Inseparable Bond (65 page)

Jennifer
invited her in, as George came down the stairs for his
breakfast.

‘Hello,
Jennifer, sorry to bother you at such an unearthly hour,’ she
said.

‘That’s all
right, Joyce, come through to the kitchen, I’m just doing George
his breakfast,’ she said, as she opened the door to let her
through.

George sat
down at the table as Jennifer returned to check on the grilling
bacon.

‘I don’t want
to alarm you both and it’s probably nothing, but Graham looked out
of the bedroom widow last night and noticed a man loitering around
the front of your house. He called the police immediately but by
the time they eventually arrived, the man had fled,’ she said, her
eyes searching around the new appliances in the kitchen, taking
advantage of her first invitation into Jennifer’s kitchen.

‘Did you get a
description of this man?’ George asked her.

‘Well, it was
Graham who saw him. He said he was a short, fat-figured man with
one of those silly hats with flaps over the ears, he gave a
description to the policeman and we didn’t want to bother you as we
noticed your lights were out, so presumed you had retired for the
evening,’ she said, in her best English etiquette.

Jennifer
turned to Joyce, nervousness and fear showing in her eyes. ‘Was he
young, was he old?’ Jennifer quickly asked.

I don’t know,
like I said it was Graham who saw him, but we thought it was best
to let you know as we return to Barbados at the end of the week, so
may not have a further opportunity to mention it to you,’ she said,
looking over at the plated breakfast with an expression of distaste
and disgust.

‘Well, I don’t
think its anything to worry about, but we appreciate you informing
us,’ George replied.

‘Oh, that’s
all right, I won’t stay as you’re about to have your breakfast,’
Joyce said, walking towards the front door.

Jennifer
showed her out and returned to the kitchen. She felt her legs weak
and unstable, quickly sitting down at the kitchen table. Her hands
started to shake and a sense of fear gripped her at the thought of
the intruder being John Bell.

‘Did you hear
anything, dear?’ George asked her.

‘I didn’t hear
a thing, I was asleep before you came upstairs,’ she replied. She
racked her brain, trying to recall if a disturbance had woken her
in the early morning or was it the nightmare.

‘I don’t think
its anything to be concerned about, she probably used that as an
excuse so she could have a look around the house, you know what
she’s like,’ George said, looking at Jennifer’s shaking hands.

‘Just look
what she’s done to you, my darling, you’re shaking as though you
have seen a ghost,’ he said, looking anxiously at her shaking
hands.

Jennifer went
over to the sink, slowly wiping down the draining board as she
stared out of the window with mixed feelings of doubt, fear and
anger. She looked completely uneasy as she sipped her cup of tea,
looking over at the lock and security chain on the back kitchen
door.

She walked
briskly down the hill towards town after giving George the excuse
she needs to browse around the Christmas sales. She tried to rid
her mind of John being the intruder, convincing herself that the
description Joyce had given could be of anyone, but the detailed
description of the hat with the ear warmers appeared too much of a
coincidence.

She rang the
bell of his flat. He didn’t answer the door but she remained
persistent as loud music played from inside. He eventually came to
the door, his face ugly with venom.

‘Oh, hello,
you remembered where I lived then?’ he said, opening the door.

The smell of
body odour, cigarette smoke and stale food was overpowering as she
walked through to the kitchen. John Bell was dressed, but unwashed
and unshaven. Jennifer sat uneasily on a chair at the kitchen
table, pushing aside an open can of half eaten baked beans, making
space for her shopping bag.

John Bell
dragged his bare feet along the kitchen floor as he filled the
kettle with cold water.

She was about
to make comment of the condition of the kitchen, but thought better
of it.

‘How was your
Christmas, dear?’ Jennifer asked, nervously.

‘Good, real
good,’ he replied.

‘Did you do
anything exciting?’ she asked.

‘I went down
the pub and some mates came back here for a few cans,’ he
replied.

