Mother’s Ruin Read online

  ‘How’s Sadie? She didn’t look too bad the last time I went to Candle Lane.’

  ‘She’s all right, except for her changeable moods. I don’t know how Sally puts up with her.’

  ‘Nor do I, but I saw in the tarot cards that things are going to change for both of you and it’s imminent.’

  Arthur saw that his mother was looking at him with a strange expression on her face, almost as if she knew what his plans were. He blanched. ‘What sort of change did you see?’

  ‘It wasn’t clear, but I think we’re about to find out. Isn’t that why you’ve come to talk to your father?’

  Unable to meet his mother’s eyes, Arthur lowered his head, relieved when she left the room to make the coffee.

  When Arthur looked up it was to see his father gazing at him, brow furrowed, but then the children began to squabble over a toy and chaos reigned for a while. Ann managed to sort them out, but then the baby woke up, squalling in her carry-cot.

  ‘Arthur, bring your coffee to my study,’ Bert said brusquely when Elsie carried it in. ‘We might as well have this talk now and perhaps by the time we’re finished this lot will have quietened down again.’

  The small study was at the back of the house and as his father settled behind his desk, he indicated the chair that sat in front of it. ‘Right son, what did you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘I . . . I’m leaving the firm. I want to strike out on my own and I’ve been given a great opportunity to take on a partnership with an old friend of mine.’

  ‘But you’re already in partnership with me!’

  ‘It isn’t official, Dad, and in reality I’m no different from the other men you employ.’

  ‘What do you mean, no different? You’re my son!’

  ‘Dad, I’m sorry, but I’m fed up with it – fed up with lugging furniture around every day, along with being on the road all the time.’

  ‘We’re a removals firm, Arthur. That’s what we do.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s your firm, one you built up and I had little hand in it. I want to achieve something for myself, something I can be proud of.’

  ‘I see, and just what do you intend to do?’

  ‘I’m going into the construction game,’ Arthur told him, knowing that he’d have to repeat everything he’d said to Sally. ‘Joe Somerton will be my partner and we’re buying a plot of land. We’ll be building houses for first-time buyers.’

  ‘But you know nothing about the building game.’

  ‘Joe and I won’t be involved with the actual construction, we’ve got a builder on board for that. We’ll be the project managers and it will be up to us to market the houses.’

  ‘But if they don’t sell, all you’ll be left with is a pile of debt.’

  ‘They will, Dad. We’ve looked at this from every angle and the market is out there. Things are changing, and instead of renting, young couples are looking to get onto the property ladder. The time is ripe for this.’

  ‘It all sounds too risky to me. Have you forgotten that you’ve got a wife and child to support?’

  ‘Of course I haven’t, but Sally is with me on this.’

  His father pursed his lips, but then the questions came, one after another. ‘I see, but what about this friend of yours? You’re talking about going into partnership with him, so have you checked him out? How much is he putting into the venture? Is it an equal amount?’

  ‘Joe is a great bloke and he’s risking far more money than me. He’s putting in the lion’s share.’

  ‘Where did he get the money from? Has he borrowed it, because if so, once the partnership is drawn up you’ll be responsible for half of the debt. Has he got any experience of the building game?’

  Arthur was getting fed up with this interrogation, but nevertheless he managed to keep his tone even. ‘Joe inherited money from his grandparents, and no, having been brought up on a farm, he hasn’t had much experience.’

  ‘A farm! Christ, son, this just sounds worse and worse. Your only experience is in doing removals and Joe is a carrot cruncher, a farm boy. What do the pair of you know about running a business?’

  ‘Dad, you started yours in virtually the same boat with no idea if it would succeed. You uprooted us to live in Battersea and sank every penny you had into the venture. It worked for you, so why shouldn’t it work for me?’

  ‘At least I’d worked in removals and knew the game back to front.’

  ‘What we don’t know, we’ll learn, and that will stand us in good stead for the next lot of houses we build. It’s what I want to do, Dad, and I’m sorry, but I’ve made up my mind.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that, but I need a bit of time to take this in. Go back to the sitting room and I’ll join you in a minute.’

  Arthur knew his father was trying to hide his true feelings and felt awful as he sadly left the study.

