Secrets to Keep

CHAPTER FOUR





It didn’t seem right to Aidy that the day of her mother’s funeral should be so gloriously sunny. A perfect summer’s day, in fact. It should have been icy cold and bleak, the way she was feeling. She knew the rest of the family agreed too.

The service had seemed never-ending to her. There had been times during it when she had had to restrain herself from shouting out to the Vicar that her mother did not need her earthly sins forgiving before God would accept her spirit back into His Kingdom. Her mother would never wittingly have done wrong against anyone. Jessie had been a good woman who had done her best to raise her children after her husband had abandoned her and left her destitute. She had been a loyal friend and neighbour, and would help even a stranger in need if it was in her power to do so. Now standing tightly packed in by neighbours around the graveside, it was unbearable to Aidy to think of her mother resting inside a box six feet under. In only a few short minutes they would be expected to say their last goodbyes then go on their way to get on with their lives. Aidy wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her mother, not ready to get on with her life without Jessie in it, and she knew that neither was the rest of her family.

With sisterly protectiveness she looked in turn at her brother and two sisters. Flaxen-haired Betty was a gawky nine year old, her childish face already showing the signs of the good-looking woman she would become. She was openly crying, periodically wiping away the river of snot that was pouring from her nose, using a sodden handkerchief. Aidy’s heart went out to her. She was desperate to gather the young girl in to her arms and offer her comfort, but it would have to wait until the Vicar had finished talking.

Next to her stood Marion, eight years old, chubby and mousy haired. She was clutching her favourite doll which had long since lost its hair and one of its legs. She was staring into the grave, at the coffin holding their mother. Despite having it explained to her as best they could, she couldn’t quite grasp what death actually meant. That she wouldn’t physically see her mother again. Marion believed that her mother was asleep inside that box, and when she wasn’t tired any more she would get out and come home. How Aidy wished that was in fact the case. Since their mother’s death Marion had started to wet herself, mostly during the night but occasionally throughout the day too. The fact that she now had her legs crossed made Aidy fervently hope the child could hold herself until the ceremony ended, and avoid the acute embarrassment any failure would bring.

The girls’ grey school skirts and white blouses might have been cast-offs from the better off, acquired from a charitable organisation for a few coppers by her mother, but both of them looked smart and tidy, and a credit to the mother who had done her very best for them.

Aidy then cast a glance at ten-year-old George, his usually unruly brown hair parted down the middle and flattened down with help from Arch’s Erasmic hair cream. The slogan on the label boasted it would keep every hair in place, but it was failing to do so as strands of George’s were sticking up already on his crown, like a peacock’s tail fanning out. To outsiders he came across as a hard nut who was not afraid to use his fists in defence of family, friends or himself, but to his family George was a sensitive, thoughtful and honest boy, fiercely protective of them all.

Aidy knew he felt uncomfortable wearing the borrowed suit very kindly offered to them for the day by a neighbour, Miriam Liberman, who was well aware George wouldn’t possess one. The suit had been made for her son for his Bar Mitzvah last year by a kindly uncle on her husband’s side, himself a tailor with a shop on Cheapside in the market place. The son was shorter than George by a couple of inches and not as broad, so the jacket was tight and the trouser legs finished above his ankles, but regardless Aidy felt his mother would have been proud of how handsome he looked. His face was mask-like, however, and Aidy knew that it was taking him all his strength not to break down in front of the rest of the congregation. Men didn’t cry in public. In George’s opinion he was a man, so he didn’t cry either.

Next to George stood Bertha, Arch’s arm hooked through hers for support. Despite the heat she was dressed in her best black woollen coat and twill dress underneath, thick black woollen stockings and sturdy black lace-up shoes. Her best black felt hat was on her head, the bunch of plastic cherries that had decorated it removed for this sober occasion.

Arch, as always, looked striking in the only suit he possessed. He’d last worn it for their own wedding five years ago, totally unaware that the next time he’d put it on it would be for such a sad event.

