Inseparable Bond (55 page)

George had
turned down a corner of the bed for when Jennifer had finished in
the bathroom, as he lay reading his library book under the Chinese
bedside lamp, throwing a seductive orange glow across the room.

She climbed
into bed, cuddling up to him as he finished his chapter and turned
out the light. He kissed her gently on the forehead as they
snuggled up to each other as George quickly fell asleep after his
tiring day.

Jennifer
looked up to the ceiling at the reflection of the lighthouse beam
which shone through the window at regular intervals as she searched
her mind in excitement of what she must acquire to fully complete
the furnishings of the flat.

She had been
told of an auction which was held in the Palm Court Hotel on the
first Tuesday of each month, tomorrow being the 4th of December and
John could accompany her if she could manage to make a further
excuse to leave the house.

John Bell lay
on his bed in a comatose state. The duvet cover heavily stained
from his muddy boots and the bed covers in disarray as he snored
loudly, his arm and leg hanging precariously off the side of the
small double bed.

Gale force
winds whipped up the sea as Jennifer walked into town, holding
fiercely onto her hat with both hands. She had managed to convince
George that she needed to go to the hospital to visit Gladys but
had insisted on walking, refusing his offer to drive her.

She excitedly
trotted down the slope, turning her head, looking slyly back at the
house, increasing her speed as it went out of view.

John Bell had
woken in a daze with a thumping headache, as he opened the door to
his sister, smiling at her through the smoke of his freshly lit
cigarette. He looked pale and dishevelled in the unheated flat.
Jennifer took off her raincoat and draped it over the arm of the
new settee.

‘Did you sleep
well?’ she asked, looking anxiously at his appearance.

‘Yes, I did,
but it’s going to take time to get used to such a comfortable bed,’
he replied, lighting up another cigarette.

‘If you get
dressed quickly, we can go to the auction and see what you might
need for the flat,’ she said enthusiastically.

He went
through to his bedroom as she looked around the lounge with a
questioning look, impatiently tapping her hands on the arms of the
chair.

He walked into
the lounge wearing the previous night’s clothes. He had not
bothered to shave or clean his teeth, looking scruffy and
impoverished.

They walked
into town and through the large glass doors of the Palm Court
Hotel, collecting a catalogue from a table by the door.

The auction
had already started as they sat on two seats at the back of the
room. Jennifer became quite tense with the excitement of waving her
catalogue for a nest of tables, which were being placed on the
stand.

Because the
weather was so appalling, there were not as many people as
anticipated and items were being snapped up at alarming speed.

She had only
taken £200 out of the cash machine on her way to the flat and some
of the items which would fit beautifully in the flat, were being
out priced by a second-hand furniture dealer from Whitby.

She managed to
acquire an old cake stand, some fish knives and forks, table linen,
a small Chinese rug, a set of cooking pans and a bathroom mirror,
keeping her eye on her limited budget.

The assistants
placed her items haphazardly by the entrance door as she
concentrated on other items being held up to the auctioneer.

The more the
auction progressed, the more confidence she showed, frantically
waving her catalogue at items which would have been little use in
such a limited area of the flat.

The larger
items of furnishings were from relatives of someone who had died
and they wanted to dispose of their valued possessions as quickly
and painlessly as possible with little or no sympathy to any
sentimentality.

John made no
effort to assist his sister, making no comment and looking totally
disinterested throughout the auction, showing no appreciation or
encouragement as Jennifer enthusiastically continued to frantically
search through items, flushed with excitement.

They walked
back, laden down with their purchases. John had hardly spoken a
word all morning, displeasure showing on his face and showing no
gratitude for the items she had kindly, and possibly foolishly,
purchased.

Jennifer was
determined to make the flat comfortable, despite his unconcerned
attitude and disinterest, which she hadn’t noticed due to her
excitement.