  When Arthur went into the sitting room it was to see Ann nursing her baby daughter. The boys were absorbed with crayons, drawing quietly, and as he met his mother’s eyes she said, ‘What have you done, son?’

  ‘I told Dad I’m leaving the firm.’

  ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘Not very well.’

  ‘Why are you leaving?’

  Arthur perched on the arm of his mother’s chair to explain his reasons, ending with, ‘I have to try this, Mum. I just can’t let this opportunity pass me by.’

  His mother sighed, whilst Ann said nothing, though her eyes were wide in surprise. ‘I saw changes in the cards,’ his mother said at last, ‘but somehow I wasn’t expecting this.’

  ‘Mum, I think it might be for the best if I go now. Dad said he needs time to take it in, and no doubt you do too.’

  ‘Yes, you’re probably right. I just hope it all works out well for you, darling.’

  Arthur hugged his mother and his sister, but his father remained in the study and all he could do was to call out goodbye. When there was no reply, he left with a heavy heart, flinging himself into the car and gunning the engine to life.

  As he drove off, Arthur couldn’t get the hurt he’d seen in his father’s eyes out of his mind and found himself on autopilot as he sped down West Hill. Had he done the right thing? Was this venture too risky? Should he please his father and stay with his removals firm? No, no, he needed a change, needed to venture out and achieve something for himself.

  With his mind all over the place, Arthur hadn’t seen the traffic lights turn to red nor had he realised that he’d jumped them until he heard the screech of tyres. He swiftly turned his head, just in time to see the lorry almost on top of him. Unable to react, his eyes wide with horror, he felt the lorry hit his car with a deafening thud.

  Arthur was thrown violently sideways, his body slamming against the door as the car slewed across the road. There was more deafening noise and then he became aware of pain. Agonising pain. He screamed, but then mercifully there was nothing but blackness.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tommy had been unable to get into his house that morning, so he shinned the drainpipe to find his parents still in bed, snoring loudly and the bedroom stinking like a brewery. His stomach was still pleasantly full and he smiled at the memory of waking up to find Ruth asleep beside him. He envied Angela. Her house was nice and he wished Ruth was his nanny too. She had taken care of his hand when he had burnt it, and then taken him in again when he’d been chucked out. Angela’s mum was all right too, though a bit stuck up, but he wasn’t keen on that grumpy old woman, Sadie. She was a right misery guts.

  When Tommy went downstairs it was to find the usual chaos, the kitchen a mess with empty bottles of cider on the table along with an overflowing ashtray. Tommy found himself wanting to make it look nicer and started to tidy up, stuffing the bottles into the bin.

  ‘Now there’s a good boy.’

  He spun round to see his mother, face puffy and bleary-eyed, yet she was smiling. It seemed she had no memory of chucking him out, and relieved he said, ‘I thought I’d clear the pl
ace up a bit.’

  ‘Were all those bottles empty?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She moved to the sink, poured herself a cup of water and drank it greedily before plonking her bottom on one of the rickety kitchen chairs. She then lit a roll-up, picked a speck of tobacco from her lip before beckoning him towards her. ‘It’s good to see that you’ve tidied the place up a bit. Come and give me a cuddle.’

  Tommy scrambled onto his mother’s lap, savouring this rare moment. He treasured the occasions when his mum was sober, and despite having a skinful last night she seemed to be in a good mood. When his mum stroked his hair, Tommy snuggled into her, wishing it could always be like this.

  ‘I ain’t much of a mother, but I do love you. I know I’ve got to stop this boozing and I will, you’ll see.’

  Tommy had heard it all before and knew it wouldn’t happen, content for now just to feel his mother holding him. If his mates could see him sitting on her lap they’d call him a cissie, yet right now Tommy didn’t care.

  At one o’clock Sally was humming as she finished peeling the potatoes, smiling at the antics of her daughter sitting perched on a cushion at the kitchen table and playing cards with Sadie. It was lovely to see her gran in such a good mood, happy to amuse Angel, though Sally wasn’t sure how long it would last.

  ‘Snap!’ Angel yelled, giggling as she grabbed the cards.

  ‘Gawd, you’re too good for me,’ Sadie said, holding up her hands in defeat.

  ‘Play again, Gamma?’

  ‘All right, though just one more game.’

