Читать книгу The Family - Kay Brellend - Страница 9

‘How you doing, son?’

Jimmy’s voice startled Faye from her reflection. Quickly she made to go inside, but Jimmy casually placed a hand on both railings, keeping her where she was.

‘Stay ’n’ say hello to him, you rude li’l cow,’ he breathed close to her face.

Jimmy had hailed Stephen on previous occasions but had been ignored. He hadn’t exchanged a word with his youngest son since the evening of the wedding reception, several months ago. ‘Business booming?’ Jimmy remarked in a jolly tone once he’d gained Stephen’s attention. He could guess why his son was staring and tightened his grip on the railings in case his stepdaughter tried again to get past him.

Stephen slowed down and stuck his hands in his pockets. Robert constantly warned him to ignore Jimmy if he tried to cosy up to him when he was in Campbell Road. Stephen hated his father yet, illogically, a worming curiosity was urging him to walk over and find out a few things. He longed to know what Jimmy had been doing, and where he’d been in the missing years.

Despite painful memories of the beatings his father had dealt out, Stevie had retained a spark of optimism that there might be some reason to be proud of the man who’d sired him. Back when he was a lot younger, he’d convinced himself that Jimmy Wild, like the unknown warrior and the men who’d lived in the neighbourhood, such as his uncle Jack Keiver and Geoff Lovat, had perished nobly on foreign soil for king and country. Later, when no official notification ever arrived about Jimmy Wild being missing, presumed dead, Stevie’s hopes had taken a different turn. His father might have returned, dreadfully wounded and suffering from amnesia. He had heard of fellows – seen them, too – who’d been shell-shocked, or had their minds destroyed by the terrible things they’d witnessed in the trenches. Then he’d wondered whether he might have been one of those unlucky civilians caught up in the London bombings, which had left many corpses too horribly mutilated for identification. Obstinately Stephen had clung to the fantasy that something other than callous self-interest might have prevented his father coming back home.

Now he inwardly mocked himself for having wallowed in such sentimental guff. Yet he remained where he was; the old man was standing with his stepdaughter, and she had a face that’d draw any bloke in for a closer look. A couple of times he’d seen her walking down the road, but she’d crossed over and ignored him. He’d learned from Robert that their father had taken on a stepfamily when he’d got involved with Edie Greaves. He knew one of Edie’s kids was a girl aged about eighteen, called Faye. An odd note in his brother’s voice when he’d mentioned her had alerted Stephen to the fact that Rob had an interest there. But he’d not questioned him over it. Robert could be aggravatingly uncommunicative when it came to personal matters, especially where women or money were concerned.

Curiosity was creeping over Faye too, so she ceased straining against the cruel grip Jimmy had placed on her arm. She’d only previously seen Stephen Wild at a distance. Now, as he slowly approached, she noticed that his hair was styled short, probably to tame its curls, and had a coarse appearance. Neither was the colour as dark brown as Robert’s sleek, straight mane. Stephen also looked to be a few inches shorter in height than his brother, although they shared a similar spare build. His eyes appeared lighter, too; more the colour of caramel than chocolate, and he had a slightly softer set to his lips. On the couple of occasions Faye had been with Robert she’d noticed the slant to his mouth that made him look constantly on the verge of being sarcastic. Possibly, when he’d been in his twenties, their father might have resembled his handsome sons. Now Jimmy was a bloated, grizzled wreck of a man; only a few dark threads in his lank grey hair hinted at his lost youth.

‘Still here then?’ Stephen greeted his father sourly as he approached and stopped close to the kerb. He cocked his head, looking them up and down.

‘’Course we’re still here. We ain’t goin’ nowhere,’ was Jimmy’s blunt reply. ‘Next time I leave The Bunk, it’ll be in a pine box.’

‘They all right with that?’ Stephen nodded at Faye as his eyes swept over her, a crooked smile on his lips. Now he was close to her, he could see it wasn’t only her face that was lovely; she had a sweet figure on her too. ‘Don’t know of any nice young lady who’d be grateful to be dragged here to live permanently.’

