t tell her the truth. It would break her heart,’ Bob said.
There was a murmuring of agreement.
‘We’ll just have to carry on saying that he’s working away. There’s no point in changing the story now,’ Doug decided.
‘For eight years?’ Lillian questioned.
Silence greeted this. Everyone looked down, unable to voice the obvious: Nettie was not going to live for eight years. She probably wasn’t going to live eight months. She was never going to see her son again.
Lillian swallowed. ‘Right,’ she whispered. ‘Shall I go and see her now, or does someone else want to?’
‘You go,’ Bob suggested. ‘It’ll look more like normal.’
Lillian hesitated. She looked at her father. ‘Dad?’
‘Yes, you go,’ he agreed, ever one to get out of a difficult situation.
With a heavy heart, Lillian climbed the stairs, up and up to the cramped attic bedroom under the eaves. Her mother looked frailer than ever, her thin face white against the white pillow.
‘Frank?’ she said, her voice clearer than Lillian had heard it for a long time. ‘Where’s Frank? Why doesn’t he come to see me?’
Lillian’s powers of acting nearly deserted her. It was so hard to lie, so hard to carry on as if nothing had happened.
‘Now, Mum, you know he’s—’ her voice cracked; she fought to keep it under control ‘—he’s got this job up north. Like I did, you know? I was working up north for ages, wasn’t I? I had a lovely time there. I expect Frank is as well. He’ll be earning good money, too.’
Nettie did not look convinced. But the effort of speaking had almost been too much for her. ‘—goodbye,’ she whispered.
‘What?’ Lillian knelt down at the bedside and put her head close to her mother’s.
‘—say goodbye.’
‘He didn’t come and say goodbye? Well, he did, Mum, but you were asleep, and he didn’t want to wake you.’
She hoped fervently that she would be forgiven for lying to a sick woman. But how could she possibly tell her the truth? Looking ahead, she could only see more lies, piling one on top of the other. She was overwhelmed with anger at her brother. How could he do this to his mother? She wanted to get him by the throat and squeeze every last breath out of him.
Nettie closed her eyes. Lillian knew the signs. She wasn’t asleep, she just didn’t want to speak or be spoken to. Reluctantly, Lillian left her and went down to join the gloomy family group below.
Bob and Susan went soon after, as Susan wanted to feed the baby at home. Then James took his leave.
‘Remember, you only have to lift the phone if there’s anything you need, or anything I can do,’ he insisted.
Lillian made a tea that nobody had the appetite for. Just three of them were left now.
‘The family’s falling apart,’ Gran said.
‘Bob and Wendy have only gone because they’re married,’ Lillian pointed out.
‘Hmm, well, at least Bob’s keeping the standards up,’ Gran commented.
Lillian felt deeply hurt. She knew it was no use looking for praise from Gran, but she would have liked to at least have some recognition that she wasn’t letting the family down. But there it was—she was just Lillian, the eternal dogsbody.
‘I’ll clear this away, if nobody wants any more,’ she said and began to gather up the used plates.
Gran and Doug said nothing, but just let her carry on.
Lillian envied her father going off to work the next day, even though he was only going to spend it going up and down in a lift. At least he was going to be in contact with normal everyday people. The house was beginning to close in around her, and there was little chance of any PGs turning up with the season well over. So she was glad when the phone rang. Any tidings from the outside world were welcome.
‘Lillian?’ a thready voice asked.
‘Yes?’ For a moment she couldn’t think who it was.
‘Can you come over?’
‘Wendy? Is that you?’
‘Please, Lillian—’
‘Of course. But what’s up?’
‘Just come. Please.’
Dread gripped Lillian. Something terrible had happened.
‘OK, I’m coming. Just hold on.’
Already her mind was racing. This was when she needed a car. What was the use of having passed her driving test if she didn’t have anything to drive? She wondered about contacting James, then remembered that he was in Chelmsford today. So it was bike or taxi. This was an emergency, she decided, so it had to be a taxi. She would pay for it out of the housekeeping and reimburse it out of her savings. She lifted the phone again to order one, then went upstairs to make sure that her mother was all right. Finally, she put her head round Gran’s door, told her where she was going and went before any questions could be asked.
Travelling along the seafront in a depressing drizzle, she tried to imagine what was awaiting her. Terry must have hurt Wendy again. How much of this was Wendy going to take? How bad was it this time? She had sounded dreadful over the phone. The taxi driver tried to talk to her, but she answered him in monosyllables as various possibilities went through her head, each one worse than the last.
‘Wait there,’ she said on impulse as they arrived at Wendy’s house. ‘I might need to go somewhere else.’
It was a vain hope, but perhaps she could persuade Wendy to leave.
She rang the bell. There was a sound of small footsteps inside the house, and Coral’s high-pitched voice calling, ‘Mummy, door!’ If the circumstances hadn’t been so grim, Lillian might have smiled at hearing her sister being shouted at the way she used to be. The door opened a crack. Lillian cautiously pushed from her side until there was enough space to get in. What she saw shocked her. Wendy did not appear to be bruised, but her face was drawn with pain and she looked as if she hadn’t slept for a week.
