The Family

‘Yeah, he’ll do that, all right,’ Robert muttered grimly. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’

She gave a little nod of acknowledgement.

‘What did he say exactly?’ he asked, stopping her again as she reached to open the car door.

‘Oh, just that he’s surprised that Stevie isn’t the guvnor as he’s always been smarter than you.’

Robert smiled, a proper smile that made her breath catch in her throat as it transformed to a husky chuckle.

‘Don’t you mind that he’s going to try to put a spoke in things for you?’

‘Nah … not really,’ Rob said, his eyes focused on his hand as he flexed his fingers. ‘Done me a favour, in a way. A showdown’s been brewing a while; things’ve got worse since Steve got married.’ He abruptly got out of the car and a moment later he’d opened her door and was taking Adam from her so she could get out.

‘Mind you don’t get wet,’ she said as the boy’s damp rump settled on his dark suit sleeve.

He looked at her stained skirt and as their eyes met they simultaneously grimaced.

‘Thanks for the lift,’ Faye said quietly, taking Adam back.

‘Yeah … you told me.’

‘And for your contribution.’

‘Yeah … you said that too. My pleasure … no, really. Sooner you’re on your way back to Kent the better. Let me know if you need more.’

‘’Course I bloody need more,’ she choked, unaccountably miffed by his attitude. It was insultingly clear that he’d be glad to see the back of her. He might as well have told her right out to piss off. ‘Won’t get me far, will it? A fucking fiver?’

‘Well, you know where I live now. Come and see me.’ He strolled back round the vehicle. ‘All right for you to swear in front of the kid, is it?’ he muttered sarcastically as he got in and slammed the door.

Faye watched the car pull off along Seven Sisters Road, anger and indignation burning in her chest. She stuck up two fingers and hoped he’d see her defiant gesture in his rear-view mirror, for she was sure he’d use it to look back at her. Then she felt silly and ashamed for having done it. The rain became steadily stronger and started Adam to a grizzling wakefulness. Pulling her jacket over him to shield him a bit she put her head down and hurried towards home.

He stopped the car under the gas lamp so she’d see him. Drawing out his cigarettes, he lit one and leaned back against the leather seat. Ten minutes later, right on time, and just as he was fishing in the pack of Players again, Gloria finished her shift and came out of the side door of the Duke. She saw him waiting and with a delighted grin hurried over.

‘Why didn’t you come in and have a drink?’ she asked as she settled into the passenger seat.

‘Didn’t want one.’ He held out the pack of cigarettes and she slid one out then waited for him to light it for her. They sat smoking, Rob sending a grey haze drifting through the open window at his side, Gloria blowing upwards and scrutinising him as he glared into the deserted night.

‘That Vicky Watson been giving you a hard time?’

She got no response. Not even a flicker of an eyelid betrayed that he’d heard her sly probing. Taking a final drag, Gloria leaned across him and flicked her dog-end into the darkness. Her fingers trailed suggestively across his thighs as she moved back to snuggle into her seat.

‘We gonna sit here all night doing nuthin’, or are you gonna take me home with you so we can do something?’

‘Yeah … ready?’ he asked, as though just startled from a dream.

She leaned across and kissed him full on the lips; an immediate sexy one that entangled their tobacco-tangy tongues. Her fingers went to his shirt and she opened a few buttons and slipped her hands inside. Her flat palms smoothed on his chest before she lowered her head to his groin and undid buttons there too.

‘Chrissake, Rob!’ she gurgled a laugh. ‘You been carrying this around all day? You should’ve come to see me sooner. I went home on me dinner break; you could’ve come to.’ Her small hand curved halfway about solid buoyant muscle and she teased it with her fingers before her lips took over.

‘Drop you home?’ he said ten minutes later when she was buttoning him up again.

‘Home? I thought we was going to yours.’

Robert started the ignition. He wanted to tell her he no longer needed her to come to his, but he knew that if he did he’d be acting like his bastard of a father, who’d force his mother to the bed, order him and Stephen out of the house, then minutes later breeze out into the street to head off, whistling, towards the pub. So, despite the fact that he didn’t particularly want to spend another minute with Gloria, let alone the night, he asked politely, ‘D’you want to stop and get a bite to eat?’

She settled back into the car’s upholstery. ‘Yeah … be nice. Could murder a steak dinner. Tight-fisted git only let me take a few biscuits for me tea, ’n’ there was pies goin’ stale ’n’ all.’

Her reference to the legendary parsimony of the Duke’s landlord drew from him a skewed smile. ‘Right,’ he said as he let off the brake, ‘I’ll head up west.’

