‘Someone to see you, love.’ Mr Pearson came into the small kitchen where Edie was making tea for them both before they started work.
‘Is it Marge?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Is Phil all right?’ She knew Bert was doing well because she’d called the hospital first thing.
Mr Pearson shuffled his feet uncomfortably. ‘Uh, no. Nothing like that. It’s . . . it’s your mum.’
Edie narrowed her eyes. ‘I hope you’re joking.’
He shook his head.
‘Course he’s not joking.’ Her mother’s strident voice made Edie grit her teeth.
Nellie poked her head round Mr Pearson’s tall, skinny body. ‘I just wanted to check you were all right after everything that happened.’
Edie glared at her boss, refusing to even look at her mother. ‘As you can see, I’m fine,’ she said coldly, then she shoved past them both and ran upstairs.
Behind her she heard Mr Pearson mumble something, and then the sound she dreaded – her mother’s footsteps coming after her.
After slamming her bedroom door shut, she pulled the wooden chair in front of it and sat down.
‘Edie!’ her mother called, rattling the knob. ‘Open up.’
‘For God’s sake, just leave me alone!’ Edie cried.
‘Please, love! I could have lost you yesterday, and . . .’ Her mother’s voice trailed away.
‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Edie’s heartrate increased and she blinked back angry tears.
‘Please. I just want to talk. Won’t you let me explain? You’ll need me soon. What with the baby.’
Edie squeezed her eyes shut. If her mother thought that would make her soften, then she needed to think again.
‘I thought you might like to know they think Bert’s gonna be all right.’ There was a long pause. Then, ‘Do you have any idea how I felt yesterday?’ Her mother’s voice broke. ‘When I got the news . . . You and the boys could all have died! The thought near killed me on the spot, love. I know you don’t want to see me, but . . . I couldn’t bear it if something happened and we never had a chance to make it up.’
Suddenly it was too much for Edie, and she shot up from the chair and kicked it aside. Wrenching open the door, she glared at her mother. ‘I am never going to forgive you. Do you understand? Never. So just turn around and get back down the hill to the café because me and this baby want nothing to do with you.’
‘You don’t mean that, love. It’s been months now, surely you can—’
Edie leant down and hissed directly into her mother’s face. ‘You got me to feed poison to my father. I was a child! And he died because of me. And you—’ She clamped her lips together as her shoulders sagged. ‘Listen to me, Mum, because this is the very last time I will ever talk to you. I. Will. Never. Forgive. Do you understand? Never! And if you don’t leave me alone, I swear I’ll tell everyone what really happened to Dad! How would you like that? Do you think any of your kids’ll want to speak to you again? And Jasper?’ Edie could hear her voice becoming shrill and did her best to control it. ‘Given that he’s Lily’s dad, it’s started to make me wonder whether the two of you didn’t cook up that plot together! Maybe I should go and ask him if it was his idea to drug his best friend so he could have his end away with you!’
Nellie’s face was pale and her lips were trembling. ‘Y-y-you wouldn’t do that?’ she whispered. ‘You must know Jasper’s got nothing to do with any of this. How could you even think of hurting him like that? The man practically raised you!’
‘And why do you think he had to? Because my own dad was kept so drugged with opium that he wasn’t capable of it! If it weren’t for you, maybe the six of us would have had a proper dad. You say you loved him, but that don’t look much like love.’
Nellie took a step towards her daughter and shoved her hard in the chest. ‘That man was a monster! Oh, he might have been all nice to you, but have you asked Rodney what he was like? Have you? And why do you think I was with Jasper? Because your sainted father tried to strangle me!’
Edie let out a sardonic laugh. ‘So that’s how you’re going to play it, is it? You’re the poor victim and none of this is your fault. Well, guess what, Mum, I don’t believe a word you say! So you better stay away from me because I meant what I said: I’ll tell everyone!’
Nellie seemed to deflate before Edie’s eyes. ‘B-b-but what about the baby? My grandchild . . .’ She reached out to touch Edie’s stomach, but Edie slapped her hand away.
‘No. My child. Bill’s child. Nothing to do with you.’ Then she stepped back into her room and slammed the door in her mother’s face.
It felt to Edie that she stood for hours, tears pouring down her cheeks as she listened intently to the sounds from the other side of the door. Part of her longed to run into her mother’s arms and feel them close around her, to have her tell her everything would be all right. That she could be a mother to this little cuckoo lurking in her stomach.
But she hardened her heart against the impulse. Her mother deserved everything she got.
Nellie staggered along the corridor to the living room where she dropped onto the sofa, back straight, hands knitted, and stared stoically at the wall. She wouldn’t cry. She absolutely refused to cry. She wanted to believe that Edie didn’t mean what she’d just said. But she knew it was a futile hope. Her hand reached for the crucifix. ‘Oh, Glad, why did you have to leave me?’ she whispered. ‘We made a promise: no more secrets. And I would have told them if you’d been there. But without you, I just don’t have the strength… Is that why you won’t leave me alone? It won’t do no good, Glad. Cos if it comes to a choice between having you roaming around the café for the rest of my days or risk losing my kids and Jasper, you know there’s no choice to make. And what if . . . what if they think what you did all those years. That it were me what pulled that trigger!’ Her face crumpled. She’d managed to persuade Gladys that she hadn’t, but the others might not be so trusting . . .
Suddenly the tears broke free and she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, rocking back and forth.