The sudden death of his mother-in-law had come as such a shock to Arch that he hadn’t given a thought to how Aidy’s grandmother and her siblings were going to continue without her. Aidy had outlined her own plan to him at her first opportunity the next day. Like herself, she knew it wouldn’t be easy for Arch, abandoning the home they had worked so hard to make nice, hoping eventually to raise their own family in it when Arch finally got his promotion at work. But in the circumstances there was nothing else they could do. He had put his arms around her and assured her that he would support her as best he could in anything she undertook. Family was family. She had never loved him as much as she had done then.

Having recovered sufficiently from the ‘help’ Bertha had given her for her supposed bout of constipation, Pat Nelson stood next to her son, black dress pulling tightly over her huge bulk. It was not yet apparent whether she was put out by the fact that only one of the suggestions – or, in truth, instructions – she had issued for the funeral had been taken up, that of Arch being chief pall-bearer, but Aidy knew she would certainly let them know if she was displeased, at the first opportunity. She appeared to be grief stricken but Aidy knew she had been jealous of Jessie on many counts: her still youthful looks, her likeable disposition, and because Jessie lived in a bigger house in what the locals perceived to be a better part of the area. So in truth, Jessie’s death was no real loss to Pat, and knowing her greediness as she did, Aidy knew her mother-in-law would be desperate for the service to end and the wake to start so she could take her fill of the food that was on offer. Arch’s work-shy father hadn’t come, but then Aidy had known that he wouldn’t as the time of the funeral overlapped with the beginning of the lunchtime session at his local pub. He’d put in an appearance at the wake, she had no doubt of that, as there was beer on offer for the men.

At least fifty people besides themselves were present. Jessie having been as popular as she was, it was known that her funeral would be well attended, but even so none of the family had expected quite so many to take the trouble to pay their respects, not forgetting there were also those who would have liked to have attended but couldn’t, due to the fact they couldn’t afford to lose pay taking time off work.

Since word had got out of the death, a steady stream of people had called at the house to express their condolences. Aidy and Bertha had lost count of the number of pots of tea they had mashed between them and packets of Rich Tea biscuits they had offered. It was comforting to know that so many people were genuinely mourning the loss of Jessie, but all the family would be glad when today was over so they could begin the long process of rebuilding their own lives without her.

A short while later, as the bereft family made their way back to the house followed by the rest of the congregation, Aidy noticed Marion no longer had her doll with her. ‘What happened to Janet?’ she asked.

Looking up at her with large innocent eyes, Marion said, ‘I didn’t like the thought of Mam being down there all on her own, so when no one was looking I threw Janet in to keep her company ’til she wakes up. She’ll give me Janet back when she comes back home, won’t she?’

Swallowing down a lump in her throat, Aidy tenderly patted the top of her sister’s head. ‘That was a lovely thing to do, Marion. Mam knows how much you love Janet, and I’m sure she’ll look after her for you.’

An hour later back at the house, showing no sign that she’d recently suffered a stomach upset so bad it had seen her virtually commandeering the outside privy for the last three days, Pat Nelson barged her way through the throng of mourners, packed solid in the small back room and kitchen, and advanced towards Aidy. Pat was balancing a plate piled high with food in one hand and a brimming glass of sherry in the other. Despite the fact that Aidy was already in conversation with Miriam Liberman, expressing her gratitude for the use of her son’s suit which she would endeavour to return in the condition it was lent in, Pat rudely interrupted with, ‘You didn’t use Snow’s for the funeral like I suggested.’ It was very apparent she wasn’t happy about this fact.

Politely excusing herself from Miriam and taking a deep breath to steel herself for the confrontation she knew was to come, Aidy turned to Pat and responded lightly, ‘Gran and I liked Clatteridge’s better, Mrs Nelson.’

She gave a haughty sniff. ‘Jessie’s death policy must have paid out well if yer’ve got money to throw around. I know Clatteridge’s are much dearer than Snow’s. The money you’d have saved using Snow’s, you could have put to good use.’

