Let it Shine Read online

  As for Mick, he suspected John was a lazy good-for-nothing, and an out-and-out liar into the bargain. So far, he had not been able to figure out what John was after, but he definitely knew he was a bad lot. Moreover, when he saw how taken John was with Ellie, his eyes shifting over to her every minute, he was not only uncomfortably jealous, but uneasy on her behalf.

  When it came time to cut the cake, it was given to Larry to light the first set of candles, which he did by leaning right over the table and touching the wicks with the long taper Tilly lit from the fire.

  ‘Right!’ When they were all lit, the candles were blown out; first by Betsy, who did it all in one big breath, next Ellie, who had two goes before all her fifteen candles were put out. A great cheer went up and they all sang ‘Happy Birthday’ again. And now it was time to cut the cake.

  ‘Betsy was first to blow out the candles,’ Bertie declared, ‘so it’s only fair that Ellie makes the first cut.’

  Telling her to be careful, Tilly handed her the knife, a long wide-bladed thing that she kept out of sight under the sink at home.

  ‘I never did like them blessed things,’ she had told Bertie some time back. ‘If the house is ever broken into while I’m abed, I wouldn’t want the burglar to get his hands on that knife. By! Like as not, I’d get me throat cut!’

  After that, though he didn’t tell her, Bertie began giving serious thought as to whether he should wed this lovely woman after all, so he could fetch her here, where she might be safer.

  Ellie had the knife raised, ready to cut into the cake, when John sprang out of his chair and sidled up to her. ‘Let me help you, eh?’ He wrapped his fist over hers and, pressing her hand down, sliced into the cake with ease, at the same time gripping her knuckles so hard, it was painful.

  All too soon, the party was over. John was the first to excuse himself. ‘I’d best get off and catch an early tram.’ He kissed Tilly first, then Betsy, and, taking a little longer than was necessary, put his arms round Ellie and kissed her too. ‘I’m sure I’ll see you again,’ he said in a whisper, his eyes smiling into hers.

  Unsettled by his unwanted attention, Ellie instinctively glanced at Mick, who was looking at her from the far side of the room. He nodded and smiled, and she was calmed by his presence. She had no idea of the hostility he felt towards the stranger in their midst.

  Clutching his box containing the piece of cake, John was soon gone, with the promise, ‘I’ll see you some time next week, Auntie Tilly.’

  In those few precious minutes when only close friends and family remained, the talk inevitably came round to the awful incident that had taken loved ones and put Larry in that wheelchair. ‘I still can’t understand it,’ Larry began. ‘Why did they never find the man who I saw running along the landing that night?’

  Bertie had his own theory. ‘There’s plenty o’ folk who say that man and the fella they found murdered in that grubby room down by the river were one and the same.’

  ‘I don’t see it, Grandad. There was nothing to point that way… no evidence to tie the two together, so what makes you think that?’

  Shrugging his shoulders, he could only say: ‘It’s just a feeling I’ve had all along, that’s all. But, like you say, there was no evidence to tie them together, so happen it was just a sick old man’s imagination.’

  Ellie had a question. ‘You’re not sick any more, Grandad,’ she said thankfully. ‘So now, do you still think it was him?’

  He shook his head. ‘Happen not.’ All the same, there was something about that business – something that had nagged away at him, and yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But then, like Ellie said, he had been very ill. After what had happened, it was a wonder he could turn his mind to anything at all!

  The talk went on, but nothing came of it; nothing could. Too much water had gone under the bridge. ‘I wonder if we’ll ever know the truth,’ Mick said quietly, and they all had to ask themselves the same question.

  Soon, Larry and Mick were ready to leave. ‘Take care of yourselves,’ Larry told his sisters, after an exchange of kisses and cuddles. ‘Come and see me when you can, and we’ll talk about what you mean to do with your future, eh?’

  Mick gave Betsy a kiss, then, not trusting himself, he kissed Ellie just fleetingly. ‘See you soon,’ he said, and afterwards thanked both Tilly and Bertie for a wonderful time.