After a while her sobs turned to hiccups and she sat up straight again, lips pursed, shoulders square as she tried to pull herself together. She had to believe that Edie would come round in time. The problem was, as Jasper had so often told her, patience was not one of her strengths. And Edie had always been the most wilful of her children. Just like she herself had been. Her mother had frequently told her that she was a stubborn little cow who’d get what was coming to her one day. And how right she’d been.
The thought of her mother sent a stab of despair through her. If Edie hated her half as much as she’d hated her own mother, then it’d be a cold day in hell before she spoke to her again.
She drew in a shuddering sigh. Enough feeling sorry for herself! She needed to make a plan. Edie might think she never wanted to see her again, but what girl doesn’t want their mother when they’re giving birth? Even she’d longed for her mum during the long, painful labour with Rodney. Feeling a little better at the thought, she went to wash her face, then taking her powder compact out of her bag she did her best to disguise the evidence of her weeping fit. After that she took out her lippy and carefully applied it. There, she’d do. Now time to lay the groundwork. First step: get Clive Pearson on side.
Downstairs, Mr Pearson lifted his head from where it was bent over a bonnet and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
Nellie shook her head.
He came over and patted her arm awkwardly. ‘Try not to worry, Nellie. Me and Bill’ll look after her and the little one.’
Nellie gave him a tight smile. But inside she wanted to scream, It’s my job to look after her.
‘I know you will, love. But at the first sign of that baby makin’ an appearance, you need to let me know.’
Mr Pearson frowned. ‘Only if she asks me to, Nellie. Otherwise it’d be breakin’ her trust. And as you know, once you lose her trust, it’s not easy to get it back.’
‘You fancy delivering that baby on your own, do you?’
Mr Pearson blanched. ‘I-I . . .There’s midwives, ain’t there, who’ll come help.’
Seeing a chink in his armour, Nellie took full advantage. ‘There are, but first labours can go on for hours. Days, even. Midwife ain’t gonna be available for all of that. She’ll need someone to sit with her. Unless you fancy it? Know much about birthin’ babies, do ya?’ She smiled slyly.
Mr Pearson shuffled his feet awkwardly. ‘No need to jump the gun, is there? It’s still a good few months away, an’ you two could have sorted your differences by then.’
She doubted it. And if the situations were reversed, she knew she would have reacted exactly like her daughter. No, Edie would probably never forgive her. Just as Nellie could never forgive herself. She’d lied to herself for years about her role in Donald’s death; unlike Gladys, who’d felt the weight of the guilt every day of her life. And now, that burden had been transferred to her.
‘Well, you do what you think’s best, love. And if you think you’re up for the job, then I’m sure Edie and the little one’ll be safe in your hands. Gotta say, though, you’re a braver man than most.’
At Mr Pearson’s panicked expression, Nellie smiled smugly and walked away, head high.
But once her back was turned to him, the smile left her and she stood for a long while on the road outside the garage, taking slow, deep breaths. She wanted nothing more than to shout and scream, weep and wail, but she couldn’t. She needed to hold it all together and keep going.
When she felt ready, she marched towards Constable’s Road. Edie wasn’t the only reason she’d come up here today. She fingered the envelope in her pocket and gazed up towards Constable’s Gate with its crenellated tower and arched entrance – guarded, of course – no one could get close to the castle these days.
No point putting it off, Nellie. If you don’t ask you don’t get.
But the thought of asking . . . the shame of it. She took a tentative step, then stopped. Go on, girl, just a few more. Straightening her shoulders, she walked up to the sentry gate.
‘If I hadn’t recognised yer purple coat and yer pink hat, I’d have arrested you for loiterin’ outside a protected area, Mrs C.’
‘Morning to you too, Corporal Digby,’ she said brightly. ‘Ain’t seen you down the café for a while.’ She raised her eyebrows at him, but the soldier didn’t back down.
‘Nor will you again. I got perfectly good food at the NAAFI, and I go down the Pot and Kettle when I fancy a change. Least they haven’t been harbouring traitors.’
‘Hmm, that must be why you’re lookin’ so scrawny. Grub in that place is terrible. Still, you go where you want, Corporal. Give me regards to old Clarence. Terrible shame about his skin condition, though.’
‘What skin condition?’
‘You mean you ain’t noticed the scales on his hands? He can’t wash ’em, you know. Soap and water make it worse. Still, I’m sure only a few flakes of skin make it into the food.’
The soldier blanched and Nellie grinned. ‘Anyway, lovely to see you again. Maybe see you at Castle’s soon.’
Then she turned and walked away with a renewed sense of purpose and the letter to Rodney burning a hole her pocket. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t expect her children to bail her out. She’d got herself into this mess and she’d get herself out. It was just a question of how.
Mentally, she flicked through her jewellery box. There wasn’t a lot. Her engagement ring – which she’d been saving for the first of her boys to get engaged, but they’d just have to buy their own damn rings. The wedding ring wouldn’t be worth much . . . And there was the ring Donald had given her the night before he went to war. Gold with tiny blue sapphires and diamonds set all around. He’d called it an eternity ring to symbolise the fact that he’d love her for all eternity. She hated the thought of parting with it. Through the long years of his illness, and even more so since his illegitimate son had turned up last year, her memories of Donald had been tarnished, and her guilt over his death meant it was hard to view her marriage as anything but a disaster. But that ring, just like her wedding and engagement rings, held memories of the love she knew they’d once shared. She’d allowed herself to forget it. Guilt, sadness and despair had overshadowed the good times until she sometimes wondered if she’d imagined them. Those rings were the proof that she hadn’t.
But what use were they to her now?