‘Faye’s a good gel; she’ll do as her dad tells her.’ Jimmy slung a possessive arm about her narrow shoulders.

Faye shrugged him off immediately in a way that taught Stephen a lot about their relationship, and her obedience.

‘Yeah … can see she’s devoted to her new dad,’ he scoffed, watching her slender back as she disappeared, unhindered by Jimmy, into the house.

‘Don’t matter about her,’ Jimmy said, lip curling. ‘It’s me boys – me own boys, that is – who I care about.’

Stephen hooted an acid laugh. ‘Yeah, we noticed how much you cared about us when we was growin’ up.’ He started on his way, but halted on hearing his father’s next comment.

‘Always thought it’d be you, y’know, who’d make summat of himself.’ Jimmy smiled, having regained Stephen’s attention. ‘You was always the brightest of the two of yers.’

‘How d’you work that out? Weren’t me wot done any good at school; Rob did.’

‘Don’t need no schoolin’ to be shrewd.’ Jimmy nodded at him. ‘You was the one learned the right lessons.’

‘Wot … like not to wet the bed ’cos I’d get the belt?’ Stephen took a step forward and put his lips close to his father’s unshaven cheek. ‘Yeah, I learned that lesson all right,’ emerged in a hiss.

‘And it were a lesson you needed to learn, son,’ Jimmy said in his weary, gentle way. ‘Did you want all the kids round here teasing the life outta yer ’n’ callin you names like “piss-pants”?’ Before Stephen could recover from the shock of hearing his father finally acknowledge his brutality, Jimmy continued, ‘You knew early on that you gotta be ambitious and make some money.’ A paternal hand patted his son’s shoulder. ‘When you was just a nipper, you was the one always wanted to earn himself coppers when the gambling school was up ’n’ running on a Sunday dinnertime; always acting dogger-out for us, wasn’t you. Your brother was too fond of sparring down the boys’ club with pals, or kicking a football about, as I remember.’

‘Yeah … ’n’ I soon learned he was wiser, ’cos doin’ little jobs for Solly fer nuthin’ paid off eventually in a fuckin’ big way. Anyhow, whatever I earned, you or Mum ’ud have it straight off me.’

Jimmy shrugged, all affable. ‘Don’t want to start no arguments with you, son, nor hear you speak bad about yer mum, God rest her. She did her best …’

‘I’ll never speak bad about her … only you!’ Stephen exploded. ‘Don’t you try to twist me words, you crafty bastard.’

‘Right … right … calm down,’ Jimmy crooned soothingly. ‘All I’m saying, Stevie, is I’m surprised you’re the sidekick and Bobbie’s in charge. That’s all I’m sayin’ …’

‘Yeah … well, tell someone else,’ Stephen spat and strode off. His hands were thrust casually in his pockets, but his face was flushed and his mouth compressed in a thin line.

Faye moved back from the doorway as she glimpsed Stephen crossing the road. She wouldn’t usually eavesdrop on other’s conversations, but she’d stopped, out of sight, just behind the doorjamb because she’d had an inkling her stepfather might try to stir up trouble. But the trouble he seemed to want to cause wasn’t the sort she’d anticipated. She’d thought he’d wind Stephen up and point him in the direction of the Keivers. She knew Jimmy was itching to start a war with Tilly Keiver; she’d seen the way he stared obsessively at the woman when she passed by, nose in the air, or occasionally two fingers in the air, when he tried to accost her and she couldn’t be bothered to tell him to piss off. But, instead, it seemed Jimmy’s intention was to drive a wedge between his sons. Silently, Faye hurried up the stairs in case he came in and saw her and guessed she’d been loitering and listening.

Jimmy stayed where he was and watched, slit-eyed against the afternoon sun, as Stephen went about his business. When his son disappeared into a hallway opposite he turned and shuffled back inside, looking smug.

