Inseparable Bond (44 page)

The house was
bleak and cold when she walked in. She made a pot of tea and sat in
the window looking at the telephone, hoping George would phone
her.

Her heart
jumped a beat at the sight of a Blue BMW pulling-up outside the
house. She raced to the font door as he climbed out of his car,
bearing a large bunch of flowers.

She quickly
put the flowers in a vase and put them on the small windowsill in
the front lounge. They immediately brought an atmosphere to the
room, which had looked so dark and bleak, only illuminated by the
dismal light of the rain-darkened day that barely penetrated the
window.

They chatted
for a couple of hours drinking endless cups of tea and eating
Victoria sponge cake.

‘One day next
week we can have a drive over to Leeds to visit your brother if you
want?’ George asked.

Jennifer
hesitated, as she quickly thought how to respond to the offer.

‘That would be
nice, but I must telephone him to see if he’s available,’ she
replied.

Gladys was now
fit enough to walk around and had returned to her job in the
charity shop doing the shift which Jennifer had covered for
her.

Apart from the
flower arranging at the church and her one night a week at the
church youth centre, she had little to do.

She gazed out
of her large bedroom window at the narrow bank of beach below where
it met the churning surf. The sand was dimly lit in the wintry
light of a full moon. Jennifer waited for the arrival of George who
had booked a table for dinner at the Imperial Hotel near to his
home.

She knew she
would have to explain the situation about John, but was afraid he
would be repulsed at his crimes and it could damage the good
relationship between them.

She could not
lie for very much longer and she was getting concerned at the
curiosity which George was beginning to show.

She looked out
to the dark grey sea, frantically searching her mind for the right
words to say to him. She became chilled, breathless, scared and
unsure of how he could react to the crimes her brother had
committed and the sentence imposed on him for a second time.

George would
not arrive for another hour, so she grabbed her large overcoat and
walked over the esplanade and onto the empty beach. She walked down
to the waters edge. The full moon was sufficient to light the vast
beach and the shelters along the sea wall. The foam-crested
breakers pounded on the shore and surged towards her out of the
gloom as she stepped back from the water before it washed over her
shoes.

She thought of
so many ways how she would explain to George, but nothing could
explain the reasons why he committed such crimes. Her only hope she
had was that he could understand through his dealings with
criminals in his past work as a solicitor, being in close contact
with many criminals.

She walked
past the shelters on the way back, oblivious to the guys engaging
in sexual activity in the sex shelter as she kept her head low
against the wind.

George pulled
up as she entered the house.

‘Just been for
a quiet evening walk,’ she said, as George stepped from his car.
‘I’ll just go in and change my coat, I won’t be long,’ she said, as
she ran up the front steps.

The restaurant
was unusually quiet, considering that it was nearly full of
mid-week businessmen. Jennifer sat looking down at her meal,
concentrating on how she could tell George. Throughout the room,
diners were fixated on their food, heartily eating everything that
was put in front of them, swilling it down with good quality
wine.

‘You’re very
quiet Jennifer, is there anything wrong?’ George asked, with an
inquisitive expression on his face.

‘No, nothing,
I’m fine,’ she said, looking up at him as he sliced through his
steak.

She looked
around at the gluttony of the customers, jabbering away at each
other with their mouths full as if it had been their first meal for
weeks.

‘Your not
eating, Jennifer, is the meal all right?’ George asked.

‘Yes, its
fine, I’m just looking around at the others, they are eating like a
pack of animals,’ she said.

‘Well, it’s
probably the sea air which is enhancing their appetite,’ he
replied.

They finished
their meal and went through to the lounge for coffee. Jennifer had
suggested this due to the close proximity of the next table.

She sat close
to George on a velvet couch as the waiter poured the coffee. She
spoke to him in a whispered voice; her stomach was cramped with
fear as she reached to hold his hand. ‘I have something very
important to tell you, George.’ She said, her head low.

‘Well, I know
there is something wrong, you’ve been quiet all through dinner,’ he
replied, as he stroked the back of her small hand.

‘I cannot keep
this away from you any longer and I don’t want you to over-react,
but it’s about my brother John. He is living in Leeds, but he is
living in prison and will be there for a number of years. He
committed a dreadful crime and I cannot keep this from you any
longer,’ she said. Her hands were shaking, with tears in her
eyes.

She explained
the killing of the vicar but did not mention his previous crimes,
as they did not seem important after so many years had passed, and
he had served his sentence for those.

‘Why didn’t
you tell me this before, Jennifer?’ he asked, leaning over the low
coffee table and staring into his cup.

‘Because I was
afraid it would end our friendship,’ she said as she removed her
hand away from his.

He placed his
arm around her shoulder. ‘Whatever your brother did, it was not
your fault; you cannot be responsible for someone else’s actions.
He must pay for what he did and he is doing that. Many family
members are unjustly punished also,’ he said, reassuringly. ‘I did
hear about the murder from my neighbour, but thought no more about
it, as I will not do now. You cannot share his sentence, Jennifer,
you must get on with your life and he must get on with his.
Whatever happened will not affect our friendship,’ he said,
squeezing her tightly against his body.

Jennifer tried
to hide the tears as the other diners came through from the dining
room, laughing and joking.

George asked
for the bill and they drove back to his house where he consoled her
by a warm fire as she slowly sipped a glass of brandy.

George had
been more understanding than what she had expected. He had been the
first and only person she had confided in since John had been
arrested three years earlier. Talking about it re-opened the wounds
that had lay dormant for so many years and she felt a relief after
emptying her heart out to George.

‘This is why
we cannot go to Leeds to see him,’ she said.