The truth was all the firms had quoted around the same price but Aidy and Bertha had found the people at Clatteridge’s to be the most pleasant and understanding to deal with, which was why she and her gran had settled for them. ‘Mam’s policy was to pay for her funeral, Mrs Nelson, and that’s what we used the money for.’

Pat cocked an eyebrow in surprise and said sardonically, ‘Well, as long as you’re happy yer got what yer paid for. I know a bloke that works for Snow’s, and as yer related to me he’d have made it his business to mek sure you did.’

Oh, so that was why Pat had wanted to insist they use Snow’s. She would have got a backhander for bringing in their custom.

Aidy’s mother-in-law rammed a whole sausage roll into her mouth. Not caring that she was spitting out pastry flakes, she said, ‘I’m glad to see Arch was chief bearer, but his brothers are really hurt you shunned them.’

Through clenched teeth Aidy responded, ‘We never shunned them, Mrs Nelson. Mam was very fond of the lads we asked, had watched them grow up from babies, and they were fond of her in return. I know she would have wanted them to be given the opportunity of being her pall-bearers, and they’d have been upset if they hadn’t been.’

Pat pulled a face. ‘Well, to me, family comes first. And as my Arch is married to you, we are family.’ She then prodded her fork into a piece of ham on her plate. ‘I see you didn’t bother with ham on the bone then? And I can’t find any tongue …’

‘It is ham on the bone, Mrs Nelson, only we got the butcher to slice it up for us, for convenience. Mam didn’t like tongue. The food we chose was what she liked.’

‘Like she’s here to eat it!’ Pat scoffed. Then added, ‘I was looking forward to that tongue. What butcher did you use?

‘The same one Mam always used. Jones.’

‘Oh, him,’ Pat snorted. ‘Wouldn’t touch his stuff meself. More gristle and fat than meat, what he serves up. It’s cheap, I suppose, though. You can tell this ham’s cheap, can’t yer? It’s not got much taste. Harry Worth would have seen you right, once you told him I’d sent yer. And it’s a pity you didn’t ask my Jim to get the booze for yer. One of his mates is a drayman. He could have got you three barrels of beer for less than the price you paid for one. If you paid for good sherry as well then you’ve been done. This stuff is barrel that’s been put into bottles.’

The sherry was certainly not barrel but best Cyprus, and Pat knew that it was. Her unwarranted petty complaints were just because she was fuming she had lost out on her backhanders from the suppliers she had instructed them to use, and besides couldn’t brag to the rest of the mourners that it was she who had arranged it all. It was taking all Aidy’s will-power now not to snatch the plate of food back off Pat, and her glass of sherry, and tell her to leave, but she would not cause a scene at her own mother’s wake. Evenly she said, ‘Do excuse me, Mrs Nelson, but I need to thank people for coming.’

As Aidy was walking away from her she heard Pat say to another mourner: ‘You off? Oh, ’course, husband’s dinner to get. Well, I must be off meself as soon as I’ve finished me food. Packing to do…’

Aidy frowned thoughtfully. Had her in-laws come into money somehow that they could afford a holiday? Pat’s part-time job as a lavatory attendant didn’t pay much and she was always pleading poverty, hoping to make people feel sorry for her and offer her a handout, which she always snatched before their mind was changed. Her lazy husband hadn’t had a paid job for years, due to his supposedly having a bad back from a fall at work, but that didn’t seem to stop him from getting to the pub and back or from operating his side line, dealing in scrap metal. Much to their wives’ chagrin, the three Nelson sons each handed over a pound a week between them to their parents, even though they could not really afford to do so, but at least it ensured Pat and Jim’s rent was paid, with a little left over so they didn’t end up having to live with any of their offspring. Aidy wondered now if Arch or his two brothers knew of their parents’ windfall.

She felt a hand grab her arm. It was Bertha’s. ‘I was just making my way over to rescue you since it was obvious to me that whatever Pat Nelson was saying to you, it was annoying you.’