The moment Faye entered the room, Adam immediately put out his arms to be picked up. She settled him against her hip then felt the dampness from his bottom seep into her skirt. She sighed and touched his posterior.

‘He wet?’ Edie demanded as she noticed her daughter’s actions.

Faye nodded.

‘Get him in the back room and clean him up ’fore yer dad finds out,’ Edie garbled. ‘Y’know he reckons it’s high time Adam was trained.’

‘He’s only two and a bit,’ Faye protested. ‘He’s bound to have an accident now ’n’ again.’

‘You ’n’ Michael was dry by then,’ Edie said querulously, shooting an anxious look at the door as she saw the handle turning.

Faye did as she’d been told and immediately took the boy to change him. The exchange she’d just overheard between Stephen and his father had confirmed her worst suspicions about Jimmy Wild. He was a brutal man, and if he felt disgruntled enough he wouldn’t hold back on disciplining Adam for wetting himself any more than he had with his own flesh and blood. She touched the soft cheek of the child lying on the bed then bent to plant a kiss where her fingers had stroked. Adam had been only six months old when Jimmy Wild walked into their lives. Faye felt bitterly upset that the little boy might soon, with her mother’s blessing, start to call the vile man daddy.

That awful thought made her determined to get away for an hour or so, and take Adam with her. Though it was late afternoon, it was warm and would stay light for some hours yet. Carefully she withdrew the rolled-up five-pound note from its hiding place. She’d secreted it in the channel of fabric where string was threaded to hold up a rag that served as a curtain at the window. Having loosened her clothes, and slipped the money into her cleavage, she dried off Adam then went back into the other room, leading him by the hand.

‘Going off out for a while. I’ll take Adam with me for a bit of air.’

‘Where you off to?’ her mother demanded.

‘Just out,’ Faye said in exasperation. ‘Can’t stay cooped up in this dump all the time.’

‘You only just finished work,’ Edie pointed out.

‘So?’ Faye made an impatient gesture. ‘If you must know, I said I’d meet Marge and we’d take a stroll just for something to do,’ she lied. Marge, the young widow who helped out at the bakery on Wednesdays and Saturdays, was about ten years older than she was, and had lost her husband in the Great War, but they’d struck up a bit of a friendship. After all, they had something in common in that they’d both had enough of Mr Travis’s sweaty hands on them.

Adam started to grizzle and immediately drew Jimmy’s surly attention. ‘Gawd’s sake, let her take him off out. The kid never stops whining.’

Once down the stairs Faye set Adam on the ground and his mood seemed improved by the sunshine. She glanced down at the house where Matilda Keiver lived and drew in a deep breath, plucking up the courage to go and find her.

She’d moved no more than a yard or two when she realised she might not need to approach Matilda to get the information she needed. Her daughter, Alice, was just coming out of her house and was starting up the road towards her, leading a little girl by the hand.

Faye took a quick look up at her window. She didn’t want her mother or Jimmy seeing her talking to any of the Keivers; she’d be interrogated for days over what had been said. She set off briskly round the corner into Paddington Street and loitered there, feeling nervous. As Alice drew level she made her way towards her.

‘Sorry to bother you, I’m just wondering if you could tell me where your cousin Robert lives.’

Alice looked at Faye and then at the blond child who was sucking his thumb. A moment later her daughter Lilian took one of his hands and began to swing it, making him laugh.

‘Why do you want him?’ Alice replied, trying not to sound suspicious. She knew this pretty young woman was Jimmy’s stepdaughter, and she knew her uncle wasn’t above sending somebody else out to do his dirty work.

‘It’s nothing to do with Jimmy, or my mum,’ Faye said sharply, guessing what was running through her mind. ‘It’s just …’ She moistened her lips. She knew nothing about Alice, but instinctively, from the first moment she’d spotted her laughing in Robert’s car, she’d decided that she looked the sort of person you’d want as a friend. ‘Your cousin gave me a bit of money … a loan. I want to give it back.’

