Brutal, page 2
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Frank said before Jo could respond. ‘This is a great opportunity for them, and I’d never forgive myself if they missed out because of me.’
‘But your heart—’ Jo said lamely.
‘Is stronger than it’s ever been,’ said Frank. ‘I haven’t had any problems since the doc put me on that new medication, and there’s no reason why that should change.’
‘She still shouldn’t be going at a time like this,’ Evan argued. ‘She’s being selfish.’
‘And you’re not?’ Jo rounded on him. ‘Expecting me to stay in case Dad needs looking after, when you’re only an hour’s drive away?’
‘You’re his daughter.’
‘And you’re his son – when it suits you.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh, come off it!’ Jo snorted. ‘You only ever visit when you want something, and he doesn’t see you for dust the rest of the year.’
‘You’re no better,’ Evan retorted angrily. ‘When was the last time you—’
‘Enough!’ Frank barked, shocking them both into silence for the second time that night. ‘Have you any idea how much it used to upset your mother when you squabbled like this? She hardly saw either of you from one year to the next, and she’d lay on a lovely spread whenever she knew you were coming. And how did you thank her? You’d wreck it all with this ridiculous, childish bickering – that’s how! It’s no wonder Sam and Marie can never get out of here fast enough when you fetch them over, because they can’t bear the flaming atmosphere you two create. None of us can.’
Frank’s face was puce by the time he finished, and Jo stared at him open-mouthed.
‘I’m so sorry, Dad. I had no idea you felt like that.’
‘Well, now you do,’ Frank replied bluntly. ‘I’m only glad your mum doesn’t have to suffer any more of it, because she deserved better.’
‘Yes, she did,’ Evan agreed. ‘But all this with me and Jo, it’s just banter. We don’t mean anything by it.’
‘Maybe not, but it’s time you both grew up and started treating each other with respect,’ Frank said gruffly. ‘If these last few months haven’t taught you the value of family, nothing ever will.’
When they both apologized again, Frank released his irritation on a long-drawn-out breath. Then, pushing himself up to his feet, he said, ‘We’re all tired, so let’s draw a line under this and call it a night, eh?’
After kissing her dad goodbye and telling him she would call round to help him clean up in the morning, Jo gave her brother a rare hug before heading outside. Evan followed seconds later, and Frank watched from the porch as they reversed their respective cars out onto the lane.
A blissful silence settled over the house when he closed the door, and he felt the tension lifting from his shoulders as he went back into the living room. It was years since the kids had left home, and he’d grown used to the peace and quiet. Today, with the house bursting at the seams with mourners, the noise had been deafening, and all he’d wanted to do was hide in the barn until every last one of them had gone – Evan and Jo included.
Especially them, by the end.
Frank lifted the larger coals out of the fire and made sure the embers were safely contained. Then, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, he gazed at the photograph of Maureen again. She had loved the peace and quiet as much as he had, and they had both enjoyed sitting in here of an evening: Maureen knitting and doing crosswords, while Frank scoured the internet for spares to renovate the old cars that now occupied the barn where his cows had once been housed. Now it would just be him, and his heart ached at the thought.
Sighing, Frank switched off the lights and went out into the hall. The doorbell rang as he was about to head up the stairs and, thinking one of the kids must have forgotten something, he opened the door without checking, only to find Yvonne Caldwell, from the cottage at the other end of the lane, standing in the porch with a foil-covered dish in her hands.
‘Evening, love.’ She smiled out at him from the circle of fur edging the hood of her coat. ‘I saw your Jo and Evan driving past and thought I’d pop round to check how you’re doing? And to give you this . . .’ She thrust the dish into his hands. ‘It’s nothing special; only a spot of stew I had left over from tea last night. I noticed you didn’t really eat much earlier, so I thought you’d probably be hungry by now.’
Frank wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t want to appear ungrateful, so he said, ‘Thanks, love. Much appreciated.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Yvonne said, pulling the collar of her coat around her chin to shield it from the wind. ‘It was a lovely send-off, wasn’t it? Great to see so many people paying their respects. Mo would have been pleased by the turnout.’