  Ellie waved them away from the doorstep. Even when they’d gone out of sight she stayed at the door, her mind still on Larry, and the reason for his being in that wheelchair. ‘I’ll find out, Larry,’ she murmured, the tears rolling down her face. ‘I promise you… I’ll find the man who killed our mam and dad and did that to you. He’ll pay for what he did!’ After a moment, she wiped away the tears, put on a smile and returned to the others.

  As they made their way to the station, Mick glanced back, hoping to see Ellie, yet knowing he couldn’t. He felt all kinds of a fool. Here he was, some ten years older than her, and he felt like a schoolboy in love. But no, it was more than that. He had seen the goodness in her when she talked about others, and the way she had bowed her head to say a little prayer for her mam and dad. In that moment when she looked up and caught him gazing on her, he was embarrassed, yet elated. His heart had turned over, in a way he had never experienced. He loved her. That was all he knew. He loved her, and wanted to keep her safe. But it was impossible. Impossible!

  Larry’s urgent voice broke into his thoughts. ‘Get a move on, mate. I need the toilet.’

  Mick quickened his steps. ‘Why didn’t you go back there, at your grandad’s?’

  ‘’Cause I’m a proud bugger, that’s why.’

  Mick chuckled. ‘Proud nothing. You knew Tilly would have insisted on giving you a helping hand, ain’t that the truth?’

  Larry admitted it, and the two of them had a good laugh.

  * * *

  Some short time later, Ellie and Betsy prepared to leave. ‘Can I ask you something, Grandad?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘’Course you can, lass. Ask away.’

  ‘Who’s Ada?’

  The colour bled from his face. ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘When you were ill, you cried for someone called Ada.’ Ellie was persistent but gentle. ‘Who was she, Grandad?’

  Slowly, the colour came back to his old face. ‘Somebody I once knew,’ he said. ‘I’ve already forgot her. Now get yourselves off, or you’ll get a wagging from Peggy.’

  Only half satisfied with his explanation, but realising he didn’t want to talk about it, Ellie said her goodbyes and so did Betsy. ‘Don’t be too long afore you come to see us, now,’ Tilly said, and Ellie promised they’d come again soon.

  When they were gone, Bertie winked at Tilly. ‘You did us all proud, lass. Thank you. And now I reckon you’ve earned a nice cuppa tea. I shall do the honours. You just sit there – you must feel that worn out.’

  For a long moment Tilly lingered. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked tenderly.

  ‘Talk about what?’

  ‘This woman called Ada. I saw how you changed colour at the mention of her name.’

  Bertie laid back his head and sighed. Should he tell, or should he not? He decided to confide in her. ‘’Twere a long time ago,’ he began, and as he spoke his memories carried him back. ‘We were just kids really. She were smart as a tack, and pretty as a picture… the lass every fella wanted. But it were me as won her over. We got wed and had a child – a lovely little girl.’ He paused, his voice faltering. ‘We called her Sylvia.’

  Tilly gasped. ‘Are you saying this woman… this Ada… is the twins’ grandmother?’

  ‘Aye, lass. God forgive me. That’s what I’m saying.’

  ‘Is she still alive?’

  ‘As far as I know. We were divorced a long, long time ago. I never told no one, mind. ’Tweren’t none of anybody else’s business.’

  ‘But you let Sylvia believe her mam died when she were young?’

  ‘Because as far as I were co
ncerned, Ada was as good as dead!’ Anger flooded his features, his fist pounding the chair as he explained. ‘She walked out on me and Sylvia, when that bairn were only three months old. Thank God I had my sister Margaret to help me with the kiddy while I was at work all those years. She raised Sylvia like one of her own. I don’t know how I could have got through without her coming in every day!’

  ‘So, your Sylvia never knew her mam was still alive?’

  ‘No, she never knew, and neither will the girls, not if I can help it. If I were to tell them now, they’d never forgive me for deceiving my lass. They knew how much she wanted to know about her own mam. They might even try to find her.’ Fear marbled his voice. ‘I don’t want that, Tilly. Ada was a bad lot. She went off to make her fortune and, from the stories that came back, she was doing all right, bedding the well-off, and making them pay heavy for the privilege. The last I heard she was in some sort of set-up with a fella who died and left her with a son in tow. Filthy rich, she is. And no doubt as wicked as ever into the bargain!’

