small boy he’d worshipped his dad and felt his loss keenly, sometimes shouting at Betty in a childish temper that it was all her fault for making his daddy leave. She rather thought he still blamed her to this day. Betty remembered him clinging to a grubby bit of blanket for years, stuffing it in his mouth whenever he went to sleep.
As he got older he’d grown boisterous and aggressive, insisting that he was the man of the house and could do as he pleased. And there was a period as an adolescent when he’d become obsessed with wanting to know where Ewan was, had kept on asking questions and somehow turned against her even more when she couldn’t supply the answers he wanted.
‘Are you sure you’re all right, Mam?’
Betty came out of her reverie with a jerk, finding Lynda studying her with concern. ‘Sorry, I was miles away. What were you saying, love?’
‘That you still look a bit peaky to me. There’s nothing else worrying you, is there, Mam?’
‘Why would there be?’ Betty was on her feet in a second, anxious to avoid too close an inspection from her daughter. ‘You’re right though, I am tired, so I’m off up them apples and pears to me bed. You youngsters see you lock up properly, back and front.’
‘Don’t worry. Jake can do that while I put these roses in water, then I’ll be up myself,’ Lynda said.
The decision seemed to have been made. One look at her troubled son and Betty just didn’t have the heart to tell him that only hours before his father had occupied that very same chair. Nor did she have the energy for that ‘little talk’ she’d promised Constable Nuttall she’d give her erring son. Tomorrow was soon enough. She’d had just about enough for one day.
As for Ewan Hemley, she would make sure that none of them were at home on Sunday when he called. Betty hoped and prayed that when he found the door locked and bolted against him with no answer to his knock, he would think better of it and go away for good.
Chapter Seven
Betty was back at her stall bright and early the next morning, happily setting out her flower buckets, filling them with red and pink gladioli, a glorious array of dahlias and great bunches of michaelmas daisies. She made up a bouquet of her favourite brick red chrysanthemums which were surely for love, together with dark blue-veined veronica for fidelity, and added a few sprigs of fragrant jasmine for elegance and grace.
And while she worked, a plan formed in her mind on how to deal with the problem of her ex-husband. Betty was now even more determined that none of them would be at home when Ewan called on Sunday. It really didn’t matter where they went so long as all three of them were out of the house. She meant to put this plan into effect just as soon as Lynda joined her later.
She set down the duck board which kept the damp of the hard pavement from her booted feet. Lynda hadn’t scrubbed and swept it clean enough to her liking from the day before, a point she’d remind her daughter of when she got the chance. Oh, but the girl was a hard worker, and Jake wasn’t a bad lad, not really, she told herself, as mothers do.
She’d given him a bit of a lecture over breakfast, since she didn’t have to dash off this morning to Smithfield wholesale market, about this tendency he had for getting into mischief. Betty had made it very clear that one more step on the wrong side of the law and she’d leave him to sink in his own mire.
‘You listen to what Constable Nuttall says, son, because this is your last chance,’ she’d warned.
Jake had avoided answering by stuffing his mouth with cornflakes but then Betty had been careful not to antagonise her son too much. She could have told him that he was taking after his father, that if he carried on along this road then he too would end up spending half his life in t’clink, but that would mean revealing the kind of truths she’d spent all of her life protecting him from.
The lad would sort
As he got older he’d grown boisterous and aggressive, insisting that he was the man of the house and could do as he pleased. And there was a period as an adolescent when he’d become obsessed with wanting to know where Ewan was, had kept on asking questions and somehow turned against her even more when she couldn’t supply the answers he wanted.
‘Are you sure you’re all right, Mam?’
Betty came out of her reverie with a jerk, finding Lynda studying her with concern. ‘Sorry, I was miles away. What were you saying, love?’
‘That you still look a bit peaky to me. There’s nothing else worrying you, is there, Mam?’
‘Why would there be?’ Betty was on her feet in a second, anxious to avoid too close an inspection from her daughter. ‘You’re right though, I am tired, so I’m off up them apples and pears to me bed. You youngsters see you lock up properly, back and front.’
‘Don’t worry. Jake can do that while I put these roses in water, then I’ll be up myself,’ Lynda said.
The decision seemed to have been made. One look at her troubled son and Betty just didn’t have the heart to tell him that only hours before his father had occupied that very same chair. Nor did she have the energy for that ‘little talk’ she’d promised Constable Nuttall she’d give her erring son. Tomorrow was soon enough. She’d had just about enough for one day.
As for Ewan Hemley, she would make sure that none of them were at home on Sunday when he called. Betty hoped and prayed that when he found the door locked and bolted against him with no answer to his knock, he would think better of it and go away for good.
Chapter Seven
Betty was back at her stall bright and early the next morning, happily setting out her flower buckets, filling them with red and pink gladioli, a glorious array of dahlias and great bunches of michaelmas daisies. She made up a bouquet of her favourite brick red chrysanthemums which were surely for love, together with dark blue-veined veronica for fidelity, and added a few sprigs of fragrant jasmine for elegance and grace.
And while she worked, a plan formed in her mind on how to deal with the problem of her ex-husband. Betty was now even more determined that none of them would be at home when Ewan called on Sunday. It really didn’t matter where they went so long as all three of them were out of the house. She meant to put this plan into effect just as soon as Lynda joined her later.
She set down the duck board which kept the damp of the hard pavement from her booted feet. Lynda hadn’t scrubbed and swept it clean enough to her liking from the day before, a point she’d remind her daughter of when she got the chance. Oh, but the girl was a hard worker, and Jake wasn’t a bad lad, not really, she told herself, as mothers do.
She’d given him a bit of a lecture over breakfast, since she didn’t have to dash off this morning to Smithfield wholesale market, about this tendency he had for getting into mischief. Betty had made it very clear that one more step on the wrong side of the law and she’d leave him to sink in his own mire.
‘You listen to what Constable Nuttall says, son, because this is your last chance,’ she’d warned.
Jake had avoided answering by stuffing his mouth with cornflakes but then Betty had been careful not to antagonise her son too much. She could have told him that he was taking after his father, that if he carried on along this road then he too would end up spending half his life in t’clink, but that would mean revealing the kind of truths she’d spent all of her life protecting him from.
The lad would sort
Similar Books