Alice could tell from her uneasiness that it had taken courage for Faye Greaves to stop her and ask how to find Robert. Her cousin was popular with the girls; all the family were aware of that. By anybody’s standards, Rob had done all right for himself, and ambitious women shamelessly chased him because of it.

Faye could tell Alice assumed she was after her wealthy cousin to wheedle for more not pay anything back. Swallowing the lump of indignation that closed her throat, she pulled the banknote out of her blouse and thrust it at Alice.

‘Give him this, will you.’

‘Give it to him yourself,’ Alice returned, but not unkindly. She smiled at the little boy who was skipping on and off the pavement with her daughter. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Adam.’

‘How old?’

‘Two ’n’ a bit.’ Another brusque answer.

‘Do you want me to write the address down?’

‘I can remember it, thanks,’ Faye said gruffly. Having achieved what she’d set out to do, she scooped Adam up, soothing him as he tried to wriggle free to continue his game with Lilian. Having mumbled a goodbye, Faye carried on down Paddington Street, Adam squirming in her arms.

It was a good walk to Tufnell Park. Faye didn’t yet know this North London territory well and twice had to stop and ask for directions after taking a wrong turning. Little Adam was flagging before they’d made halfway. But she urged him on, lifting him when necessary. Finally she was glad to see a street name high up on a wall that told her she’d arrived at her destination. She stared along the neat row of houses in wonderment. She had no doubt that she was in a good area. A similar neighbourhood to this existed in Dartford. It had been some distance from the decaying turning that she and her family had inhabited, just as this place was a safe distance from Campbell Road.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a smartly dressed couple who descended the steps of one of the villas and sedately sauntered by, arm in arm. Adam was whimpering again so Faye swung him once more into her arms and walked to the end of the street. She looked up at a large house set on its own. Her mouth felt arid and for two pins she’d have turned right around and gone back the way she’d come. Robert Wild lived in the best house in the road. She realised he wouldn’t believe, any more than had his cousin Alice, that she really wanted to return his money. Hadn’t she already learned from his sarcasm that he doubted she’d willingly give up her treasure? The driveway at the side of the house was empty. He was out in his car. She knew it was cowardly to be glad she’d missed him, nevertheless she was feeling relieved.

Adam had wriggled his hand free of hers and darted forward to chase a cat that had been languidly stretching against warm stone. It rose and stalked off towards a green iron gate, then slipped beneath, thwarting the toddler’s attempt to grab its tail and drag it back.

Faye scooped him up, but he stiffened in temper. Soon he was howling loud enough to make a curtain next door twitch, so she dropped him back on his feet and quickly sped up the steps with the intention of posting the five-pound note through the letterbox. He’d know where it had come from. She’d reached the top and her hand was reaching towards a brass letter plate when the sound of a car approaching made her turn. As the vehicle headed towards her, she met his eyes through the windscreen. There was no way she’d make it to the bottom step, let alone escape before he got out.

‘I’ve brought you this,’ Faye blurted, descending a step. She hurried down the rest, one hand outstretched. When he simply looked at her offering, she put it down on the warm bonnet of the car.

‘Decided to stay put with Jimmy, have you?’ he asked in that acerbic way he had. His eyes slew to the child as Adam clung to her legs and mewed.

‘He’s tired. It was a long walk.’

‘Have you given up your plan to get away from them?’

Faye vigorously shook her head in answer. ‘I shouldn’t have brought him. It wasn’t fair, expecting him to walk so far.’

‘You’ll need that then.’ Robert picked up the cash and held it out.

Adam snatched it, scrunching it in his little fist.

‘Smart kid,’ Robert observed with a soundless laugh. His eyes narrowed on her as he noticed she looked to be on the point of crying. ‘Are you going to come in for a minute?’

She shook her head, stroking Adam’s face to soothe his whimpering while simultaneously trying to prise open his fingers to rescue the money before it got torn.

‘Do you want a drink?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Tea? Coffee?’

‘Milk.’

They both looked at Adam.

