Living in the Shadows Read online

  Mary scanned the list in her hand. ‘No, don’t think so.’ She looked towards the other end of the store where a group of youths were gathered around the record booths near the stairs. ‘Unless you want to have a look around at the clothes?’

  ‘No, but I think I’ll get a quarter of pic’n’mix on the way out.’

  ‘Make it half a pound and put some chocolate misshapes in, will you, love? They’re Peter’s favourites. I’ll pay you later.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Auntie – my treat.’

  Out on the High Street, Mary changed the heavy carrier-bag into her other hand. There were already white indentations on her palm where the string handle had dug in.

  ‘I always think Woolworths has a smell of its own, don’t you?’ Linda joined her at the double doors.

  ‘Think it’s as much the wooden floors as anything,’ Mary said. ‘That and so much all crammed together. Always good value, though.’

  ‘Yeah. Here, pass that to me, I’ll be balanced with one in each hand.’ Linda prised the shopping from Mary’s fingers.

  ‘It is heavy. Thanks, love. Fancy a drink?’ Mary pointed across the street to a café, its large window festooned with posters advertising local events. ‘Looks a bit grotty from the outside but they serve the best coffee in town, and I know what you’re like for your coffee. First place I went to with your uncle, just after he’d come back here.’ She stopped; she hated thinking about the way Peter was sometimes treated then. ‘Waitress was a right miserable biddy. He wouldn’t go in again but I used to make a point of going in just to annoy her.’

  They exchanged grins.

  ‘I can just imagine you doing that.’ Linda glanced along the street before crossing. ‘Come on, then, I’m gasping for a drink.’

  It was quiet for a Friday. Only two other women and a couple were sitting at the tables. In a corner behind the counter a tape-recorder played the theme from A Summer Place. Linda chose a table near the window and placed her bags under her chair. ‘I’ll get these, you rest your legs. We’ve been trailing about all morning.’

  ‘Okay.’

  When Linda glanced back at her, Mary had unbuttoned her coat and closed her eyes. She wished there was more she could do to help her aunt with Richard but it was something they needed to sort out for themselves, especially as he would now be going to Manchester.

  Nodding her thanks at the girl behind the counter she carried the tray to the table and placed it carefully on the cloth.

  Startled, Mary opened her eyes. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. You look worn out. We should have gone straight home.’

  ‘Not at all, I’m looking forward to this.’

  ‘It’s nice here.’ Linda looked around. ‘The outside does nothing for it, but it is lovely.’ The walls were painted white and covered in original seascapes. Linda peered at the label on the nearest painting. ‘Local artist,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, some of them are from Victoria’s college. She had one of hers in here last year. It sold too.’ Mary blinked hard.

  Linda knew what she was thinking. She dropped seven pennies into her purse. ‘I’m getting weighed down with all this change,’ she said, ‘but it’s not bad that; thruppence for a coffee and tuppence for a tea.’ She leaned her elbows on the table holding her cup. ‘It’s all going to change though,’ she said ‘What do you think of this business of decimalisation? That chap, Robin Day, was talking about it in an interview on the news.’ She was aware she was chattering on to take Mary’s mind off all the worry about Richard and Vicky.

  Mary dismissed Linda’s words. ‘It’s not happening until nineteen seventy-one. I can’t worry about something so far off.’

  Linda gave up pretending. ‘You are pleased that Richard got into that university in Manchester, aren’t you? It’s what he wanted.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

  ‘When does his term start?’

  ‘In two weeks.’ Mary bit her lip. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased for him. But sometimes I wish…?’ She didn’t finish.

  ‘You wish he’d chosen to stay in Wales? Studied here and gone to Pont-y-Haven?’ Linda put her coffee down; suddenly she didn’t want it. The café was warm and the aroma of cakes together with her drink made her feel vaguely nauseous.

  ‘Yes. None of this would have happened.’

  ‘Have you talked to Uncle Peter about it?’

  ‘No, and he mustn’t know.’ Mary looked sharply at Linda. ‘Please. Not until he’s a lot stronger. I don’t want to worry him more than he is already. I caught him reading Victoria’s note again last night. All that claptrap about finding herself. I really am angry with her; she said she’d keep in touch and not a peep. She’s always been a Daddy’s girl so she must know how upset this makes him.’

