Secrets to Keep

CHAPTER FIVE





Bertha was in the kitchen drying dishes when Aidy found her. She took one look at her granddaughter’s face and knew something had greatly upset her. Discarding the pot she was drying, along with the cloth, on the draining board, she caught Aidy’s arm, pulling her to a halt. Aware they were not alone in the kitchen, she whispered, ‘What’s up, ducky?’

Bertha would be furious herself when she learned of Pat’s devious plan to get her hands on this house. But there was no need for her grandmother to know now as Aidy had put a stop to the plan. ‘Nothing, Gran, I’m just tired,’ she told her, which was actually true so she wasn’t lying.

But Bertha knew her granddaughter well and wasn’t convinced. ‘You sure that’s all?’

‘I’m sure, Gran. Now stop fussing.’

Bertha still wasn’t convinced. She wasn’t that short sighted she could mistake an annoyed expression for a tired one. ‘Mmm … well … have it your own way. I’m tired too. Although I’m glad they all turned out for Jessie, I’ll be glad when they go.’

Six o’clock saw the last of the mourners take their leave and the bereft family was finally on their own, to start rebuilding their lives. Well, all but one member of it. Arch was missing.

He’d had plenty of time to pay a visit to his mother. As he hadn’t come back, Aidy was convinced he was feeling mortally embarrassed that he had ever allowed her to suggest her plan, and needed to get up the courage to face his wife with an apology. He’d be in the pub, gaining that courage through a couple of pints.

Arch had been to the pub, but it wasn’t the courage to face his wife he needed. He was preparing himself for a scene with Pat. Being raised by a mother like that had made Arch a strong-minded man who could stand his ground with anyone … except his mother, that was. Despite his no longer living under her roof, Pat still managed to keep a controlling influence on him that he just couldn’t bring himself to shake off. Arch himself understood why. Although he would never admit it, his own mother terrified him. Memories of the many thrashings he’d received as a child whenever he had dared to cross her were still very vivid in his mind. Despite the fact he was now a man, Pat still treated him as she’d always done … woe betide him if he didn’t do her bidding. The thought of being on the receiving end of her wrath again and possibly suffering a battering was torture to Arch. He couldn’t bear the thought of anyone knowing how he’d received his injuries. Not even Aidy.

Pat was incensed by the news her son had just hesitantly delivered. Pat herself had been born the ninth child of fourteen, to a family so poor she’d never had a pair of shoes until she was seven and only then cast-offs given to her by the kindly woman her mother cleaned for … before it was discovered that her mam had been thieving and was sacked from her job.

For Pat, though, the utter joy of experiencing her chilblain-riddled feet warmly encased in leather, something she’d only dreamed of before, was to be short lived. Cuddling the shoes protectively to her when she went to sleep that night on the bug-infested flock mattress she shared with four of her sisters, in a room so damp fungi grew on the walls, she awoke the next morning to find them gone. It transpired that her mother had pawned them to pay for the bread and margarine they all ate that morning for breakfast, food that Pat had to fight her siblings for in order to get her share. The loss of those precious shoes was devastating to her. It was to fuel within her an unbridled determination that, when she grew up, never would she be in such dire straits she had to pawn a pair of children’s shoes in order to feed her family.

Unfortunately for Pat, though, she didn’t possess the basic intelligence to realise that working her way out of poverty was the way of securing a better way of life, not marrying the first man who showed an interest in her who had a regular job, and getting herself pregnant to make sure she landed him. Jim Nelson’s wage for his labouring job might have seemed a fortune to her while they were courting as, unbeknown to her, he only handed over to his weak-minded, widowed mother the smallest amount he could get away with, squandering the rest on his own enjoyment. In Pat’s eyes, anyone who could afford the price of a few drinks three nights a week was rich indeed, but when it came to funding the rent and paying for life’s necessities, Jim’s wage went nowhere near far enough.