Aidy sighed. ‘Gran, the only complaint she hasn’t got about the arrangements we made for Mam’s funeral is that Arch was chief pall-bearer.’ Through the crowd she spotted Arch’s father knocking back a pint next to the table holding the barrel and bottles of sherry. ‘I know for a fact that’s Jim’s fifth. I hope he’s going to have the decency to leave some of the beer for the other men. Anyway, we haven’t to put up with either of them much longer. They’re leaving soon, to do their packing.’

Bertha frowned, bemused. ‘Packing?’

Aidy shrugged. ‘I overheard Pat telling Maud Gates – I can only think to go on holiday. God knows where they got the money from. Mr Nelson must have come up trumps on a bet, that’s all I can think of.’

Bertha scowled. ‘I don’t suppose it entered their heads that their family could use some of their good fortune, by way of repayment for what those lads have given them over the years,’ she said scathingly. ‘Still, look on the bright side, ducky. With them away, it gives you a rest from them coming around cadging whatever they can off you.’

Aidy smiled. ‘And I’ll welcome that. Have you seen the kids, Gran?’

‘It’s after four so school’s finished. I expect they’re all off playing with their friends. Best thing for ’em. Marion caught me in the kitchen a bit ago. Seems her friend Elsie has lent Marion her best doll until her mam wakes up from her sleep, comes home and gives her Janet back.’

Tears glinted in Aidy’s eyes. ‘Oh, Gran, I don’t know how she’s going to take it when she finally realises Mam is never going to wake up.’

Bertha patted Aidy’s hand. ‘We’ll be here, lovey. Me and you together will see her through.’

Aidy flashed her a wan smile. ‘That was so thoughtful of Elsie, giving Marion her doll.’

Bertha chuckled. ‘The same Elsie that thumped her last week ’cos Marion wouldn’t share her Sat’day penny sweets with her ’cos Elsie wouldn’t share hers with her … or summat like that anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if the doll’s back with Elsie at bedtime, the way those two fall in and out with each other on a daily basis.’

To Aidy’s surprise, Bertha then stepped behind her, seeming to be using her for cover, and Aidy spun round to ask, ‘What are you doing, Gran?’

‘Hiding from Ivy Ibbotson. Can you believe that today of all days she’s badgering me to mix her up a potion, to help draw a nasty boil she’s got on her backside?’

‘Oh. I wondered why she wouldn’t sit down when I offered her a seat a while back.’

Bertha grinned wickedly. ‘Well, now yer know why. But some people have no respect, have they? If she doesn’t stop pestering me, I’ll mix her up summat that’ll make the boil grow twice as big! Ah, good, Nell Wright has collared her. She’ll keep her ages, boring her to death about her new grandson, so I’m safe for a bit.’

Bertha bustled off. Aidy spotted Arch coming in from the kitchen then, carrying clean glasses which several benevolent neighbours had washed up and dried. He didn’t see her at first but she made sure he did by catching his arm. ‘Arch, can you make sure your father leaves some beer for the other men, please?’ she whispered. ‘He’s standing guard over the barrel like a sentry. Not that I’m watching him, but he’s had five glasses to my knowledge … and it’s anyone’s guess how many he’s had not to my knowledge.’

‘I’ll go and have a quiet word with him.’ Not that he’ll take any notice of me, thought Arch. ‘It’s been a good turn-out, hasn’t it, love?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, it has, but I won’t be sorry to see them go.’ Arch made to continue on his way, when Aidy stalled him by asking. ‘Oh, have your parents had a windfall?’

He looked surprised. ‘Not to my knowledge. But then, if they had, they wouldn’t tell me or my brothers in case we demanded back some of the money they’ve fleeced us of over the years. What makes you think they have?’

‘Just something your mam said about getting home soon to do the packing.’

‘Oh! That’s not packing for a holiday …’

‘Packing for what then?’ He seemed reluctant to tell her but it was obvious to Aidy he knew what for. ‘Arch?’ she urged him.

He swallowed hard. ‘I haven’t had a chance to tell you. I haven’t found the right time, with all that’s been going on.’