‘She would,’ Frank agreed. ‘Anyway, I’d bes—’
‘I don’t think she’d have been too impressed with that vicar waffling on like that, though,’ Yvonne continued. ‘No offence, because I know your Mo took her religion seriously, but I reckon she’d have been as bored as everyone else was.’
‘Probably,’ Frank said, pretending to stifle a yawn in the hope that Yvonne would take the hint and go home.
‘Your Evan’s speech was very moving, though, wasn’t it?’ she went on, as if she hadn’t noticed. ‘He had me in tears a couple of times. Oh, and didn’t your Jo’s girl look a picture, all dressed up like a little doll?’
‘She’s bonny, all right,’ said Frank. ‘Anyway, I’d best get this inside.’ He held up the dish. ‘Thanks again.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Yvonne. Then, tipping her head to one side, she peered at him thoughtfully. ‘I could always come in and warm it up for you, if you like? Give you a chance to put your feet up.’
‘To be honest, I’m pretty tired,’ Frank said politely. ‘I was on my way to bed when you knocked, so I’ll probably save this for breakfast.’
Yvonne’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered.
‘Oh, right. Well, you know where I am if you need me. I’ll pop round in the morning for the bowl.’
Frank thought about transferring the stew into one of his own bowls so she could take hers with her. But he had a feeling it would be hard to shift her if she got her foot through the door, so he nodded, and murmured, ‘Night, then,’ before closing the door.
A frown creased his brow as he carried the bowl into the kitchen. He was pretty sure Yvonne had been wearing make-up, and that was odd, because he didn’t think he’d ever seen her made-up before. Then again, he’d never paid much mind to her appearance whenever she’d popped round to have a brew and a gossip with Maureen in the past, so she could have been plastered in it each time for all he knew.
He scraped the stew into the bin and washed the bowl, then placed it on the hall table, ready to hand straight out to Yvonne when she called round in the morning, and then headed up to bed. He hadn’t slept properly in months for worrying about Maureen taking bad in the night, but now it was all over, he hoped he would manage a few straight hours.
After undressing in the dark, he climbed into bed and pulled the quilt up around his shoulders. Almost immediately, the house came alive with noises he’d never noticed before. The creak of floorboards settling . . . the rhythmic ticking of the clock on Maureen’s bedside table . . . the drip of water leaking from the bathroom tap . . .
Only one sound was missing: that of Maureen breathing softly on her side of the bed. In all the years they had been married, apart from the times when she had been confined to hospital after giving birth, and the two weeks Frank had been kept in ICU following his heart attack, they hadn’t spent one single night apart, and the realization that he was never again going to hear her breathe, or feel the warmth of her body as they lay back to back in this bed, caused the tears Frank had been holding inside all day to spill over.
2
Woken by the sound of a car pulling onto the driveway the next morning, Frank peeled an eye open and squinted at the clock on Maureen’s bedside table. Shocked to see that it was 10 a.m., he shoved the quilt aside and dropped his feet to the floor. As a farmer, he’d grown accustomed to waking before dawn. And, even now, some two years since he’d sold his livestock and rented out most of his crop-bearing fields to neighbouring farmers, he tended to wake before the sun had fully risen.
Wincing at the sound of the doorbell echoing through the hallway below, he stood up and quickly got dressed before clattering down the stairs and peering through the spyhole. It was Yvonne, so he snatched the bowl up off the table before opening the door.
‘Morning,’ Yvonne said cheerily, taking in his tousled hair and the stubble on his chin. ‘Didn’t wake you, did I?’
‘No, I’ve been up for ages,’ he lied. ‘I was, um, getting ready to go out, actually. I’ve got an appointment, so I hope you won’t think I’m being rude if I don’t invite you in. Oh, and thanks for the stew. It was delicious.’ He thrust the bowl into her hand before reaching behind the door for his coat.
‘You liked it?’ Her face lit up.
‘Very much,’ he said, looking around for his car keys. Spotting them on the table, he leaned back to get them, giving Yvonne a clear view of the hallway and the kitchen beyond.