To her utter dismay, marriage had brought no improvement in Pat’s life whatsoever. She was quick to realise there was not much hope of any change in it either. Jim Nelson rapidly proved he hadn’t got it in him to provide for her any more than he was already doing, no matter how much she screamed and bullied him. Visits to the pawn with anything she could lay her hands on were as much a part of Pat’s life as they always had been, as was begging for handouts from benevolent people. Now, at the age of forty-three, her determination to secure a better life for herself than her parents had had was starting to fade.

But it was to be resurrected by the death of her youngest son’s mother-in-law.

This was her chance to leapfrog out of their paltry, two-bedroomed slum dwelling in the poorest street in the district, straight into Jessie’s well-maintained three-bedroomed family home. That would be a triumph indeed for Pat, and she was determined to achieve her aim, no matter what.

When making her offer, she had bargained on the fact that her daughter-in-law would be so bowed down by grief and faltering at the thought of taking on her siblings and grandmother, she would eagerly accept. Pat had not considered that her offer would be turned down by Aidy. How she detested that girl! Her two other sons had married the type of women who, on first introduction to Pat, had immediately allowed her to intimidate them. Consequently both had since danced to her tune, for fear of upsetting her and the consequences. But Aidy was not the sort to allow another woman to dominate her life. From the very start, she had proved a match for Pat. Their whole relationship was one long battle of wills and, much to Pat’s fury, it was Aidy who always managed to win out in the end.

But this move to Jessie’s might be Pat’s only chance of ever improving her lot, and she wasn’t about to give it up without one hell of a fight.

Fury blazing in her eyes, she banged one fist hard on the table, bellowing at Arch, ‘What d’yer mean, that wife of yours is turning down me offer?’

He took a deep breath, facing his nemesis the courage those two pints had momentarily given him rapidly vaporising. Tremulously he responded, ‘Look, Mam, it’s not like Aidy doesn’t appreciate the sacrifice you’re prepared to make for us. When I told her she was … well … speechless at your kindness.’ Which was true, she had been speechless, but at the gall of it. ‘But it’s like this, you see. She’d promised her mam that if anything should happen to her, then Aidy would make sure she took good care of her gran and the kids.’

‘And that promise means more to her than the promise she made you when she married yer, always to put you first?’ his mother screeched back.

‘No, ’course it doesn’t. But we promised to do right by each other through good and bad, so I have stand by Aidy through this bad time of hers, don’t I?’

Pat wagged one fat finger at him. ‘And, like I pointed out to you when I first put me idea to you, do you really want to take on the responsibility of raising someone else’s family? I’ll tell you again, as it seems that thick head of yours ain’t took it in … you go along with this and you’ll never have any money to call yer own. By the time yer’ve forked out for keeping that lot out yer wage, you’ll have n’ote left, not even a few coppers for a pint each week. Those clothes yer wearing will have to last for years. You’ll never have any peace and quiet with them noisy kids, and Bertha Rider might get around all right on her pins just now, but what about when she can’t and is housebound? Then yer won’t even be able to speak to Aidy in private, except in yer bedroom, without her ear-wigging. And when she gets to that stage, Aidy will have to give up working to look after her, and then yer won’t have her wage coming in.

‘You was hoping to start a family of yer own some day. Well, yer can kiss that goodbye for the foreseeable future. By the time yer can afford to, you’ll both be too old. You’ll be expected to fork out for those two gels’ weddings when they get married …’ Pat stopped her tirade, having temporarily run out of obstacles to frighten her son with. Her mind whirled frantically. She had already given up the tenancy on this house, bragged to all the neighbours that the Nelsons were moving upmarket, so there was no going back. Thankfully a couple more obstacles then presented themselves ‘And what about …’

He snapped at her, ‘All right, Mam, you’ve made your point.’ And she certainly had. Arch thought the world of his wife’s family and had been fully prepared to help Aidy support them, but now, thanks to his mother, it had really hit home just what he was about to undertake and he wasn’t at all sure if he really wanted to abandon his own plans for the future in favour of the bleak picture Pat had just painted.

