Rose Cottage, Albans Lane
Chapter Eight
‘I ought to be…but no’
‘We came to thank you’ Tim leans sideways and puts his head round the side of the doorway, making Jessie jump as he steps into view.
‘Oh!’ she gasps at the sight of the huge basket of flowers.
‘We were going to send them but we wanted to see you. Thanks for…everything, Jessie….from both of us’
‘It…it was alright…me telling him where to find you? I’ve been so worried’
‘Are you going to let us in or what?’ Sandra laughs.
‘Oh …yes…of course…. sorry’ Jessie retraces her steps to the living room, turning once she gets to her chair. ‘They’re beautiful’ she says as Tim sets the basket on the sideboard.
‘No, you are’ He lowers his head, glancing sideways at Sandra. ‘You cared enough to come and say what you thought…I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that….for giving me the nerve…to do what I did’
‘You wouldn’t have got to find out where my Sandra was if you hadn’t!’ Jessie huffs.
‘Your Sandra?’ Sandra tilts her head and grins a teasing smile.
‘You’re the nearest to a daughter I’ve got…so I was being the interfering mother-in-law!’
Tim gurgles ‘And she had a right go!’
‘I can well believe that’ Sandra squeezes Tim’s hand as he sits next to her on the sofa. ‘I’m so proud of you’
‘It had to be done, didn’t it’ he mumbles ‘She made me see that. I-I knew I’d got to do something’ Tim looks away self-consciously.
‘And you did…that’s the thing’ She squeezes his hand again.
‘So, you’ll stay at your job now?’ Jessie asks ‘now you’ve sorted things out with….that woman?’ Her eyes flicker to Sandra.
‘It’s ok, Jessie, we can talk about it, we’ve done nothing BUT talk about it!’
‘Oh, I do hope that’s not true’ Jessie sighs ‘Otherwise what was the blooming point of sending him to the hotel?’
Sandra and Tim look at each other and grin, blushing slightly.
‘Oh good!’ Jessie beams with satisfaction.
4 Pike Lane
‘Thanks, George’ Anthony smiles gratefully. ‘I know he misses everyone. I think it’d do him some good to be back here for a bit. Just an overnighter, if that’s alright with you’
‘He ca’n stay as long as he likes, boy’ George says, slapping his thighs. ‘Ain’t nothing t’me to have him here. We’s good mates, allus have been’
‘I know, that’s why I thought..’
‘Don’t you worry ‘bout another thing. I’ll sort the ole bugger out. Coupla pints down The Horse and he’ll be as right as ninepence!’
‘No doubt he will but you might have to carry him home again’
‘You needn’t be frettin ‘bout that none, either. I got me a new wheel on me barrer!’ George chuckles, the skin around his eyes creasing into well-worn laughter lines.
Anthony laughs.
‘I’ll be glad t’ave him back, I can tell yer’
‘Right…well…that’s that sorted’ Anthony says as he stands up. He spends a few moments fastening the two ends of the zip on his jacket together, looking up once he has succeeded. ‘Better do the duty visit and get back. Nice to see you again, George’ He claps him on the shoulder.
‘If you’s meaning yer off t’see yer mother, she ain’t there. Off on her hols, according to the ole gals’ jungle drums’ George responds, leading the way into the small hall.
‘On holiday?’
‘So’s said’
‘I don’t think so. Not that we’re exactly on speaking terms what with us having taken Dad’s side ‘against her’ but we generally get summoned and commanded take care of her plants’
‘They p’raps don’t need no caring, what with it being winter an’ all’ George opens the front door and stands to one side to let Anthony past.
‘Don’t you believe it. They might catch cold!’ Anthony grins wryly. ‘I’ll pop up there anyway. If she has gone away, I’d better give the place the once over. We’ve had some bloody awful winds lately, so to make sure the roof’s ok, stuff like that’ he says, walking backwards along the path.
‘Right you are, boy’ George lifts a hand in farewell. He points a finger. ‘You tell Ernie I’ll have a nice bit o’home made steak’n kiddely waiting fer him’
‘Thought you were the unwrap it, warm it up variety?’ Anthony calls back.
‘Jess’ll make us one’ George chortles, giving him a thumbs up sign.
Park Road, Milliwick
Kester curls his finger and thumb together, puts them to his mouth and whistles shrilly. He holds up his arm as ahead of him Nathan stops and turns. He catches up with him. ‘Glad I’ve seen you. Don’t you pick up your messages?’
‘What messages?’ Nathan asks.
‘Well, I’ve been leaving them on somebody’s phone’ Kester laughs. ‘Wondering if you fancy a few bevvies, my place on Saturday? We haven’t had a get together for a while. Andy’s up for it. What d’you say?’
‘I’d say thanks very much’ Nathan grins. ‘Any spare?’
‘Bring your own, lazy sod’
‘Lazy? When do I get time to get out there and do the bizz?’
‘Never seemed to have any trouble before. What happened to…whatshername?’
‘Inconvenienced by the fact I was laid up. Babe like that doesn’t hang about waiting’ Nathan shrugs indifferently.
Kester snorts his disbelief. ‘You’re pissing me, mate, I know you thought…’
‘Yeah…well…thought wrong, didn’t I?’ His head falls back and he puffs his cheeks. ‘Can’t be arsed with it all’ he says, looking back at him. ‘It’s ok for you, you’re well set’
Kester looks down at his feet, smiling. ‘I think so’ he grins.
‘Did I tell you she was right for you, or did I tell you?’ Nathan punches his arm.
‘You told me’ Kester concedes, still smiling.
‘Does she…you know…is she…hot?’
‘That…is MY business!’ Kester glowers, touching the side of his nose.
‘She is then’ Nathan hoots.
‘It's between me and her, ok?’ Kester’s finger drops to point a warning.
Nathan grimaces. ‘Different…when it’s not just some tart, isn’t it?’ he says with apologetic sincerity.
‘Yeah. Right…Saturday about eight, ok?’
‘I’ll be there’
Hawthorn House,
Upper Milliwick Road
‘Mother?’ Anthony calls as he pushes the front door open against the free newspapers and mail on the doormat inside the hall. He listens without expecting to hear reply, the house emanating the stillness peculiar to the unoccupied. The tick of the mantel clock in the sitting room audible from where he stands. He stoops to collect the mail and takes it with him as he walks into the kitchen, intending to make himself a drink before checking the plants in the conservatory.
The back door stands open. ‘Mother?’ he calls again and steps outside. ‘Mum, are you there?’ He takes a few steps across the patio to better see the greenhouse and the shed beyond its fringe of shrubs.
With a frown and a small shrug he turns back, sorting the mail in his hand as he walks into the kitchen again. He lays the envelopes next to the portable television on the breakfast bar just inside the door and puts out a hand to push the door to. He stops, his hand in mid-air, noticing for the first time that the small pane of glass at the bottom left of a group of six in the upper half of the door is missing.
‘Mother?’ He walks into the hall, opening the doors either side of him in turn. His heartbeat quickens, seeing the disarray inside and for a moment his unease slows his steps, the pain at his temples intense. He reaches the door to the sitting room, left ajar. With a sense of foreboding, he pushes it further open.
‘Sweet Jesus!’
