A Winter Bride

by Isla Dewar

  It was the first time Alistair had visited Johnny without May being there. They’d been alone. They’d been able to talk. Alistair had asked what the hell Johnny had been doing, steaming top speed around the countryside. ‘Were you drunk?’

  Johnny looked a little ashamed. ‘Probably. I’d been drinking our mother’s cocktails. I was thinking about everything, and I was mad. My life selling Dad’s dodgy cars, and then the plan to give away watered down cocktails at the restaurant. I don’t want this. The more I thought about it, the harder I put my foot down. I took a corner without braking and it was a bigger corner than I thought it was. I lost control and here I am in hospital.’

  Alistair had nodded.

  ‘Our parents are rogues. And they don’t see it. They really believe they’re making people happy,’ said Johnny.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’m not going back to it. When I get out of here, I’m not sticking around. I’m not going back to the back lot. I hate it. I want to see a bit of the world. Tell me, how did you manage to get out of working for Dad?’

  ‘I just refused. I think the lawyer bit appealed to Dad. He guessed he might need one. He thought I’d work for the firm. But not me. There’s only so much of our mother I can take. There’s too much of her for me. Too much emotion, too much gushing, too much spending money on too many hideous things.’

  Johnny had agreed. ‘There’s that. She smothers me. Drives me crazy. She says my beauty will be ruined because I’ll have a scar.’ He’d touched his cheek. ‘I always wanted a scar when I was a kid. Thought it would make me look interesting.’

  ‘So did I.’

  They’d grinned at one another.

  ‘So,’ Johnny had said, ‘will you lend me some cash?’

  ‘Why? Don’t you have any?’

  ‘Nope. Dad stopped paying me weeks ago. He said I should have saved for tough times and tough times were here.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘A hundred?’

  ‘I’ll give you five.’

  ‘God, you must really want rid of me.’

  ‘Nah. I just think you need time away from our ma.’

  On the way home, Alistair had stopped to pick up some food. He’d originally planned to buy a Chinese takeaway, but had changed his mind for fish and chips.

  ‘Fish and chips?’ Is that your idea of a treat?’ Carol had asked.

  ‘It is, especially when it’s washed down with this.’ He’d produced the champagne.

  The wine had its effect. They’d become giggly. They’d flirted.

  ‘Are you going to be a great lawyer then?’

  ‘Probably not, but I might have my moments.’

  ‘Are you going to be rich?’

  He’d shaken his head. ‘Comfortable.’

  ‘Comfortable’s all you want. It would be good not to worry about money.’

  They’d poured the last of the champagne into their glasses and taken them through to the living room. They hadn’t switched on the television; instead they’d sat side by side, sipping occasionally and watching the fire.

  ‘We’re like an old married couple.’ Carol had put her head on his shoulder. Then, thinking she was being overly familiar with her friend’s husband, had removed it.

  ‘Oh, don’t do that. I like your head there.’

  So she’d put it back again. With the closeness, the warmth, the wine, the electricity between them, a kiss had been inevitable. As was what had followed – urgent fumblings, hastily discarded clothes, wilder and wilder kisses, the joy of skin on skin and the passionate relief of doing what they’d both been longing to do for weeks.

  They’d woken at nine o’clock. Both of them had been shivering as the fire had died out. Alistair had fetched a blanket from his bed and spread it over them. They’d agreed that what they’d just done was wrong – very wrong – but they hadn’t been able to resist doing it again, more slowly this time, savouring one another. Afterwards, entwined and warm under the blanket, they’d fallen asleep again, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Nell ran the length of the street. She didn’t look back. Carol and Alistair might be coming after her; they might catch up and persuade her to come back to the flat. There would be an argument – two of them against her. She wouldn’t win. Breath heaving, heart pounding, she turned the corner and stopped. She was out of sight.

  Now she could walk. She headed for the West End, where she could find a taxi.