Pat detested being interrupted when she was in full flight, and particularly in this instance when she was so very desperate to manipulate her son into doing her bidding. Before he had a chance to try to avoid her, she lunged at him and slapped him full force across his head, screaming at him, ‘Don’t you dare tell me to shut up!’

Rubbing his smarting head and fearing another slap was about to follow, Arch cried out, ‘I’m sorry, Mam, I didn’t mean to.’

‘I should think not. Now, you get back to that f*cking mouthy wife of yours …’

Before he could control himself, Arch interjected, ‘Don’t call Aidy that, Mam.’

The feared second slap came then, but much harder than the first, leaving a handprint on the side of his face. ‘I’ll call her what I bloody like! To me she is a f*ckin’ mouthy bitch. She’s no respect for me at all as her mother-in-law, looks down her nose at me she does, and she ain’t no better than I am. Now go be a man for a change. Tell her you ain’t moving into her mother’s house and working your guts out to keep them all, just to please her. I’m gonna get on with me packing while yer gone. I thought I told you to find the kids and send ’em round to help me … obviously you disobeyed me again. I’ll deal with you later over that. And make sure you hurry back so you can help get our stuff round there. I wanna be moved in tonight, not termorra.’

Pat flashed a scathing glance at her hotchpotch of shabby furniture. ‘New tenants can do what they like with this lot of old rubbish. I’ll be glad to see the back of it.’ She gave a malicious grin. ‘Me new house is fully furnished with better stuff than this so I don’t need none of this old crap, do I? That house is a palace in every way compared to this one. Oh, it’ll be like living in heaven! Folks around here better start showing me more respect or I’ll give ’em what for.’

The back door was heard to open then and seconds later the burly figure of Jim Nelson appeared in the doorway. He was visibly drunk. ‘We ready for the off then?’ He cast his bleary eyes over the filthy, cluttered room, and gave a loud belch. ‘Space to stretch me legs out in our new place. Yer can hardly swing a cat in here.’

Pat turned on him then. ‘If you’d ever got off yer fat, lazy arse and got yerself a decent job, we’d have had a house like we’re moving into years ago,’ she spat. Then she commanded, ‘Get that old trunk out from the cellar so we can pack our clothes in it. Now, not termorra.’ She addressed her son next. ‘What you standing there for, like the village idiot? Order them kids to get their backsides round here to give us a hand, and tell that wife of yours what’s what. And don’t stand for no nonsense off her this time.’

A few streets away, cradling a cup of tea between her gnarled hands, Bertha issued a weary sigh as she sank down on a worn armchair by the range in the back room. She kicked off her shoes to reveal her misshapen feet and sighed, ‘Ah, that’s better.’

Marion, now changed out of her school clothes into shabbier playing-out ones, was sitting on the clippy rug by her gran’s chair absently staring into the fire. Leaning over, the old lady ruffled the top of her head. ‘You all right, chick?’

She shook her head. ‘No, Gran, I ain’t. Elsie took her doll back. She’s spiteful, so she is. I’m never talking to her again.’

Bertha wasn’t surprised to hear this. ‘What’s gone off between you both this time?’

‘She was mad ’cos I never took her some cake from Mam’s do. I told her there weren’t any left ’cos Mrs Nelson took the last bit.’ Marion turned her head and looked up at her grandmother, her own face filled with disgust. ‘She took the last three pieces, Gran. Mrs Mullet went to get a piece and Mrs Nelson pushed her out of the way and put the three last pieces on her own plate. Arch’s mam is so greedy! Anyway, Elsie didn’t believe me that there weren’t no cake left, said I just forgot to take her some.

‘I don’t care she’s took her doll back, I didn’t like it anyway. It hadn’t got any eyes ’cos Elsie poked ’em out … her mam smacked her for doing that … and its hair was all tatty and its clothes, so I was gonna give it her back anyway.’

Bertha ruffled the girl’s hair again. ‘Oh, well, that’s all right then. At least Elsie taking it back saved you doing that.’

