That'll Be the Day (2007) (23 page)

‘Bloody woman, why can’t you learn to keep your nose out of men’s business? He’s
my
son and I’ll deal with him as I choose.’

‘No, you flaming won’t! Nor will you tell our Lynda what to do neither. She’s a grown woman, free to live her own life. If she wants to go out with young Terry, it’s none of your flaming business.’

The rage in his eyes was terrible to see. Lynda watched what happened next as if a black and white movie was operating in slow motion right before her eyes, the horror unfolding within as she was helpless to prevent it.

Reaching behind him Ewan snatched up the poker and swung it hard right across Betty’s knees. She went down like a felled tree, and her scream of pain and terror would echo forever in Lynda’s head.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lynda continued to run the flower stall alone as best she could, wishing she’d paid more attention to the things Mam had tried to teach her about flower arranging and plant care. She remembered to spray them regularly, to deal with the stems and to take the thorns from the roses, a job she hated, but they all seemed to wilt so much quicker without Betty’s green fingers to look after them.

Lynda thought she would never forget the night her mother was injured as long as she lived. She ran screaming into the street, yelling for someone to call an ambulance. Champion Street looked deserted, doors shut fast and not even a net curtain twitching. If neighbours had heard the commotion, as they surely must have done, they were keeping their own counsel. She ran from house to house hammering on doors, shouting for someone to come, then raced back to her mother’s side.

Betty lay at the foot of the stairs, her face a sickly shade of green, eyes closed and clearly in tremendous pain. Lynda spun round and glared at Ewan. ‘Why have you moved her?’

He didn’t answer.

The first person to arrive on the scene was Constable Nuttall, rushing into the house calling, ‘What’s going on here?’

Lynda was all for telling him, for blurting out how Ewan had bullied them, fought with her brother and then assaulted her mother. But Ewan was standing with his hand firmly planted on Betty’s shoulder and she only had to look at the fear in her mother’s eyes to know that she couldn’t do any such thing.

The words dried in her throat, and it was Ewan himself who produced some cock-and-bull story about Betty falling down the stairs.

Lynda could see that Constable Nuttall wasn’t entirely convinced by the tale but when he turned to her and asked, ‘Is that right, Lynda? Is that what happened?’ she didn’t need to so much as glance at Ewan to know that the risk of defying him was too great. If he could do this to her mam over a silly argument about Jake going out for a spin in his new car and coming in late for his tea, what might he do if she really turned against him?

And her brother was no help. Jake sat hunched in a corner, seemingly in shock as he no doubt imagined the whole episode to be his fault.

Lynda managed to nod her agreement while crouching beside Betty and hugging her close. She saw gratitude as well as pain in her mother’s eyes and knew she was saying what was expected of her, though whether it would turn out to be a wise decision, or one she would later come to regret, was quite another matter.

Lynda had gone in the ambulance with Betty to the hospital, sitting alone for hour upon hour in the waiting room while they found a doctor and dawn crept up over the city horizon, and then for several more hours while the surgeons operated on her leg.

In the days since she’d gone every afternoon, Judy minding the stall for her while she visited her mother in hospital. Most of her neighbours in Champion Street visited too, taking turns in an effort to keep Betty’s spirits up, presenting their old friend with get-well cards, bunches of her own flowers and any number of grapes. Winnie Holmes took her in a few magazines and Big Molly smuggled in a hot meat and potato pie, on the grounds that you didn’t get ‘proper food’ in a hospital.

Betty would thank them, tolerate their company for ten minutes or so, then turn her face to the wall or close her eyes and pretend to be asleep.

‘I’ll come when you’re feeling up to having visitors, love,’ they would say, and creep quietly away.

When she wasn’t at the hospital Lynda was working on the flower stall, or attempting to maintain some sort of order in the house. And when Jake didn’t return home, she also spent hours hunting high and low for her brother, finding neither sight nor sound of him. His car was still parked where he’d left it in the back street, which wasn’t like Jake at all. He’d been so proud of this new acquisition, why would he go anywhere without that beat-up pink jalopy of his?

