by Kitty Neale
‘She had to know sometime.’
‘She took it badly,’ said Chris, ‘and I'm not surprised.’
‘She'll come round,’ Yvonne placated, ‘and in the meantime, Chris, you're welcome to stay with us.’
‘No thanks.’
‘But where will you sleep?’
‘Don't worry about me. I'll sort something out.’
‘What happened to Maurice?’
‘He went straight home, and Gawd knows what he's gonna tell Norma. Anyway, I'm off,’ he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked out of the alley.
When they went indoors, Danny lit the fire. Then, sighing heavily, he said, ‘I made a right mess of that. Maybe I should go back. I don't like leaving Mum in that state.’
‘No, not yet. She's been through enough and needs time to calm down. Leave her to sleep on it, love.’
As the fire took hold, Danny slumped onto the sofa. Yvonne sat beside him, taking a deep breath before voicing her thoughts. ‘Danny, I've been thinking about Pet.’
‘Grassing on us didn't do her any good. As I said, the place is in Dad's name so they've got nothing on us.’
‘That's just it. Didn't the police say that acting on information received, they searched the premises?’
‘Yeah, that's right.’
‘Danny, think about it. Jack Garston showed Pet some films, told her they were yours, but not where you made them. She knew nothing about the premises so how could she have dobbed you in?’
Danny frowned, but as the penny dropped, he jumped to his feet. ‘Bloody hell, you're right. It couldn't have been Pet.’ He rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘But if it wasn't her – who was it?’
Yvonne shook her head, unable to give him an answer, whilst Danny began to pace the room.
‘Jack Garston!’ he suddenly yelled. ‘It must have been him. Wait till I get my hands on that bastard.’
Yvonne's stomach clenched. ‘No, Danny, no. Think, you've got to think. If you go after Garston he'll retaliate. Last time he took Pet, and you know what he did to her. What if this time he takes me, or one of the kids?’
‘He wouldn't fucking dare.’
Yvonne jumped to her feet, but feeling a surge of dizziness she sank back onto the sofa. It had been a dreadful day, and now this. She felt sick, nauseous, her nerves at breaking point.
‘Yvonne, what is it? What's wrong?’
Though she hated herself for doing it – hated using it as a weapon – Yvonne knew she had no choice. She had to stop Danny from going after Garston. ‘It … it's my blood pressure. The doctor warned me that it's high. He … he said it can be dangerous, both for me and the baby. I'm supposed to rest and avoid stress.’
‘Right, come on then,’ Danny said, leaning over to heave her into his arms. ‘Let's get you up to bed.’
‘Please, Danny,’ Yvonne begged as she leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘Please don't go after Garston. I'm frightened – scared of what he'll do.’
She felt his arms tighten around her and tensed, but then he said, ‘All right, don't get upset. I'll leave him alone for now.’
Yvonne raised her head to look at Danny's face. ‘For now’, he had said. She sighed, knowing from his expression that for the time being, she'd have to be content with that.
Sue snuggled up to Bob, relieved that he was home and in the clear. ‘They kept you at the station for bloody hours,’ she complained. ‘I went to your mum's to see if there was any news, but the old cow chucked me out.’
‘Why did she do that?’
‘Ain't it obvious? She knows about the porn now and said she's disgusted with the lot of us.’
‘She's upset, love, but I'm sure she doesn't blame you.’
‘Huh, knowing your mother she probably thinks I put you up to it,’ Sue said as her eyes flicked round the room. She had made a bit of an effort for the kids' sake, putting up a few decorations, but even so, it was going to be a lousy Christmas. Mind you, she consoled herself, they'd be all right next year. When Dan's will was read, Bob was sure to get a chunk of the business and it must be worth a pretty penny.
‘Have you seen your dad's will?’
‘Leave it out. Mum's been in too much of a state to think about the will – we all have. I think she's got it, but it can wait until after the funeral.’
Sue hid her disappointment, but it wasn't the only thing that was disappointing her lately. She ran her hand along Bob's leg, but there was no response. He wasn't interested and hadn't been since his father died, but maybe she could try something else to tickle his fancy. ‘Bob,’ she said, leading up to it, ‘it'll be Christmas Eve in a couple of days and we'll have to make a bit of an effort for the kids.’