Marion’s little face puckered. ‘But that means I won’t get to sleep, Gran. I always slept with Janet, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, you did. Are you sorry you gave Janet to your mam now, to look after?’

Marion said with conviction, ‘Oh, no, Gran. I’m glad I gave Janet to her, to keep her company ’til she wakes up and comes home. I’ll get her back then, won’t I?’ She shot her grandmother a worried look. ‘But I just don’t know how I’m gonna sleep without a dolly to cuddle.’

‘Oh, I see.’ A vision of a long-limbed, threadbare rag doll, sprang to Bertha’s mind. ‘Oh, but what about Flossie?’

‘Flossie?’ Marion queried.

‘You can’t have forgotten about Flossie, love. Aidy bought her for you the day you were born. You and Flossie went everywhere together until you got Janet a couple of Christmases ago.’

Her eyes lit up. ‘Oh, yes, Flossie!’ she cried, jumping up to clap her chubby hands in delight. Then her face fell. ‘I dunno where she is, though.’

‘I do.’

‘You do, Gran?’

Bertha grinned mischievously at her. ‘Your gran knows everything, doesn’t she?’

In all seriousness Marion responded, ‘That’s ’cos you’ve got eyes in the back of yer head, ain’t it, Gran?’

Keeping a straight face, Bertha answered, ‘That’s right. And you just keep remembering that when you’re tempted to do summat yer know yer shouldn’t. Your mam found Flossie, a few days after you got Janet, soaking wet in the old pram in the yard where you’d left her. What a sorry sight she looked too. Anyway, she gave her a wash, dried her off and sewed her where she needed sewing, and put her for safe-keeping in the bottom of her wardrobe, ’cos she knew one day you’d come looking for her.’

‘I’ll thank Mam when she comes back,’ said Marion, jumping up happily to bound off and retrieve her doll.

With a tear in her eye, Bertha uttered, ‘Yes, you do that, lovey.’

Aidy came through, drying her hands on a towel. ‘That’s the last of the pots put away.’

‘Yer should have let me help yer,’ her grandmother told her.

‘You’ve done enough today, Gran. Besides, the neighbours, bless them, did most of the clearing up before they all left, so there wasn’t much for me to do. Can I get you anything to eat? There’s a couple of egg and cress sandwiches left. I’ve put a damp cloth over them to keep fresh if you fancy those. Everything else is gone, I’m afraid.’ She eyed her grandmother in concern. ‘You had no breakfast this morning, and I never saw you eating anything at the wake.’

Bertha hadn’t. The food had all looked most appetising but she had had an emptiness in her stomach that food would not cure. It would just make her feel sick. Bertha wasn’t surprised that, except for a few sandwiches, all the food had disappeared. For many of the folks around these parts, the only time they had a decent feed was at either a wedding or a funeral. Ignoring Aidy’s last question so as not to lie to her, she just said, ‘I might have a peck at something later.’ Then she cast a querying look at the younger woman. ‘Come to think on it, I never seen you eat anything. Nor did you have any breakfast.’

That was true. Aidy had had no stomach for food at all today. Just the thought of it had made her feel sick. She didn’t want her grandmother worrying about her, though, so fibbed, ‘I had my share. Want a fresh cuppa?’

Bertha drained the dregs in her cup and held it out to Aidy, smiling warmly. ‘Never say no to a cuppa, yer know that, love. Where’s Arch, by the way? I ain’t seen him for ages.’

‘Oh, he … er … went to the pub for a pint. He’ll be home when he’s home. I’ll get you that cuppa,’ said Aidy, going off into the kitchen.

Bertha looked after her, frowning. She had such a strong feeling that something wasn’t quite right between those two. But then, it had been an awful day and none of them was their usual self.

Bertha heard the back door open and bang shut, then heard Aidy say, ‘Good God, George, look at the state of you.’ She heard Marion’s voice too but couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. George arrived in the back room then and threw himself down into the armchair opposite his grandmother’s. Bertha looked over at him. He looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards and thrown in a muddy puddle. Thankfully he had changed out of the borrowed suit into his old playing-out clothes of a shabby pair of short trousers and a well-worn shirt, patched at the elbows. There was a bruise forming on one cheek and a drying bloody cut on his lip. ‘You been fighting, our George?’ she challenged him.