  And couldn’t care less, Linda thought. The irritation didn’t help the curdling in her stomach. ‘She’s probably having fun, wherever she is and not thinking about anything else.’

  ‘Not thinking is something our daughter does well.’

  Linda slowly stirred the spoon around in the coffee. Mary gazed out of the window. The low bubbling of the tea-urn behind the counter and the murmur of conversation washed over Linda. She debated with herself whether to actually say what was on her mind. ‘I feel really bad that it was me that let the cat out of the bag.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, Linda. Richard’s caught us out hundreds of times since he learned to lip-read. Peter and I always had to be so careful when we had anything to discuss that we didn’t want the twins to know about.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Not a lot, really. I think he’s is still trying to come to terms with everything.’

  ‘He must know none of what’s happened is your fault?’

  ‘Hmm. He’s anxious now to get back to Ashford. He’s worried about the girl – Karen.’

  Linda grimaced. ‘I’m not surprised … with George Shuttleworth for a stepfather. Especially now.’

  She was shocked at Mary’s next words.

  ‘I’ve decided I’m going to see him. George Shuttleworth, I mean,’ Mary said. ‘When we take Richard back to Ashford, I’ll find out his address and go there.’

  ‘How will you find out where he lives?’

  Mary pondered for a moment before her face cleared. ‘I could ask Jacqueline. Karen’s living with her for now, you said? Shouldn’t be difficult for Jacqueline to find out.’

  ‘And you don’t think she’ll ask why you want to know?’

  ‘I’ll think of something. I just want to make sure he knows to leave Richard alone, whether he’s going out with his stepdaughter or not.’

  ‘Look, do you think that’s wise, Auntie Mary? From what I’ve seen he’s still as nasty a piece as ever he was.’ The apprehension made Linda feel sick. She swallowed hard.

  ‘I think it’s the only way. Don’t forget, he’d have a lot to lose if he did anything that brought up the past. And,’ Mary gave a short laugh, ‘if a man’s brave enough to walk on the moon, I’m sure I can beard Shuttleworth in his own den.’

  ‘It’s no joke, Auntie.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I want you to promise you won’t go on your own.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Mary drained her cup and put it back on the saucer. ‘You ready to go? Had enough of your coffee?’

  ‘Yes.’ There was no point on insisting; her aunt had always been a strong-willed woman.

  And if Linda didn’t leave right now, she’d throw up all over the table. The anxiety was playing havoc with her digestion.

  Chapter 49: Linda Booth & Mary Schormann

  Llamroth, afternoon: Friday, October 3rd

  ‘I know this will sound stupid, Linda, but I’m going to give the house a good clean before we go up north. I haven’t had much of a chance this last two weeks and the whole place needs a good bottoming.’ Mary looked around the living room. ‘I could write my name in the dust.’

  ‘Bit of an exaggeration, but I do unders
tand. You’ll need to leave the house clean in case you’re burgled,’ Linda teased.

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Mary shuddered yet smiled. ‘I just like to see the place tidy and clean before we go.’

  ‘Okay. And I’ll help.’

  ‘Thanks. And no time like the present. With Richard off seeing his mates before he leaves and Peter having the day out to some garden place near Cardiff with Alun and Alwyn, it’s a good time to start.’

  ‘Upstairs first?’

  ‘Yes, I like to do top to bottom.’

  ‘Right, where should I start?’

  ‘If you don’t mind tackling the bathroom, I’ll do our bedroom.’

  Mary stopped on the landing. She could hear Linda humming behind the swish of water in the bath and the squeak of a cloth on the tiles. She touched the top of the old desk. It was dusty. She undid the tin of polish and wiped the cloth over the surface. It would seem old-fashioned to Linda, but she still liked the smell of her Johnson’s Lavender. As she smeared it over the desk she absentmindedly pulled open the drawer. She frowned, everything looked different. Tom’s glasses-case was open; the broken lens was on top of an untidy jumble of papers. Putting it safely away again she riffled through the papers, looking for the small envelope of old photos. It wasn’t there. Photos spilled from a large paper bag. Perhaps, without thinking, she’d put them all together? She sat on the top tread of the stairs and slid them back in, lingering over each one. When she’d finished she frowned and went through them again. There were definitely snaps missing. She rummaged through the drawer again, with no luck. Closing it with a sigh she buffed the desk to a gleam. She must remember to ask Peter about the photographs sometime.