Lynda was at her wits’ end and close to exhaustion, yet no matter how tired she was she couldn’t even sleep.

Desperately concerned about her mam, whose recovery was worryingly slow, Lynda would sob her heart out night after night so that her head throbbed the next morning. Three times a week she needed to get up early to fetch the flowers from the wholesale market but was forced to beg a lift from Barry Holmes, now that she had no transport of her own. Not that Barry minded but it was no way to run a stall. She’d kill that brother of hers for selling the old delivery van, if ever she got her hands on him again, that is.

Oh, God, what a mess! Where was he? Where could her stupid little brother have gone? Would Mam recover? Would she ever walk again? Their little family had been torn apart and here she was doing nothing about it.

But Lynda didn’t have the energy to keep on looking for Jake. Nor did she waste any more time on Ewan. What he did with his time Lynda had no idea and didn’t ask. He’d collected a few cronies at the Dog and Duck and she would sometimes see him hanging about street corners, smoking and talking with them, no doubt furtively putting bets on the dogs or the horses.

Unable to bring herself to even speak to her father, Lynda pointedly ignored him. Far easier to place his meal on the table and then slip out and spend the evening with Judy where at least she could relax for a little while, returning only when she was certain Ewan would be out.

She longed to see Terry, of course, but was nervous of doing so in case Ewan should hear of it.

And every night when she came home, Lynda would want to ask if he’d found himself a job yet, or somewhere else to live. But always her courage failed her at the last moment.

Why hadn’t she listened to her mother? If she’d only done that, then Betty would still be at home, fit and well, instead of stuck in a hospital bed fearing she might never walk again.

Lynda was missing Terry badly, taunted by the sight of him around the market, so near and yet utterly beyond her reach.

It was no good trying to explain to Terry why she could no longer see him. That would involve telling the truth about her mother’s alleged accident and who knew where such a confession might lead? The last thing she wanted was for him to start some war of attrition against her father on their behalf. Lynda shuddered at the prospect. Ewan would be bound to win because he played dirty. Her mother’s injuries and his fight with his own son had proved that to her beyond question, and as he’d beaten Terry up once already, he wouldn’t think twice about doing so again.
 

Lynda decided that she had no choice in the matter. For Terry’s own safety, she must finish with him. Until she succeeded in getting Ewan out of the house all she could do was try to protect those she loved the most. Better a broken heart than a broken head.

She asked him to meet her in Belle’s café and Terry came eagerly, thinking this must indicate that all was well again between them. Instead, she told him bluntly over their steaming cappuccinos, without any soft words or apologies, that it was all over.

‘I don’t understand. I thought you loved me,’ Terry said, his handsome face stricken. ‘I thought you and me were going to stick together for ever.’

Lynda struggled to swallow the lump that came into her throat at his words, but couldn’t bear to look at him as she openly mocked his simple sincerity. ‘Don’t be daft! When have I ever stuck with a man? Can you see me as a blushing bride? I don’t think so. I told you from the start I didn’t go in for all that marriage and commitment stuff. Love them and leave them, that’s my philosophy.’ The pain in her chest was threatening to choke her.

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Please yourself.’ Lynda finished her coffee in one single gulp and got up quickly, desperate to leave, half turning away so that Terry couldn’t see the anguish in her face. Why hadn’t she stuck to her vow not to get involved in the first place? Hadn’t she always told herself a thousand times that it was far better to hold herself aloof?

Lynda remembered how she’d once actually enjoyed the freedom of being able to move on when she grew tired of someone. She’d think, why commit yourself girl, when there’ll be another gorgeous male along any minute? But for some reason it felt almost impossible to keep such a vow where Terry was concerned.