It was Aidy who answered. Arriving to stand next to Bertha’s chair and stare at her brother, she shot at him, ‘Marion has just told me you have been, George. How could you, today of all days? I hope the lad you was fighting with ain’t in the same state as you or I’ll have his mam round here, playing merry hell, and that’s the last thing I need right now. What was it over?’ Marion, having come in to stand by her elder sister, went to speak up but Aidy silenced her with: ‘I asked George, Marion. Answer me, George, or you’ll have a red bum as well as a bloodied lip.’

He knew his sister’s threat was no idle one. His head bent, he muttered, ‘Arthur Dunn reckons now our mam is dead and we ain’t got no dad, me, Betty and Marion are orphans so we’ll be going to the children’s home. And as Gran’s old, she’ll be going in the workhouse. He was making Marion cry so I thumped him.’

George jumped up from his chair then and rushed over to Aidy, throwing himself on her. There were tears in his eyes that he was fighting hard to hold back when he lifted his head to look up at her beseechingly. ‘We ain’t going to an orphanage, are we, Aidy? Please say we ain’t?’

Crossing her legs and pressing her head to them, Marion burst into a flood of tears and wailed, ‘I don’t wanna go, Aidy. Please don’t send us.’

Aidy could just picture the other lad goading her siblings with his taunts. After the day they’d had, it was taking all her strength of mind not to go and seek him out herself and give him a piece of her mind for putting them through this unnecessary anguish, just for the sheer fun of it. Grabbing Marion to her and then hugging both children fiercely, Aidy told them, ‘Neither of you is being put in an orphanage and nor is Betty. Gran is certainly not going in the workhouse. Do you think I’d ever let that happen to you? Me and Arch will be moving in here to look after you all.’

Wriggling free from her sister’s hold, Marion wiped her wet face with the back of her hand. Hopping from one foot to the other, she cried out, ‘Really, our Aidy?’

Looking up at her earnestly, George urged, ‘Honest?’

Aidy smiled down at them ‘Cross me heart and hope to die.’ Then she ordered Marion, ‘Get to the privy quick, before you have an accident. George, get in the scullery and clean yourself up. I’m going to make a start on your tea. In the meantime, if you’re hungry there’s some sandwiches left, but make sure you leave some for Betty.’ Marion had shot out and George was making his way to the scullery to clean himself up. ‘Where is Betty?’ she asked him.

He stopped to think for a moment, then continuing on his way told her, ‘Last time I saw her, she was sitting on the wall with Mary Riddle and a couple of other gels.’

‘Well, when you’ve cleaned yourself up, you can go and fetch her in.’

A few streets away, Arch was back in the pub, downing his third pint on top of the two he’d had previously to summon up the courage to face his mother. He was now trying to summon up the courage to go and face Aidy and tell her that, despite his best endeavours, his mother wouldn’t accept her refusal and Aidy was going to have to dissuade her herself.

Albeit Pat had had her own selfish reasons for picturing his future life, Arch had been in complete turmoil since his mother had made him see what lay ahead for him, should he go along with Aidy’s plan and help her care for her family. He hadn’t liked what he had envisioned, didn’t like the idea of giving up his own home to move into his late mother-in-law’s house. Wasn’t happy at the thought of never having a penny of his earnings to spare for himself in the future, as it would all be needed to look after others. But he loved Aidy, couldn’t bear the thought of not being with her, and if he wanted to stay married to her, it seemed he had no choice but to hide his true feelings and go along with her plan. And, in fairness to her, she had no real choice but to do what she was or she’d condemn her beloved family to lives of hell, being cared for by the authorities. And Aidy would never do that.