‘Well, I reckon your father’s got a point, and I’m glad he said what he did.’ Pam Wild got up gingerly from her armchair, a hand supporting the small of her back. Her pregnant belly got a massage from her other fingers. She was now six months gone and already huge. ‘I’ve been saying for a while you’d be as good as he is running the show if you was given half a chance. You don’t get out of this business what you should.’

‘Yeah, and I’ve told you it’s not this business … it’s his business.’ Stephen continued rolling tobacco then licked an edge of paper and stuck the smoke between his lips.

‘Still, he should’ve let you in as his partner ages ago.’

‘He would’ve done,’ Stephen mumbled past the obstacle in his lips. ‘But I’ve never had the money to put in, have I?’ A look passed between them. ‘Even when he’s given me the soddin’ money to put in, I’ve messed up.’

‘He could’ve lent you more.’

‘He ain’t that stupid,’ Stephen barked harshly and raked impatient fingers through his short, wiry hair. ‘You think he’s going to shell out again so you can run through the bleedin’ lot?’ His tone had become edgy.

‘Well, he could’ve give you another hundred, as a loan,’ she retorted sullenly. ‘Not as if he ain’t had it to give, is it? I reckon –’

‘Fuck’s sake, shut up, will you,’ Stephen snarled past the drooping cigarette and slung himself back in an armchair that faced the one Pam had just vacated. He twiddled half-heartedly at the knobs on the radiogram by his side, producing a whining medley of varying volume.

Pamela watched him from beneath her lashes, looking as though she might be on the point of adding something. She mouthed something obscene at his profile then shuffled to the table and started to pour tea from the pot. Once the cups were filled she waddled to the sideboard and got the biscuit box.

‘What’s to eat?’ Stephen snapped meaningfully as he stared at the oblong tin she was about to offer him. His eyes shifted to the open doorway that led into the small kitchenette. ‘Forgotten we’ve got a nice new cooker out there, have yer?’

She pulled a face. ‘I’m not hungry; feelin’ a bit sick, actually. If you’re that hungry can’t you go to the fish shop and get yourself something?’

‘I’ve been to the chippy every bleeding night this week, you lazy mare. You said you wanted a new cooker and I got a sub off Rob to buy you one. But you can’t be bothered to do a bit o’ grub for me when I get in from work, can you?’

‘I’m pregnant, in case you ain’t noticed,’ Pamela sniped back, swiping a hand over her bloated belly.

‘I’ve noticed, don’t you worry about that,’ Stephen sent back acidly as he jerked forward in the chair and started rolling down his sleeves. He whipped a resentful glance at her fat figure as he snatched up his jacket from the chair back then headed for the door with his wife’s indignant stare following him.

When he got back with newspaper wrapped around his hot fish supper, Pam had got the plates out. Stephen noticed there were two of them.

‘Not feeling so sick now?’ he jibed.

‘Oh, have it all yerself then,’ she said tremulously. ‘I was only trying to be a bit of company for you. I was only trying to give you a bit of advice over what your father said, ’n’ all. Can’t do nuthin’ right though, can I? And it ain’t fair, you takin’ it out on me ’cos your brother keeps you under his thumb. I’m going to bed.’

Stephen sighed and went and put his hands on her shoulders before she could storm off along the passageway towards the bedroom. ‘Can’t keep arguing all the time like this, Pam.’ He drew her back into the sitting room. ‘Kid’ll be with us soon.’ Inwardly he wished to God it wouldn’t be. His petite, chatty wife had in a matter of months transformed into a hefty whiner. But what riled him more than anything was the knowledge that, if he’d taken his brother’s advice and been sensible with that hundred pounds, investing it where Rob had told him to, he could have been a partner in the business, taking profits instead of a wage each week. It was all right her moaning now, but she’d wanted the day out with her family at the dog track, and she’d been the one wanted to show off in front of them all, betting big money on outsiders.

In addition to paying for their wedding, Rob had given him some cash as a wedding gift. He’d said he could invest it as he saw fit: to buy a stake in the company, or to start his own enterprise if he preferred to go it alone. Stephen wished he’d never told Pam about it. When he’d hared home with the wad, she’d still been revelling in big-day excitement. They’d only recently returned from their Brighton honeymoon – a week’s holiday reluctantly paid for by his father-in-law, who had become aware that his failure to contribute to his daughter’s wedding was the subject of gossip. Pam had counted the wedding cash out and announced she wanted a few more little honeymoon treats before they got back to normal. So they’d gone for a night at the dogs with a big party of family and friends, and come out of the stadium with not a lot more than their cab fare home.

That had been months ago now, but it was still causing arguments between them. In a way, Stephen wished his brother had never given him the money at all, for it had planted a seed of ambition in him that previously he’d failed to acknowledge, or nurture.