Kitty Neale 3 Book Bundle. Kitty Neale
yet. It annoyed him that Dave and Paul often came round at meal times expecting to be fed, and not only that, Daphne still did their washing. His boys had done all right for themselves in the building game, with Paul a carpenter, and Dave a plasterer. They earned good money, rented a two-bedroom flat above a shop on Lavender Hill, and as far as Frank was concerned, it was about time they looked after themselves.
Frank would never admit it, but though he loved his sons, his daughter was the most precious to him. He also knew that Daphne favoured the boys, who both looked more like him, whereas Carol was so like her mother, both beauties and both his.
He’d never worried about the boys when they went out at night, but it wasn’t the same with Carol. He insisted she was home by ten thirty and though she railed against it, she was rarely late. She’d had a fair few boyfriends, but if any of them had dared to take liberties with her, he’d have wrung their bloody necks. Carol wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment, and that suited him just fine.
‘Dinner’s ready,’ Carol said, laying two plates on the table.
Daphne followed behind with her own plate, and at last it seemed the subject of Mabel had been exhausted. He sat down, relieved that the boys hadn’t turned up, his plate piled high.
‘I’m popping round to see my mother after dinner,’ Daphne said.
Frank couldn’t stand his mother-in-law and knew the feeling was mutual. She lived a few streets away, hated living alone since her old man kicked the bucket, and Daphne often went round to keep her company. He didn’t mind, and more often than not he went to the pub where he enjoyed a game of darts. ‘I’m going out too. I’ve got a match on tonight.’
Frank tucked in, mostly a contented man; little knowing that there would come a time when his satisfaction with life was going to turn to ashes.
Amy had dashed indoors to find her mother in the kitchen preparing dinner. She’d looked all right, albeit a bit pale, but after hearing what Amy had to say, she was now red-faced with temper.
‘Mabel had no right to tell you that I fainted!’ she snapped yet again. ‘Look at you, all upset and for no reason.’
‘Mum, I’m more upset that you won’t go and sit down. I can finish making our dinner.’
‘I don’t need to rest. I was just tired, but now I’m fine. Go and get your work clothes off and this will be ready by the time you come downstairs again.’
No matter how hard Amy tried, her mother wouldn’t give in and defeated, she went to change her clothes. It didn’t take long and five minutes later Amy was back in the kitchen where her mother said, ‘If your dad doesn’t get a move on, dinner will be ruined. I’ve only got an hour to spare before I have to leave for work.’
‘Mum, no, surely you’re not up to going out cleaning again?’
‘Of course I am.’
Before Amy could protest further, she heard her father coming in and then his voice calling, ‘Where are you, woman?’
‘Where do you think?’ Phyllis called in reply.
‘Probably in the kitchen where you belong,’ he said, grinning as he appeared in the doorway.
‘It’s a wonder you haven’t chained me to the sink.’
‘Now then, don’t go putting ideas into my head.’
Amy usually loved to hear her parents’ banter, but there wasn’t a smile on her face this time as she said to her father, ‘Mum fainted this morning.’
He frowned worriedly and asked, ‘Phyllis, what made you pass out?’
‘I was a bit over-tired, that’s all.’
‘Dad, I don’t think she should go to work tonight,’
Amy said, relieved that her dad was home to back her up.
‘Amy’s right, Phyllis. You’d best stay home,’ he agreed.
‘Now look, I told Amy and now I’m telling you. I’m fine and don’t intend to lose an evening’s pay over nothing. Now get out from under my feet while I dish this dinner up.’
‘I’ll do it, Mum. You go and sit down.’
‘I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself, and you, Stan, go and have a quick wash. Your hands are filthy.’
‘Yes Boss,’ he said, disappearing.
Defeated, Amy tried another offer. ‘I’ll give Winnie her dinner if you like.’
‘Yes, all right, and tell her I’ll pop in after I’ve finished work to help her into bed.’
‘I could do that, Mum.’
‘No, love. Winnie can be a bit funny and I doubt she’ll undress in front of you. There’s her commode to sort out too so you’d best leave it to me.’
‘But …’
‘That’s enough, Amy. I said I’ll deal with it and I will. Now get this round to Winnie before it goes cold,’ she insisted, handing Amy a plate, covered with another.
With no other option, Amy did as she was told, but she was still worried about her mum and couldn’t believe that tiredness alone had caused her to faint.
Celia had seen Amy with her friend as they passed her window on their way home from work. She had held her breath, and was relieved that Amy hadn’t knocked on her door. Of course she’d told the girl that Thomas wasn’t well enough to see anyone, and thankfully it had worked.
With her son’s dinner on a tray, Celia took it up to him. Thomas’s fever had gone down overnight and he looked a lot better, but she’d insisted that he remain in bed. ‘Here you are, darling,’ she said. ‘Now do try to eat it all.’
‘I thought Amy might call in on her way home from work.’
‘I saw her passing with her friend, the two of them chatting and giggling, but she didn’t stop to ask how you are.’
Thomas looked forlorn, but Celia hardened her heart. If Thomas became serious about a girl, she wanted her to come from a good family, not unlike the Willards who lived next door. They were members of the Conservative Club too and had a daughter, Melissa, but having seen her all his life, so far Thomas hadn’t noticed that she had now grown up. Of course Melissa wasn’t a beauty, with a rather large nose and long, thin face surrounded by mousy brown hair, but she was poised and intelligent. Celia wanted to encourage Thomas to notice Melissa, and if he was well again by Saturday night, she intended to invite the Willards to dinner.
‘That’s your father,’ Celia said as she heard George arriving home. She had grown used to his irregular hours. George could arrive late if an urgent job came up, but not so this evening. She left Thomas to eat his dinner and went downstairs.
George had taken off his coat and was hanging it on the hall rack. Celia knew his routine. He would now go upstairs to have a wash and change his clothes before sitting down to dinner. ‘How’s Thomas?’ he asked.
‘A little better,’ she replied, her back stiffening at his terse tone and lack of greeting. There had been a time when George would kiss her on his return home, but those days were long gone. They were now like cold acquaintances, Celia thought as she walked through to the kitchen.
By the time George came downstairs again, Celia had their dinner on the table, and pulling out a chair he sat down, looking at his food as he said, ‘I’ll be going out again in an hour or so.’
‘What, again? You’re out more evenings these days than you are in.’
‘It’s work, Celia, I’m