  Oh, she could imagine all the things Carol and Alistair had said about her. They’d probably laughed at her behind her back. They’d think she had a stupid job, welcoming people into a restaurant, bringing them their bills, pouring their wine. Carol would have said that anyone with half a brain could do that. They’d have joked about how useless she was in bed. Nell stopped, put down her case, sniffed and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. She crossed her arms over her stomach to quell the churnings. Then told herself to walk on, to walk away from it all.

  She found a taxi, climbed in and gave her mother and father’s address. Hold on, she told herself. She would be brave. From now on she would have to be a strong, independent woman of the world. She’d be on her own.

  She hammered on the door of her mother and father’s home, and when her mother opened it, Nell burst past her, dropped her case in the hall, ran into the kitchen, sat at the small Formica-topped table and broke down.

  Nancy stood at kitchen the door, watching her, thinking someone had died. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I needed to come. I’ve nowhere else to go.’ Nell reached for a tea towel and blew her nose.

  Nancy folded her arms. It didn’t sound like someone had died. ‘If you’ve had a fight with your husband, you can go right back and sort it out. You’re a married woman. You can’t come running to me when something goes wrong.’

  ‘I can’t go back. I’m never going back. Alistair doesn’t want me anymore.’

  Nancy put on the kettle. ‘Don’t be silly. Of course he wants you back. You’ve had an argument. All couples argue at first. It’s the way of things.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Nell wailed. ‘I found them naked on the sofa.’

  Nancy turned. ‘You found who naked on the sofa?’

  ‘Alistair and Carol. They were all cuddled up together and she had her hand on his chest and he had his arms round her and they were sleeping.’

  Nancy abandoned her tea-making and sat at the table opposite Nell. ‘They were naked? On the sofa? Carol and Alistair?’

  ‘Yes!’ Nell started to sob uncontrollably, heaving, coughing, and gasping for breath.

  Nancy hadn’t seen such anguish in years. Her life had become so calm, so routine, that she’d forgotten what raw emotion looked like. She wasn’t one to put her arms round other people. It had been years since she’d last cuddled Nell, but she reached out and took her daughter’s hand and patted it. ‘I didn’t know Carol was still staying with you.’

  Nell blew her nose and nodded. ‘She’s been with us for ages. She just settled in and made herself at home.’

  Nancy looked down at Nell’s hand, soft in her own. It was a good hand; a young hand. Not like hers: creased; worn; liver-spotted. She thought of all the things her hands had done: wiping; scrubbing; wrapping up cakes in the shop; baking; rubbing embrocation into her husband’s back. These hands had held the child that this young woman across the table from her used to be. They had dried her crying eyes, dabbed her cut knees with disinfectant, changed her nappies, washed her clothes, and combed her hair. It occurred to Nancy that it had been a long time since she’d used these hands to show love.

  Looking at her daughter in floods of tears, Nancy realised she had never wept like that in her life. Nothing this bad had ever happened to her. She’d spent her life getting on with things, noting tragic events in other peoples’ lives, hoping that nothing heart-stopping ever happened to her. Nancy supposed crying helped; better than holding all the pain in.

  ‘Oh, Nell,’ she whispered. She went b
ack to the kettle, made tea and brought two cups to the table. ‘So Carol and Alistair were alone in the house when you went out to work?’

  ‘Yes. Well, Katy was there, but she’s little. She goes to bed at seven o’clock.’

  ‘You never thought anything about them being together every evening?’

  Nell shook her head. ‘Not really. Maybe at times I did wonder but really I was just glad Alistair had some company.’

  ‘But evenings is when a couple sits together, plans their holidays, shares their dreams, chat.’

  ‘I know,’ said Nell, ‘but I have such a good job. I have prospects. I never had prospects before. I’m going places. One day I’ll be managing my own restaurant. I’ll be making good money.’ She blew her nose heartily into the tea towel.

