Inseparable Bond (50 page)

She ran
downstairs like a young child dressing up in her mother’s clothes.
George looked up from the fence as she ran onto the patio. He
smiled at her most particularly.

She was so
grateful for that smile, which was directed right at her. It was as
if he understood exactly the turmoil she had been through over the
past two days.

She walked
around the garden, which looked beautiful and gracious as the
bright summer colours were rapidly changing to the golden browns of
autumn. It was a bright and sunny morning, but the sea was raging
and the strong winds whipping around the newly painted fence which
forced George to abandon his task and leave it for another day.

He puffed and
panted as he climbed the steps to the front patio, sweat covering
his brow as he sat on one of the pine garden chairs. The buttons on
his old cardigan looking fit to burst due to the dumplings in
Jennifer’s casseroles and the constant indulgence of his favourite
steamed puddings. He had always been fit and slim after his daily
workouts at the Imperial Gym in Blackpool, but hadn’t been near a
gym since they had moved to Scarborough.

George frowned
as Jennifer sat on the chair opposite.

‘What’s the
matter dear, are you unwell?’ she asked, with an anxious
expression.

‘No, I’m fine,
but now everything is out in the open, I would like to continue our
conversation about the Home Office proposals, it’s very important
to us and to our life, but we will only talk about it when you are
ready, my dear,’ he said, calmly but firmly.

George had
decided to discuss the situation away from the family home to avoid
a repeat occurrence of Jennifer storming out of the house.

After a late
breakfast, they drove towards Whitby and parked the car on the
Yorkshire Moors, overlooking the sea with the small village of
Robin Hoods Bay below.

‘We need to
discuss this as sensible adults, Jennifer, I know it’s difficult
but we have spent so many happy years together and we have many
more ahead of us. I now know the reasons you kept this from me and
I appreciate how you feel,’ George said, as he held her tiny hands
which were clasped together between her knees.

‘Thank you,
George, I should have told you earlier but you know the reasons why
and there is little need to go over old ground,’ she said, her eyes
gazing out to sea.

‘Should John
be released, which I feel he could stand a good chance of being so,
where will he go, what will he do and where will he live?’ George
asked firmly.

Jennifer
hesitated; a tear struggled to flow through her eye as she looked
down at their clasped hands. ‘Well, we have four bedrooms, there’s
plenty of room in the house and he’s no trouble, it was a delight
when he stayed with me in Fleetwood. You would find him a great
help in the garden and he spends so much time in his bedroom, we
would never know he was there,’ she said, rapidly and nervously,
wanting to avoid any further questions and interrogation.

‘I’m sorry, my
dear, I could never allow your brother to stay in our house, nor
could I ever allow him to enter the premises, even on the briefest
of visits. He could never be allowed to know the location of our
home due to our own security,’ he firmly replied.

The
uncomfortable silence brought out the tears of Jennifer’s eyes as
they rolled down her cheeks. George reached over and wiped the
tears away with his handkerchief.

‘I understand
what you say, dear,’ she replied, as she remained focused on the
sea.

On their way
home, they called in to the Ravens Hall Hotel in Ravenscar for a
traditional afternoon tea. They ate in silence, Jennifer being deep
in thought and obviously disappointed in George’s refusal to allow
her brother to enter the house.

George looked
over at her and frowned as her thoughts distracted her attempt to
butter a hot scone.

They drove
back to Scarborough in silence, which George had anticipated, but
he remained firmly adamant in his decision and would never
reconsider.

Once they
entered the house, George cleared out the garden shed while
Jennifer went up to the bedroom, desperate to keep herself busy in
an attempt to staunch the flow of tears. She flung open her
wardrobe doors, which were packed, with her good quality clothes.
Her cashmere suits were hanging on velvet covered hangers, her
Chinese silk shawls and the delicate underwear were piled high on
the shelf.

Shoes of every
description were neatly placed on the base of the wardrobe and a
wide variation of unused hats were piled high on the top shelf. She
started to remove some of the older garments and threw them on the
bed in preparation to take to the local charity shop.

Many of the
garments had been gifts from George. He loved presenting her with
long evening gowns and matching accessories.

Three bulging
bin liners were left in the hall, awaiting collection from the
charity shop later in the day. George realised she was upset,
annoyed and disappointed, so decided to keep out of her way to
avoid any further confrontation and a possible repeat performance
of two days earlier.

Liver and
onions gently cooked in the frying pan, the potatoes boiled and the
cauliflower steamed as Jennifer laid the dining room table for
supper.

George came
into the kitchen from the garden, sheepishly looking at Jennifer as
he removed his wellington boots. The silence of the kitchen was
broken only by the tapping of the pan lids and the hissing of the
steam as Jennifer stood by the cooker staring at the pans as if she
had been placed under hypnosis.

George sat at
the kitchen table, looking at her tiny frame as steam from the pans
circulated around her face. He realised that her silence was
punishment to him for his stern and defiant attitude, but he knew
to remain quiet and should he need to speak, he would speak softly
and quietly so as not to upset her again now that her eyes were dry
of tears.

Although their
relationship had changed so profoundly over the past few days, he
was no longer able to make her laugh as he had before where her
large brown eyes now seemed to look at George with compassion and
pity, where once they had sparkled with amusement and
excitement.

Jennifer
plated the meals and took them through to the dining room. George
followed her and took his seat at the end of the table. They ate in
silence as George listened to the evening news on the radio.

Jennifer
finished her meal and left the table to go upstairs to change.
Thursday evening was normally the Women’s Institute meeting at the
Esplanade Hotel and although Jennifer often telephoned to cancel
her appearance, this was one evening when she needed to get out of
the house to circulate amongst the other ladies.

