Cutting the Cord Read online

  “Yes, Bea. Those families, ours included, lost out because of you. Arthur was just a good time to you, but he meant a roof over most people’s head and food on their table to others. Lots of families went hungry when the government took over. There were no more food parcels for them.”

  “No, Mary, it wasn’t my fault, it was yours,” intervened Bea. “That day mum threw me out on the street, I didn’t go running to Arthur. I went to see Aunt Vi. She gave me some money and an address of an old friend of hers that would take me in. I set off that very same day, for Llandudno. For three years I lived and worked alongside Irene Stevenson, in her small haberdashery. Then one day Arthur appeared in the shop doorway. He told me how he tried to convince mum that I’d done nothing wrong. That he had no interest in Mary, that he never had and that he never would. But she refused to believe him. Said I’d stolen him from her lovely Mary. She was so blinded by your lies she’d been unable to see the truth. Even when it was right there in front of her. So, Arthur had handed over the farm to the government, donned a uniform and went off to fight for his country. He was captured and held in a German prison camp till the war was over. On his return to England, he was handed back the farm but couldn’t face running it. Couldn’t face living in the same area as YOU or our mother. So, he sold it and purchased a little flat over a small general store in New Quay, Wales. He threw himself into the business in an attempt to put all the horror of war and losing me out of his mind. But he just couldn’t forget about me. Then, one day a customer asked him what it was that troubled him so. He showed him an old photograph of me. One that Harry had given to him the day that he’d left for war. The customer recognised me immediately. I was the young lass living and working with his sister-in-law in Llandudno. So, there he was. Arthur Evesham. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He asked me to marry him that very same day and I said yes! So, you see, Mary, IT WAS YOU! You and mum, who drove not just me away but Arthur too. You two, who caused people you knew to lose out, not me.”

  Mary sneered at her younger sister.

  “So, if all this is true, where’s your precious Arthur now? See he’s not here to back up YOUR LIES!”

  “He’s dead, Mary. My lovely, sweet Arthur is dead, while you evil bitches roam this earth spewing your hatred. It makes me sick.” Bea spat out. Mary, thinking, once again only of herself, decided to turn her hatred onto Harry. The few remaining mourners looked on in horror.

  “Harry,” she screamed, “if you think for one minute this WHORE is staying in our family home, you’re wrong. Once mum and dad find out you’ve welcomed their good-for-nothing daughter back into their home, you’ll be out on your ear just as she was. And what will become of you and the kids then, hey? Harry? Answer me that?”

  “It’s MY house now, Mary, along with the garage. Dad and mum signed it over to me, as you well know. So, there’ll be no throwing out of anyone unless I say so. And guess what, Mary? I’m throwing you out.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Mary shouted over her shoulder, as she shoved her way past Bea. “Just you wait till mum and dad hear what I have to tell them.” Mary slammed the front door as hard as she could behind her.

  “Still throwing her dummy out of the pram and telling lies, I see!” quirked Bea.

  “Oh, yes!” replied Harry, then everyone in the room burst into laughter. At some point in their lives they’d all been a victim of Mary’s vicious tongue and to see her put in her place was definitely something to laugh about on such a sombre day.

  GEORGE

  George Arnold was enjoying a large whiskey, sitting in his favourite armchair by the fireside. His wife, Ethel, was on the sofa, her knitting needles going ten to the dozen. George took a large gulp of whiskey and felt the warmth of it trickle down his throat. He stared at the framed photograph on the mantelpiece. It had been taken earlier that year. George had happened to pop round on that Sunday afternoon. Harry, Freddy, Anne, Charlie and Janie were all in the back garden enjoying the early May sunshine. George had been quickly followed in by the Taylor twins. Peter had a fancy new camera and was eager to test it out. So he’d had them all stand together so he could take a group shot of the family. Two weeks later, Peter had presented both George and Harry with identical framed photographs from that day. They’d all been smiling directly at the camera. It showed such a happy family. George wiped the tears from his eyes. Today it was such a sad family. Today he’d had to bury his grandson. George took another swig of whisky and this time drained his glass.

