The Feud (10 page)

Stanley glared at his wife. The only thing she had ever driven in her life was him – bloody mad. ‘I do know where I’m going, dear. I have been here before, remember?’

Recognising certain landmarks, Joyce guessed that for once, her husband was right. ‘Miserable old goat,’ she mouthed to Raymond, who was sitting quietly in the back.

Raymond ignored his mum and stared out of the open window. His parents drove him crazy and he’d taught himself to switch off from them. He felt a bit sorry for his dad sometimes. His mum ruled his old man’s life, but it was his own fault, as he should have put his foot down years ago. Raymond rested his head against the seat. The evening sun and cool breeze felt lovely against his skin. He shut his eyes, deep in thought.

Eddie had rung him earlier at the scrapyard. He’d told him to make sure he definitely came tonight, as he wanted to have a chat with him about work.

‘Don’t worry, you ain’t done nothing wrong. What I’ve got to say is all good,’ Eddie assured him.

Raymond had been employed by Eddie since he was eighteen years old and he’d always worked bloody hard. He had left school at sixteen with medium qualifications and high hopes of getting a record deal with his band. It hadn’t happened and, with his dreams shattered, Raymond had given up his music career and taken on a job as a trainee butcher. From the word go, he hated the job. The smell was disgusting, the sawdust they put on the floor got down his throat and the sight of dead animals turned his guts. Listening to his complaints one day, Eddie had offered him a lifeline.

‘I need someone to work in the salvage yard. I’ll give you the address – go down there first thing Monday morning and ask for Pete. I’ll tell him to expect you.’

Raymond had started work there that day and had never looked back since. He no longer resembled a skinny little rock star. The physical nature of the job had given him muscles he had never known existed. His mother had been embarrassing him lately whenever her friends came round.

‘Look at my Raymond. Six foot tall and built like a brick shithouse, ain’t he?’ she’d say proudly. ‘Nothing like his father.’

‘Left here and then left again, Stanley,’ Joyce yelled, making Raymond jump out of his skin.

Annoyed at yet again being told what to do, Stanley drove the Cortina along his daughter’s drive at speed and then slammed his foot on the brake. Seeing Joyce’s head nearly hit the dashboard, he chuckled as he got out.

‘You silly old bastard, you’ve nearly bloody killed me. I bet I’ve got whiplash now because of you.’

Holding the door open for his wife, Stanley winked at
Raymond. ‘I’m so sorry, dear. It’s these new shoes you bought me, my foot must have slipped.’

As Frankie and Joey ran out to greet their nan, Joyce’s whiplash was forgotten.

‘Hello, my babies. Give your nanna a big kiss.’

Joey clung to one of her hands and Frankie the other. ‘Have you brought us any presents, Nanny?’ Frankie asked bluntly.

‘Yep, but you can’t have them till after your dinner.’

Playfully scolding her daughter, Jessica welcomed her family. ‘So lovely to see you all. Cheekier by the day, my Frankie’s getting. Take no notice of her,’ she laughed.

Once inside the house, Joyce took it upon herself to give her husband and son the grand tour. Both of them had seen the house before, but not in its finished state. ‘Look at the downstairs bathroom – marble them tiles are. Handsome, aren’t they?’

Barely giving them a chance to look, Joyce dragged Stanley and Raymond into the lounge. ‘Look at that chandelier, Stanley. Ain’t it beautiful, Raymond? Cost an absolute fortune that did. Pure crystal, it is – ain’t it, Jess?’

Hearing her husband come down from upstairs, Jessica quickly changed the subject. ‘We’re in the lounge. Can you get everybody a drink, Ed?’

Eddie beamed as he kissed Joyce and shook hands with both Stanley and Raymond.

‘Sorry, I was on the phone, I didn’t know you’d all arrived. Now, what can I get you?’

‘I’ll just have a lager, Ed,’ Raymond said immediately.

‘Can I have a sherry?’ Joyce asked, with a silly giggle.

Eddie smiled at Stanley. ‘I’ve got a nice twenty-year-old Scotch for me and you to crack open, Stan.’

‘Lovely,’ Stanley said, rubbing his hands together.

‘You don’t want that, Stanley. Scotch is too strong for you. Why don’t you just have a beer?’ Joyce piped up.

‘He’ll be fine having a drop of Scotch, Joyce. Jessica’s made up the guest room for yer. Stan ain’t gotta drive, has he?’ Ed said, sticking up for him.

Not wanting to behave like an old dragon in front of Eddie, Joyce forced a smile. ‘Go on then, but take it easy, Stanley. I don’t want you getting drunk and showing me up, like you have in the past.’

‘Can I sit on your lap, Grandad?’ Joey asked him.

