your daddy did at your age,’ Albie said, his voice full of emotion at seeing his grandson for the very first time.
When Little Vinny hid behind his father’s legs and shouted, ‘Go away, creepy old man,’ Albie got a bit tearful. His daughter was up the duff by Christ knows who, his first grandchild hated him on sight, Vinny could barely look him in the eye, and it was obvious that Vivian still despised him as she hadn’t even said hello.
Michael sat down next to his father and hugged him. ‘Don’t cry, Dad. You’ve got all your family around you again now, and we’re all here to support you, aren’t we?’ He glared at his siblings.
When each of his children said an unenthusiastic ‘Yes’, Albie glanced up and happened to catch Queenie and Vivian smirking nastily at one another. In that split second, he knew he wasn’t to blame for anything he had done in the past. His drinking had only escalated when Queenie and Vivian had taken over the upbringing of his children, and made it clear he wasn’t wanted around the house any more. His affairs had only begun when he’d realized that Queenie had just used him as a breeding machine and once she’d had all the children she wanted, she’d made it obvious that he repelled her. Even now, he had been forced to tell such a dreadful lie and pretend he was dying as he knew his children would never have agreed to speak or meet up with him if they hadn’t first had approval from their mother. Everybody thought that Vinny ruled the roost, but he didn’t. Queenie would always be top dog.
Aware of her ex-husband staring at her as though he had lost his marbles, Queenie smiled to break the awkward moment. ‘You OK, Albie? Do you want another brandy?’
Albie looked at Vivian and then back to Queenie. Both were evil vicious women who had ruined his life and his children’s. Determined not to ruin the only chance he might ever get to be close to his kids again, Albie took a deep breath, smiled falsely, and held out his glass. ‘I’m fine thank you, Queenie. And yes, I would love another brandy, please.’
‘Hello, love. How was your day at work? I’ve saved you some toad in the hole. Shall I warm it up for you now?’ Mary asked her daughter.
‘No, I’ll have it later, and work was fine, thanks. Erm, you don’t mind if I sleep over my friend’s house next Tuesday evening, do you? It’s her eighteenth birthday and her parents are organizing a little get-together for her.’
‘And what friend is this, may I ask?’ Donald enquired, casting his beady eyes on his daughter.
‘Katie. She hasn’t been working at Woolies long. But she is so lovely, and we get on really well,’ Nancy lied.
‘I’ve never heard you mention a Katie before,’ Christopher remarked accusingly.
‘Well, seeing as this past year or so you’ve turned into an irritable little shit, why would I tell you anything about my life?’ Nancy demanded, her eyes blazing with anger.
Mary immediately tried to defuse the situation. ‘Now, can we talk sensibly for once, please? Let’s not all start arguing.’
Donald glared at Nancy. ‘You are getting far too big for your boots just lately, young lady. You do not swear at your brother like that, so apologize to Christopher at once. And you can make more of an effort to be polite to poor Roger in future as well. So rude to him you were again yesterday evening, I barely knew where to look. Right, the answer to your question, you can go to your friend Katie’s birthday gathering, but you’re not staying at her house all night. I want you home here by midnight at the latest.’
Since Michael had suggested them spending the night together in a hotel room, Nancy had thought of little else. She had been in a delirious trance at work all afternoon, and her friend Rhonda had been just as excited about Michael’s idea as she was. There was no way she would allow her father to spoil her big date. Michael would see her as some silly child if she had to be home by midnight. ‘I am nearly seventeen years old, Dad, not seven, and if I want to stay over at a friend’s house, then I shall.’
Hating being defied, Donald jumped from his chair and wagged a stern finger in his daughter’s face. ‘I know full well that you aren’t planning on staying at a friend’s house, Nancy. You have a young fancy-man and I will not permit you to indulge in debauchery of any kind. Do you hear me?’
‘You calling me a slag?’ Nancy screamed.
‘For goodness’ sake, you two. I’ve been run off my feet all day in the shop and I now need to relax. A slanging match is the last thing I bloody well need. Now, you go and warm that dinner up, Nancy, and you sit back down and watch the TV, Donald,’ Mary ordered.
When Nancy stomped out into the kitchen, Donald’s face was red with temper. ‘My daughter will not become a whore, Mary. I will not allow it. She stays at home next Tuesday night, and that’s final.’
Albie sat in silence as Roy drove him back to his bedsit. It had been great to see his family again, but it had also been awkward, upsetting and had dredged up many bad memories. Albie was no drunk when he had first met Queenie. He had been a vibrant, handsome young man who was full of laughter, self-confidence and could have taken his pick of any woman he wanted. It had been Queenie who had chased him. Oh yes, she had trapped him all right, and had then discarded him like a dirty piece of old rag when he’d served his purpose. Even their Brenda’s conception had been a complete fluke. Queenie had allowed him one fumble for the first time in nearly a year, and Brenda had been the outcome of it.
‘You OK, Dad?’ Roy asked.
‘Yep, as good as can be expected, boy. I enjoyed your mum’s stew. The only decent meal I’ve had in months, that was.’
‘Well, I’m sure you’ll be invited round for another meal. Look, I know things were a bit stifled tonight, but it will get better given time, you know. And don’t take no notice of Little Vinny’s rudeness. He’s like that with most people he meets and needs a good right-hander if you ask me. Vinny and Mum have spoilt him something rotten.’
Albie nodded understandingly. The grandchild had given him a terrible time. ‘So, when will I see yous all again?’ he asked, when Roy brought the car to a halt.
Feeling dreadfully sorry for his disconsolate-looking father, Roy pulled a wad of money out of his pocket. ‘Here, that should see you all right for a while.’ He peeled off fifty quid.
‘Thanks, Roy,’ Albie said gratefully.
‘Dad, if I ask you something, will you give me an honest answer?’
‘Yes, son.’
‘What happened to that Judy Preston? Did she keep your kid?’ Roy asked. It had been Vinny who had persuaded him to raise the question.
‘I have no idea. Never seen, spoken, or heard a word from or about Judy since I was in hospital that time when your brother broke my legs.’
Satisfied that his father was telling the truth, Roy nodded. ‘Go on, you get off and I’ll see you again real soon. Look after yourself, Dad.’
‘When will I see you?’ Albie asked for the second time.
Roy winked. ‘You leave it with me and Michael and we’ll sort something out. I know where to find you. I’ll either come here, or pop in the Blind Beggar.’
‘Well, don’t leave it too long in case I’m brown bread,’ Albie muttered morosely, as he shut the car door.
When Roy drove away, Albie took the five ten-pound notes out of his pocket and grinned. Tonight might not have been perfect, but he now had his beer money for the foreseeable future, so it was definitely a step in the right direction. It was the years of heavy drinking that had made Albie lose weight and look so ill. As for his hair thinning rapidly, that happened to most blokes over fifty, didn’t it? The breathlessness was down to his chain smoking, and all Albie had to do now was continue his little lie until he had won his children over. He would then pretend his cancer was in remission and they would all live happily ever after.
CHAPTER