‘Oh, my,’ she exclaimed when she saw the mess. ‘You’re going to need a hand clearing that lot up, so why don’t I—’
‘It’s OK, I’ll do it when I get home,’ Frank cut her off.
Yvonne drew her head back and gave him a stern look.
‘Not on your own, you won’t. I’ve got nothing important on today, and four hands are better than two, as my old mum used to say, so I’ll stop here and make a start while you go to your appointment.’
‘There’s really no need,’ Frank said, shivering when he stepped outside and pulled the door firmly shut behind him. It was bitterly cold, and he really didn’t fancy getting into the car with its frost-coated windscreen. But now he’d lied about having an appointment to go to, he had no choice.
‘It’s no trouble,’ Yvonne persisted, linking an arm through his and walking with him to the car. ‘This is what friends do for each other at times like this. Your Maureen looked after me when I lost my Don, so now I’m going to look after you. And don’t bother arguing, ’cos I won’t take no for an answer.’
Frank gave her an uneasy smile as he clicked to key-fob to unlock the car doors. Last night, he’d wondered if Yvonne might always have worn make-up. But, now, seeing her in the cold light of day, with her kohl eyeliner and scarlet lipstick, he was pretty sure he’d have noticed if she’d ever looked like this in the past.
‘What time will you be back?’ Yvonne asked, letting go of his arm when he pulled the car door open. ‘Will it be more lunchtime, or teatime, do you think? Only, if I’m coming over to help you clear up, I might as well pop something in the oven, so I need to know whether to do a light lunch, or a proper meal?’
‘I’m not sure how long I’ll be, so it’s probably best if you see to yourself,’ Frank replied evasively. ‘I’ll pick something up in the village.’
‘Oh, I didn’t realize you were going to the village,’ Yvonne pounced. ‘I was going to pop down there myself, so why don’t I leave my car here and come with you? I can do my shopping then wait for you in the café.’
‘I’m not actually going that way,’ Frank backtracked. ‘I was thinking of stopping off at the bakery on my way back, that’s all.’
‘Well, there must be shops where you are going, so I could still—’
‘No!’
Yvonne drew her head back as if he’d slapped her, and Frank immediately felt guilty.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. But I really need to get going, or I’ll be late for my appointment.’
Yvonne nodded and patted his arm.
‘Don’t worry, love, I understand. You’ve had a rough time these last few months, so you’re bound to be feeling a bit fraught. But please stop thinking you’ve got to cope with it on your own, because I’m here to help. OK?’
‘OK,’ Frank conceded, sighing as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
Before he had a chance to close the door, Yvonne leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. Then, leaving a trail of cloying perfume in her wake, she waggled her fingers at him before heading to her own car.
Shoulders slumping when she’d driven away, Frank started the engine and reversed the car to the back of the house, before jumping out and opening the barn doors. Yvonne meant well, but he’d never been the best at making small-talk, and the thought of being trapped in the house with her filled him with dread, so he would park the car out of sight in the barn, he decided; make her think he was still out if she came back round.
Letting himself in through the back door after hiding the car, Frank had a wash and brushed his teeth, and then drank a cup of coffee and ate a slice of toast before getting stuck into the cleaning.
Afraid that Yvonne might be checking to see if he was back yet when the phone started ringing an hour later, he left it to go to answer-machine, but quickly snatched it up when he heard his daughter’s voice.
‘Morning, love. Did you get home all right?’
‘Obviously, or I’d be lying in a ditch somewhere instead of calling you,’ Jo replied bluntly. Then, sighing, she said, ‘Sorry, Dad; didn’t mean to snap. Sam’s arranged for a letting agent to call round this morning, and I’m stressing out because the house is an absolute mess. But never mind me . . . how are you? Did you manage to get any sleep?’
‘Like a log,’ Frank lied, deciding not to mention the tears he’d cried, because that would only make her worry. ‘I actually had a lie-in,’ he went on. ‘Didn’t wake up till Yvonne called round at ten.’