  Ruth looked up from basting the roast lamb, her face pink from the heat of the oven. ‘Do you think Arthur’s going to be home in time for dinner?’

  ‘He left before eleven so should be back in plenty of time. Would you like me to peel some parsnips?’

  ‘Yuk, no, Mummy!’

  Sally grinned. Angel hated parsnips, but Sadie smacked her lips, her reply an affirmative. She set to the task, her mind now on Arthur again. He’d sounded so excited, but should she have tried to talk him out of it? He was sinking so much money into this new business, in fact every penny they’d saved over the last five years. What if it all went pear-shaped?

  ‘No more now, Angel. I’m fair worn out,’ Sadie complained.

  ‘Gamma doesn’t want to play, Mummy. Can I go out?’

  ‘No you can’t.’

  ‘Pleeease, Mummy.’

  ‘I said, no.’

  ‘Half an hour won’t hurt, Sally.’

  ‘Gran, the last time I let her play outside she went off with Tommy and his gang.’

  ‘She won’t do that again, will you, sweetheart?’ Sadie said winking at Angel.

  ‘No, I’ll stay by the door.’

  ‘See, she’s learned her lesson. Let her go out for a while, Sally. She’ll be fine and it can’t be a lot of fun for her to be stuck in here.’

  Sally sighed heavily as her mother joined in, also taking Angel’s side. ‘Go on, Sal, let her go out for a while.’

  If the backyard wasn’t so full of junk, Angel could play out there, but her mother was a hoarder, the yard and every cupboard in the house stuffed with things that would never be used. Now that the decision had been made to live in a place of their own again, Sally found herself itching to find a flat, hopefully one with a garden for Angel to play in.

  ‘Please, Mummy,’ Angel appealed again.

  ‘All right, but for half an hour and no more. And woe betide you, my girl, if you leave the front of the house.’

  ‘Yippee!’ Angel yelled as she made to run outside, coming to an abrupt halt when Sally grabbed her.

  ‘Put your coat on,’ she demanded. A scarf was then tucked around her daughter’s neck, followed by a bobble hat, and when she was wrapped up to Sally’s satisfaction she let her go, watching as Angel grabbed her skipping rope before flying out of the door.

  ‘You mollycoddle that child,’ Sadie said.

  ‘It’s freezing outside.’

  ‘Blimey, when I was a kid we were lucky if we had shoes on our feet, let alone hats and scarves.’ ‘Yes, well, that was a long time ago. I don’t want Angel to catch a cold.’

  ‘See, mollycoddling her,’ Sadie murmured.

  Sally closed her eyes in exasperation, but kept her mouth shut. She had learned that it was pointless to contradict her grandmother.

  It was an hour before Sally called Angel inside, her mind elsewhere as she ignored her daughter’s protests. Dinner would be ready soon and there was still no sign of Arthur. She glanced along the lane, hoping to see his car, and then decided to ring Elsie to see if he was still in Wimbledon.

  When they had first moved back to Candle Lane Arthur had insisted on paying to have a telephone installed, and now she thankfully reached for the receiver. It was a luxury few other families in the lane had, but one that acted as a lifeline should Sadie be taken ill again.

  Sally replaced the receiver, frowning. Elsie said that Arthur had left them at twelve-thirty, so where was he? Her frown then turned to an expression of annoyance. Had he gone off to see his friend again? If so he could have at least rung to let her know. God, he drove her mad sometimes. There was a knock on the door, and composing herself she opened it, her complexion paling when she saw a police constable on the doorstep.

  He didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to tell her, she just knew. Something awful had happened to Arthur! The hall spun, strange pinpricks of light floated before her eyes, and then her knees caved under her.

  Sally became aware that the policeman had prevented her from falling, his arms holding her up, but she felt light-headed. The kitchen door then opened, Angel appearing on the threshold, her eyes wide as she took in the scene.

  ‘Nanny, Nanny, there’s a policeman!’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Ruth cried.

  ‘She took one look at me and her legs went,’ the constable told her.

  With the man’s help, Sally was able to stagger to a chair, her heart thumping. She had been living in dread; feared something awful was going to happen, but not this, not Arthur!

  For a moment the policeman just looked at her, but then he cleared his throat. ‘Are you Mrs Jones?’