‘Wendy—’
She went to hug her sister, but Wendy flinched from her. She was cradling one arm with the other.
‘Don’t—’
‘Aunty Lilli!’
Coral flung her arms round her legs. She was still in her pyjamas. Upstairs, little Terrance started crying. Lillian picked up the toddler and cuddled her.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked Wendy.
‘It’s my arm—I think it’s broken.’
‘Wendy!’ Despite her imaginings in the taxi, Lillian was still horrified. ‘Did he do it?’
Wendy avoided her eyes. ‘I fell,’ she said.
‘Oh, yeah? Well, never mind that now, we’ve got to get you to hospital.’
‘But the children—’
‘We’ll drop them off at Susan’s. They’ll be fine with her. I’ll go and get Terrance. Is he still in his cot?’
Wendy nodded, tears oozing from her eyes. ‘I couldn’t pick him up. I had to feed him in the cot.’
‘All right, don’t worry. Just tell me what I’ve got to fetch for him. Nappies? Change of clothes? Bottles?’
‘Yes, yes—oh, Lillian, I’m so glad you’ve come.’
‘Everything’s all right now,’ Lillian said, wondering how big a lie that was. She hurried round, collecting things for the children. It took a while for her to realise the significance of the fact that Wendy was dressed. How could she have done that with a broken arm?
‘When did this happen?’ she asked, fetching a coat to put round her sister’s shoulders.
‘Last night,’ Wendy admitted.
‘Last night? Why on earth didn’t you call me sooner?’
‘I thought he might come back.’
‘Good God—!’
She had to get her sister away from this monster. But, for now, she just had to get her injuries seen to. With the baby in one arm, a bag over her shoulder and the toddler holding her other hand, Lillian managed to shepherd her little flock out to the waiting taxi.
They stopped off at Bob and Susan’s house.
‘Don’t tell her!’ Wendy begged.
Lillian wanted to tell the world how badly her sister was being treated, but now was not the time to argue the point. She told Susan that Wendy had had an accident, left the children in her capable hands and went on to the hospital. The housekeeping just about covered the fare. It was an hour before they were seen. Lillian used the time to try to persuade Wendy to do something about her situation.
‘You can’t go on like this,’ she said. ‘It will only get worse. This time it’s a broken arm; what will it be next time? Supposing you have to stay in hospital? What would happen to the children?’
‘I don’t know,’ Wendy said miserably. ‘It’s all my fault. He loves me really, but I just make him angry.’
‘Loves you! And this is how he shows it? Gives you a broken arm, then goes out and leaves you and the children to fend for yourselves? Funny sort of love.’
‘But he does—’
‘You’ve got to do something, Wendy. Tell the police. Or leave him.’
‘Leave him?’ Wendy sounded amazed.
‘Yes, leave him, before he does something really dreadful to you.’
‘I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
Lillian persisted, but all Wendy could do was say, ‘I don’t know.’ In the end, she started sobbing. ‘Stop getting at me, Lillian. Please. Just stop it.’
Reluctantly, Lillian gave in. It was obvious that she was getting nowhere, and only succeeding in upsetting Wendy.
At last Wendy’s name was called. Once she was being attended to, Lillian was faced with a dilemma. She wanted to stay here and make sure that her sister was all right, but her mother would be needing her at home. There was nobody but Gran there, and she couldn’t run up all those stairs and help Nettie on and off the commode. And, whether she went now or later, she still had to get home somehow, and she had spent practically all her money. Never had she felt her lack of income so much.
‘Look,’ she said to Wendy, ‘I hate to leave you here but I’ve got to get back to Mum. It’ll take too long to walk, so I’ll have to get another taxi and hope that Gran won’t make too much of a fuss about paying it. Can you do the same when you’ve been fixed up? Get a taxi and come back home?’
Wendy nodded.
‘Promise? That you’ll come back home?’
Wendy nodded again. ‘Thanks, Lillian. I don’t know what I would of done without you.’
Gran reluctantly doled out the exact fare without any tip for the driver. ‘Where on earth have you been? You can’t just go running off like that, leaving me and your mother. Where’s your sense of duty?’
‘Wendy broke her arm. I had to get the children looked after and take her to hospital.’
‘Broke her arm? How did she do that?’
All the secrets she was keeping suddenly reared up and faced Lillian. Secrets and lies—about Wendy, about Frank, about Eileen. She hated them.
‘It wasn’t her. That Terry did it to her. He beats her up.’
There. It was out. Now there was no going back.
Gran drew her mouth down at the corners, pulling her face into severe lines. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘she made her bed. Now she has to lie on it.’
Lillian was dumbfounded. She stared at her grandmother. Was that all the support that Wendy could expect?
‘I’m going to see to Mum,’ she said, and ran up the stairs.
Wendy did not call back at the house. When Lillian rang Susan to find out if she still had the children, she learnt that Wendy had come straight to her from the hospital, borrowed some money and gone back to her own place.
Lillian put the phone down and sank onto the bottom stair. She felt utterly defeated. Frank was in prison, her mother was terminally ill, her sister was living with a man who beat her up, and she felt helpless. There seemed to be nothing she could do to change any of it.