But then, just when he had about come to terms with his own fate, out of the blue an idea struck him. It was the perfect solution to the problem of caring for Bertha and the children, and it didn’t involve either Aidy and himself or his mother and father. He was surprised Aidy hadn’t thought of it herself. A surge of gladness rushed through him. His life with his wife and their own future plans were not going to be abandoned after all. Though his mother wouldn’t be happy when she discovered that all her devious planning to get the Greenwood house had been in vain.

He downed the dregs in his glass and left the pub to go and break his brainwave to his wife.

Back in the Greenwood house, George had finished his ablutions. Having forgotten to fetch Betty as Aidy thought he was off doing, he was sitting in an armchair, engrossed in a tattered old copy of a Triumph comic he’d borrowed from his mate; Marion was playing with her Shirley Temple cut-out doll on the clippy rug in front of the range, and Bertha was dozing in her chair. Aidy was in the scullery peeling potatoes to cut into chips, pondering whether to fry enough for Arch along with the rest, but deciding to do him fresh when he arrived. As she put the chipped potatoes into the pan of hot fat, she called out, ‘Betty, set the table, please.’

There was silence for a moment before George responded, ‘Betty ain’t here.’

The chips merrily sizzling away, Aidy popped her head around the back-room door and addressed her brother. ‘You did fetch her like I asked?’

He dragged his eyes from his comic to stare blankly at her. ‘Eh?’

He’d forgotten. Normally she would have given him a reprimand for this lapse but today she could overlook it. ‘Go and fetch her now, please.’ She heard the back door open. ‘Oh, it’s all right, she’s here.’

Aidy turned around, fully expecting to see her sister and inform her dinner wouldn’t be long. Instead she gawped at the sight of her mother-in-law, struggling to heave a heavy, battered suitcase over the threshold.

The appetising aroma of cooking chips wafted up Pat’s nostrils. Licking her lips, she said, ‘Oh, good, dinner’s on the go, I’m starving. Get that young lad of yours to come and gimme a hand, and then he can help Mr Nelson with the trunk. He’s borrowed a handcart ter bring that round. He’s not far behind me.’

Aidy was staring at her, stupefied. ‘But Arch went to tell you that we wouldn’t be taking up your offer, Mrs Nelson. We’ll be looking after Gran and the kids ourselves.’

The heavy case was half in the doorway and half out. Straightening herself up, Pat looked across at Aidy, irritated that no one was rushing to help her. ‘And as I told Arch, yer in mourning, not thinking straight. No one in their right mind would lumber themselves with what you and Arch are about to. Not if they had a get out. Now, get that lad of yours to gimme a hand,’ she ordered, bending over to continue with her task of shoving the suitcase into the kitchen.

Aidy felt her hackles rise at this woman’s blatant refusal to give up her scheme to get her hands on the house. ‘I can assure you, my thinking has never been straighter, Mrs Nelson. Now, as I’ve already told you, we won’t be accepting your offer.’

A desperate Pat was pushing the case with all her might now, clearly of the opinion that once she’d her belongings inside the house, she had every right to remain in it. But the case had caught on the edge of a flagstone and was refusing to budge. In desperation she bellowed, ‘Eh up, lad, come and give us a hand.’

Aidy snapped at her, ‘You’ve known him long enough to remember my brother’s name is George, Mrs Nelson.’

Still shoving at the obstinate suitcase, Pat snapped back, ‘At the moment I don’t care what the hell his name is, as long as he gets his arse in here and helps me get this bleddy case inside.’

Hearing Pat’s bellowing voice in the room beyond, George and Marion, closely followed by Bertha, appeared in the doorway to find out what was going on. They all looked astonished at the sight that met them.

‘Why’s Mrs Nelson bringing that case in here?’ George asked Aidy.

Pat’s head jerked up and she told him, ‘’Cos me and Arch’s dad are moving in to look after you lot, letting Arch and yer sister get on with their own lives, that’s why. Now get yerself over here and give me a hand.’

Looks of acute horror at the very thought of the Nelsons moving in, let alone looking after them, filled the faces of Bertha, George and Marion.