She reached
into her handbag and opened her small red leather purse, revealing
a small fold of bank notes, which she placed under the tin of
beans. ‘This should keep you going for a while,’ she said, her eyes
searching the sticky and heavily stained kitchen floor.

He didn’t make
any comment or showed any gratitude for her generosity as he
stirred powdered milk into the cheap instant coffee.

‘Did you by
any chance walk up to the south cliff last night, John?’ she
asked.

‘The south
cliff, I don’t know, why do you ask?’ he replied aggressively.

‘No reason, I
thought I recognised you or someone similar to you,’ she said.

‘I don’t even
know where the south cliff is,’ he said adamantly.

There was
silence for a few moments, John Bell sighed wearily, rubbing his
hands through his greasy hair. Jennifer’s gaze went around the
kitchen, resting for a while on the grease covered cooker.

It was
Saturday morning and she needed to go to the supermarket for food
and bin liners. To break the silence, she asked John if he would
like to go with her.

John grabbed
his dark anorak and his hat with the flaps which covered his
ears.

Jennifer felt
her tight body relax and her nervousness ease as she leisurely
strolled down the High Street, John walking two paces behind her,
wearing a bored expression.

They’d been
walking for about ten minutes when they came to a small café.

‘Did you have
breakfast, dear?’ Jennifer asked him, as he lingered with his hands
in his trouser pockets two paces behind her.

‘No, I didn’t
and I’m bloody starving,’ he replied.

The smell of
home-made scones pervaded in the air and Jennifer took a deep
breath. ‘It smells just the kitchen at home when we were children
and mother baked, do you remember that, John?’ she said, her eyes
searching for an available table.

‘No, I don’t
remember that, I didn’t spend much time at home, or have you
forgotten?’ he replied, with hostility in his voice.

Jennifer
ordered a ham sandwich and a pot of tea for two. John settled for
the scrambled eggs on toast.

They ate in
silence. She felt very uncomfortable in his company but safe in the
presence of other people. After the quick snack, they continued
down the High Street until they reached the harbour. Jennifer’s
eyes were wide as she watched the seagulls swooped around fishing
boats returning to the harbour, unlike John who stared down at the
pavement, looking bored and rejected, sniffing loudly in the
chilling wind.

John went over
to the public toilets and inside the Gent’s entrance, leaving
Jennifer to wait with growing impatience outside. Her attention was
drawn to a silver BMW, which slowed up beside her as she waited
outside the public toilets. The driver lowered the window, leaned
over the centre console and said,’ Excuse me, what’s a beautiful
woman like you doing down here?’ It was George.

Panic and
adrenalin raced through her body as she quickly looked around at
the entrance to the Gents, quickly getting into the passenger seat
alongside him. Her heart was racing rapidly in case John walked
outside and George noticed him, it seemed an age before he
eventually drove off towards the north shore. She sighed with sheer
relief, sitting back in the seat, her hands covering her face as
she swallowed the lump in her throat, breathing rapidly. Her face
lit up for a second before her eyes started to twitch nervously,
closing them tightly as a deep sigh left her lips.

The very
thought of a confrontation between George and John was simply
unimaginable, particularly as George was under the impression that
John was still safely behind the high walls of Armley prison.

‘Are you all
right, dear? Your hands are shaking,’ George asked, as he drove
slowly around the North Bay.

‘Oh, yes, I’m
fine, just a little cold, that’s all,’ she replied, trying
desperately to regain her breathing to its normal rhythm.

‘What were you
doing down by the harbour? I thought you were going shopping for
bin liners,’ he asked, reaching over to squeeze her shaking
hand.

‘The town was
so busy that I decided to take a stroll around the boats, you know
how I love it down there,’ she said, wiping the sweat from her
forehead with her handkerchief.

‘But I could
ask you the same question, you told me you try to avoid driving
down by the harbour,’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Yes, I do,
but like you say, the town was so busy and roads in town are very
congested, so I came this way to avoid the rush,’ he said
confidently.

Well, where
are you going? You didn’t say you were going out,’ she asked.