  By the time she’d finished the bedrooms, Linda had swept the stair-carpet and wiped down the wood of the treads on either side.

  ‘Brew before we start down here?’ Mary said, making her way into the kitchen.

  ‘Just water for me, please, the smell of that Stardrops made me feel a bit sick.’

  ‘It is a bit strong, but a good cleaner. You should have left it for me to do.’ Mary called over the sound of filling the kettle with water. ‘Oh, by the way, I just did ours and Richard’s rooms. I left yours; I thought you might want to do it yourself.’ She’d actually seen an open letter on the bed. One sheet had fallen to the floor and, as she picked it up, she’d seen Martin’s signature.

  ‘Cheers, that’s okay.’ Linda followed her into the kitchen. ‘Did you notice the letter?’

  ‘I didn’t read it.’ Mary was quick to reply.

  ‘No. No, I know, I didn’t mean that. I was just saying,’ Linda said. ‘It was from Martin. We’ve split up. My choice,’ she said hastily. ‘He wanted to get married. I don’t.’

  Even though … especially because, Linda surprised herself by the thought, especially because of what she would have to face in the future.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me, love. It’s none of my business.’

  ‘Not much to say beyond that, really.’ Not yet, Linda thought, reaching for a glass from the wall cupboard and let the cold-water tap run for a few seconds before filling it. ‘It’s just that he’s not giving up so easily. He was really angry about it; I think it’s his pride more than anything that’s hurt. But he’s decided he’ll forgive me.’ She quoted the last two words, caustically. ‘He thinks I’m panicking about being married.’

  ‘Is that true?’

  ‘Not at all. I don’t want to be married.’ She turned the tap off. ‘And I certainly don’t want to be married to him. Mug or cup?’

  ‘Mug, please.’ Mary put the cosy over the teapot. ‘I’ll let it brew for a minute.’ She leaned against the sink. ‘You’re sure it’s over?’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Well then, that’s all that matters. Just stick to your guns and get on with your life.’ She turned around and poured the tea. ‘Let’s take these through. We can drink as we clean.’

  They put the mug and glass on the windowsill in the living room.

  ‘If we move everything to the back of the room and do around the fireplace and then shift everything the other way?’ Mary said. ‘All right with you?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Okay then, let’s start with the settee.’ They positioned themselves at the front. ‘It’s on casters but it’s a bit awkward.’

  They pushed the settee backwards with their knees until it wouldn’t go any further.

  ‘Oh, my goodness, I’m ashamed,’ Mary said. ‘Look at all the fluff and bits under here.’

  Linda kneeled down and peered underneath. ‘There’s something stuck on one of the casters,’ she said. ‘Looks like some paper.’ She felt around. ‘It’s an envelope.’ Handing it to Mary she waited while her aunt studied it.

  ‘It’s addressed to Victoria. And it’s postmarked Manchester but I don’t recognise the writing.’

  ‘Is it empty?’

  ‘I think so.’ Mary poked her finger and thumb inside, opening the envelope wider. ‘Oh. No, there’s a note.’ She read the words out loud: ‘“your group now, your new family … an exciting new world will be yours”. What does it mean? And who is this,’ she peered at the note again, ‘this Seth? I’ve no idea. Have you, Linda?’

  ‘Not a clue. To be honest, Auntie Mary, Vicky and me, we don’t keep in touch, really. It’s usually Richard I write to. And he’s never mentioned the name as far as I can remember.’

  ‘Well, reading this, it’s clear he has something to do with Victoria going.’ Excitement mixed with the worry on Mary’s face. She chewed on her lower lip before saying, ‘There’s only one thing we can do. We’ll take Richard up to Ashford sooner than planned and then we’ll… have to start looking for her around Manchester.’