‘It doesn't seem right.’
‘It isn't fair to ruin their Christmas. I'm not asking for much, just that we let them put out a mince pie for Father Christmas and some milk for the reindeers as usual.’
‘Yeah, all right.’
‘I don't expect you to dress up as Santa this year, but what about your Christmas treat? Instead of waiting, you can have it now if you like.’
‘You've still got the outfit?’
‘Of course I have. I'll go and put it on.’
‘Not tonight, love. I'm bushed and I ain't in the mood.’
‘You don't want Santa's little helper?’ she asked as she ran her hand along the inside of Bob's leg.
‘Leave off, love,’ he said, moving her hand away as he stood up. ‘I'm knackered and I think I'll have an early night. Are you coming?’
‘There ain't much chance of that these days,’ she snapped.
‘Trust you to take it the wrong way. I meant are you coming to bed?’ but then seeing the funny side, he began to laugh.
Sue found it infectious, the pair of them soon doubled up with mirth. Sue didn't know what caused it, but as though the laughter had released something in Bob, the tension that had lined his face dissipated. He held out his hand, and with a wink said, ‘Come on then, let's see you in that outfit.’
Sue didn't need telling twice. Giggling, she ran upstairs, but she didn't have time to put the pixie costume on before Bob grabbed her, pulling her onto the bed.
Joan sat alone in a silent house. Now, instead of grief, she felt only anger. Dan had been mixed up in porn and her stomach churned. He had ruled the boys and the business, one that she now knew was just a front. Oh, she had known that Dan was a bit of a rogue when she married him, but despite that she had admired his morals, the code that he lived by. Women, he always said, were to be respected, protected, looked after, and it was something he had instilled in his sons. Or so she had thought. Her teeth ground together. How could using women to make disgusting pornographic films be respecting them? And children – Pet said they used children. It was awful, dreadful. Oh God, what an idiot she'd been, a blind fool. The man she had loved, looked up to, had turned out to be a sick monster.
She glanced at the clock, worried about her daughter and hating herself for what she had put her through. Petula had been raped, violently, but she had hardly shown her an ounce of sympathy, her concern only for Dan and that he didn't find out.
The poor girl had held it all inside, eating away at her, and was it any wonder that it had all burst out? She had blamed her daughter for Dan's death, and maybe him hearing about the rape had been the catalyst, but in truth she knew that Dan had been going downhill for a while.
Joan sat wringing her hands. Danny had threatened to kill Petula. The poor girl must be so frightened, hiding, but Joan didn't blame her for going to the police. If she had known what they were up to, she'd have done the same. They were sick, disgusting, using poor children to make those awful films.
There was only one thing Joan wanted now and that was to have her daughter safely home again. She'd never been much of a mother, had treated her daughter badly, but now she just wanted the chance to make it up to her.
Oh, Pet, where are you? her mind cried out. You're all I have left now. Please come home. Don't be frighte
ned. I'll make sure that Danny doesn't lay a hand on you, that nobody ever lays a hand on you again. It'll be just you and me, Pet, and as far as I'm concerned, the rest of them can rot in hell.
Joan's mind twisted and turned, wondering how she could find her daughter, until, exhausted, she fell asleep where she was sitting, the fire slowly dying until at last it went out.
Chapter Thirty-five
When Pet awoke in a strange room the following morning, for a moment she was disorientated, but then it all came flooding back: her father's death, her mother's hate, the police turning up, and Danny – Danny blaming her, threatening to kill her. Tears stung her eyes, but then, hearing the sound of giggling, she forced them away as her door was thrown open.
Harry and Ernie tumbled into the room. ‘Auntie Pet, Auntie Pet, are you getting up?’ Ernie urged.
‘It looks like it,’ she said, throwing back the covers. It was still dark outside and she had no idea of the time, but if the boys were awake, it must mean that Ivy and Steve were up too. ‘Let me get dressed and then I'll come downstairs.’