He looked mortally uncomfortable and she very strongly suspected that whatever he’d not had a chance to tell her, she wasn’t going to like. ‘Tell me what, Arch?’ she demanded.

He gulped again. ‘Well … er … they’re packing to … er … move in here.’

Aidy’s jaw dropped. Astounded, she blurted out, ‘Your mother and father are moving in with us!’ Her face then darkened thunderously as she hissed, ‘They do that over my dead body! I can just about stomach your mother in small doses, but as for living with us …! Same goes for Gran and the kids. I’m not sure where me and you are going to sleep yet. If your parents have been evicted for whatever reason, then they’ll have to go cap in hand to one of your brothers ’cos they ain’t coming here to sponge off us, not even for a few days, and that’s final, Arch.’

‘Ah, but, Aidy …’

‘No, Arch.’

She made to walk away from him but he thrust the glasses he was holding on a mourner by him, asking him to deliver them to the drinks table, then caught Aidy’s arm, pulling her back to him. ‘My mother’s only thinking of us. She’s trying to help, so we can carry on with our own lives.’

Aidy was staring wild eyed at him. Pat Nelson didn’t think of anyone else but herself. Whatever her reasons were for moving in with them, they were for her own benefit and no one else’s. Grabbing Arch’s arm, Aidy dragged him through the throng and outside into the backyard, hopefully out of earshot of any eavesdroppers. Letting go of his arm, she fixed him with her eyes and demanded, ‘Your mother is thinking of us in what way, Arch?’

He eyed her hesitantly. ‘Well, it’s a huge responsibility we’re taking on, looking after your gran and the kids, so that’s why Mam’s kindly offered to move in, so her and Dad can take care of them instead and we can go back to living our own lives.’

Aidy looked blankly at him for a moment, then the real truth behind Pat’s offer struck her and she gave a scoffing laugh. ‘Your mother must think I’m doolally not to know what her true aim is! She’s always hankered after this house. She was always passing snide comments to my mam, such as it didn’t seem fair she had a house like this when she’d no man supporting her, and insinuating Mam must have had something underhand going on with the landlord and that was how she could afford the rent. She never gave my mam any credit for hard work and determination in keeping a decent roof over our heads.

‘This offer is your mother’s sneaky way of getting her hands on this house. She’s well aware that within weeks … no, I’m being generous … days or hours even, the kids and Gran would come running to us, begging us to take them in, not able to stand Pat’s domineering ways. She’d turn them into her slaves, running after her and your dad. And that’s not to mention she’d be looking to us to stump up the money for Gran and the kids’ keep. She’s got some nerve, Arch! Now go and tell we won’t be accepting her generous offer.’

‘Oh, I see Arch is breaking the good news to yer.’ Pat had come out to join them. She was looking annoyed. ‘But I told yer not to bother Aidy with this until after the funeral. Huh, well, it’s done now.’ Before either of them could get a word in, she then addressed Aidy. ‘There’s no need to thank me. It’s the least we can do in the circumstances.’ To them both she said, ‘Dad’s staying here, said it’s not seemly we should both leave early as we’re family, but I’m off to start packing.’ Truth was Jim Nelson would not budge for any reason until there was not a drop of beer left in the barrel. ‘Wouldn’t hurt the kids to come and give me a hand, ’specially the two older ones. Find ’em, Arch, and send them round. I’ll get it all done as quick as I can and then yer can help us settle in before you need to get yerselves back to yer own house. It’s been a long day and you’ll be wanting an early night.’

‘Now look, Mrs Nelson …’ Aidy began.

Pat put up a warning hand and interjected, ‘As I said, there’s no need for thanks. We’re family, least we can do.’ With that she heaved her bulk the short distance to the back gate and disappeared through it out into the jetty beyond.

Aidy glared in annoyance at her husband and told him, ‘You’d best go after your mother. Tell her she’s wasting her time packing.’

With that she spun on her heel and marched away back into the house, leaving a worried-looking Arch staring after her.