  Nancy couldn’t deny her daughter was a fool. Always dreaming with no notion of what life was about. ‘The books you’ve read, films you’ve seen … why, you’ve even been abroad. I’ve never ever dreamed of going to another country. All the things you know – and you know so much more than I do – but you’re not wise, love, are you?’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  How Does The Taxman

  Know About Me?

  May was rummaging down the side of the sofa looking for stray coins. Today she had to fetch Johnny from the hospital and she was short of cash. The letterbox rattled and mail thumped onto the mat. She went to the front door, picked up the pile of letters and put them all, unopened, into the drawer in the kitchen where she kept all the mail she didn’t want to read. Then she returned to her sofa search.

  When the doorbell rang, she’d moved on to the armchairs and had a fair pile of coins on the coffee table. She ran upstairs and peered down at the front step, checking who was there. It was Frank Harris, the family accountant.

  He was a tall man, slightly balding, with a passion for clothes. Today he wore a grey suit, pale olive shirt and pink tie. He left a thin waft of Old Spice aftershave in his wake as he walked past May into the living room.

  ‘I won’t stay long,’ he said. ‘Just need a quick word.’

  He sat on the sofa. May noticed him noting the pile of coins, told him she was having a bit of a tidy up, and then added that Harry wasn’t there. ‘He’s at work.’

  ‘I actually came to see you,’ said Frank. He shot her a discouraging look that May dismissed. She didn’t like him. Then again, he didn’t like her. May assumed that was because he didn’t like women. Well, not ones that worked, anyway. His wife stayed home, cooked, cleaned and always had a hot meal waiting for him when he got home. ‘Got her well trained,’ he’d once told Harry. May had hated him the moment she’d overheard that remark.

  Frank took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  ‘The Inland Revenue are asking about you. They’ve written to you but haven’t had a reply.’

  May nodded. The letter would probably be in the drawer with all the other unopened letters. She said she didn’t know why the taxman would want to write to her. She’d done nothing.

  ‘They want to know where you got the money to open a restaurant.’

  ‘Savings,’ said May.

  ‘Where did you keep these savings?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘I’m your accountant. It is my business. Do you have a bank account you haven’t told me about?’

  May shook her head. ‘Don’t use banks. I had the money in the cupboard.’

  ‘Please don’t tell me this money was undeclared earnings.’

  ‘Of course the earnings are undeclared. If I declared them the Inland Revenue would want them.’

  ‘Only a bit of them,’ said Frank.

  ‘A bit’s more than I’m prepared to let them have. I don’t believe in taxes.’

  Frank said that nobody likes taxes. ‘Thing is,’ he said, ‘they want to know where the cash for all the building work came from. And they also want to know why you pay your staff and suppliers in cash. They want to see your accounts.’

  ‘Don’t have accounts. Keep everything up here.’ She tapped her head.

  Frank sighed.

  ‘How does the taxman know about me?’

  ‘Someone must have told them. That’s usually the way of it. An anonymous phone call or letter.’

  ‘I’ve been betrayed?’

  Frank nodded. ‘Someone has told them you renovated a restaurant using cash. A huge amount of cash.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. That information is secret. They’ll never tell you.’

  ‘Betrayed,’ said May again. ‘And me just trying to make people happy. I provide good food. I sing to them. I employ people. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing, except you’re doing it with money you haven’t declared to the Inland Revenue.’

  ‘I told you I don’t believe in taxes.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. The law states you must pay them.’

  ‘What happens if I don’t?’

  ‘They’ll demand the money, plus interest, plus a fine and perhaps a jail sentence.’

  ‘What if I don’t have the money?

  Frank looked round. ‘You have this house. You have all the stuff in it. They’ll sell it off and keep the money.’

  ‘I had a suspicion they might do that,’ said May. ‘It’s nasty. I work hard. I put my heart and soul into my restaurant and that’s what they do. I hate them all. And mostly I hate the person who shopped me.’