‘I didn’t know
I was going out either, but the garden centre in Bridlington just
phoned to say the lawnmower is ready and I’m on my way to collect
it, so you can come with me,’ he said, smiling over at her as she
regained her breath.

She nervously
chattered, her hands tightly gripping her shopping bag which rested
on her knees. George frowned as he noted the changing expressions
on her face.

Her mind was
on John, not on George’s possible intention to visit the public
toilets being interrupted by her presence.

As they left
the North Bay Road, John Bell stood outside the toilets looking up
and down the promenade, his eyes searching for Jennifer as she had
just disappeared out of sight. He walked around the toilet block,
shouting for her through the door of the Ladies toilet. He waited
for ten minutes and went across the road to the Black Bull pub,
sitting by the window looking over at the toilets in case she
reappeared.

George drove
swiftly along the coast road as Jennifer’s fingers nervously pecked
at her lips, still being flustered after the dangerously close
encounter.

The
Bridlington garden centre was expecting his arrival, assuring
Jennifer that his explanation had been genuine. The lawnmower was
placed in the back of the car while Jennifer went over to a local
shop to purchase the bin liners.

It was a clear
afternoon but bitterly cold as they drove back along the coast road
to Scarborough. There was an awkward silence in the car once George
had stopped complaining about the service cost of his
lawnmower.

Once they were
home, they sat quietly drinking tea in the lounge, each wrapped up
in their own thoughts and neither knowing what they were thinking
about. Jennifer was sitting quietly in her chair by the fire, a
romantic novel open on her knee as Walter sat beside her.

George was in
the hall straightening his jacket and correcting his tie, as he was
about to leave for the weekly Rotary meeting at the St Nicholas
Hotel.

Jennifer would
eat a plate of cheese and biscuits as George would have his supper
at the hotel with the other members, getting back home about eleven
rather worse for wear after a few too many whisky’s.

He left the
house at 7 o’clock exactly and walked the short distance to the
hotel as Jennifer made herself comfortable on the settee as Walter
lay on her tiny feet. Images of the incident outside the public
toilets earlier in the day flickered through her mind like a silent
movie.

She was
becoming desperate for the return of her happy and carefree life as
she remembered it. She had realised that the dishonesty, lies,
deceit and constant upset which had destroyed her perfect life, had
only occurred since John had been released from prison.

He had shown
himself to be a selfish, ungrateful and violent individual and
Jennifer had nothing but contempt for him. What she failed to
recognise was that the disruption and deceit which had entered her
life had been self-inflicted, but she admitted to herself that she
had been foolish in providing so generously for her wayward
brother.

Since he had
attacked her, there had been a distinct cooling between them and
she had come to fear him, a fear she was not prepared to endure for
very much longer. She was determined to rid herself of this
disruptive path of destruction before it was allowed to affect her
life any further.

She lay on the
settee in the darkness, the lounge lit only by the amber glow from
the outside street lamp. The house was deathly quiet. The only
sounds had been the steady ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece
and the occasional splutter from the coal fire. The wind had ceased
and the sea was still and silent.

She lay on the
settee, gazing into the fire, biting on her knuckles, fear and
anguish written all over her face. A battle had been raging in her
head over the past two months, denying her sleep, happiness and
contentment and her courage appeared to have deserted her.

It was just
after 11 o’clock when she heard George’s key in the lock. She
quickly raised her body from the settee, plumped the cushions and
returned back to her chair by the fire. A lone tear trickled down
her cheek and she could feel the warmth of it on her lips.

‘Why are you
sitting in the dark?’ George said, switching the light on as he
entered the lounge.

‘I must have
fallen asleep,’ she replied, wiping the tear from her eye with the
back of her hand. She looked around at him with admiration. He was
so efficient and full of confidence, unlike herself who seemed to
have lost the will to live.

George poured
himself a large malt whisky and sat down heavily in the armchair,
kicking his shoes off and resting his feet on the footstool.