  Linda hoped that meant that her aunt would forget about going to see George Shuttleworth, but her next words dispelled that.

  ‘And I’ll make sure George Shuttleworth knows exactly what will happen if he tries to harm Richard. Or any other member of our family!’

  Chapter 50: Jacqueline Howarth, Mary & Peter Schormann

  Manchester: Tuesday, October 7th

  ‘I’ve made a list of places where Vicky could be, from all the info I’ve got from the other stations.’ Jackie helped Mary to take her coat off and hung it on the coat-stand before taking Peter’s off him and doing the same. ‘Sit down and get your breath back while I make a coffee.’

  Mary raised her voice above the music on the turntable of the record-player.

  ‘We’re grateful for this, Jacqueline. Aren’t we, Peter?’

  He nodded.

  She put her hand on his shoulder. ‘You okay?’

  He touched her fingers and nodded again, leaning back on the orange Ercol settee.

  ‘The lift’s out of order.’ Mary watched Peter, anxious. ‘It’s taken us ages to climb all those stairs.’

  ‘Again?’ Jackie called from the kitchen. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know – I haven’t been out today. I’d have said we should meet somewhere else if I’d known.’

  ‘It’s all right, we took our time.’ Mary looked around the flat. She thought the orange shag-pile carpet and orange curtains clashed with the purple-painted walls.

  She caught Peter’s eye.

  ‘Very – er – modern,’ he muttered.

  ‘Shush, she’ll hear.’ Mary walked over to the window. The restless impatience she’d felt since they arrived threatened to boil over. She suppressed the urge to rush Jacqueline, to grab the list and leave. There was no point; from what she’d seen so far, Manchester had changed almost beyond recognition from when she was last here. She and Peter wouldn’t have a clue where to start. ‘Nicki not home?’

  ‘Working. She said she’ll catch up later.’

  ‘You two all right?’ Mary asked.

  From four floors up the view of Manchester stretched for miles. She let her eyes wander across the view. Streets crisscrossed like rows of dominos, tower blocks of flats stood alongside terraced houses and church spires. In the d
istance she could just make out a canal. Movement on the skyline caught her attention; a tiny train crossing a viaduct, etched against the pale grey October sky. She moved closer to the window and looked down. Streams of people were going in and out of the brightly-lit stores or moving in jumbled lines along the pavements, lines of cars and double-decker buses edged along the crowded streets. It seems strange that with this going on there is nothing to hear, she thought, except the low drone of the wind. She was startled by a pigeon alighting on the ledge outside and taking off again just as suddenly.

  She swung around, anxious to talk, when Jackie came back into the room with a tray that she put onto a small kidney-shaped coffee table.

  ‘We’re great,’ her niece said. ‘Couldn’t be better.’ She smiled at Mary. ‘Where’s Richard, by the way?’

  ‘We dropped him off to catch a bus into Manchester. He was meeting someone… some friend.’ Mary glanced at Peter and then at Jackie. Linda had told her she’d passed on the message that he didn’t yet know about Karen. And the girl wasn’t in the flat. But there was always the danger Jackie would say something about the situation.

  She needn’t have worried. Jackie reached towards the record cabinet and flicked a switch so the arm came off the record. ‘Neither of you have sugar. I’m right aren’t I?’ Without waiting for an answer she closed the drop-down front and picked up two cups and saucers and handed them over. ‘It’s hot,’ she warned.

  ‘The list?’ Mary sat next to Peter.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Jackie opened a drawer in a low sideboard by the kitchen door and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She knelt on the rug by them and held it out. ‘There’s eight possibles where Vicky could be. There are more but—’

  ‘But?’ Mary took the list from Jackie and scanned it.

  ‘Well…’ Jackie pulled a face. ‘From what you said about the note you found, I don’t think she’ll be in any of those. It sounds to me as though she’s gone to one of the hippie groups, if anywhere—’

  ‘Why? How would she have met any hippies?’

  ‘College? She could have met someone there. What are her friends like? Has she met any new friends?’ Without being conscious of it, Jackie moved into questioning mode. ‘Has she been talking about anyone new? Anything she didn’t talk about before? For instance, how political is she?’