Stonor, if she went into a man’s house.’ With any other bereaved mother he would have softened his words; with this one any tact seemed a superfluous sentimentality. ‘We think she may have had an assignation with a local man while his wife was away.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past her. She hadn’t got no morals. But she wouldn’t go to a fellow’s house—even I can see that. That’s stupid. She’d got a flat of her own, hadn’t she? Them girls was only too ready to make themselves scarce if the other one was up to any funny business.’ It was atrociously put, but it was unanswerable. ‘Dawn didn’t even have the decency to hide any of that from me,’ Mrs Stonor said fiercely. ‘She told me she’d been with men in that way. She called it being honest and leading her own life. As if she knew the meaning of honesty! I’d have died before I’d have told such things to my mother.’
A shrieking cackle came from Mrs Peckham. ‘You’d nothing to tell, Phyllis. You aren’t ’uman.’
‘Don’t be so stupid, Mother. The sergeant don’t want you poking your nose in all the time, and it’s time you had your rest. You’ve been fancying yourself ever since that young mancome to see you this morning, buttering you up like I don’t know what.’
Amused at his sudden demotion two rungs down the ladder, Wexford, who had risen to go, gave the older woman a conspiratorial half-smile. ‘A grandson, Mrs Peckham?’
‘No, I never had no kids but Phyllis. More’s the pity.’ She said it not as if she pined for a replica of Mrs Stonor but perhaps for her antithesis. ‘Mind you, he was like a grandson in a way, was Hal.’
‘Will you do as I ask, Mother, and get off to bed?’
‘I’m going, Phyllis. I’m on me way.’ An awareness that, after all, she depended for her bed and board on her daughter’s good graces briefly softened Mrs Peckham’s asperity, but not for long. She heaved herself up, clutching her sweets. ‘You’ve got it in for poor Hal just because he wasn’t all over you like he was me. He kissed me,’ she said proudly.
‘Mrs Peckham, am I right in thinking that Zeno Vedast has been here to see you? Do you mean while the festival was on? You didn’t tell me that before.’
She propped herself on her walking aid, hunching her thin shoulders. ‘He come this morning,’ she said. ‘Looking out for a house for hisself round here, one of them big places as we used to call gentlemen’s houses. Ooh, he’s very grand in his ideas, is Hal. He’s got a whole suite to hisself at that big hotel in the Forest, but he wasn’t too proud to come and see old Granny Peckham and say how cut up he was about poor Dawnie. He come in a big gold car and he kissed me and brought me a two-pound box of Black Magic.’ Her eyes gleamed greedily at the thought of the chocolates, waiting for her perhaps in her bedroom. She sighed contentedly. ‘I’ll get off for me lay-down now,’ she said.
10
The Burden children were old enough now to come home to an empty house and get their own tea, but more often they went straight from school to the house of their Aunt Grace, and in the holidays Pat Burden spent most of her time there, playing with the baby. Her brother led the marauding life of a teenage boy, wandering with a small gang of contemporaries in the velds, fishing in the Kingsbrook or playing the jukebox at the Carousel café. Burden knew very well that his son’s life would have differed very little from this pattern even if there had been a mother at the bungalow in Tabard Road. He understood that a girl child needs an adult female on whom to model herself and he knew that she had that in Grace. But he worried incessantly about his children. Would John become a delinquent if he were out after nine in the evening? Would Pat carry a trauma through life because at the age of thirteen she was occasionally expected to open a tin or make tea? Did he give them too much pocket money or not enough? Ought
‘I wouldn’t put it past her. She hadn’t got no morals. But she wouldn’t go to a fellow’s house—even I can see that. That’s stupid. She’d got a flat of her own, hadn’t she? Them girls was only too ready to make themselves scarce if the other one was up to any funny business.’ It was atrociously put, but it was unanswerable. ‘Dawn didn’t even have the decency to hide any of that from me,’ Mrs Stonor said fiercely. ‘She told me she’d been with men in that way. She called it being honest and leading her own life. As if she knew the meaning of honesty! I’d have died before I’d have told such things to my mother.’
A shrieking cackle came from Mrs Peckham. ‘You’d nothing to tell, Phyllis. You aren’t ’uman.’
‘Don’t be so stupid, Mother. The sergeant don’t want you poking your nose in all the time, and it’s time you had your rest. You’ve been fancying yourself ever since that young mancome to see you this morning, buttering you up like I don’t know what.’
Amused at his sudden demotion two rungs down the ladder, Wexford, who had risen to go, gave the older woman a conspiratorial half-smile. ‘A grandson, Mrs Peckham?’
‘No, I never had no kids but Phyllis. More’s the pity.’ She said it not as if she pined for a replica of Mrs Stonor but perhaps for her antithesis. ‘Mind you, he was like a grandson in a way, was Hal.’
‘Will you do as I ask, Mother, and get off to bed?’
‘I’m going, Phyllis. I’m on me way.’ An awareness that, after all, she depended for her bed and board on her daughter’s good graces briefly softened Mrs Peckham’s asperity, but not for long. She heaved herself up, clutching her sweets. ‘You’ve got it in for poor Hal just because he wasn’t all over you like he was me. He kissed me,’ she said proudly.
‘Mrs Peckham, am I right in thinking that Zeno Vedast has been here to see you? Do you mean while the festival was on? You didn’t tell me that before.’
She propped herself on her walking aid, hunching her thin shoulders. ‘He come this morning,’ she said. ‘Looking out for a house for hisself round here, one of them big places as we used to call gentlemen’s houses. Ooh, he’s very grand in his ideas, is Hal. He’s got a whole suite to hisself at that big hotel in the Forest, but he wasn’t too proud to come and see old Granny Peckham and say how cut up he was about poor Dawnie. He come in a big gold car and he kissed me and brought me a two-pound box of Black Magic.’ Her eyes gleamed greedily at the thought of the chocolates, waiting for her perhaps in her bedroom. She sighed contentedly. ‘I’ll get off for me lay-down now,’ she said.
10
The Burden children were old enough now to come home to an empty house and get their own tea, but more often they went straight from school to the house of their Aunt Grace, and in the holidays Pat Burden spent most of her time there, playing with the baby. Her brother led the marauding life of a teenage boy, wandering with a small gang of contemporaries in the velds, fishing in the Kingsbrook or playing the jukebox at the Carousel café. Burden knew very well that his son’s life would have differed very little from this pattern even if there had been a mother at the bungalow in Tabard Road. He understood that a girl child needs an adult female on whom to model herself and he knew that she had that in Grace. But he worried incessantly about his children. Would John become a delinquent if he were out after nine in the evening? Would Pat carry a trauma through life because at the age of thirteen she was occasionally expected to open a tin or make tea? Did he give them too much pocket money or not enough? Ought
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