Chapter 14 #2
Bets avoided looking down at the grimy kitchen floor, which hadn’t seen a mop in at least a decade.
‘However, Doris is thrilled with her new cast.’ Bets showed her a photo of the newly decorated plaster cast.
‘Daft old bird,’ said Clare tracing the picture with her finger. For some reason she had a rare fondness for Doris, whom she’d met a couple of times. ‘And what’s old bossy knickers up to?’
‘Audrey?’ asked Bets knowing full well who her mother was referring to. ‘I’ve not seen much of her. She’s busy organising the summer ball.’
‘Hmph,’ said Clare. ‘Treats you like her personal servant. You want to watch that. And when’s Jack back from university? Talk about a cushy life. He’s been a student forever. All right for some. His parents can afford it.’
Bets swallowed. She wasn’t ready for her mother’s recriminations. ‘He’s working now.’
‘When’s he going to make an honest woman of you? You’re not getting any younger. And let’s face it, you’ve got a good thing going with that family. You want to get a ring on your finger. That’s where I went wrong.’
‘And I’m thinking of getting a dog,’ said Bets, immediately regretting it as soon as the words were out of her mouth, the words a reflex to get off the subject of Jack.
‘Elizabeth Fowler, as I live and breathe, what the bleedin’ hell do you want to do that for?
’ Her mother’s voice rose in quick anger and she slammed her hand down on the table.
‘If you’ve got money to burn on feeding an extra mouth, you can send some my way.
In fact I’m a bit short this month for the electric. Can you lend us thirty quid?’
Bets winced. She’d always been Bets because her elder sister hadn’t been able to say Elizabeth properly. The Elizabeth only came out when her mum lost her rag. ‘I’m a bit short myself.’
‘What you been spending it on? You live rent-free. Don’t know you’re born.’
Bets knew the signs. The belligerent thrust of her mum’s chin, the increasing pitch of her voice and the flaring of her nostrils. Now was not the time to remind her mum she did in fact pay rent.
‘I can give you twenty.’
‘Twenty! After all I’ve done for you. And you want to waste money on a dog.
A bloody dog!’ With a clumsy lurch, her mum rose to her feet too quickly, catching her knee on the sharp corner of the table leg.
‘Ow! Ow!’ she screamed, followed by a foul-mouthed, expletive-fuelled tirade.
Bets had heard and seen it all before but it didn’t stop the sickness swirling in the pit of her stomach or the inevitable sense of foreboding.
She braced herself. In a fit of fury, her mum tucked her hands under the table edge and threw it over, sending the sandwiches, the ashtray with its still burning cigarette and their cups of tea crashing to the floor.
As the table hit the floor, one of the legs fell off with a clatter.
Without pausing for breath, Bets immediately said, ‘I never did like that table.’
* * *
Half an hour later, after cleaning up the mess and calming her mum down, she was back in Wilsgrave, pulling up outside Ella’s home, the residual tension in her shoulders biting into taut muscle.
She sat in the car for a moment, trying to re-establish her equilibrium.
Dealing with her mum was like handling an unexploded bomb; you never knew when it would go off.
The quick quip about the table had defused the situation, as she’d known it would, and brought her mum’s temper into check as fast as it had spiralled.
However, although Bets had grown up with them, her mum’s flashes of temper still left her shaky, embarrassed and ashamed.
She rested her forehead on the steering wheel and closed her eyes.
The gentle tap on her window made her jump.
Through the glass she could see Ella looking at her.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked as Bets opened the car door.
Bets drew in a long breath. ‘Yes,’ she said.
Her friend’s brows drew together in a sceptical frown. ‘You don’t look it. How are things at work? Working with Jack?’
‘Okay. Has Devon said anything?’
‘No, nothing. I thought it must be difficult. Seeing him all the time.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Bets, her blithe words belying the turmoil and heartache she felt every day. To her dismay it wasn’t getting any better. Audrey’s suggestion that one day she’d wonder what she ever saw in him wasn’t coming to fruition any time soon.
Ella put a hand on her arm. ‘You can talk to me, you know. It won’t get back to Devon. I know you’re not okay.’
Ella’s bluntness, combined with her own ever-present feeling of loss and the fallout from dealing with her mum, floored Bets and suddenly it was all too much for her. She bent double and hugged herself, trying to ease the band of pain gripping her around her middle.
‘Come inside,’ said Ella, taking charge.
Numb, her brain fogged, Bets allowed herself to be led into the cottage. Her head hurt and inside everything ached. ‘I’m always crying on you.’
‘Once,’ said Ella firmly. ‘Before Jack finished things … and at the time you were right about him growing distant.’
Ella sat her down at the kitchen table and took her hand. ‘Bets, I know you’re unhappy. It’s okay to let it show and talk about it. I feel like you’re trying to pretend to everyone that nothing has changed and you’re fine with Jack being back but I don’t think that’s true.’
Bets started to deny it but the words, as always, stuck in her throat. She was tempted to unload. Perhaps, for once, she could be totally honest.