‘Why not, if
you want to see him, we will and the sooner the better, I can
always wait in the car if you prefer, I don’t have to go inside
with you,’ he replied, kissing her forehead.

‘Give me time
to think about it, dear. It’s been a difficult night and I cannot
think straight at the moment,’ she replied, wiping her eyes with
the back of her small hand.

George poured
her another glass of brandy and sat in the opposite chair looking
at her red face and swollen eyes.

A flash of
lightening blazed briefly on the bedroom window, followed by a
crash of thunder that seemed to shake the house and rain suddenly
came down in torrents, beating on the windows and the roof.
Jennifer sat straight upright in bed, unable to breath for a
moment. She switched on the bedside lamp, looking through the
darkness of the early morning.

It was 4.30,
four hours before daybreak. She couldn’t get back to sleep so went
downstairs to make a cup of tea.

The heavy rain
lashed against the kitchen window and the strong wind was slashing
through the trees in the back garden. She took her cup of tea back
to her bedroom. She climbed back into bed but she knew she wouldn’t
go back to sleep straight away.

She laid
thinking of the conversation with George in the restaurant last
night. Although he appeared understanding and sympathetic, she
thought that when realisation set in, he would decide to end their
friendship, but she had been truthful and could do no more. She now
could at least escape from hiding the truth from George.

She
desperately wanted to continue the friendship, as George gave her a
sense of belonging, which she had desperately searched for since
her brother had been convicted.

She had
enjoyed a happy life. In her childhood and adolescence, she was
adored by her father, did well at the local Fleetwood Grammar
School, awarding her a good job in Northwest Water until she got
married. She was tremendously happy and secure with her husband and
missed him deeply since his death.

Everybody in
the family had turned their backs on her brother, yet she secretly
remained in contact with him against her parents and husband’s
wishes.

Lying awake,
she knew she was never going to be fully satisfied if she didn’t
radically shake up her life and more directly seek the things she
most wanted.

It was
impossible to be a person of depth if you lacked a love for
humankind, but that generalised love could soon become meaningless
if you didn’t have a family close to you, and she didn’t, apart
from John.

She realised
that she couldn’t put her life on temporary hold for his release
and didn’t want to spend the last few years of her life without a
more meaningful commitment.

She had
purposefully sealed off the thought of re-marrying, although she
had been given the opportunity on two occasions since her husband
had died.

After a while,
her weariness overcame her inner turmoil and she drifted into sleep
again.

The rain-swept
esplanade was deserted except for a few cars that splashed by. It
was a truly miserable day and looked as though it was going to be
persistent.

It was Sunday.
Jennifer was due at church at eleven and Sylvia would collect her
if the weather wasn’t good enough for her to walk.

It was a
special pre-Christmas service and she was to sing in the church
choir along with a group from the bible class.

George was not
a churchgoer, but had promised to be in the congregation to give
Jennifer some moral support.

The church was
dressed in an abundance of flowers, but it was a scandalously poor
turnout, which the vicar blamed on the appalling weather
conditions.

Jennifer
didn’t mind singing to half empty pews as George had turned up and
sat at the last row next to Beryl Parker and Monica Batty who
scrutinised him through the corner of their eyes as they hid their
faces behind hymn books.

George sat in
the pew like an ordinary worshipper. He was not a religious person
and restricted his church attendance to weddings and funerals.

The rain still
pounded as they ran to the car to drive home, dropping Beryl at her
home in Clevelys on the way.

George had
prepared lunch at his house to save Jennifer cooking.

‘Come through
to the kitchen, it’s the warmest place in the house,’ he said.

‘I’ll ruin the
carpet, I’m soaking wet,’ she said, as she entered the front door
and indicating the oriental runner that lay the length of the
hallway, with oak flooring on both sides.

‘Oh, don’t
worry about that, it’s an old thing anyway, but it stands up to
most things, like me,’ he said as he walked through to the
kitchen.

The house
smelt of polish and disinfectant. The large kitchen was homely with
a well-worn yellow linoleum floor, pale yellow walls, dark wood
cabinets with white porcelain handles.

The kitchen
was well-fitted with modern appliances and a good smell of roast
beef was seeping out of the double oven, which had been built into
a disused chimneybreast.

The house
smelled wonderful. Coffee started to brew at a touch of a button as
George turned the knobs on the gas cooker to heat the already
prepared vegetables.

George had
noticed how distraught and nervous she was after the explanation of
her brother. He wanted to settle her down so they could discuss it
in a calm, reasonable manner. She didn’t mind, she needed to be
soothed and George was the only person capable of doing this.

The dining
room table was already set and the wine chilled in the
refrigerator. All Jennifer could do was to sit in the lounge with
her glass of sherry and gaze at the busy promenade. She was
surprised at how domesticated and organised he was.

He husband had
been useless in the kitchen and was waited on hand and foot by
Jennifer, but she had been brought up in the way her mother had
been of constant service to her father.

George called
her through to the dining room where lunch had been beautifully
displayed on the table.

‘You look
tired, Jennifer, did the church wear you out?’ he asked her.

‘No, I didn’t
sleep well, the thunder woke me and I lay in bed thinking about
what I had told you last night and if you would have been in the
congregation today.’

‘Why should I
not be? You explained the situation to me and I appreciated it. You
must not carry your brother’s ill doings through your life. I
admire you standing by him for all these years, I’m proud of you,
Jennifer,’ he said, smiling at her over the large table.

‘Thank you,
George, that means a lot to me,’ she replied.

As they ate,
they talked about John; his crimes, the prison, his long sentence
and his future when he is discharged.

He did show
astonishment at the crime and concern into Jennifer’s plans on his
release. He listened attentively with interest and utmost
seriousness, and seemed genuinely concerned, even frightened at
what she told him.