‘Wow.’ Jo sounded surprised. ‘It’s not like you to sleep so late, so you must have needed it. What did Yvonne want?’
‘She came for her bowl.’
‘Bowl?’ Jo repeated, suspicion in her voice now. ‘What bowl? Everything in that kitchen belonged to Mum, so she’d better not be trying to lay claim to anything, or I’ll—’
‘It was hers,’ Frank interrupted. ‘She’d noticed I didn’t eat much yesterday, so she called round with some stew when you and Evan had gone home.’
‘You didn’t eat it, did you?’ Jo asked. ‘She gave me a piece of cake once, and it had half a dead cockroach in it.’
‘Don’t worry, it went straight in the bin,’ Frank assured her. ‘And I know she’s only being neighbourly, so I shouldn’t complain, but like I told you and Evan last night, I don’t need looking after, so I’m hoping she’s not going to start calling round all the time to help out.’
‘Good luck with that,’ Jo snorted. ‘Anyway, subject of helping you out, that why I’m calling: to let you know I won’t be able to get over to yours till later this afternoon. Can you bear with the mess till then?’
‘I’ve already taken care of it,’ Frank told her. ‘And I was actually thinking I could pop over to help you. There must be loads to do if you’re leaving in two weeks.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ Jo said sheepishly. ‘No offence, Dad, but I’ve got a routine, and you’ll only get under my feet.’
‘Like mother like daughter,’ Frank chuckled, remembering the way Maureen had always shooed him out of the kitchen whenever he’d tried to help.
‘Oh, no,’ Jo groaned as her doorbell chimed in the background. ‘The letting agent’s early, and I’m nowhere near ready for him.’
‘You can’t pack up ten years’ worth of belongings without making a mess, love,’ Frank said. ‘I’m sure he’ll have seen worse.’
‘I don’t want him seeing it like this and thinking it’ll be OK to shove any old scruff-bag tenants in,’ Jo replied edgily. ‘We’ve worked really hard on making the house nice, and we want people who’ll treat it with respect.’
‘Stop flapping,’ Frank said calmly. ‘Everything will work out fine.’
Jerking the phone away from his ear when Jo yelled, ‘All right, I’m coming!’ at the sound of her bell ringing again, Frank said, ‘Love, go and let him in. I’ll speak to you later.’
He replaced the receiver in its cradle and shook his head as he picked up the bags of rubbish and carried them out to the bin. Jo had two weeks to sort the house out, but, as usual, she was trying to do everything at once, and her stress levels would be through the roof by the end of it. Still, there was nothing he could do if she didn’t want his help, so he’d just have to leave her to it.
3
The two weeks’ notice Jo had given Frank flew by, and before he knew it, she’d jetted off with her little family to start their new life in the sun. She rang the following afternoon to tell him they had arrived safely, that the weather was fantastic, and the house was amazing, with its own swimming pool and three enormous en-suite bedrooms. As happy as Frank was for her, the realization that he wasn’t going to see her again for two years settled over him like a lead weight, and the future began to look like a bleak and lonely place.
Still grieving for Maureen, and now missing Jo and Emily as well, Frank only left the house if he absolutely had to during the next three months. Evan hadn’t called round since the funeral – mainly because Frank had asked him not to; and the few conversations they’d had on the phone had been brief. Jo, who had always been better at keeping in touch than her brother, had phoned every Sunday for the first few weeks, but that had gradually petered out, and Frank felt truly alone for the first time in his life. He had no desire to ‘join some groups and meet new people’ – as Jo had ordered him to do before she’d left. And he had neither the energy nor the motivation to resume renovating the cars in his barn, which had once been his passion. Most days, he couldn’t even be bothered to get dressed, and he was sitting in his stained pyjamas with a glass of whisky in his hand when he got a rare phone call from his son early in November.
‘All right, Pops,’ Evan said cheerily, as if it hadn’t been weeks since they had last spoken. ‘What you up to?’
Ashamed to admit that he was wasting another day away watching mind-numbingly boring daytime TV, Frank said, ‘Just cracking on with some jobs around the house.’
