A Family Scandal. Kitty Neale

the man you’re planning to sleep with isn’t your husband.’

      ‘Rhona, it sounds terrible when you put it like that,’ Mavis protested.

      ‘It isn’t terrible at all,’ Rhona replied. ‘It makes sense. You love Tommy, he loves you. I hate to see you missing out when you could be having such a good time, that’s all. Believe me, it’s really different when you’re with a man you love. I know that now. You’re missing out, Mavis, you really are.’

      ‘It’s not that simple,’ said Mavis, shaking her head. She had been bossed around all her life, manipulated and beaten, so was it any wonder that the fear of losing her hard-fought independence held her back.

      Pete pushed open the door to the public bar and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d come back to his old local in Battersea and was pretty sure that nobody he knew from those days would be in here at this hour of the day. He didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone, just to have a few moments on his own to think over what he’d just been told.

      The place was nearly deserted and weak sunshine came in through the grimy windows, falling on the scarred wooden stools that ranged along the length of the bar. The barmaid, not the one he’d known all those years ago, was wiping glasses with a bored look on her face. She took her time finishing her job and coming over to him but he didn’t mind. For once there was no hurry. He watched motes of dust dancing in the narrow sunbeams and vaguely noticed that the whole place could do with a clean, but it didn’t worry him. There were worse things in life than a slightly dirty pub.

      ‘What can I get you, love?’

      Pete paused. He wasn’t much of a drinker compared to some, and certainly not in the middle of the day, but he hated ordering halves and didn’t have to rush back anywhere. ‘Pint, please.’ He nodded to the beer he fancied.

      She barely glanced at him as she reached for a glass from the shelf behind her, and ambled to the pump. Slowly she filled the glass and finally wandered back to him. She took his money and gave him his change then turned her back, obviously not wanting to make conversation. Pete was relieved. He took a seat at the end of the bar furthest away from her and went over his meeting earlier that day.

      It had begun well enough. He’d come to it expecting to be given a start date for the big new project, in which many of the substandard old terraced houses in Peckham were to be pulled down and replaced with modern ones. His company was perfectly placed to build them and over the past few months he’d been given to understand there were no real competitors for the contract; it was just a case of when it would happen.

      On the surface nothing had changed. He’d been welcomed, everyone was all smiles and slapping each other on the back. Yet when he asked direct questions, such as when the all-important start date would be, there’d been a lot of beating about the bush and fudging. He just couldn’t make any headway. It didn’t make sense, and finally he’d said so.

      He’d been assured that there was nothing to worry about, it was just a question of the right person at the council signing it all off, no problems at all. Pete wondered if that was all there was to it and wanted to ask if somebody else was being lined up behind the scenes but they’d explicitly told him that no other company was in the running for the job. It was just a question of waiting for the final thumbs up.

      So Pete had come to the quiet pub to think things through. He never used to be much of a worrier; he did his work and did it well, took the money and came home to Lily. Now he could feel all that might be changing. He had Bobby to consider; he couldn’t just up and leave for greener fields elsewhere if things went wrong. It wouldn’t be fair on Lily and of course there was Mavis with her two kids too. They all depended on him and more so than ever now they had the big house.

      Well, they were safe as long as that contract got signed soon. He sighed. He hated relying on other people. Council politics, politics of any kind, had never been his thing. He couldn’t be doing with all the bureaucracy, the waiting around, the feeling that you had to say the right thing at the right time to the right person. It was all very frustrating, but he’d have to grin and bear it. When it went ahead, the project would bring in the best money he’d ever had.

      An internal door from behind the bar opened and he could hear voices.

      ‘… better if you can start in ten days’ time then,’ a man was saying. Then the speaker came through the door. Pete recognised him as the landlord, who now looked balder and more careworn than the last time he’d seen him, a few years ago. ‘Here, Patty, get this gentleman a drink. You’ll be seeing a lot more of him as he’s going to do the signs when we get this place done up.’