‘Yeah, all right, but don't be long,’ Ernie cried, his eyes alight with excitement. ‘It's snowing again, Auntie Pet, and Mum said that as soon as it's light we can build a snowman. Will you help us?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘Yippee,’ Harry shouted, the two boys scampered out.
Pet went to the bathroom and after a quick wash she threw on some clothes before running downstairs to find the boys and Ivy in the kitchen. It was a nice room, far bigger than the kitchens in Drapers Alley, with an oak table and chairs in the centre and a large dresser against one wall, lined with blue willow-pattern china.
‘Morning, love,’ Ivy said. ‘Help yourself to a cup of tea, and what would you like for breakfast?’
‘I don't mind. Anything will do,’ Pet said, reaching out for the teapot as she sat at the table.
‘The boys usually have something hot and they want beans on toast this morning. Will that do?’
‘Yes, and thanks. Where's Steve?’
‘He's gone to work. I know it's Sunday, but the livestock still need sorting out. He's got Christmas Day off, but that's all.’
Pet paused in the act of pouring a cup of tea. She could see that Ivy was in pain, but obviously making a supreme effort to hide it. Pet frowned, sure that this was more than cramp. Ivy looked ill, really ill, and now putting the teapot down, she rose to her feet.
‘Ivy, sit down. I want to make myself useful so I'll cook the breakfast.’
‘There's no need.’
‘Please, you took me in and it will make me feel better if you let me help.’
For a moment Ivy hesitated, but then she sat at the table, her hands clutching her stomach. ‘All right, I won't say no. You'll find bread in the bin and beans in that cupboard over there.’
Pet opened the cupboard and frowned. It was dirty inside, very dirty. She took out the beans before turning to Ivy. ‘Where's the tin opener?’
‘In that drawer,’ she indicated.
The cutlery drawer was dirty too, some knives and forks still showing remnants of food. She found the tin opener, her eyes involuntarily meeting Ivy's as she turned.
‘I know, Pet, I know,’ she murmured. ‘The housework is getting on top of me, and I'll be glad of your help. If you ask me, your turning up will prove to be a godsend.’
Pet frowned, wondering what Ivy meant, but saw that Harry and Ernie were still, listening to the conversation. ‘Right, boys, one piece of toast or two?’
‘Two, please,’ they chorused.
Pet found a saucepan, unable to help noticing that though the kitchen appeared clean on the surface, inside every cupboard it was a different story. Something was very wrong with Ivy, she was sure of it, and if her cousin wouldn't tell her what the problem was, she'd ask Steve. In the meantime she would do all she could to help Ivy, starting with the breakfast.
Chris left Phil's house and as he passed Arding and Hobbs, he glanced in the windows at their Christmas displays. Chris sniffed, fighting his emotions. It was going to be awful, the first Christmas without his father, and unless his mother let him back in, he'd be without her too. He could have stayed where he was, but Phil was constantly nagging about bringing their relationship into the open and it was driving him mad. He couldn't do it – couldn't face his family's reaction. If they found out they would never understand, and not only that, locally he'd be a laughing stock.
At last, his feet feeling like blocks of ice, Chris turned into Drapers Alley, fumbling for his key, but as he tried to turn it in the lock, it wouldn't move. His mother must have put the catch down, but as she was alone in the house he wasn't surprised, so lifting the door knocker, he rapped several times.
When she didn't come to the door he lifted the letter box, calling, ‘Mum, come on, open up. It's bloody freezing out here.’
Through the narrow gap he could see that she was sitting by the fire, but she didn't move. ‘Mum. Come on. Open the door!’
‘What's going on?’ Danny called from next door, his head poking out of an upstairs window.
‘It's Mum. I can see her through the letter box, but she won't let me in.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘I dunno,’ Chris called, bending down to peer through the letter box again. He frowned, standing up to call out, ‘She ain't moving.’
‘Hold on, I'm coming down.’
In what felt like moments, Danny was beside him, thumping loudly on the door. ‘Come on, Mum, open this door.’
