Living in the Shadows (24 page)

‘So you’re keeping secrets from him as well, then?’ he glowered at her.

‘With good reason. Your father’s not well.’ Mary pleated a circle of greaseproof paper over the top and around of the basin and tied it quickly with string. ‘Please try to understand, Richard. Like I said, I thought all that, everything that happened then, was behind us.’ She lowered the basin in water in a saucepan by the loop of string, switched the electric ring on and turned to face him. What she was going to say would make him uncomfortable but she couldn’t see a way around it. ‘At least, it was left behind as far as not having to talk about it.’ Her voice wobbled and she drew in air to calm herself. ‘But in my head it never goes away, it’s something I’ve lived with for years. You heard … saw what Linda said.’ He hadn’t mentioned Peter’s part on that day; how Frank Shuttleworth had died. But she knew it was inevitable she needed to explain – to make sure Peter kept Richard’s respect. She felt sick. ‘I need to talk to you about your dad. Why he had to do what—’

‘There’s one bit I don’t understand, the only part of the whole thing I missed.’ Richard interrupted, his face scarlet. He pushed himself away from the door-jamb and went to the window. ‘When the two of you were talking, Linda moved. I wasn’t able to make out what she was saying.’ He looked out at the garden. ‘When he spoke again his voice was gruff. ‘When you were being attacked … when you were … you know … the fight.’ He spun around to face her. ‘I don’t know who it was who killed Karen’s stepdad’s brother. So I don’t understand.’ He stretched out his hands, palms upwards. ‘I don’t understand.’

Mary’s knees gave way and she sat down at the table. ‘Look, love, sit down.’

‘No. Just tell me. Who pushed the man into the canal?’

‘He fell.’ The words were out before she could help it. ‘It was an accident. The Coroner ruled it as accidental death.’ That bit was true, anyway, she told herself.

‘But who was it? Who was the man? The man who saved you?’

‘A stranger. We never found out.’ May God forgive me, she thought. ‘There were a few people who heard my cries, who came. We didn’t find out who came to my rescue.’

‘So why did George Worth … Shuttleworth … run down your brother? Uncle Tom? And why did he wait until years after…’ His face reddened even more. ‘Years after what happened to you?’

Mary raised her shoulders, hiding her anxiety. ‘He was desperate, set against us because his brother died. He must have kept hold of that anger. We moved here to get away from everything. He found out where we were. That your father was with me. I don’t know, Richard – he was, is – a vindictive man. Perhaps because he lost someone he loved he thought we should as well, however many years went by.’

‘I don’t think he’s the kind of man to care about anyone else but himself.’

‘Revenge, then.’

‘And what he did to Linda? Why take her that time?’ He waited for her to speak.

The music from the radio outside stopped. Peter must be coming in. Mary quelled the panic. She hadn’t planned for everything to come out like this; she’d mapped out what she would say but his questions were throwing her. She battled with her feelings.

‘Okay.’ She had to speak coherently – sort out how, and, how much, to tell her son. But there wasn’t much time. She heard the crunch of Peter’s footsteps on the path. But then the high-pitched squeak of the side gate told her he was going around the front of the cottage.

The reprieve made her head spin. ‘Shuttleworth was angry about the Coroner’s decision. He thought he needed to get at us, one way or another. Poor Linda was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have been any of us he hurt. Especially me.’

‘But she was a child.’

‘Exactly. Which shows what kind of a man he is.’ Mary clenched her fingers together so tightly they throbbed. ‘I’ve always wished it could have been me instead of her, believe me.’

‘He was a sicko.’

‘Yes.’

‘And still is…’

‘Yes.’

Richard’s shoulders slumped.

The reprieve that surged through in Mary made her feel faint. She laid her head on the table.

‘You okay, Mum?

‘Yes.’ She spoke without moving, her voice muted. ‘And I am so sorry, Richard. So sorry.’ She sensed his movement. Then his hand was touching her arm.

Neither of them spoke. There was a flurry of wings outside; sparrows fighting over the breadcrumbs she’d put out earlier. They must have been hanging on for Peter to leave the garden, Mary supposed. She waited for the uneven beat of her heart and the sick feeling to settle.

When she lifted her head, Richard held out a sheet of paper. ‘This came in the post.’