Tossing back her auburn curls she deliberately hardened her tone. ‘Like I told you once before, I take every care to protect myself from emotional and physical damage. I’ve always been determined that there’ll be no unwelcome little accidents, no broken hearts for me. None of my lovers last very long, a few weeks at most.’

‘We’ve been together over six
months
, Lynda,’ Terry quietly reminded her, his face ashen.

Lynda gave a casual shrug as if she really couldn’t care less. ‘Well then, you’ve done better than most, Terry love. So now you can go home and play with your train set.’

And she walked quickly away so that she wouldn’t see the pain in his lovely dark eyes.

She didn’t go back to the stall right away but ran straight home. Once behind her own closed door her knees buckled and Lynda sank to the floor in a flood of tears.

It was late the following afternoon, and, after visiting Betty as usual, Lynda left her mother sleeping comfortably to return to an empty house feeling utterly exhausted. Overwhelmed by emotion and worry she ran herself a bath and lay in the hot water sobbing her heart out. What had possessed her to invite Ewan in for that dratted Sunday lunch? If she’d left things as they were instead of chasing a foolish dream, none of this would have happened. Her mother would still be fit and well, Jake would be home where he belonged, and she and Terry would still be together.

What would happen when Mam did eventually come home she really didn’t care to contemplate. How would she react to find her ex-husband, the one who had crippled her, still occupying her house?

Lynda felt she was failing her mother if she didn’t kick him out, yet how could she? Ewan obstinately refused to recognise that he’d done anything wrong. Yet, appalled by what her father had done, Lynda knew she couldn’t let him get away with it.
 

Ewan staggered in very much the worse for drink later that evening, stinking of beer and as merry as if he hadn’t a care in the world. In that moment, father or not, Lynda hated him.

Hands on hips she bluntly ordered him to leave. ‘If you’ve any sense you’ll pack up and go right now. Mam’ll kill you if you’re still here when she gets home. She certainly won’t tolerate having you stopping on a minute longer than necessary, not after what you’ve done.’

Ewan hiccupped loudly then rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Nag, nag, nag. I thought we’d had this out already.’

‘Well, I’m bringing it up again.’ Lynda drew in a shaky breath, holding tight to her nerve. ‘How could you do such a thing?’

He looked at her all hang-dog, maudlin with drink, as if he hadn’t the first notion how any of this could have happened. ‘Me temper gets the better of me at times, lass. I’m right sorry. Aw, you’ll forgive me though, chuck, won’t you?’

‘How can I forgive you? Mam could be crippled for life, and all because of your blasted temper. You’ve got to go. Now!’

‘Nay, you wouldn’t be so cruel as to throw your old dad out on the street, would you lass?’ He blinked owlishly at her. ‘Not till I’ve had time to get myself sorted out.’

‘You’ve had ample time to get yourself sorted. I want you out of here by Friday.’

‘Don’t you know how good it feels to have me family round me again, having my little girl close at last.’ He smoothed the heel of one thumb over her flushed cheek and Lynda jerked away, taking a half step back, not comfortable with the familiarity of his touch.

Her loyalty to her mother still warred with her desire to capture that illusive father figure of her dreams. It was all so difficult, so unlike how she’d imagined it would be.

She tried again, ‘You could at least start looking for a job so that you can make a contribution to expenses, then set about finding yourself alternative accommodation. Like I say, you can’t stay here forever. It wouldn’t be right.’

Something glinted behind his eyes which Lynda couldn’t quite put a name to. She’d call it nasty, even vicious, were it not for the fact that his voice sounded so calm, almost pleasant as he smiled at her.

‘I’ve asked around, put out a few feelers, but I’m not optimistic. Accommodation that I can afford will not be easy to come by. Eeh, I never thought you’d grow up to be so hard, Lynda love, and you used to be such a sweet little girl. I’ve made a bad mistake, all right, and I’m sorry for it. I won’t do it again, I swear.’