  ‘So, the girls could be in line to inherit a lot of money?’

  ‘I hope to God they never have to lay a finger on her dirty money! I’ll not tell them, and I’m trusting you to keep this to yourself… for their sakes, lass.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I couldn’t trust her. You see, I know how she can get you to love her – and then break your heart.’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Come on now, Ada.’ The nurse was a cheerful sort. Small and round she had the smile of an angel and the strong arms of a wrestler. ‘Your son’s coming to visit today, so you’ll want to look your best, won’t you, eh?’

  From her bed, Ada shifted her gaze to the nurse. In her mind she smiled at her, but in reality she could no more smile than she could move. Already weakened by illness, the shock of her daughter being killed in the fire had not only paralysed her body, but impaired her brain, until now she was at the mercy of others. Yet she could see, and she could hear. And she was alive; but only just.

  The two nurses turned her over and washed her back, then they rolled her the other way and washed the remainder of her body. ‘We’ll have you looking so beautiful, your son won’t recognise you,’ the round one said. ‘By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll shame the film stars.’

  The nurse was as good as her word. By the time Peter arrived, Ada was bright and shiny, with her long grey hair fanning the pillow beneath her, and even a touch of pale lipstick tracing her mouth. ‘My, my! Look at you. Sleeping Beauty, no less.’ He laughed, a soft, cruel sound that sent a chill through her soul.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Williams. Don’t you think your mother looks lovely?’ Coming up behind him, the nurse’s voice cut through his malicious tirade. ‘She has such beautiful skin. I’m sure there’s many a young woman would be proud of it.’

  ‘Yes, she does look lovely,’ he agreed. ‘Thank you, Nurse.’ He waited until the woman had gone to the other end of the ward before he began his vicious taunting again. ‘It’s such a shame you have to stay in this ward with all these sick old people,’ he said sweetly. ‘I couldn’t be doing with all that moaning and shouting myself, somebody being sick and waking me all hours of the day and night. But then I wouldn’t have to put up with it, because if it were me who was bedridden, I’d be in a private place, with nurses at my every beck and call.’

  ‘Come to see yer mam, ’ave yer?’ Bent and balding, the old woman paused on her way to the lavvy. Eighty years old and recovering from a nasty fall, she leaned heavily on her cane. ‘Such a lovely lady,’ she said, nodding towards Ada. ‘Speaks with her eyes, you know.’ Smiling at Ada, she said, ‘That’s right, ain’t it, lass?’ She spoke slowly and clearly, hoping Ada would understand. ‘Such pretty eyes.’ Nodding again, she resumed her lonely trek to the lavatory, muttering as she went, ‘Poor thing. If I were that crippled, I’d want somebody to put me out me misery.’

  ‘Silly old cow!’ Wiping his face as though he had been infected with some kind of disease, Peter stared into his mother’s eyes. ‘Though she’s right, you know,’ he whispered. ‘Somebody ought to put you out of your misery.’

  When he saw a flash of fear light up her eyes, he grinned in her face. ‘You didn’t like me saying that, did you, eh? But it’s true! You’ve lived too long, Ada Williams. And I’ll tell you something else: if that stupid bint Daisy Morgan hadn’t told you about the fire, and how they’d found the bodies of Jim and Sylvia Bolton, you might never have known. Pity she panicked and sent for the doctor when you collapsed!’

  Clenching her hand in his, he groaned. ‘Why didn’t the silly little cow wake me, eh? Why didn’t she wake Ruth? I wouldn’t have sent for no bloody doctor. I’d have dealt with it myself.’

  He smiled into her eyes, softly laughing when she closed them, to shut him out. ‘Mind you, she did say how she knocked and banged on the bedroom door and couldn’t wake us. Happen she were telling the truth. I wouldn’t know, would I? I mean, me and Ruth were fair worn out. We’d had a rough night, if you know what I mean. Oh, but I forgot. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Mother?’

  The rage was like cold heat inside him, searing his insides until the pain was almost unbearable. ‘Yes, you’d know all about that – after the life you’ve led.’ Dropping her hand, he bowed his head. ‘All those men!’

