Kitty Neale 3 Book Bundle. Kitty Neale

       Chapter Eight

      As usual, when Amy got up at six thirty on Friday morning her mother was still at work. She had to make her dad’s breakfast, and with only one egg left she decided to fry it. He came down ten minutes later to find her in the kitchen, just about to pour boiling water into the teapot. She offered him no greeting, and instead went on to spread margarine on a couple of slices of toast.

      He went back to the living room where soon after Amy took his breakfast through, still saying nothing as she turned to walk away.

      ‘Sit down, Amy,’ he commanded sternly.

      Amy could guess what was coming and her heart began to thump. Her father was rarely angry, with her, or anyone else, but she had spoken out last night and he was obviously still annoyed. Well she was too, and she wasn’t sorry for what she had said. Defiantly she replied, ‘I’m going to get my bowl of cereal and then I’ll sit down.’

      ‘Fine, do that,’ he snapped.

      Amy poured some cornflakes, but with only a little sugar in the bowl she left it for her mum and just added a little milk. She then carried it to the table and sat down, waiting for what was to come.

      ‘Right, my girl, from what you said last night, you seem to think it’s my fault that your mother had to walk home from the hospital. Is that right?’

      ‘Yes,’ she agreed.

      ‘Well let’s get a few things straight …’

      Amy listened as her father spoke. All right, he may not have known that her mother didn’t have the fare home, but he still had money for beer on a Thursday night while her mother was broke. It gave Amy the courage to speak. ‘Mum’s worn out. Instead of going to the pub nearly every night, you should give her a bit more housekeeping money and then she could give up at least one of her jobs.’

      His face suffused with anger and he snapped, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. Your mum’s been doing too much because she chose to look after Winnie. It’s got nothing to do with money.’

      ‘But if she could just give up one of her jobs …’

      ‘That’s enough!’ he thundered.

      Amy had never seen her father in such a temper. She lowered her head, saying no more, and found that her throat was so constricted with nerves that she couldn’t eat. She picked up her bowl and went back to the kitchen, relieved when shortly after she heard the front door slam as her dad left for work.

      When Phyllis finished her early morning cleaning job, she arrived home and found as usual that her daughter was just about to leave for the shoe shop. Amy smiled weakly, but Phyllis could tell that it was forced and concerned, she asked, ‘What’s the matter?’

      For a moment Amy hesitated, but then she blurted out, ‘I’ve upset Dad.’

      ‘How did you manage to do that?’

      ‘I told him that instead of going to the pub, he should give you more housekeeping money.’

      Her mother’s small frame seemed to stretch as angrily she said, ‘I won’t have you speaking to your father like that. You have no idea what he puts up with. He came home from the war wounded, feeling less than a man, reduced to doing a job he hates for low wages, and though his leg still gives him pain, he never complains.’

      ‘I didn’t know that,’ Amy said, sounding contrite.

      ‘That’s because he always puts on a cheerful front. As for him going to the pub, it’s his only pleasure and I’m not complaining, so you …’

      A knock on the door interrupted Phyllis, along with Carol’s voice shouting through the letterbox, ‘Amy! Amy, are you ready for work?’

      ‘Go on, just go,’ Phyllis snapped.

      Amy looked stricken, about to say something, but instead she grabbed her coat and hurried out.

      No sooner had her daughter left than Phyllis sat down, rubbing both hands over her face. She shouldn’t have lost her temper, not when this was all her fault; Amy falling out with her father because she thought Stan kept her short of money. It wasn’t true. With what he gave her, plus Amy’s keep and her cleaning jobs, she’d managed fine until she’d taken on looking after Winnie. She had been worried about Winnie’s frailty and ensured that she gave her a good breakfast, a nourishing lunch with fresh fruit, along with plenty of meat on her plate for dinner.

      Everything had been fine, Phyllis realised, until she’d fainted. Amy had spoken out in her concern for her, and as a now-familiar wave of exhaustion washed over her, Phyllis knew that she couldn’t go on like this. It was time to see the doctor.

      ‘It’s only me,’ Mabel called as she came in through the back door and into the living room. ‘I collared Stan when he left for work, and though he didn’t seem in the best of moods, he told me about Winnie.’

      Phyllis wasn’t in the mood for talking, but there’d be no getting rid of Mabel until she heard the whole story. ‘Yes, she passed away soon after we arrived at the hospital.’

      ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. Winnie looked as though she was gone before the ambulance turned up.’

      Phyllis voiced her feelings. ‘I should have seen earlier that something was wrong. By the time I did it was too late.’

      ‘Don’t be daft. You told me yourself that Winnie’s been going downhill for some time now. If you ask me it was more old age than illness, her heart giving out or something like that.’

      Mabel’s words made sense, and Phyllis clung to them as she said, ‘They wanted to know about Winnie’s next of kin so I told them what I could about Susan. It wasn’t much. I didn’t know her full address, but with her married name and the area she lives in, I expect they’ll find her.’

      Mabel tossed her head, saying in disgust, ‘Susan didn’t do anything for her mother, but when she’s told I bet she’ll be down here like a shot to see what she can get her hands on.’

      ‘Winnie hasn’t got much. Her furniture is old and worn, and I think she only had her bit of pension.’

      ‘Well then, Susan will probably have to pay for her mother’s funeral,’ Mabel said, smiling with satisfaction.

      Phyllis glanced at the clock and said, ‘Mabel, I’m sorry, but can we talk later? I’ve decided to see the doctor and I want to get there before the waiting room fills up.’

      ‘Is it to do with that fainting spell you had?’

      ‘Yes, but I don’t suppose it’s anything to worry about. I just thought I should get it checked out.’

      Mabel rose to her feet. ‘Right then, I’ll be off, but let me know how you get on.’

      Phyllis agreed, and in case the doctor wanted to examine her, as soon as Mabel left she went upstairs to have a wash.

      Celia Frost was still angry. Thomas had gone out for over two hours last night and returned looking cold and tired. He’d gone straight to bed, while Celia had been left fuming. If he now had a setback it would be Amy Miller’s fault. She should have seen that Thomas