Without taking it from him she quickly read it. ‘You got in. Oh, love, I’m so pleased.’ She half-stood to hug him but he stepped back and sat in the chair next to her.

‘There’s another problem, isn’t it, Mum. What are you going to do about Karen? Will you tell her? Tell her about all that stuff?’

‘What do you want me to do, Richard?’ This time he let her touch him. She turned his hand so his palm lay in hers.

‘Nothing.’ He looked at her, pleading. ‘I think it will finish us. I really like her and this will finish us.’

‘Not necessarily. You said she doesn’t like Shuttleworth.’

‘She hates him. But that’s not the point.’

‘We could tell her together if you like.’

‘No.’

‘All right. But perhaps you should tell her, Richard.’

‘But then what, Mum?’

Mary covered their clasped hands with her other one. ‘Then we hope she understands.’

‘I still don’t, you know. I don’t understand why he wasn’t arrested. Why the police didn’t do anything.’

‘Because there was no proof. I tried to tell them about what he did to Tom.’ The image was there immediately; it was always on the edge of her consciousness: the fading sounds of the van that had run her brother down, the dark spreading of his blood on the road in the fading light. ‘I tried to get justice for him.’

The water in the large saucepan began to boil and splutter. They both looked towards the cooker.

‘It’s your favourite,’ Mary said, standing to lower the heat of the ring. ‘Should be ready for six.’

‘Hope you’re not trying to get into my good books, by any chance, Mum?’

Was that a glimmer of a smile? Mary allowed herself to relax even though the guilt lingered. She wasn’t going to tell Richard the whole truth. She would protect Peter until the end of her days – even from his own son.

Chapter 48: Linda Booth & Mary Schormann

Pont-y-Haven, morning: Friday, October 3rd

The sales assistant licked her pencil before totting up the cost of their purchases on a pad. Linda gazed around the different counters in the small Woolworths. ‘Anything else we need from here?’

Mary scanned the list in her hand. ‘No, don’t think so.’ She looked towards the other end of the store where a group of youths were gathered around the record booths near the stairs. ‘Unless you want to have a look around at the clothes?’

‘No, but I think I’ll get a quarter of pic’n’mix on the way out.’

‘Make it half a pound and put some chocolate misshapes in, will you, love? They’re Peter’s favourites. I’ll pay you later.’

‘Don’t be daft, Auntie – my treat.’

Out on the High Street, Mary changed the heavy carrier-bag into her other hand. There were already white indentations on her palm where the string handle had dug in.

‘I always think Woolworths has a smell of its own, don’t you?’ Linda joined her at the double doors.

‘Think it’s as much the wooden floors as anything,’ Mary said. ‘That and so much all crammed together. Always good value, though.’

‘Yeah. Here, pass that to me, I’ll be balanced with one in each hand.’ Linda prised the shopping from Mary’s fingers.

‘It
is
heavy. Thanks, love. Fancy a drink?’ Mary pointed across the street to a café, its large window festooned with posters advertising local events. ‘Looks a bit grotty from the outside but they serve the best coffee in town, and I know what you’re like for your coffee. First place I went to with your uncle, just after he’d come back here.’ She stopped; she hated thinking about the way Peter was sometimes treated then. ‘Waitress was a right miserable biddy. He wouldn’t go in again but I used to make a point of going in just to annoy her.’

They exchanged grins.

‘I can just imagine you doing that.’ Linda glanced along the street before crossing. ‘Come on, then, I’m gasping for a drink.’

It was quiet for a Friday. Only two other women and a couple were sitting at the tables. In a corner behind the counter a tape-recorder played the theme from
A Summer Place.
Linda chose a table near the window and placed her bags under her chair. ‘I’ll get these, you rest your legs. We’ve been trailing about all morning.’

‘Okay.’

When Linda glanced back at her, Mary had unbuttoned her coat and closed her eyes. She wished there was more she could do to help her aunt with Richard but it was something they needed to sort out for themselves, especially as he would now be going to Manchester.

Nodding her thanks at the girl behind the counter she carried the tray to the table and placed it carefully on the cloth.

Startled, Mary opened her eyes. ‘Sorry.’

‘No, I’m sorry. You look worn out. We should have gone straight home.’

‘Not at all, I’m looking forward to this.’

