Читать книгу Sins of the Father - Kitty Neale - Страница 13

Horace walked down the dimly lit road on a Saturday night, determination in his stride. He knew that Tom Chambers had been trying to avoid him, and when he reached the man’s local, he flung open the door. The dark and gloomy public bar was crowded, men in caps standing at the counter, others sitting at rickety tables, ashtrays overflowing in front of them.

Smoke tainted the air, and as heads turned conversation ceased when Horace walked towards the bar. He knew that in his dark suit, collar and tie, he stood out like a sore thumb, but many of these men were his tenants and he ignored them.

‘Hello, Tom,’ he said as the buzz of conversation started up again.

Tom swung round, immediately defensive. ‘If you’re looking for your rent, I’ll pay you next Friday.’

‘Yes, you said that last week, and the week before. In fact you’re now a further six weeks in arrears.’

Tom hunched over the bar, his voice a hiss: ‘I got laid off again, but I’ve got a job on another site, starting on Monday.’

‘That’s not good enough.’

‘Look, you’ve got Emma working for you and can keep more of her wages.’

‘The rent isn’t Emma’s responsibility, it’s yours, and I’m not prepared to let the arrears mount any further. Either you pay up, or you’ll be evicted.’

‘Don’t say that, Mr Bell. Surely you can give me a bit more time?’

‘No, your time is up.’

‘You can’t put us on the streets. What about the kids?’

He looked at Tom’s pint of ale, unable to hide his disgust. ‘You seem to have money for drink.’

‘I’m only having one. Surely you don’t begrudge me that?’

‘When you owe me a substantial amount of money, I do.’

Tom glanced along the bar, obviously embarrassed that other customers could hear their conversation. He pointed to an empty table in the corner. ‘Can we sit down?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘What can I get you, sir?’ the landlord asked Horace.

‘Just give me a glass of port.’

‘What about you, Tom?’ the publican asked.

Horace ignored Tom’s glance in his direction. If the man wanted another, he could pay for it himself.

‘Not for me,’ Tom said, picking up his half-empty glass. They walked to the table, taking opposite seats.

With a furtive look around, Tom’s voice was little more than a whisper: ‘Please, give me a bit more time. I’ll give you a few bob now and surely we can come to some arrangement about the rest?’

‘We already had an arrangement, one you have failed to keep.’ Horace’s tone hardened. ‘You and I both know that you won’t pay the outstanding rent, and I’m not prepared to give you any further leeway.’

‘Mr Bell, have a heart. I know that things have gone to pot since my wife died, but I’m finding my feet again now. Can’t we work something out?’

This was the opening Horace needed, and, now softening his voice, he said sadly, ‘As you know, I too lost my wife. It’s been nearly three years now.’

‘Then you know what it’s like,’ Tom said eagerly.

‘I still managed to keep my affairs in order,’ Horace snapped. He then sighed heavily. ‘However, I do know how it feels to lose one’s partner in life. In fact, I’ve been considering taking another wife.’

‘I don’t blame you, mate. I’ve got my eye on a nice little widow too.’

‘Have you?’ Horace said, interested despite himself.

‘Yeah, but it’s only been eight months since my wife died and tongues round here would wag something rotten if I took her out.’

‘Rubbish! You’re still a young man and entitled to some comfort.’

‘That’s true, but it ain’t just me. The kids could do with a new mum too. They’re running wild these days and need taking in hand.’

‘Well then, ignore the wagging tongues. Mind you, I have a problem with my choice too. You see, she’s very young.’

‘Blimey, what’s wrong with that?’

‘I’d be a lot older than her.’

‘Leave it out, Mr Bell. You’re still in your prime.’

As he had hoped, Horace had been able to lead the conversation to this point and now he plunged in, ‘I’m glad to hear you say that. You see, I’m interested in Emma.’

‘Emma! What, my Emma?’

Horace ignored the shock on the man’s face. ‘Yes, your daughter, and in fact, if you could persuade her to marry me, well—’

‘Marry you?’ Tom’s voice was high as he broke in. ‘Bloody hell, man, she’s only seventeen! Have you talked to her about this?’

‘No, you see I thought I should discuss it with you first. Anyway, you didn’t seem to think that age was a problem a few moments ago.’

‘Yeah, well, that was before I knew we were talking about Emma.’

‘I’d be good to her, Tom, and if you can persuade her to marry me you need never worry about the rent again. In fact, you could live rent free for the rest of your life.’

Tom’s face darkened. ‘So, you’d be letting me off the hook in exchange for my daughter?’

‘I don’t see it that way. Think about it. With Emma as my wife, I could hardly take money from her father for renting one of my flats.’

Horace lifted his glass, taking a sip of port, and then leaned back in his chair. Tom needed to mull it over, to see the sense of his proposal, and, saying nothing more, he left him to do just that.

Tom glanced at Horace Bell. Then, taking out his tobacco pouch, he rolled a thin cigarette. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a box of matches, all the time avoiding the man’s eyes as his thoughts raced. With his cigarette alight he sucked on it, coughing as the nicotine hit his throat, and then sat back in his chair, eyes narrowed as his mind turned.

Emma was only seventeen. Horace Bell might think himself a young man, but he must be in his mid-forties. Christ, the bloke was older than him, old enough to be her father. It didn’t seem right and, anyway, he doubted Emma would agree.

Yet what about the rent? How the hell was he going to pay it? A small voice began to whisper persuasively at the back of Tom’s mind. Horace Bell was a rich man. If Emma married him he’d be a part of their family. He’d already offered the flat rent free–what else might come their way? Enough, he hoped, to persuade Polly Letworth into his bed…

Tom took another drag on his cigarette and through the smoke shot Horace Bell a glance. All right, the man might be a bit old for Emma, but she would want for nothing and surely a mature man would be better than a young tyke without prospects?

The small voice continued to whisper persuasively. The man’s money, the rent-free flat…Moments later it won the day. Tom picked up his glass, took a swig of beer and, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he said, ‘All right, Mr Bell, you’re on. I’ll speak to Emma.’

Bell smiled, and then rose to his feet. ‘Good man, Tom. Please put my proposal to Emma tomorrow. I’ll call round in the afternoon for her answer.’

‘Blimey, that soon? Can’t you give me a bit of time to work on her first?’

Horace Bell’s friendly demeanour disappeared. ‘I’m not a patient man, Tom, and can see no good reason to wait. I want my answer tomorrow and hope you won’t let me down. After all, you know what will happen if you do.’

Tom paled. Seeing Horace Bell’s expression, he didn’t doubt that the man would carry out his threat. ‘All right, you needn’t worry. Emma will do as she’s told.’