Stanley smiled as his grandson plonked himself on his lap. He loved the twins and prided himself on being a good grandad. He’d often taken them out for days with Joyce. They’d go for picnics, trips to the zoo and he’d teach them how to fly his pigeons.

It was just after the twins were born that Stanley had decided to make an effort with Eddie. Joyce had dragged him up the hospital and, as soon as he’d first laid eyes on Frankie and Joey, he’d gone all gooey, into grandad mode. Not wanting to miss out on their childhood, he’d had little choice other than to be polite to their father. It was hard at first, but over the years, he’d sort of got used to it.

As much as Stanley hated to admit it, Eddie did have some good points. He always stuck up for Stan when Joyce put her two penn’orth in, he’d given Raymond a half-decent job and he spent every weekend with Jessica and the children.

‘Cheers, Stan,’ Eddie said, handing him his Scotch.

Stanley thanked Eddie and watched him walk away. He could never go as far as to say he actually liked him or trusted him, but he’d learned to make the best out of a bad situation. Eddie was OK, in a very-small-dose kind of way.

Eddie lifted up Frankie and swung her around above his head. ‘You ain’t heard who’s bought that big white house, have you, Jess?’ he asked.

‘Put me down, Daddy,’ Frankie said giggling.

Jessica smiled at him. ‘What, that massive place down the road here?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one. I’ve just made a few phone calls, but no one knows who’s got it.’

Hearing a commotion out the back, Jessica stood up. ‘I’ll ask down the school, see if anyone knows. Ed, you’d better go out in the garden. Gary and Ricky are fully clothed in that swimming pool, they’re fighting with one another, I think.’

Stanley and Joyce both looked at one another in horror. They didn’t agree on much in life, but the one thing they both thought was what uncontrollable, rude little toerags Eddie’s eldest sons were.

‘I’m just gonna check on the meat,’Jessica said brightly. Joyce stood up and looked out the back. ‘I didn’t know them little bastards were gonna be here,’ she said to Stan.

Frankie smiled. ‘What is a bastard, Nanny?’

Stanley stood up and picked up his granddaughter. ‘Basket, Frankie. Nanny said she didn’t know Mummy had a basket here.’

Hearing the voices of Gary and Ricky, Stanley handed Frankie to Joyce. ‘I dunno about you Joycie, but I most certainly need another drink.’

Joyce smiled with rare affection at her husband. ‘Me too, and make it a large one, Stanley.’

Eddie carved up the roast beef, while his wife brought in the side dishes.

‘I’ll just serve up a little plate for Frankie and Joey and the rest of yous can help yourselves,’ Jessica said.

Making sure everybody had enough meat on their plates, Eddie opened a couple of bottles of wine. ‘Who wants red and who wants white?’ he asked.

‘I’ll have red, but just a small one,’ Joyce giggled. She’d already had three glasses of sherry and was feeling a little bit tipsy.

‘Can me and Gary have a drop of wine, Dad?’ Ricky asked innocently.

Still annoyed with his sons for arsing about in the swimming pool when he’d blatantly told them not to, Eddie glared at his middle son. ‘No, you can’t, and don’t be so bloody cheeky.’

Ricky scowled and nudged his brother. ‘Mum lets us have a drink indoors, don’t she, Gary?’

‘Well, I’m not your mother and you’re not indoors now. You’re in my house and you abide by my rules. As for your mother letting you drink alcohol, I’ll be having a little word with her about that. Now, shut up the pair of you and eat your fucking dinner.’

Desperate to change the subject, Jessica picked up one of the dishes. ‘More roast potatoes anyone?’ she asked.

‘I’ll have some, sis,’ Raymond said, grinning.

Joyce pointed towards Stanley. ‘Your father will have a couple more as well,’ she told Jess.

As the potatoes were put on his plate, Stanley looked up in amazement. He had obviously spoken without him moving his mouth.

Joey slid off his chair. ‘Don’t want no more, Mummy.’

Jessica looked at his plate. He’d barely touched a morsel. She knew she shouldn’t have let him eat that ice cream he’d pleaded for earlier.

‘Try and eat some more, darling, see if you can eat as much as your sister.’

Joey shook his head. ‘I don’t feel well, I got tummy-ache,’ he lied.

Eddie shook his head as his youngest son left the table. All of his kids were good eaters, bar Joey, who was a finicky little waif. ‘He’ll be ill, that kid, if he don’t start eating more. You wanna get him up the doctor’s, find out what’s wrong with him,’ Eddie told Jess.

Jessica shrugged. ‘He’s OK, he’s just fussy, that’s all. He wasn’t well earlier, maybe that’s why.’

Frankie smiled as she took her brother’s Yorkshire pudding off his plate. ‘Joey was sick all over Mummy’s new car,’ she said, giggling.

