The mouth-watering smell of freshly baked bread now drifting through the house had very little effect on Rayne’s black mood. Right at this moment he was dearly wishing it were the scent of tangy salt air wafting up his flaring nostrils. He was slouched in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed and one foot endlessly scuffing backwards and forwards, posture petulant. His over-active imagination had him likening his situation to that of a prisoner – with his mother acting as the jailer. Although that wasn’t far from the truth.
Only three weeks of the school holiday left. The first half had been completely ruined by events that were beyond him. Why should he have to pay for others’ misdoings? What a fine summer this was turning out to be! It wasn’t enough to be told by all that his mother’s over protectiveness was down to her determination not to lose another son. Not even the table filled with his favourite baked goodies could soften his sulky mood. He moved sluggishly across the floor, heading for the back door.
Feeling sorry for him but unrelenting, Lizzy cautioned, “Stay round the house, now,” and was satisfied with his glum nod as he dragged his feet out to the back garden. As Rayne went out Gabby lumbered in groaning with exertion.
Caught unawares, and with flour drifting off her upturned, waving hands, Lizzy gasped, “Has it started then?” George’s car would come in handy now if they needed to get her back home quickly.
“No,” Gabby said, heaving herself into the chair by the cooking range. The heat coming from the antiquated but immaculately kept black-leaded oven was somewhat overwhelming but she couldn’t be bothered to move again. “Roy wanted to see Dad, so I thought I’d come along for the walk. But … phew!”
“Goodness! For a minute there I thought you’d been taken short – I’m not set up for a delivery from the stork. Just give me a minute and I’ll get the kettle on. Where’s Alice?”
“She’s gone to find Rayne.” Patting her enormous mound, she groaned. “I’m not carrying like the last time, that’s for sure. This one’s got to be a boy. It feels as if he’s got a shovel in there, digging in me groin all the time. He’ll be a grand little footballer if I’m not mistaken.” Lizzy chuckled, not quite drying her hands on her apron as she moved towards the kettle.
“How’s Evie coming along?”
Lizzy’s smile dwindled rapidly. “She’s had three treatments. Barney says she’s quietened down a lot, and the doctor thinks two more should do it.”
Gabby ruminated on this and worried a lip as she watched Lizzy set about making the tea.
“Lizzy? Could what she’s got be inherited?”
Behind Gabby’s back, Lizzy rolled her eyes. Then she turned about to put Gabby straight with a few facts regarding mental illness in general.
*
Rayne had spotted Alice almost at once and shot off to hide around the side of the house. He was crouched by the corner of the front porch, behind the rhododendrons, pondering how long Uncle Roy and Aunt Gabby’s unexpected visit would likely last. He watched a stream of bubbles float across the branches and groaned inwardly as he glanced at the small wand in Alice’s equally small hand. Once the tub was empty, she would be after him to fill it with ordinary soap suds. How many times did he have to tell her that washing-up powder never worked the same? It was special stuff that made the rainbow bubbles.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Alice. But she was only six – and a girl! To make matters worse she seemed obsessed with the skipping rope and was always trying to get him to join in with her silly verses as she bounced up and down like an inflated balloon with frilly knickers. If he could just get her interested in a game of shotties it wouldn’t be too bad. But he had tried that. She had simply giggled and then had him tying one end of the skipping rope to the apple tree while he was forced to hold the other end and swing it around. And when Fred Bibby had come ambling along and caught him, and started laughing fit to burst his sides, well – the humiliation was almost unbearable. No, uncomfortable and scratchy as it was, he would stay put and hope to escape further embarrassment, thank you very much.
*
Roy guided Andrew to the end of the porch, well away from prying ears. Roy’s mood was sombre and Andrew had the sinking feeling that whatever he was about to impart would do nothing for his blood pressure.
Looking down at the weathered boards Roy leaned back on the window and balanced his scrawny buttocks on the ledge. Heaving a deep sigh, he faced Andrew and then exhaled loudly once more before launching into the bombshell he was about to drop. “George is in trouble, Dad.”
Andrew’s shoulders slumped slightly and he looked away, saying nothing for the moment. He could tell by Roy’s solemn tone that the trouble was serious. With his back to Roy he laid his hands on the porch rail. After deliberating a moment he looked over his shoulder at Roy and merely raised his eyebrows.
Roy cleared his throat. “Sunny Fields at Haymarket romped home at thirty-five to one yesterday afternoon. George stuck the bet.”
Stuck the bet. Andrew knew immediately what that meant and gripped the rail with controlled fury: George had collected all the money from his workmates to put on as one bet but had pocketed it instead. When it came to his three sons why was it George always in trouble? He had treated them all the same; instilled in them a good sense of right and wrong from an early age. Unlike Morris and Roy, George had had an easy ride through life. Even during the war George had been lucky in that he had escaped being sent oversees, given the job of protecting the home shores on anti-aircraft detail – which most thought a cushy number – while Morris and Roy were recruited into the 8th army to follow 9Monty across the scorched desert to victory at El Alamein and barely escaped with their lives. George had a good job, two fine boys – though Andrew couldn’t say the same for George’s bloody wife – good health and a decent house. So why, when it came to any bother, was it always George in the thick of it?
“No one expected Sunny Fields to come anywhere. I certainly didn’t. The horse was a rank outsider. But that was the horse that got drawn, so we let George run with it. If he doesn’t go in with the winnings on Monday morning, he’ll be rumbled. He only told me about it an hour ago. But I haven’t got a brass bean to spare.” Roy and George worked together at the fish cannery. Despite the difference in their ages Roy had always looked up to George, getting on with him a lot better than he did their elder brother Morris. Disappointment in his brother had coursed through Roy at first. But now, well he didn’t know what to think.
By now Andrew had a tick playing in his cheek. “How much?” he said grittily.
“Three-hundred and ninety quid.”
Andrew gasped and threw up his head. He was quiet for a while, thinking about it and the shame clearly swamping him. “Does anyone else know about this? Gabby? Anyone?”
“No one, Dad. Just you and me. Oh, and Mabel, of course.”
“Well, then. Needs must if the Devil drives.” And Andrew clomped back along the porch and went into the house to raid his tin box.
Blimey! Rayne emerged from the rhododendron bush, took a quick look about him to make certain Alice wasn’t about and then took off like a rocket.