‘Oh, James—’ she said out loud.
How she yearned to have him here, to feel his arm around her shoulders. But James thought of her as a little sister, or a good friend. It was all quite hopeless.
Chapter Thirty
IT TOOK Lillian a long time to get to sleep that night. Everything churned around in her head—the trial, Wendy, her mother—until there seemed to be no quiet place to rest her thoughts. Wherever she looked, there were insurmountable problems. She tried thinking back to the carefree days of touring with the dance company, to the fun and close sisterhood of the girls, the squabbles and the dreadful digs, the stage fright and the sheer thrill of performing. But it all seemed so far away now, a different world. She could hardly believe that then all she had to worry about was getting her dancing shoes repaired and making sure her hair was clean. She finally managed to chase the overwhelming worries of the present away by going through in her mind some of the dances the company had done. Making sure that each step was correct, listening to the music in her head, she calmed herself enough to fall asleep.
But she had hardly slid down into oblivion before something dragged her back up again. Her shoulder was being shaken. A voice was urgent in her ear.
‘Lillian! Lillian, wake up!’
‘Mmm—what—?’
She felt heavy and drugged. She desperately wanted to sleep.
‘Lillian, it’s your mum.’
‘What? Mum? What’s the matter?’
Wide awake now, she realised that her father was leaning over her.
‘She’s taken a turn for the worse. I’m worried, Lillian. Come and see.’
Lillian slid out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. Every limb was aching. Across the landing, the bedside light was on. Her mother was groaning and moving her head from side to side on the pillow.
‘Mum? Mum, what’s wrong? Does something hurt?’
She put her hand to her mother’s forehead. It was cold and clammy.
‘I think we’d better call the doctor,’ she decided.
‘Yes, yes, you’re right. I’ll do it now,’ her father agreed.
For what seemed like an age, they waited for the doctor. Lillian sat on her mother’s bed and talked to her, saying anything that came into her head. There was no reaction, but she had long ago ceased to expect one. If anything, she was talking for her own benefit, to keep fear at bay. When the doctor arrived, he shook his head and said it was time for her to go back into hospital. An ambulance was called.
‘Are you going with her?’ Lillian asked her father.
Doug looked horrified. ‘What, me? I got to go to work in the morning.’
She might have known. Lillian just had time to pull on some clothes and pack a bag for her mother before the ambulance arrived.
Once at the hospital, there was more waiting around while the right person was found, so it was eight in the morning by the time Nettie was settled in a ward. Tests were to be done, Lillian was told. Now her mother must be allowed to rest. Feeling dazed and hollow, Lillian found her way down the echoing corridors to the hospital entrance. It was only then that she realised that she had come out without any money. She hesitated. A taxi or call James? The need to see him overcame all sensible thoughts. She picked up the phone in the call box and put in a reverse charge call to While-U-Wait Southend, praying that he was there. He was.
‘Oh, James, I’m so sorry to do this, but can you possibly come and pick me up? Only I haven’t any money with me—’
‘Of course I will, Lindy. What’s happened? Where are you?’
‘I’m at the hospital. It�
��s Mum—’
‘Stay right where you are. I’m on my way.’
Just ten minutes later, there he was, smiling and cheerful in his green Mini.
‘You look dreadful,’ he commented as he opened the car door for her.
Lillian nearly burst into tears on the spot. Instead, she tried to turn it into a joke. ‘Thank you very much.’
James was contrite. ‘I didn’t mean it as a criticism, Lindy. But you look as if you’ve been up all night.’
‘It feels like it.’
As they drove out of the hospital grounds, he said, ‘I suppose you haven’t had breakfast?’
‘No—oh, God! I wasn’t there to cook breakfast for Dad and Gran!’
‘Well, it’ll be too late for that by the time you get home. Let them cope on their own for a change. It won’t hurt them. I’m taking you for a Full English.’
She did try to protest. ‘What about work?’
‘That can cope on its own as well. No arguments, OK?’
‘OK.’
It was bliss to let someone else take charge. James drove them to the nearest café and ordered the works. Lillian sat at a cramped table, breathed in the smell of frying and relaxed for the first time in days. She was surprised to find that she was ravenously hungry.
‘Now,’ James said, ‘tell me what’s up.’
Through mouthfuls of egg and bacon, Lillian told him all about her mother and then about Wendy. Across the table, James’s hands curled into fists.
‘That bastard,’ he spat. ‘Surely she doesn’t love him?’
‘She says she does. She says he loves her. It makes me want to scream. When she just sits there looking helpless and saying it’s her own fault, I want to shake her until her teeth rattle, so what does that make me? As bad as him.’
‘But you don’t actually do it. He does. I just don’t understand it, Lindy. How can a man hit a woman like that? His own wife, the mother of his children. How can he take it out on people who are weaker than him? It’s despicable. I always loathed Dempsey, but now I despise him as well. He’s the lowest of the low.’
They talked round it for ages, but came to no solution. Unless Wendy agreed to leave him, there seemed to be nothing they could do. They couldn’t very well kidnap her and the children.
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