A Father’s Revenge

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Derek hadn’t found moving to Winchester easy. He’d managed a boxing gym in Battersea, but a similar role had been impossible to find here. With no other skills, or choice, he’d started out as a painter and decorator’s labourer, but he’d learned quickly and his capabilities increased until he became proficient enough to start out on his own. He didn’t make a fortune, his jobs only small ones, but he was working for himself and preferred it that way. Recently though, he’d quoted for a job on a housing development, a big one with a great profit margin, and now his shoulders straightened. If it came off they would have a deposit, a chance to buy a house. Surely Pearl would love that?

After taking Clive to school, Lucy was now at the shop. She switched on the lights and then went through the back to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Nora, it’s me,’ she called. ‘I’m just going to open up.’

All was quiet and, worried, Lucy shouted again, ‘Nora! Nora, are you there?’

There was still no answer and, seriously concerned now, Lucy hurried upstairs. Nora was usually up by now and would have managed to prepare a simple breakfast of cereals for herself and Bessie.

Lucy looked in Nora’s room, but the bed hadn’t been slept in. She went up to the next floor and to her relief saw that Nora was there in Bessie’s room, sitting in a chair, bent double with her head resting on the bed, fast asleep.

The bedside lamp was still lit, and as Lucy crept forward she gasped. Like Nora, Bessie was asleep but she looked awful, her breathing shallow and wheezing. Lucy floundered, unsure what to do, but just then Bessie’s eyes fluttered open, and she struggled to sit up.

‘Here, let me help you,’ Lucy cried.

Nora awoke, her eyes cloudy with confusion for a moment, but when she saw Lucy trying to help Bessie, she joined in, plumping the pillows and putting them behind Bessie’s back. It didn’t seem to help and Bessie’s breathing was still ragged.

‘She really bad now,’ Nora wailed, her eyes filling with tears.

‘Don’t worry. I’m going to call the doctor,’ Lucy replied as calmly as she could.

‘No … No …’ Bessie managed to gasp. ‘I … I’ll be all right.’

‘You don’t look all right.’

‘Med … medicine.’

Nora poured it. After swallowing a spoonful, Bessie seemed to start breathing a little easier and asked for a cup of tea. Lucy still wasn’t sure, but as she stood looking down on her, Bessie said with more strength in her voice, ‘I’m fine and don’t you dare bother the doctor.’

Lucy knew better than to argue, but she wasn’t happy as she went back downstairs to make the tea. Bessie refused food, but Nora ate her cornflakes, though she remained sitting by Bessie’s side.

‘We’re fine,’ the old woman said. ‘Go and open the shop.’

Lucy thought Bessie looked a bit better, but decided she’d look in on her again in an hour or two. If there was no further improvement by then she was going to ring the doctor – whether the old woman liked it or not.

For Pearl, the weekday morning followed the usual routine. She made breakfast, Derek left for work and then John went to school. Her mother taught art in a local primary and had already left; the house now quiet as Pearl did a little housework before taking a break. While sipping a cup of coffee she let her gaze rest on one of her mother’s paintings that hung on the wall above the fireplace. Her choice of pastels was restful to the eye, the scene a cottage window dressed with soft, blue, gingham curtains and a toning vase of cottage garden flowers on a windowsill.

Pearl had always loved painting. She had inherited her mother’s talent but what with housework, cooking, and a part-time job in a chemist, her days were full. There had once been a time when Pearl had dreamed of being an artist, of her paintings being shown in an exhibition, but those dreams had long been put aside in favour of being a wife and mother.

Though she hadn’t wanted to think about him, the news of Kevin’s possible parole loomed heavy in her mind. The things he’d done, his violence, had sickened her, yet there was no denying that from the moment John had been born, Kevin had loved him. At his own insistence, Kevin hadn’t seen John while he was in prison, but Pearl felt he would want to see him when he was released. Her stomach lurched as the same fears made her hands tremble. What if he tried to take John away from her? He was certainly capable of doing that.

Her thoughts were cut off by the ringing of the telephone. It was Lucy.

‘Pearl, despite Bessie insisting that she’s fine, she’s getting worse. I know she’ll do her nut, but I want to call the doctor. What do you think?’

Frowning worriedly, Pearl asked, ‘Has she got a fever?’

‘No, I don’t think so and as I said, Bessie insists she’s fine. It’s just that her breathing is really bad.’

‘In that case, call the doctor.’

‘All right then. I just hope she doesn’t have a go at me.’

‘Bessie’s bark has always been worse than her bite, but if you like, tell her it was my idea.’

‘Thanks, Pearl. I’ll give that a try.’

‘There’s no need to thank me. I’m just glad you’re there to keep an eye on her. I’ve got to go to work soon, but I’ll give you a call as soon as I come home.’

‘Right, I’ll speak to you again then,’ Lucy said, saying goodbye before hanging up.

Pearl could just imagine Bessie’s reaction when the doctor walked in. Poor Lucy, she was right and fur would probably fly. She put on her white nylon overall, something the chemist insisted all the staff wear, and with Bessie on her mind, all thoughts of Kevin were put to one side. There was no news of his parole so perhaps it had been denied and she was worrying about nothing.

Pearl enjoyed her part-time job at the chemist’s but today the hours seemed to drag. At last she was on her way again and on arriving home she immediately went to the telephone. The news was reassuring. Lucy told her that the doctor hadn’t seemed overly worried, but he had put Bessie on a stronger dose of antibiotics.

Pearl at last relaxed, and after telling Lucy that they’d drive down to see Bessie on Sunday, she replaced the receiver, flooded with relief.