Eddie looked at Jess in horror. ‘He weren’t, was he?’ Jessica stood up and began to clear the dinner plates. ‘It wasn’t his fault, Ed. I forgot to put some bags in there for him. The poor little sod can’t help being travel sick.’

Eddie wanted to say plenty, but instead said nothing. A fortune he’d paid for that Mercedes convertible and already it must smell like a fucking hospital ward.

‘Who wants dessert? I’ve got Black Forest gateau or fresh strawberries and ice cream,’ Jessica asked gaily.

‘I’ll have some strawberries, love,’ Stanley replied.

Joyce snatched the empty dish out of his hand. ‘No, he won’t. Fruit gives him terrible wind and I’ve got to sleep next to him tonight,’ she told Jess.

Eddie burst out laughing. How poor old Stanley put up with Joyce, he would never know. He stood up. ‘Come on Stan, I’ll take you outside and show you me new car. We can go for a quick spin in it if you like?’

Stanley grinned. He’d always been a Ford man himself, believed in buying the best of British, but he wouldn’t say no to a ride in that Porsche. Apart from his pigeons and horse racing, cars were his only other real passion. He leaped up from the dining table. ‘I’m ready when you are, Ed.’

‘You coming with us, Ray?’ Eddie asked.

‘No, Uncle Raymond. We want you to see Milky the Cow,’ Frankie said, with her hands on her hips.

‘Please don’t go, Uncle Raymond,’ Joey begged.

With two pairs of pleading eyes desperate for his company, Raymond decided to stay put.

‘We’ll have that chat when I get back,’ Eddie told him.

Stanley followed Eddie out of the front door. ‘What were the kids on about? Have you got a cow out the back?’

Eddie started to laugh. Stan didn’t have a clue, bless his cotton socks. ‘No, course not. They’re talking about their new toys – Milky, the Marvellous Milking Cow. Drove me mad for ’em, they did. All the toy shops had sold out and I spent a whole day driving around looking for ’em. I got two in the end, had to drive all the way to Southend to pick the bastard things up. The things you do for kids, eh?’

Stanley said nothing. Eddie was a good dad, a good husband, but there was still something very sinister about him that Stan couldn’t put his finger on.

Hearing the front door slam, Joyce and Jessica grinned at one another. No words were needed, but both of them were absolutely thrilled that Stanley and Eddie had got over their little differences and become friends.

‘Is it OK if me and Ricky go out the back and play football? We won’t go near the swimming pool, I promise.’

Jessica ruffled Gary’s hair. ‘Of course you can. Mind the flowerbeds, though.’

Joyce helped Jessica take the dirty dishes into the kitchen. ‘I’ll wash up for you, love,’ Joyce insisted.

Jessica giggled. ‘There’s no need, Mum, I’ve got a dishwasher.’

Joyce looked at the metal machine with interest. She’d heard about dishwashers, but had never seen one up close before. ‘You sure it cleans them properly, Jess? I mean, it ain’t like human hands, is it?’

‘Of course it cleans them properly. Now, if you wanna make yourself useful, Mum, pour us both another drink.’

Frankie poked her head around the kitchen door. ‘Grandma, where’s our presents? It’s after dinner now.’

Topping up her glass with sherry, Joyce followed Frankie into the living room. She delved into her big black shopping bag. ‘Here we go. You’ve got a jamboree bag each and me and Grandad clubbed together and bought you both a new toy.’

‘What is it? Can we have it now?’ the twins asked excitedly.

‘Have the jamboree bag now and as soon as Grandad gets back, you can have your toys.’

‘Oh, I want mine now,’ Frankie said, sulking.

‘Do as Nanny says,’ Jessica shouted sternly.

Joey was a polite kid, but her daughter could be a stroppy little cow at times.

Ten minutes later, an ashen-faced Stanley walked back into the house, alone. ‘Jesus Christ, drove like a lunatic, he did. Nearly killed us on that bend down the road there. I think I’m gonna bring me dinner up,’ he moaned.

Raymond got himself a lager and poured his shell-shocked father a large Scotch. ‘Eddie always drives fast. Get that down your neck, you’ll be fine,’ he told his dad.

As Stanley ran to the toilet and retched, Eddie was still sat in the car, laughing. Watching Stanley leap out looking like death warmed up and then stagger up the drive was one of the funniest things he’d ever seen. He knew deep down that Stanley only suffered him for the sake of the kids and driving like a maniac was payback time. Picturing Stan’s face when he’d hit that bend, Eddie had to hold his bollocks to stop himself pissing on the seat. With his hand still clutched around his privates, Eddie walked towards the house. Unable to keep a straight face, he tried to think of something else.