pie, your favourite, Jake love.’
‘I don’t want it. I’ve lost me appetite.’ He pushed his half eaten meal away. ‘I should’ve known I couldn’t trust you, you stupid cow.’
‘ Jake !’ Lynda scolded. ‘There’s no need to be rude.’
Betty blinked away the threat of tears. This was what she’d most dreaded: Ewan putting his side and she standing dry-mouthed, unable to explain or defend herself. But what could she say? How could she tell them what it had really been like living with this man? Why should she subject her lovely children to remembering all of that pain, thereby destroying years of effort on her part to help them forget?
But Jake wasn’t done with her yet. ‘Well, what’ve you got to say for yourself?’
‘Nothing. I’ve nothing to say except I did what I thought was right.’
‘ Right ? You thought it was right to deprive me of me own father?’ He turned to Ewan. ‘Did you leave of your own accord or did she ask you to go? Just tell me that.’
Ewan almost smiled. ‘Things were a bit difficult at that time, it’s true, but yes, Betty made it very clear that the marriage was over and I had to go.’
‘You bitch !’
Jake was on his feet, fists clenched and Lynda, white faced and in something of a panic, was desperately trying to calm him down.
‘Don’t speak to Mam like that, Jake. Don’t use such awful words, it’s not right. Anyway, he’s here now. Let’s all try to stay calm, shall we? Why don’t you tell . . .’ Lynda stumbled, wondering what to call him. A part of her wanted to call him Dad but she knew her mother wouldn’t like that. ‘Why don’t you tell Ewan how well you did in football at school, how you nearly got picked for City? I’m sure he’d like to get to know a bit more about what you’ve been up to all these years.’
‘Aye, true enough, I would. Manchester City, eh? That’s summat, that is.’
‘I didn’t get picked though,’ Jake muttered, reluctantly resuming his seat and gazing mournfully at the food on his plate. He loved beef and Yorkshire pudding. Could he eat it without losing face? he wondered.
‘Aye, but to be given the chance to try for a place is an achievement in itself, it really is.’
Jake preened himself before the praise. ‘I suppose it was pretty cool - Dad,’ and picking up his knife and fork, he got stuck in.
Hearing Jake use this word for the first time brought a jolt of shock like kilowatts of electricity running through Betty and she gripped the edge of the table in panic. What should she do? There must be some way to rid themselves of this man for good and all, but if so, she certainly didn’t know what it was. Ewan, she noticed, was looking mighty pleased with himself, a smirk of pure satisfaction curling his lip. All she could think to do was to gather up the dirty plates and dash to the kitchen.
Lynda followed, hustling her brother to finish his dinner and helping to clear the table while Betty concentrated on breathing slowly and slicing the apple pie.
‘Are you all right, Mam?’
Betty couldn’t think of a thing to say. How might Lynda react if she said: . . . your dad’s only being nice to you to make me mad? He only wants revenge for what I did to him and doesn’t give a tinker’s cuss about either of you two. Would Lynda believe her? Not on your nelly. Nor would Jake. Listen to the stupid lad laughing at one of Ewan’s sick jokes even now.
When Lynda brought the warmed pudding dishes, Betty said, ‘How can I possibly be all right with that dreadful man sitting at my table looking like a cat what’s swallowed the flaming cream, and our Jake attacking me like that.’
‘I know it’s hard but Jake has to be given the chance to sort things out in his own mind. You’ll need to be patient with him, Mam, with both of us.’
‘Patient? You think I don’t understand what it means to bite your lip and be patient?’ Betty made a sound of disgust deep in her throat then grabbing the
‘I don’t want it. I’ve lost me appetite.’ He pushed his half eaten meal away. ‘I should’ve known I couldn’t trust you, you stupid cow.’
‘ Jake !’ Lynda scolded. ‘There’s no need to be rude.’
Betty blinked away the threat of tears. This was what she’d most dreaded: Ewan putting his side and she standing dry-mouthed, unable to explain or defend herself. But what could she say? How could she tell them what it had really been like living with this man? Why should she subject her lovely children to remembering all of that pain, thereby destroying years of effort on her part to help them forget?
But Jake wasn’t done with her yet. ‘Well, what’ve you got to say for yourself?’
‘Nothing. I’ve nothing to say except I did what I thought was right.’
‘ Right ? You thought it was right to deprive me of me own father?’ He turned to Ewan. ‘Did you leave of your own accord or did she ask you to go? Just tell me that.’
Ewan almost smiled. ‘Things were a bit difficult at that time, it’s true, but yes, Betty made it very clear that the marriage was over and I had to go.’
‘You bitch !’
Jake was on his feet, fists clenched and Lynda, white faced and in something of a panic, was desperately trying to calm him down.
‘Don’t speak to Mam like that, Jake. Don’t use such awful words, it’s not right. Anyway, he’s here now. Let’s all try to stay calm, shall we? Why don’t you tell . . .’ Lynda stumbled, wondering what to call him. A part of her wanted to call him Dad but she knew her mother wouldn’t like that. ‘Why don’t you tell Ewan how well you did in football at school, how you nearly got picked for City? I’m sure he’d like to get to know a bit more about what you’ve been up to all these years.’
‘Aye, true enough, I would. Manchester City, eh? That’s summat, that is.’
‘I didn’t get picked though,’ Jake muttered, reluctantly resuming his seat and gazing mournfully at the food on his plate. He loved beef and Yorkshire pudding. Could he eat it without losing face? he wondered.
‘Aye, but to be given the chance to try for a place is an achievement in itself, it really is.’
Jake preened himself before the praise. ‘I suppose it was pretty cool - Dad,’ and picking up his knife and fork, he got stuck in.
Hearing Jake use this word for the first time brought a jolt of shock like kilowatts of electricity running through Betty and she gripped the edge of the table in panic. What should she do? There must be some way to rid themselves of this man for good and all, but if so, she certainly didn’t know what it was. Ewan, she noticed, was looking mighty pleased with himself, a smirk of pure satisfaction curling his lip. All she could think to do was to gather up the dirty plates and dash to the kitchen.
Lynda followed, hustling her brother to finish his dinner and helping to clear the table while Betty concentrated on breathing slowly and slicing the apple pie.
‘Are you all right, Mam?’
Betty couldn’t think of a thing to say. How might Lynda react if she said: . . . your dad’s only being nice to you to make me mad? He only wants revenge for what I did to him and doesn’t give a tinker’s cuss about either of you two. Would Lynda believe her? Not on your nelly. Nor would Jake. Listen to the stupid lad laughing at one of Ewan’s sick jokes even now.
When Lynda brought the warmed pudding dishes, Betty said, ‘How can I possibly be all right with that dreadful man sitting at my table looking like a cat what’s swallowed the flaming cream, and our Jake attacking me like that.’
‘I know it’s hard but Jake has to be given the chance to sort things out in his own mind. You’ll need to be patient with him, Mam, with both of us.’
‘Patient? You think I don’t understand what it means to bite your lip and be patient?’ Betty made a sound of disgust deep in her throat then grabbing the
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