George cleared
the table and commenced washing the dishes as Jennifer came
downstairs, reaching for her overcoat from the hook behind the
kitchen door.

George looked
around at her and smiled. She looked smart but severe in her dark
blue suit with a stiff white collar, which looked stylish and
impeccable. Her face was red and flushed, her eyes looked weary and
tired as she gave George a slight kiss on his cheek and seemed just
about to smile, but then she appeared to check herself and think
better of it. She grabbed her black handbag from the top of the
work unit and left the house through the front door.

George went to
the front bay window and watched her briskly walk down to the hotel
as he shook his head in dismay, holding back his anger at the
disruption her brother had unknowingly brought into their lives,
yet how volatile the situation could become unless he remained firm
and unrepentant in the eventuality of him being released.

In view of his
previous position in the legal field, he had considered writing to
the Home Office and the prison authorities in the hope of their
reconsideration into the release of the more violent offenders, but
had decided against this to spare Jennifer’s feelings.

John Bell sat
on the end of his low bunk, picking his teeth with a playing card,
twitching nervously as news of a possible early release of inmates
who had served half of their sentence soon reached the wing.

If it were to
be passed, it would happen instantaneously and such a release could
be imminent within twenty-four hours.

John Bell was
considered a model prisoner and had played by the prison rules for
the past eleven years, as he had throughout his first prison
term.

Not only were
the prisons overcrowded, the hostels and half-way houses were also
full to capacity, so an early release would be straight into the
main stream of the community without rehabilitation or assistance
from the Home Office.

The extra
workload would be heavily placed on social workers and probation
officers who would need to closely monitor the movements of the
criminal fraternity.

Newspapers
containing the proposals were being circulated around the prison
wings, causing mayhem, and at times a frenzy of excitement and
apprehension along with depression and disappointment from
others.

The prison
officers were nervous and edgy, desperately trying to contain the
volatile situation amongst the inmates.

Bell had good
reason to be apprehensive. An endless stream of doctors,
psychologists, education officers and social workers had recently
interviewed him. He recalled the similarity of these visits and
interviews shortly before his release from the hostel in Wakefield
fourteen years earlier.

They all were
also assessing many of the hardiest and most violent inmates and
they appeared to have accelerated their examinations by drafting in
more social workers from other parts of the country.

Many inmates
were known to Bell, most of them had come into prison sane and gone
out completely mad.

Bell was now
64. A third of his life had been spent in penal institutions around
the country. He had been treated no better or worse than anyone
else but had been careful not to step over the line. Bell even kept
his cell walls clear of photographs and posters of naked women and
young boys, unlike many of the other inmates who got their sexual
pleasure through covering every inch of their walls with any
pornographic illustrations they could get their hands on.

For the past
three years, he had been segregated from the others; the only time
he had contact with the others was at the occasional dance, gym or
brief exercise periods, but they were strictly supervised and there
is no sexual contact, but plenty of prison romances occurred and
was usually accepted and, at times, encouraged.

Bell was known
throughout the wing for helping other inmates, particularly to the
new intakes. He gained a good reputation from other inmates and
staff due to his caring and helpful attitude, an attitude that
could favour in his pending release.

George had
driven to the library to change their library books. It was
normally his first task on a Friday morning, leaving Jennifer to
strip the bed and spend the morning washing as Molly cleaned the
rest of the house.

It was just
after 10.30 when the telephone rang.

Jennifer ran
downstairs to answer it, as George had been strongly apposed to
having a telephone at the side of the bed, for reasons he had never
disclosed.

She lifted the
receiver in excitement knowing who the caller would be.

Jennifer had
arranged with John that he could call the house at set times of the
day when George was out of the house. That hadn’t been difficult as
George was a very punctual and disciplined person, leaving the
house at exactly the same time each week.

John was
virtually incoherent with the background sounds of chanting and
crashing from the wings activities, but she was used to this.

‘Hello, is
that you, John?’ she asked.

‘Hello,
Jennifer, can you hear me?’ John shouted back through the
receiver.

‘How are you,
are they looking after you?’ she enquired.

‘Yes, I’m
fine, I have some good news to tell you, I’m being released early,’
he said.

‘Oh that’s
wonderful news, have they told you when, dear?’ she anxiously
asked.

‘I think in
two days, but I’m not sure. If you phone me tomorrow at the usual
time, I’ll be able to tell you more,’ he replied.

‘All right
dear, I’ll do that, wait by the phone as normal,’ she replied.

‘I’d better go
now, they are queuing up for the phone here,’ he said as the line
went dead.

Jennifer
walked into the lounge and gazed at the sea out of the window. A
broad smile lit up her face, her eyes came alive and her tiny
stomach churned with excitement.

‘Good news,
Jennifer?’ Molly asked, as she frantically polished the brass
fender around the fire.

‘Oh, yes,
wonderful news,’ Jennifer replied, leaving the room and briskly
striding up the stairs. She sat on her bed, resting her head in the
palms of her hands, her mind awash with exciting plans and ideas in
preparation for his homecoming.

Her excitement
soon turned to apprehension and concern when she quickly realised
that John would not be allowed to enter the house on the
instructions of George. She had only three days of preparation to
accommodate John on his release and wanted to be as close to him as
possible.

Jennifer
looked out of the window to see George pulling up in the drive. He
walked into the house with a smart carrier bag, which said ‘House
of Fraser’ printed on one side in gold letters.

She ran
downstairs as George entered the front door, passing the carrier
bag to her. She reached into the bag and revealed a beautiful grey
cashmere shawl, which she immediately placed around her shoulders
as she walked over to the mirror over the fireplace. She sighed
with delighted appreciation. Molly looked up from the brass fender,
watching Jennifer as she stroked the fine smooth material with her
tiny hands.