Chapter 41: Ellen & Ted Booth

Ashford, evening: Sunday, September 28th

‘Our William’s moved out…’ Ted was hosing down the yard and sweeping the water out into the alleyway when Ellen arrived home.

‘What?’ She barely took in what he’d said. Calling on Nelly Shuttleworth was a big mistake; it was as if the woman had been judging her for some reason. And the old bat definitely knew more than she let on. Ellen bit the skin at the side of her thumbnail. She’d learned nothing and, from the look of things, Nelly Shuttleworth wouldn’t do anything either. Hell’s bells, George Shuttleworth – Worth, whatever he was calling himself these days – was her son, after all. It was up to her to tell him that it wasn’t their fault their nephew was seeing his stepdaughter. They hadn’t encouraged him.

If anything happened to Linda again she didn’t know what she would do. It didn’t matter what Ted said about Shuttleworth not wanting to raise his head above the parapet, not wanting to get noticed by the police, he was a nasty piece of work. If he intended to harm them in some way, he would. No police threat would put him off. She was scared.

Ted straightened up, leaned on the brush. He was staring at her, as though waiting for a response.

She noticed her husband fingering the faint scar on his cheek, the constant token of his time as a prisoner of war. And an uncomfortable reminder that she’d learned to love him once – was still quite fond of him sometimes, before too many memories crowded in. Her throat constricted with wretchedness, despising him for his weakness: despising herself because she knew she needed him, would never leave this bloody place.

She frowned, taking off her jacket and folding it over her arm. ‘What did you say?’

‘William’s moved out. He’s left home.’

‘What do you mean, he’s left home?’ Her voice shrilled. She knew she’d lost Linda years ago because of the drinking, but her son had never judged her. Now he had gone? ‘Why?’

Ted sighed. She had that hard look on her face, her mouth tight into a line, her eyebrows drawn together in a peevish frown. For the first time he saw how bitter she looked. ‘He’s gone to live with that girlfriend of his. The one he’s been seeing for the last year.’ And good luck to him, Ted thought, he’s better off out of here.

‘The one we’ve never seen, you mean.’ Ellen stood rigid in the doorway, poised to attack.

‘Aye, well, perhaps there’s a reason for that.’ Ted was weary. Too much was happening lately. On top of trying to keep Ellen off the booze all the time, this business with George Shuttleworth was tiring him out. The last thing he was wanting was a row.

‘Which is?’

‘She’s married.’

‘Oh, my God.’ She’d turned away to go into the kitchen but stopped when he spoke again. The tension in her chest only allowed short abrupt intakes of breath,

‘And with a kiddie.’ Ted watched her warily. ‘Separated, he says, though.’

She didn’t move. Still with her back to him she said in a taut voice ‘And has he told you where he’s gone? Like his address?’

‘No, I didn’t think to ask. He said he’d come round in a couple of days and have a chat with you.’

Air rushed into Ellen’s lungs with a huge inhalation. ‘So he could have gone to Timbuctoo for all you know. For God’s sake, Ted, you’re useless.’ She threw her hands into the air. ‘How much more can I take from this family?’

She crashed the door closed behind her.

Ted shut the yard gate and carried on sweeping what was left of the dirty water into the grid in the middle of the yard. She’d come round; she always did. But no doubt he’d be on the sharp end of her tongue for a few days. And no doubt she’d be down to the offy to get some booze and he’d be eating the corn beef and potato hash he’d gone to all that trouble to make, on his own. Ted folded his hands on the brush and rested his chin on top. Good job Linda’s away to Mary’s, he thought. He wondered if she and Richard had got to Llamroth yet. And how soon she’d tell Mary about George Shuttleworth.