  Opening her eyes she looked at him, shocked to see him crying as he recalled the way it had been. ‘I was just a boy, locked in the bedroom till it was all over – you and him… them! One after the other, night after night!’

  Gritting his teeth, he waited until the images grew fainter. ‘I could hear you, Mother, did you know that? Oh yes, I could hear every disgusting sound. It made me sick to my stomach. You made me sick to my stomach!’

  As he went on, he could see the guilt and regret in her eyes, and it pleased him. ‘The other boys thought you were beautiful, but they didn’t know. I knew though, and I was so ashamed of you. Underneath, you see, you were dirty – all spoiled.’

  His eyeballs stood out like hatpins as he glared at her, his face almost touching hers, his voice low and shivering. ‘If Daisy hadn’t called out the doctor, you would never have survived, I can promise you that, Mother dear. I would have turned the key in the lock and left you lying there till it was all over.’ Just as quickly as his mood had erupted, it subsided. Taking both her hands in his, he began to stroke them. ‘That nurse was right, you know,’ he murmured. ‘You have got lovely skin.’ It gave him pleasure to know she could not move her hand away, nor could she cry out at his touch. All she could do was move her eyes from side to side, as she did now, with the hatred alive in them.

  He tutted. ‘Now, now! Don’t look at me like that,’ he chided. ‘Anybody would think you loathed the sight of me.’ He had no illusions on that score. ‘You don’t even like me coming here, do you? But I will,’ he gloated, ‘every day until I see you done with – and from what they tell me, it won’t be too long before my waiting’s over. Oh yes, Mother! Me and Ruth are already counting the days.’

  Moving his chair so he could sit even closer, his voice sank to the merest whisper. ‘Every time I come here, I expect to see you laid out in the mortuary – gone from my life like the pest you are. Instead I find you still here, looking at me with those pathetic eyes, asking questions – always asking questions!’ Leaning forward, he pretended to kiss her. Instead he was making a confession he didn’t want anyone else to overhear. ‘I heard you, Mother. I heard you making arrangements with the solicitor. You meant to leave all your worldly goods to your precious daughter, didn’t you, eh?’

  The flicker of an eye told him what he had suspected. ‘You know, don’t you, Mother? You know it was me. But you see, I had to be rid of her. I couldn’t allow her to take my inheritance. It wouldn’t have been fair. Not after I helped you build up your property business, working my fingers to the bone – what for, eh? Just so you could leave it all to some little bastard who was there before me.’

  Falling
back in his chair, he looked down on her. There was no compassion in his heart. No love or respect. Only repugnance, and a loathing that was like a living thing inside him. ‘I’m going now, Mother.’ Scraping the chair back, he leaned down and kissed her on the face; it was cold to the touch, and grey like new-chiselled marble. One eye was silently weeping. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve upset you, haven’t I, telling you about your daughter and everything?’

  He smiled sweetly. ‘Never mind. You still have me!’

  * * *

  Unsettled by his meeting with Ada, Peter slid his key in the front door and flung it open. ‘Ruth! Ruth! Where the devil are you?’

  ‘In here,’ came the reply.

  Hurrying into the drawing room, he found her lolling on the sofa, a drink in one hand and her feet curled up beneath her. She was neither dressed nor washed. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ Her voice was slurred with booze. ‘Where’ve you been? Oh, Peter! You didn’t go and see your mother again, did you?’ She belched. ‘Helping the old lady on her way, were you? Telling her a few home truths, is that it?’ She held out her arms but he made no move towards her.

  Instead he was looking round the room. One of the sideboard drawers was open; there were clothes flung down beside her, and both shoes were tipped over on the rug. In the fire grate, two drained bottles lay on their side, and the fender was littered with empty glasses from last night. The curtains were half-drawn and the smell was overpowering.

  Suddenly he was across the room. ‘Filthy bitch!’ Smacking her hard across the head he took hold of her arm and yanked her from the sofa. ‘You’re no better than she is. What’s more, you stink to high heaven.’ Snatching the glass from her hand he smashed it into the hearth. ‘Get out of my sight.’ He gave her a spiteful push. ‘Go on! Get upstairs and don’t come down until you’re dressed and looking like any decent woman!’