‘Drink of milk,’ he piped up again, then turned shy and dropped his chin. ‘Please,’ he whispered and peeped up at Robert from beneath long baby lashes.

‘Well mannered, too,’ Rob said. ‘He didn’t get that from Jimmy.’

‘He got it from me,’ Faye stated tartly.

‘Yeah … I can believe that.’ He took her arm and steered her up the steps.

‘Do you live here alone?’

‘Mostly,’ he said, watching for her reaction as he stuck the key in the lock.

‘It’s a big house … a family house.’

‘Yeah … there’s plenty of room.’

Faye’s eyes slipped to his and then swerved away. She regretted her comment. He thought she was hinting there was enough room for her. ‘I’m going back to Kent to live,’ she blurted. ‘Soon as I can, I’m moving out of The Bunk, and going right far away from here.’

‘I grew up chanting that phrase.’ He ushered her into the hallway, taking her elbow to propel her forward when she seemed reluctant to move across the threshold.

‘It’s nice,’ Faye said, looking about. It was an absurd understatement, considering what she’d been used to. The hallway was spacious and uncluttered. The air smelled vaguely of lavender polish and, having registered the scent, her eyes darted to the gleaming mahogany furniture set back against the walls. ‘You’ve got a char?’

‘No. I keep it clean.’ He gave a slightly diffident smile. ‘Comes from growing up in a shithole, I expect … Sorry,’ he muttered, noting her frown at his language and look at the child.

‘Milk …’ Adam said, struggling to break free. The new environment seemed to keep him amused and he toddled from place to place before settling on his knees on the patterned rug that stretched the length of the passageway.

‘Are you going to sit down for a moment, or d’you intend to stand there making the place look untidy?’

Faye gave a tiny laugh. ‘Thanks very much.’ Her amusement faded. ‘Can’t stop long; it’s almost time Adam was in bed and it’s a bit of a trek.’

‘I’ll take you back,’ Rob said, lightly amused. ‘Did you think I’d let you walk?’

‘I didn’t think about it. Anyway, why would you want to go out when you’ve just this minute got home?’

‘Because I’ve got manners too, just don’t always remember to use them,’ he ruefully admitted as he walked off towards the back of the house. ‘I’ll get a cup of milk for him.’

‘His name’s Adam. You might as well remember that. He is your stepbrother, after all.’

‘And who d’you think you are? My sister?’ he sent over a shoulder.

He returned with a cup of milk and gave it to the boy, who gulped greedily at it. Faye quickly went to him, worried Adam might spill some on the beautiful rug. Surreptitiously she felt his bottom in case he’d wet himself. He had and she lifted him quickly on to his feet and took the cup from him. A dark ring remained where his bottom had been.

‘Thanks … we’ve got to go now.’ She looked about for somewhere to deposit the beaker and gingerly placed it on a glass-like wooden surface. Her eyes returned to the stain on the rug and she looked up to find Rob watching her. He knew and was waiting to see if she’d got manners and would own up. ‘Sorry … Adam’s had a little accident.’ She moistened her lips. ‘It’s not much. I shouldn’t have let him have a drink. It’s my fault.’

‘Don’t worry, it happens,’ he said. ‘D’you think of me as a brother?’

‘Have you got a cloth? I’ll just mop it up. It won’t stain if we’re quick,’ she said, turning about on the spot as though she’d willingly fetch a rag herself if he pointed her in the right direction.

‘Fuck the rug!’ Robert exploded beneath his breath. ‘Do you think of me as your brother?’

‘I think you ought to wash your mouth out with soap,’ she snapped, glaring at him. Taking Adam by the hand, she turned deliberately away from him.

‘That’s just the sort of thing a bloody sister would say.’

‘It’s just the sort of thing a bloody mother would say,’ Faye rounded on him. A moment later she’d turned her back on him again.

‘Well, you were obviously luckier in your mother than I was in mine,’ he said through his teeth. He wrenched open the front door. ‘Come on then … let’s go.’