‘This true?’ a mortified Bertha demanded of her granddaughter.

‘I ain’t staying here with her,’ cried George.

‘Don’t make us, Aidy,’ pleaded Marion.

Pat scowled across at them. ‘Ungrateful lot! Well, that’s what’s happening so yer’d better all get used to the idea.’

Aidy hurled back at her, ‘That’s not what’s happening, Mrs Nelson.’ She turned to address her family then. ‘You have my word that Mr and Mrs Nelson are not moving in. There’s been a misunderstanding and I’m just putting Mrs Nelson right. It’s me and Arch who’ll be taking care of you all.’

Glaring at Aidy, Pat barked at her, ‘You seem to think my son is happy to go along with flogging his guts out to keep your family, but I can tell you, he ain’t.’ She heard the click of the back gate and spun her head to see Arch framed in the gateway, looking mortified to find his mother here before he could warn his wife that she was still persisting in her ‘offer’. He’d also been hoping to inform Aidy of his own proposed solution to their problem without his mother being present; it was his idea and he would suffer her wrath as a result.

Pat said to Aidy, ‘Here he is now so yer can ask him yerself.’ She then shouted to Arch, ‘Get over here and tell this wife of yours you ain’t prepared to take on her family. Today not termorra!’ she commanded him. When Pat saw he wasn’t budging, she stomped across to him, grabbed his arm and dragged him back with her to stand before his wife at the back door, urging him, ‘Tell her, I said.’

Arch was very conscious of Aidy’s questioning eyes boring into him. He swallowed hard, flashing a worried glance at his mother. He could see the look in her eyes, daring him to voice anything that would jeopardise her move into this house. He looked down at the ground, rocking on his feet, and chose his words carefully. ‘Well, Mam did point out a few things I hadn’t considered that … er …’

‘That what, Arch?’ Aidy urged him.

‘Scared the shit out of him,’ erupted Pat. ‘You caught him unawares when yer first told him yer intention of looking after yer family. But now he’s had time to realise just what he’s taking on, he don’t wanna go ahead.’

Aidy snapped at her, ‘I’m sure my husband is capable of telling me himself what he feels, Mrs Nelson.’

Pat retaliated, ‘Well, obviously he ain’t or he would have afore now. Poor lad poured his heart out to me. Some marriage you’ve got when yer husband is frightened to tell yer how he really feels. So I’ve no choice but to.’ She gave Arch a push on his back. ‘Go on, tell her what I’m saying is true.’ Before he could utter a word, she wagged a fat finger at Aidy and explained: ‘Now listen, and listen good – my Arch don’t wanna tek on someone else’s family. Your duty is to your husband. What he says goes.’

‘Well, that’s rich, coming from the likes of you, Pat Nelson! Your husband doesn’t get any say whatsoever in what goes on in his house,’ piped up Bertha, unable to contain herself any longer.

Outraged, Pat completely forgot it was in her best interests to present a false picture of herself as a warm, loving woman who’d care for her daughter-in-law’s family like they were the most precious people in the world to her … at least until she’d got her feet under the table … and bellowed back, ‘Who asked you to stick yer interfering nose in, you wizened old crone?’

Outraged that anyone was addressing his beloved grandmother in such a way, George’s temper flared and he erupted at Pat: ‘Don’t you dare speak to my gran like that, you fat old bag!’

Clinging to her grandmother, Marion started crying.

A stricken Arch desperately wanted to come to the defence of his wife and her family while at the same time he dreaded going against his mother and suffering the repercussions in front of them all. He was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Pat was glaring furiously at George for what he’d said to her. Trying to squeeze past her case, one hand outstretched to slap him, she hissed, ‘Why, you little …’

Aidy’s own temper flared then. Shielding her brother, she told her mother-in-law, ‘You lay one finger on my brother and I won’t be responsible for my actions, Mrs Nelson. And I won’t stand for you speaking to my grandmother like that either.’