They arrived
at the flat, quickly placing the items around the lounge and
kitchen. Jennifer put the kettle on and made two cups of coffee
after opening a packet of biscuits and taking it through to the
lounge as John watched television, flicking cigarette ash on the
carpet which she had painstakingly cleaned. She passed him an
ashtray, smiling over at him with her sparking large brown
eyes.

The blue and
white suit she wore had been extremely expensive from the top
fashion shop in town, but she felt that no less had been required
for the return of her prodigal brother, as he sat with his dirty
shoes resting on the polished coffee table, dipping his biscuit in
his mug of coffee.

Jennifer
smiled over to him as he continued to watch the television, full of
indignation and bitterness, but she ignored his attitude and
continued to look rather pleased. She took the empty cups back to
the kitchen and washed up the previous day’s casserole dish, plates
and the two coffee cups, before collecting her coat from the arm of
the settee, which John had now decided to stretch out on.

‘You look
tired, dear, so I’ll go back home and let you rest for the
afternoon,’ she said, rubbing her tiny hand through his dark,
greasy hair. She opened the door and let herself out of the flat as
John curled up on the sofa watching television.

Jennifer
paused and looked up at the house as she left the building,
thinking to herself how John had become so involved within himself,
but she had convinced herself that for someone to change their
entire lives after a lengthy prison sentence, would be very
difficult and it would take time for him to readjust.

She failed to
realise that some people, particularly ex-prisoners who have lived
their lives in such a fixed and regimental fashion, that to change
at such a late stage is quite impossible.

John Bell was
acting rebelliously, and appeared unwilling to change his life in
any degree at all. He continued to remain subdued, unhappy and
disturbed, determined to leave everything to Jennifer as if she had
been responsible for his past ten years of confinement.

Jennifer
cleared her throat as she walked to the front door of the house,
anticipating an inquisition from George after being away so long.
He sat at his desk in the study, looking through financial
statements as Jennifer sat in the large chair, resting her head
against the cushioned headrest.

Back at the
flat, John Bell lay on his settee, holding his thumping head with
both hands as he slowly recovered from the previous nights drinking
spree. His cigarette slipped from the ashtray leaving a slight burn
in newly cleaned carpet.

George left
his desk and sat opposite her in his large chair, looking over at
her as if trying to read her thoughts. It was so quiet in the room;
the night around them was an ocean of darkness. George turned his
head towards the large bay window and stared out at the black of
the early evening.

A cold and
chilling mist was rolling in from the peaceful sea as the
lighthouse foghorn in the distance broke the silence.

Jennifer was
wondering to herself why her brother was acting in such a strange
way, showing little appreciation for all her hard work. Her sadness
and rejection showed on her face as she stared into the burning
fire. George looked over at her, thinking that her visit to the
hospital had depressed her.

She raised
herself out of the chair and looked at her reflection in the mirror
over the fireplace. She looked tired and pale as she slowly walked
over to the drinks cabinet and poured two glasses of whisky from
the glass decanter, passing one over to George as his eyes followed
her around the room.

‘How was your
friend?’ he asked, quietly.

‘What friend?’
she replied, gazing out of the window at the rolling mist.

‘Your friend
in hospital,’ he said.

‘Oh, yes,
she’s fine,’ Jennifer replied, hesitating as she collected her
thoughts, deliberately avoiding having to look him in the eyes.

‘I know you’ve
had a horrid time, dear, hospitals can be the most depressing of
places,’ he said sympathetically.

Jennifer
didn’t answer him, wanting to get away from the subject of the
hospital visit in case he began to suspect her lies and deceit. She
reached down and picked up her handbag and went through to the
kitchen to prepare supper, a cold ham salad with fresh boiled new
potatoes. In her heart of hearts she knew that John would return to
his normal self in time. The sudden transformation of freedom
oppose to confinement must have been a shock to his system and he
would settle down to life on the outside after a few days, she
thought.

They ate in
silence on trays in the lounge. George read his newspaper while
Jennifer watched the local news and weather forecast.

