‘If you ask me, your mother’s a law unto herself and I can’t see her listening to you. She’ll be turning on Amy next and I’m not going to stand for that. In fact, now that there’s bad blood between your mother and us I want you to stop seeing my daughter.’
‘Dad!’
Amy had come downstairs and Stan turned to look at his daughter. He saw by the shocked expression on her face that she must have overheard, but he wasn’t going to backtrack. ‘I’m doing this for your own good,’ he said to her, his attention then returning to Tommy when the young man spoke.
‘Mr Miller, please, you can’t blame me for what my mother said and did.’
Stan was about to answer him, but it was Amy who spoke first.
‘Tommy,’ she said softly, ‘I was going to talk to you about this later, but to ease my dad’s mind I might as well get it over with now. I don’t blame you for your mother’s actions, but nevertheless she barged in here and insulted my mum. Unless your mother apologises, I’ll never speak to her again – though I doubt that would bother her. She doesn’t like me, I know that, and now that this has happened, maybe we should stop seeing each other.’
‘No, Amy, don’t say that. If she dares to insult your mother again, or you, I’ll walk out and find a place of my own.’
Stan looked at Amy, loving her loyalty towards her mother, but impressed by Tommy’s response too. In the light of this, he decided that it was up to Amy now. If she wanted to go on seeing Tommy, he wouldn’t stand in her way.
‘Do you really mean that, Tommy?’ Amy asked.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘In that case,’ she said smiling at last, ‘where are you taking me tonight?’
Stan saw the delight on Tommy’s face, but then the young man sobered and said, ‘Is that all right with you, Mr Miller?’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ he answered, straight-faced, hoping as the two of them left that his daughter had made the right decision.
Celia was waiting up when Thomas arrived home after seeing Amy, and she immediately asked, ‘Well, did you find out where your father is?’
‘No,’ he said sternly, ‘but I did find out that you barged into Mrs Miller’s house and insulted her.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Celia protested. ‘Phyllis Miller’s cousin went off with your father and I have every right to know where they are. She refused to tell me and then demanded that I leave her house.’
‘Was that before or after you called her a tart?’
‘Thomas, I was upset; angry that she was lying.’
‘She wasn’t lying, and I’m telling you now, Mother, if you don’t apologise, Amy will never have anything to do with you again.’
Celia almost laughed – that suited her just fine, yet she knew tears were the best defence for her behaviour and wailed, ‘I know I haven’t been myself since your father le … left me, that I’ve been acting irrationally, without thought, but I … I can’t seem to stop myself, Thomas.’
‘Mum, please, don’t cry,’ he said worriedly.
‘I … I can’t help it,’ Celia sobbed. ‘I almost went out of my mind when I heard about your father and that … that woman, and I was hysterical when I went to see Amy’s mother. Surely you can understand that? And as women, you’d have thought that Amy and her mother would make allowances for my behaviour too.’
‘Mum, I’m sorry. I can’t speak for them, but I should have realised how hard this has been for you.’
Celia felt a surge of triumph. She’d shown that Amy and her mother were lacking in understanding, a seed planted that she hoped would grow. She’d water it well – put more doubts about Amy in her son’s mind, and hopefully when the plant came into full bloom, that girl would be out of her son’s life for good.
On Saturday morning, Mabel wasn’t at her usual post, looking out of the window. Instead, Jack had gone to work a shift and she was sitting in a chair, still deeply hurt about the way Phyllis had spoken to her. All right, she had opened her mouth to Edna, but it hadn’t been the end of the world. Celia Frost was going to find out anyway, so there had been no need for Phyllis to get on her high horse. They’d been friends for years, but that had counted for nothing when Phyllis virtually chucked her out of the house.
Mabel shifted in her seat, feeling hard done by. What she needed was a distraction, but she’d heard on the grapevine that the young couple had turned down Winnie’s place. That meant there’d be no removals van turning up, nothing to ogle as it was unloaded, and as her mind turned to Phyllis again, she was unable to stem the tears that flooded her eyes. Maybe she should go and talk to Phyllis, try to sort things out, but it was Saturday and Stan would be at home.
On the other hand, Mabel thought, sniffing, why should she be the one to do the running? She had tried to help Phyllis when Celia Frost had turned up, stopped her from laying into the woman, only to have Phyllis’s temper turned on her.
Mabel sniffed again. It should be Phyllis who apologised, not her, and until she did, then sod her! Agitated, Mabel stood up as she decided to put her case to Edna, sure that she was right and the woman would come down on her side. She hadn’t really had a lot of time for Edna in the past, thinking her slovenly, but now with nobody else to spout off to, Mabel had no choice.
It was then that Mabel heard the sound of a raised voice next door so she quickly grabbed a glass and put it against the wall, her ear pressed to it. She heard Frank Cole yelling, and though it was a bit muffled, his words were clear enough. Mabel frowned. He was ordering Carol to pull herself together, to take over doing the housekeeping now that her mother had gone and wouldn’t be back.
Mabel reeled away from the wall. As she’d suspected, all that talk of Daphne Cole going to look after a sick relative had been a pack of lies, something that Frank Cole had come up with to put people off the scent.
Feeling vindicated, Mabel decided to act. She put on a jacket, picked up her handbag and instead of going to talk to Edna, marched out of her house, heading for Lavender Hill and the police station.
‘Dad, I will do the housework,’ Carol said when her father at last calmed down. ‘It’s just that I don’t feel up to it yet.’
‘Go and get some grub in then and at least cook us a decent meal.’
‘I … I don’t want to go out.’
‘Why not? A bit of fresh air will do you good.’
‘Dad, I don’t think I can walk very far.’
‘You’re just making excuses.’
‘I’m not. I really don’t feel well.’
With a frown on his face, Carol saw her dad studying her, and then he said, ‘Maybe I should get the doctor to take a look at you.’
Carol didn’t want to see a doctor. She just wanted to be left alone. ‘No, Dad, I just need a bit more rest, that’s all,’ she protested, ‘and the doctor will only say the same thing.’
‘All right, we’ll leave it until Monday, but if you’re no better by then, I’m calling him out. In the meantime I suppose it’s down to me to get a bit of shopping in, but
I haven’t got a clue what to buy or how to cook anything.’
Carol struggled to make an effort. ‘I’ll write you a list and if you get something simple, like sausages, I think I can manage to cook them with a bit of mash.’
‘Well I suppose that’s a start,’ he said, looking marginally happier as he went to find a pen and paper.
When the list was done and her father left, Carol sank back on the sofa. Not only