Pat’s eyes blazed at Aidy. ‘You should remember who you’re speaking to, lady. I’m yer mother-in-law. Now I’ll speak to anyone how I bleddy well like …’

Aidy folded her arms and took a stance. ‘Not on my doorstep, Mrs Nelson. So I’d be obliged if you’d remove yourself from it. If you thought for a minute I would even consider you moving in here to care for my family, then you were quite wrong.’ She addressed Arch. ‘We obviously can’t talk while your mother is present. Will you help her take her belongings back to her own house and we’ll sort this out when you come back.’

The back gate opened then and Betty came tumbling through it. She looked bemused at the scene before her and worriedly yelled over to Aidy, ‘What’s going on, our Sis?’

Aidy called back to her, ‘Get yourself in here now.’

By her tone of voice Betty knew better than to delay. Scuttling across the yard, she side-stepped Arch then squashed herself past Pat, which was no mean feat as the bulky woman practically filled the doorway. Betty clambered over the suitcase to join her gran and siblings.

Pat was livid that her plan to elevate herself had fallen foul of the obstinate madam before her. But all was not quite lost yet. She still had one ace up her sleeve. She snarled at Aidy, ‘My son has said all he’s gonna say to you on this subject. Get it through your thick head that he don’t wanna become a father to them kids, or bankroll them and that old cow either.’ There was a malicious smirk on her face when she added, ‘Yer can’t manage to do it yerself without Arch’s wage packet, can you? You’ll soon come running back to me, begging to take up my offer.’ She demanded of Arch, ‘Get me case.’ She saw him start to speak to Aidy and, clenching one fat fist, shook it at him menacingly. ‘I said, get me case!’

Arch couldn’t bring himself to look at Aidy, so ashamed was he of his mother’s appalling behaviour in her quest to get her own way. But, far worse than that, he was ashamed of not being man enough to stand up to Pat in front of his wife and her family. How he was ever going to regain their respect after this, he had no idea. And he still hadn’t had a chance to suggest his own answer to the problem of just who was going to care for the kids and Gran to Aidy yet.

He knew his mother well enough to realise that until she’d got her way she would be keeping a watchful eye on him, to stop him acting behind her back but she couldn’t watch him all the time and at the first opportunity he would attempt to sort out this mess with Aidy.

He grabbed the handle of Pat’s case and heaved it off the doorstep, struggling down the yard with it and disappearing down the jetty.

Before she too went through the back gate, Pat shouted back to Aidy, ‘When yer ready to accept me offer, yer know where yer can find me. I’ll give yer a fortnight at the most before you realise just what yer teking on and come crawling.’

Pat and Arch met up with Jim Nelson in the jetty.

Temporarily parking the handcart laden with their heavy, battered trunk, he wiped trickles of sweat off his brow with the back of one hand and eyed them both in confusion as they arrived to join him.

Before he could enquire what was going on, his wife bellowed at him, ‘Turn around, we’re off back home. Only temporarily, mind. It won’t tek that madam long to realise the big error she’s made, trying to do it all herself.’

Jim gawped at her. ‘Oh, but we can’t go back home. The new tenants have already started moving in.’

‘Well, they’ll just have to bleddy well move out again.’

Jim looked worried. ‘Even if yer got them to, Pat, I doubt the landlord would let you stay after what you said to him when yer gave him notice.’

She pulled a face. Jim had made a good point. She hadn’t held back from venting her feelings to the landlord over what she perceived as his failings during the years she had been renting his hovel. Besides that she was behind with the rent, owing money which her sons had actually given her but which she’d squandered on other things rather than their accommodation. Even if the landlord did agree to their returning, he would insist they clear the arrears off first, which she’d no hope of doing. Pat said to her son, ‘Looks like we’ll be staying with you ’til that wife of yours comes to her senses. Hope yer’ve got summat tasty in fer dinner.’

Arch froze. The thought of living under the same roof as his parents, even for one night, was sheer living hell to him. One night was all he intended putting up with them. This time tomorrow night, he and Aidy would be back together under the same roof, he was determined.