John Bell had
opened a can of mushroom soup, eating it cold from the open tin. He
sipped his can of beer at the same time, a cigarette burned slowly
in the full ashtray. Leaving the lights on, he walked out of the
flat and across to the harbour bar, which was getting organised for
the live band which had just arrived with their equipment.

He sat at the
bar and ordered a pint of beer, alongside a couple of young lads
who were playing a card game on the bar top. He looked around at
the gaiety and laughter of a group of fishermen who had been out to
sea for most of the day, returning only due to the low mist that
had now covered the small harbour and the small houses, which
raised up the steep hill to the town centre.

He took his
drink to the window and watched a large trawler unloading its
mountainous daily catch as seagulls hovered around in anticipation
of a quick meal.

John sat
looking around the dismal and scruffy pub as the busty barmaid
chatted seductively to a group of businessmen who stood in a group
at the end of the bar. He lifted his glass as the young barman ran
a wet cloth over his table, emptying his ashtray into a small metal
bin, watching his tight buttocks as he retreated behind a door
marked ‘private’. The boy glanced over his shoulder at John as he
disappeared.

The band
started to tune up their instruments as John left the remainder of
his beer and walked over to the harbour, lighting up a cigarette as
he walked.

The wailing
cries of the seagulls broke the silence of the cold and chilly
night as the mist chilled his unshaven face as he strolled slowly
past the small fleet of boats.

Jennifer
looked over at George as he read the newspaper, constantly pushing
his gold-rimmed spectacles over his nose, puffing his small cigar.
He looked over at her, giving her a loving and affectionate smile.
He folded his newspaper and reached over to stroke the back of her
tiny hand.

‘Are you
feeling better now, dear?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I’m
fine, I just needed the rest, it’s been a busy week,’ she
replied.

‘Well, you’ve
been in and out of town all week, goodness knows what you find to
do in such a small shopping centre,’ he asked, standing up and
stretching his arms in the air after sitting for two hours. ‘I’m
off to bed dear, are you coming?’ he asked.

‘I’ll just sit
here a little longer and I’ll be up soon,’ she replied.

He kissed her
on the forehead and closed the lounge door as he left.

Jennifer sat
in the dimly lit lounge, looking around as though she needed
someone to talk to who could assist with her concerning thoughts
over her brother. Maybe it would have been better if she had
explained her intentions to George, avoiding the lies and deceit
and being honest and truthful, but she quickly dismissed this from
her mind as he would never have agreed to her assisting her
brother.

She suddenly
stood up, infuriated with herself but didn’t know exactly why,
turning out the small side lamp and dragging her weary body up the
stairs.

John Bell had
found a new oasis. The Black Bull at the far end of the High
Street. It was a vibrant old-fashioned pub, dark and dingy
frequented by the least salubrious of the towns community. It had
been notorious for heavy drinking, drugs and violence for many
years, but John felt more comfortable here than at the respectable
harbour bar with its impeccably uniformed staff and high quality of
furnishings.

The noise was
deafening as a large group of teenagers lingered over their drinks,
not having enough money to purchase a second round.

He drank large
gulps of beer from his pint glass, looking around at the couples
and groups. The atmosphere was tense and threatening with the
raised voices and appallingly bad language being bandied about the
bar. He was the only unaccompanied customer, sitting quietly in the
corner next to a group of four scantily dressed girls looking
around at the groups of men. He finished his beer and walked out of
the pub by the side door.

The back alley
was pitch black, no comforting streetlights and no people, only the
seagulls crying overhead, obstructed from view by the cold grey
mist.

Jennifer woke
early the next morning. She had slept well, but woken with a slight
headache. She drew back the heavy bedroom curtains and looked out
onto the running sea, their white tops seeming to chase each other
endlessly backwards and forwards, but the sound of the wind seemed
to moan as it swept inland across the garden, giving her the
immense desire to walk freely in the cool December weather.