  “Don’t think you’re getting another,” chirped up his wife. George looked across at her. His cold, bitter wife. What had he ever seen in her? He remembered she had once been a beauty, but she’d never been a warm, loving person. Ethel was more of a glass-half-empty girl, while George had been more of a glass-half-full type of person (well, until the war he had). Chalk and cheese, his old dad used to say about them.

  “No good drinking yourself into a stupor,” screeched Ethel. “It won’t solve anything. Freddy’s gone. We have to put it behind us. Move on. Think of the living,” she remarked. George, after fifty years of marriage, was still shocked by how heartless his wife could be. The only person she ever showed any compassion to was their miserable daughter Mary. She was definitely cut from the same cloth as her mother. Almost as Mary entered his head, she appeared in their living room doorway. Her face was bright red and sheer hatred oozed from every fibre of her body.

  “You’ll never guess who’s had the nerve to turn up like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth at your grandson’s wake?” Mary didn’t wait for a reply, she just continued to rant and rave. “Only, that WHORE BEA! That’s who! And guess who welcomed her with open arms? Bloody Harry did! And he stood there and let that WHORE talk to me like I was something that she’d scrapped off her shoe! I told them! I said, wait till mum and dad here about this! You’ll all be out on your ear! How dare Harry invite that WHORE into your home!” Finally, Mary ran out of breath. Ethel threw her knitting down on the sofa beside her and got to her feet.

  “We’ll see about that,” she began. “Come on, George, we’ll go sort this out right now.” George didn’t move. He just glared, first at his daughter, then at his wife.

  “I said get up, George. GET UP THIS INSTANCE,” yelled Ethel at her husband. The anger in George rose like he had never known before. He slammed down his whisky glass so hard on the wooden coffee table that it shattered on impact.

  “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE PLAYING AT?” insisted Ethel. “YOU BEST GET CLEAR THAT UP NOW AND DON’T YOU DARE BLEED ON MY CARPET,” she shouted at him. George felt all the years of suppressed anger for his wife rising to the surface. After all these years, George was finally laying the ghosts of the war to rest and George of old was now rising to the surface like a phoenix from the ashes.

  “SHUT UP, WOMAN,” he roared at Ethel. “SHUT UP AND SIT BACK DOWN. AS FOR YOU, MARY!” he shouted, turning to her. “YOU CAN BUGGER OFF HOME AND FOR ONCE KEEP YOUR NOSE OUT OF OTHER PEOPLE’S BUSINESS.” All indignant, Mary addressed her mother.

  “Are you going to allow him to speak to you and me like that, Mother?” she asked.

  “I’ll speak to you both how I see fit,” shouted George. “Now get out of my house before I throw you out.”

  “I’m going,” yelled Mary at her father. “But don’t expect me to come crawling back, because I won’t,” and she turned and left the room.

  “THANK GOD FOR THAT!” shouted George after her. The next thing he heard was the front door slamming shut. George turned back to look at his wife. She was white from the shock of her husband answering her back.

  “Twenty-seven years ago, you and that vicious daughter of yours drove Bea from, not just her home, but her family, her friends, her job and from the man she so innocently fell in love with. You cast her out like a leper while I was away fighting for king and country. All these years I’ve lived with the guilt of not being here to defend an innocent child
. Our child. Because, Ethel, she was just a child. Barely sixteen she was. And why was she cast out like an old shoe? Because she fell in love with a man who her elder sister was besotted by. A man that could barely tolerate the sight of our Mary. Who wouldn’t have noticed her if she was the last woman on earth!”

  “Arthur would have noticed Mary and he would have married our Mary if that harlot Beatrice hadn’t forced her way into his affections,” replied Ethel. George let a harrowing laugh.

  “For Christ’s sake, Ethel! Mary worked on Arthur’s farm for five long years before our Bea ever set foot on it. In all those years, he never looked twice at Mary. He never asked her on a date. The only things he ever asked our Mary to do were work-related tasks. He had NO INTEREST in Mary. Yet, the first day, our Bea goes to work there, Arthur asked her if she cared to join him for dinner that very same evening. The first day, Ethel.” George wrapped his handkerchief around his bleeding hand as he spoke. “Bea did nothing wrong, Ethel. Everyone knew that, apart from you and Mary. So you both told lies. Made out Bea had stolen Arthur from Mary. You pair didn’t even stop your vicious lies after Bea was long gone.” George let out a muffled laughed. Then the memories came flooding back and his smile was replaced by a look of sadness.