With a tut of impatience he too peered through the letter box. ‘Yeah, I can see her, but you're right, she ain't moving.’ His brow creased with anxiety and then, lifting the letter box again, he shouted, ‘Mum, if you don't open this door I'm gonna kick it in.’
The door opened, their mother glaring at them as she spat, ‘Don't you dare kick my door.’ She stood in front of them, arms folded across her chest to bar their entry.
‘Come on, Mum, let me in,’ Chris urged.
‘I don't want you in my house, any of you. My daughter is the only decent child I've got, but you threatened her, Danny, and now she'll never come home.’
‘We'll find her, Mum, we'll put it right. She didn't grass on us, I know that now.’
‘She didn't? What makes you think that?’ Chris asked.
‘I'll explain later,’ Danny told him.
‘Mum, what about my stuff?’ Chris urged. ‘I need clean clothes.’
‘All right, you can come in to pack, but then, until you find Petula, I don't want to see your face again.’
Chris stepped inside and when his mother slammed the door in Danny's face, he said, ‘Mum, come on, there's no need for that.’
‘Just get your stuff and then get out.’
‘Can't we at least talk about it?’
‘I don't want to talk. I just want to see the back of you. Now either you go upstairs to pack, or you get out now.’
With a sigh Chris went up to his room. With his mother in this mood there was no point in arguing with her, but surely in another twenty-four hours she'd come round. He packed a case, and with his dark suit over his arm he returned downstairs. ‘I'm going now, Mum.’
‘Good.’
‘I don't like leaving you on your own.’
‘Find my daughter and I won't be. Now go on, bugger off.’
His head low, Chris left and went straight to Danny's house, saying as he went in, ‘There's no talking to her.’
‘We'll just have to find Pet.’
‘She could be anywhere, Danny, and with your threat hanging over her head, she'll be keeping her head down. But what's this about her not grassing on us?’
‘As Yvonne pointed out, Pet didn't know about our place in Wimbledon so it couldn't have been her.’
‘Bloody hell, but if she didn't, who did?’
‘I don't know, but my first guess is Jack Garston.’
Chris knew he'd have to kip down in Danny's for now, but
uppermost in his mind was Jack Garston. He'd find the bastard, and when he did …
Maurice arrived at nine thirty and got the same reception. His mother opened the door, told him to bugger off and then slammed it in his face. He didn't really want to see Danny, but there were things to be sorted that couldn't wait. He went next door to find that Bob and Chris were there, the pair of them sitting on Danny's sofa.
‘Mum wouldn't let me in,’ Maurice said as he took a seat by the fire.
‘She won't let any of us in, and she chucked Chris out,’ Danny told him, going on to relate all that had happened when they returned from the police station.
Maurice's breath wheezed in his chest. ‘So, it's all out in the open. No wonder she wouldn't let me in.’
‘What about Norma? Did you tell her that we were taken in for questioning?’ Bob asked.
‘No, I just said that I spent the day with Mum.’
‘What excuse did you come up with for leaving the alley?’
‘None, and I don't intend to. Just the threat of us coming back is enough to shut her up.’
‘My Sue knows all about it and instead of doing her nut, she took it well. Yvonne knows too, ain't that right, Danny?’
‘Yes, she does. Maybe you should tell your wife, Maurice. It's bound to come out sooner or later and it'll be better coming from you.’
Maurice wanted to spit in Danny's face, but hid his feelings. ‘No, Danny. I know Norma, and if she finds out it'll be the end of my marriage. We're in the clear; we're not involved in making films any more, so as long as I keep her away from the alley, there's no need to tell her.’
‘What about Dad's funeral? We can tell Sue and Yvonne to keep their mouths shut around Norma, but we can't say the same for Mum.’
‘I'll come alone.’
‘How will you manage that?’
‘I doubt Norma will want to come, so it won't be hard.’
‘How are you managing for money?’ Danny asked. ‘I've still got a fair bit saved, and I'll get a job after Christmas.’
‘What about the yard?’ Bob asked. ‘Dad has probably split it between us, so even if you don't want to join us in running it, you'll still be entitled to a share of the profits.’