‘It’s nice here.’ Linda looked around. ‘The outside does nothing for it, but it is lovely.’ The walls were painted white and covered in original seascapes. Linda peered at the label on the nearest painting. ‘Local artist,’ she said.

‘Yes, some of them are from Victoria’s college. She had one of hers in here last year. It sold too.’ Mary blinked hard.

Linda knew what she was thinking. She dropped seven pennies into her purse. ‘I’m getting weighed down with all this change,’ she said, ‘but it’s not bad that; thruppence for a coffee and tuppence for a tea.’ She leaned her elbows on the table holding her cup. ‘It’s all going to change though,’ she said ‘What do you think of this business of decimalisation? That chap, Robin Day, was talking about it in an interview on the news.’ She was aware she was chattering on to take Mary’s mind off all the worry about Richard and Vicky.

Mary dismissed Linda’s words. ‘It’s not happening until nineteen seventy-one. I can’t worry about something so far off.’

Linda gave up pretending. ‘You are pleased that Richard got into that university in Manchester, aren’t you? It’s what he wanted.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

‘When does his term start?’

‘In two weeks.’ Mary bit her lip. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased for him. But sometimes I wish…?’ She didn’t finish.

‘You wish he’d chosen to stay in Wales? Studied here and gone to Pont-y-Haven?’ Linda put her coffee down; suddenly she didn’t want it. The café was warm and the aroma of cakes together with her drink made her feel vaguely nauseous.

‘Yes. None of this would have happened.’

‘Have you talked to Uncle Peter about it?’

‘No, and he mustn’t know.’ Mary looked sharply at Linda. ‘Please. Not until he’s a lot stronger. I don’t want to worry him more than he is already. I caught him reading Victoria’s note again last night. All that claptrap about finding herself. I really am angry with her; she said she’d keep in touch and not a peep. She’s always been a Daddy’s girl so she must know how upset this makes him.’

And couldn’t care less, Linda thought. The irritation didn’t help the curdling in her stomach. ‘She’s probably having fun, wherever she is and not thinking about anything else.’

‘Not thinking is something our daughter does well.’

Linda slowly stirred the spoon around in the coffee. Mary gazed out of the window. The low bubbling of the tea-urn behind the counter and the murmur of conversation washed over Linda. She debated with herself whether to actually say what was on her mind. ‘I feel really bad that it was me that let the cat out of the bag.’

‘It wasn’t your fault, Linda. Richard’s caught us out hundreds of times since he learned to lip-read. Peter and I always had to be so careful when we had anything to discuss that we didn’t want the twins to know about.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Not a lot, really. I think he’s is still trying to come to terms with everything.’

‘He must know none of what’s happened is your fault?’

‘Hmm. He’s anxious now to get back to Ashford. He’s worried about the girl – Karen.’

Linda grimaced. ‘I’m not surprised … with George Shuttleworth for a stepfather. Especially now.’

She was shocked at Mary’s next words.

‘I’ve decided I’m going to see him. George Shuttleworth, I mean,’ Mary said. ‘When we take Richard back to Ashford, I’ll find out his address and go there.’

‘How will you find out where he lives?’

Mary pondered for a moment before her face cleared. ‘I could ask Jacqueline. Karen’s living with her for now, you said? Shouldn’t be difficult for Jacqueline to find out.’

‘And you don’t think she’ll ask why you want to know?’

‘I’ll think of something. I just want to make sure he knows to leave Richard alone, whether he’s going out with his stepdaughter or not.’

‘Look, do you think that’s wise, Auntie Mary? From what I’ve seen he’s still as nasty a piece as ever he was.’ The apprehension made Linda feel sick. She swallowed hard.

‘I think it’s the only way. Don’t forget, he’d have a lot to lose if he did anything that brought up the past. And,’ Mary gave a short laugh, ‘if a man’s brave enough to walk on the moon, I’m sure I can beard Shuttleworth in his own den.’

‘It’s no joke, Auntie.’

‘I know.’

‘I want you to promise you won’t go on your own.’

‘We’ll see.’ Mary drained her cup and put it back on the saucer. ‘You ready to go? Had enough of your coffee?’

‘Yes.’ There was no point on insisting; her aunt had always been a strong-willed woman.

And if Linda didn’t leave right now, she’d throw up all over the table. The anxiety was playing havoc with her digestion.

Chapter 49: Linda Booth & Mary Schormann