  ‘Ye . . . yes,’ Sally croaked.

  ‘I’m afraid your husband has been injured in a traffic accident.’

  ‘Oh no, no! Arthur’s been hurt? How . . . how badly?’

  ‘He’s been taken to hospital, but I’m afraid I don’t know the extent of his injuries.’

  Sally sprang to her feet. ‘What hospital has he been taken to?’

  Sally sat by Arthur’s side, thankful that the news hadn’t been worse, thankful that he was still alive, yet worried too that he was still unconscious.

  ‘Why won’t he wake up, Sally?’ asked Elsie who had rushed over to the hospital as soon as she’d heard the news.

  ‘I don’t know, but I wish the doctor would get a move on.’

  ‘Surely it shouldn’t take this long to look at Arthur’s X-ray results,’ Elsie complained, both looking up expectantly as the curtains drew back.

  It wasn’t the doctor; it was Bert, his face grey. ‘Hasn’t Arthur come round yet?’

  ‘No,’ Elsie told him. ‘And if that bloody doctor doesn’t come back soon, I’ll find him myself.’

  ‘I wish I could get out of here. I hate hospitals,’ Bert growled.

  Elsie said crossly, ‘Look, I know you’ve got a phobia about them, but that’s our son lying there.’

  ‘Yes, sorry, love. I’ll try to pull myself together. I just can’t work out how this happened. Arthur’s a good driver and I intend to find out how he got hit by a lorry.’

  A nurse appeared, her stiffly starched, white apron rustling as she took Arthur’s blood pressure. ‘There really shouldn’t be three of you in here,’ she murmured.

  Bert ran a hand through his hair, his voice echoing their frustration. ‘Look, we’ve been here for an hour now and still don’t know the extent of my son’s injuries.’


  ‘The doctor will be here shortly,’ was the nurse’s only comment, as she picked up Arthur’s notes from a clipboard at the end of the bed, and wrote down his blood pressure results.

  Bert was about to speak again, but then the doctor arrived, motioning to them to step outside. He spoke quietly, his eyes on Sally. ‘I’ve made arrangements for your husband to be admitted to an orthopaedic ward. The porters will be here shortly to move him.’

  ‘Is . . . is he going to be all right?’ Sally croaked.

  ‘We’re concerned that he hasn’t regained consciousness, but the X-ray results only show a hairline fracture to his skull. There are no symptoms of compression and his pupils are equal. His leg is badly damaged with a fracture to the tibia, and fibula. There is also a nasty flesh wound near his ankle.’

  Sally hardly took in one word, gasping again, ‘Yes, but is he going to be all right?’

  ‘Your husband will be closely monitored to make sure there are no signs of pressure to the brain. However, as I said, the X-ray results show no indication of compression.’

  ‘And if there is pressure on the brain?’ Bert now asked.

  The doctor continued as though Bert hadn’t spoken, ‘Ah, here are the porters. You can follow them up to the ward.’

  ‘Wait. What are the symptoms of compression?’ Bert insisted.

  Seemingly annoyed the doctor rattled off a list. ‘Noisy breathing, flushed face, pulse strong and slow, pupils unequal and a high temperature. Now I understand your concern, but as I said, none of these symptoms are present.’

  Elsie laid a hand on Bert’s arm, saying softly, ‘Calm down, love.’

  ‘Calm! How can I be calm when my son’s lying unconscious on a hospital bed?’

  For another agonising hour they sat outside the ward, only allowed in one at a time for a brief glimpse of Arthur. The ward sister advised them to go home, but they refused, until finally, when Sally was by his side, Arthur opened his eyes, groaning softly.

  ‘Nurse!’ Sally cried.

  Both a doctor and nurse responded. They ushered Sally away but she hovered outside the drawn curtains around Arthur’s bed. When the doctor emerged with a smile on his face, Sally felt a surge of relief. So great was it that her knees gave way again and she was aware of a hand on her elbow, guiding her to the ward sister’s office. Elsie and Bert came in, but with a ringing in her ears Sally was hardly aware of what was going on. At last, Bert’s questions penetrated her fuddled mind. Arthur hadn’t sustained any brain damage, but now they were going to operate on his leg.