  After Frank had left, May sat in the kitchen and stared out of the window. Wishes and curses tumbled through her. If only people would hang on and stop demanding cash all this would be sorted out. At the moment, since they’d stopped giving her credit, she was paying suppliers with the takings from the night before. This meant she hadn’t enough to pay her staff. Annie hadn’t been paid for weeks. No doubt she’d quit soon. Her piano player had told her he wouldn’t be coming back. Not that this mattered because the people who’d supplied the beautiful red piano were coming tomorrow to take it back. Should’ve paid for it, thought May. Nell hadn’t been paid for a long time, not that she knew. May had told her she’d paid the money into the running-away fund. Nell hadn’t checked, but then Nell wouldn’t. The girl’s a fool, May decided.

  She slapped her palms on the table. No point in sitting here; there were things to do. She phoned the restaurant and told Annie to do the lunches today. ‘A few things have cropped up that I must attend to.’

  Annie told her it wasn’t a problem but May detected a certain coldness in her voice.

  After that, May packed her favourite handbags, shoes and jewellery in a box. She knew what was going to happen. Something she suspected weeks ago would happen when she’d stashed her crystal glasses at Johnny’s house. As she could not pay the taxman, sheriff’s officers would be appointed to come to the house and sell the furniture and pretty much everything else. Well, she could make sure there were some things they couldn’t get their hands on.

  She drove round to Johnny’s house and dumped her goods in his hallway. She’d bring some more things tomorrow. Right now, she had to find some more money. Back home, a rake through the pockets of Harry’s coats and jackets brought her enough to buy half a tank of petrol.

  She drove to the hospital. Johnny was sitting on his bed, dressed and waiting for her. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Busy,’ she said. ‘No matter, I’m here now.’ She picked up his case and headed for the door.

  He followed on crutches, complaining that she was walking too fast.

  ‘Lots to do,’ she called.

  She took him to her house, telling him it would be easier to keep an eye on him here. ‘You’ll be needing looking after.’ She brought him a sandwich and a glass of milk.

  ‘Milk?’ he said, holding up the glass in disgust.

  ‘I’m out of beer,’ she told him. ‘Besides, milk’s good for you. Good for the bones.’ She put her hand under his chin and lifted his face, considering it. ‘Not bad. They’ve done a good
job on you.’ She ran her thumb along the scar on his cheek. ‘You’ll be marked for life, but it’s a fine scar. Gives you a bit of character. Before you used to look beautiful but—’ a bit thick, she was about to say, but stopped herself. ‘Now you look beautiful and interesting.’

  He smiled and nodded. May noticed how easily he took the compliment, but then supposed he would: he was used to them. She bustled across the room, picked up a vase and a bowl and said she was going out. ‘Have to talk to Harry, and then I’m off to work. Got dinners to prepare for tonight.’

  He asked why she was taking the vase and bowl with her.

  ‘I’ve been betrayed. Someone close has shopped me to the taxman. They’re wanting unpaid taxes that I can’t pay. Like as not, they’ll requisition the furniture and sell it off to get the money. I’m getting as much stuff out of here before that happens.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll be fined. I may get jail. Not that I’ll go.’ She slumped down on the sofa beside him. ‘Who would so such a thing? Who would betray me?’

  Johnny said it could have been anybody. ‘Perhaps there was a reward. People will do anything for a reward.’ He stared ahead for a moment, turning this news over in his mind. ‘What about me? Will they come after me?’

  May said it was a possibility.

  ‘And Alistair?’

  ‘Probably not,’ said May. ‘He’s got nothing to do with the business these days.’

  ‘Do you think it was him?’

  ‘What? Alistair? He’d never do such a thing. I have to go. Drink your milk and have a little sleep. Sleep and milk is what you need.’

  As May drove to see Harry, she thought about Alistair. It couldn’t have been him, could it? No, she shook her head. Oh, he disapproved of the goings-on, but not that much. Still, the doubt had seeded in her mind.

  Harry was in his office, sitting at his desk, looking pale.