A Father’s Revenge. Kitty Neale

why she’s insisted on that.’

      Pearl brandished the letter at him. ‘I do. It’s all in here. Bessie says that Nora can’t cope with change, that moving away from here would confuse and upset her. This way, she says, if we agree to the provision, not only will Nora have continued stability, but we’ll have a home large enough for all of us, with a business thrown in.’

      ‘Well, she has got a point, love.’

      ‘No! I won’t move back to Battersea. Bessie may have been thinking about Nora, but I’m thinking of my son.’

      ‘I suppose you could always sell the place.’

      ‘Read the will again. If I don’t take this place on it’s to be sold, with the proceeds going to Battersea Dogs’ Home.’

      ‘What! Blimey, that’s a bit harsh. So much for making sure we’d have the finances to look after Nora.’

      Pearl’s voice cracked as she ran a hand tiredly across her face. ‘I still can’t believe that Bessie has done this.’

      ‘Come on, love, I think you’ve had enough for one day. You need time for it all to sink in and we can talk about it later. For now, let’s go home,’ Derek said, a tower of strength and support as ever.

      Pearl didn’t argue. Hoping that Nora was ready, she hurried back to her bedroom, feeling relieved when she didn’t become difficult again.

      Pearl and Derek agreed not to mention anything about Bessie in the car so as not to distress Nora, yet as they neared Winchester she began to cry again.

      ‘Told you, Pearl,’ she sobbed. ‘I told you Bessie not get better.’

      ‘I know you did, darling,’ Pearl said, her mind twisting and turning. They would have to arrange Bessie’s funeral and perhaps consult the solicitor who had drawn up her will. Maybe he’d be able to tell them if there was a way around the conditions of the inheritance.

      ‘Go home now.’

      ‘But we haven’t had our fish and chips yet,’ Pearl said, hoping Nora’s favourite meal would placate her again.

      ‘What’s it to be, Nora?’ Derek asked. ‘Cod and chips?’

      ‘Yes, and can I have a pickled onion?’ Nora asked.

      ‘Yes, love. I fancy fish and chips too, but I think with a gherkin.’

      Once again the thought of food quietened Nora and at last they were pulling up outside a chippie close to home. Pearl got out of the car, pleased to be served quickly, and then with packets of steaming fish and chips they arrived at the cottage.

      Inside, Nora ran straight to John. ‘Bessie dead, Johnny.’

      ‘I know, but don’t cry,’ he said, hugging her short, bulky body to him. ‘Bessie wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.’

      Pearl was impressed by her son’s maturity, but when she looked at her mother it was to find her expression less than pleased. She drew Pearl into the conservatory to ask quietly, ‘What is Nora doing here?’

      ‘I couldn’t leave her on her own, Mum.’

      ‘But she can’t stay with us. We’ve got nowhere to put her.’

      ‘It won’t be for long. We’ll find somewhere else to live as soon as we can, but in the meantime, I … I thought maybe a camp bed in here.’

      ‘Well, yes, I suppose so, but—’

      ‘Mum, can we talk about it later?’ Pearl interrupted. ‘I don’t think Nora has eaten today and I need to dish out the fish and chips before they get cold. Would you like some?’

      ‘No, thank you, darling.’

      Pearl went back into the kitchen to find that Derek had already put the meal onto plates and Nora was already tucking into her portion.

      ‘Are you all right?’ he asked her softly.

      Pearl nodded, but in truth she was far from all right. Their life had been chugging along nicely, without a care in the world really. She loved living here with her mother, loved the area, the cottage and her little part-time job.

      Now, with the responsibility of Nora, they would have to make changes and Pearl felt as if her world was spiralling out of her control.

Chapter Seven

      On Tuesday morning Kevin Dolby punched the air in triumph as the prison gates closed behind him. He was free, but to fulfil his immediate needs he had to have more than the funds he’d been given on release. Still, he had the means to get to Southsea; and once he’d twisted his mother around his little finger, his wallet would be stuffed with notes.

      Mugs, that’s what most people were in Kevin’s opinion, including the parole board who had fallen for his pious act. His religious persona was one he’d continue to use – at least when it suited him, he thought, chuckling.

      Despite his bravado, after thirteen years in prison, Kevin found the outside world intimidating as he walked to the train station. The sound of traffic was loud in his ears, the roads busier than he remembered, and there was space, so much space after the confines of prison walls.

      On reaching the station, Kevin purchased a ticket and then stood on the platform, taking note of the people around him. Most of the fashion was unrecognisable to him and he was amazed when he spotted a bloke with hair flowing over his shoulders, wearing burgundy velvet trousers that flared at the bottom and a flowery top beneath an odd-looking fur-edged, suede coat. In his day poofs didn’t flaunt themselves; but the bloke was good looking and for a moment Kevin felt a twinge of interest. However he got a shock when the girl standing next to the poof suddenly stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss, the pair becoming locked in an embrace. Kevin couldn’t help staring and the bloke met his eye over his girlfriend’s shoulder.

      ‘What are you looking at?’ he asked belligerently.

      There was nothing girly about his manner and in no mood for a confrontation, Kevin said, ‘Nothing,’ before quickly looking away.

      ‘Leave it, Pete,’ he heard the girl say. ‘Don’t get into a fight.’

      ‘Yeah, yeah, all right. Peace and love and all that.’

      It clicked then and Kevin kicked himself for being stupid. They were hippies – but this was the first time he’d seen them in the flesh. Blimey, there was no way he was going to wear daft clothes like that, and now, as a girl passed him wearing a skirt that was little more than a belt, he feasted his eyes on her legs. Now that he was free and had the choice, Kevin found he much preferred the female form to the male, and licked his lips in anticipation of holding a woman in his arms again.

      By the time Kevin reached the village he felt a little more confident, though his parents’ cottage was on the outskirts and hadn’t been easy to find. Before walking up the path, Kevin braced himself. His mother had ruined his life, had made him think from childhood that sex was a dirty word. If he so much as touched himself, she called him a filthy boy, saying she wouldn’t love him if he dared to do it again. She had ruled his father too and his sickening weakness had made Kevin determined to be different, to show any woman he took out who was the boss. To keep them in line, he’d enjoyed giving them a few slaps, and then one day it had escalated into violent rape. He’d loved it, relished showing the woman that, unlike his father, he was a real man, and she was helpless to stop him.

      Of course he hadn’t had to rape Pearl. She’d been so innocent, so naive, a virgin, and it’d been easy to take her down. He’d been careless though and had been forced to marry her.

      From their wedding night, it had all gone wrong, thanks to his mother. She’d walked into their bedroom and the disgust on her face at their nakedness had made him impotent. From then on, with his mother in such close proximity, he’d been unable to make love to Pearl. Kevin scowled. His mother had turned him into less than a man, weak