  “I came back from the war a broken man. I’d seen things no man should ever see. Me! A mere mechanic, faced with the atrocities of war. Home was all I thought about. You, Mary, Bea, Harry and the garage. It kept me going. Then what do I find when I finally get home? My lovely Bea has been hounded from her home by her own mother and sister. Nobody wanted to tell me what had happened. I only had your version of events to go on. I tried to find Arthur but again nobody seemed to know or care. I should have fought harder for Bea, but war had taken all the fight out of me. When I asked Patricia Aston, she would only say that Bea was safe. She’d promised Bea she’d say no more. I’d resigned myself to never seeing or ever knowing what had really happened while I was gone. I let you lead the way. I just wasn’t interested anymore.”

  “You’d never had much backbone, George Arnold. You were weak before the war came along and you were weaker still when you came back. If I hadn’t pushed you’d have had us out on the street.” Ethel started to rant.

  “It was you that made me weak, Ethel. Everything with you was always a battle. You had to have everything your way or there was hell to pay. Mary is the same and Bea paid the price for getting in her way. Well! No more! Enough is enough. I know what really happened back then. I know Arthur came to see you. He came to right Mary’s wrong, but you’d not listen. You took Mary’s side as always. Because darling Mary must always have what she wants. But Mary didn’t get her own way, did she? Oh, Bea was gone all right but that didn’t get Mary Arthur, did it? NO! Because he left soon after. Two lives you ruined that day, along with mine, didn’t you?”

  “You know nothing of what happened that day. You’re just guessing because your darling Bea couldn’t be to blame, could she? Dad’s little girl could do no wrong.”

  “I’m not guessing, Ethel. I know. It was Bea’s birthday and I was very down. Harry gave me the letters to read he’d been receiving from Bea since she’d left. Harry had always known the truth, but he made me swear not to reveal what I’d learnt.”

  “If Harry knew the truth, then why didn’t he confront us? Why let us be part of his life? Eh! Answer me that if you can.” Ethel spat the words out at her husband. George just stared at her. She was so caught up in her own lies, her own sense of truth that it almost scared him.

  “Bea asked him not to,” George answered calmly. “Just as she asked Patricia not to. Bea had made a good life for herself, she didn’t need you or Mary poking your nasty noses in. She wanted to be left alone with her Arthur. And who could blame her? Not me. So, I kept shtum. For over ten years, now, Harry’s kept me informed on how Bea’s doing. And all the time my hatred of you and Mary has festered away inside me. I’ve waited so long for this day. The day when Bea would finally return. Well, that day has arrived. Bea’s come back of her own accord to help Harry. She’s come back knowing that she’ll have a war on her hands with you and Mary. But this time Bea’s got an army to fight you both with. She’s got me, she’s got Harry and by the time we’ve finished spreading the word you’ll be the ones without a friend in the world.”

  Now it was Ethel’s turn to laugh.

  “Big talk from such a little man,” she began. “And just how do you think you can help her, George? You’ve said yourself, you are weak where I’m concerned. Do you really think you can stand up against me, George? You couldn’t stand up to me even with help from of your precious Beatrice and your devious son Harry behind you.” George headed for the front door. Then turned to face his wife one last time.

  “Oh! That’s where you’re so wrong, Ethel. It’s you that’s going to need all the help you can get because, dearest Ethel, I WANT A DIVORCE! I want this bungalow sold and I want a life without you in it! And right now I’m going to Harry’s to ask Bea if she can ever forgive her father for his failings. After that, I’m going to see about bedding down at Frank’s for the night. I’ll be back tomorrow for my things and you’d best not be here if you know what’s good for ya.” Now it was George’s turn to slam the front door shut as hard as he could.

  Harry had been expecting a visit from his mother, not his father. So, when he opened the front door and found his father standing there with the biggest grin on his face he’d ever seen, Harry thought his father had gone mad. Even more so when he began to speak.

  “I’ve sent our Mary packing and I’ve had a few words with your mother too. In fact, son, I’ve told her I want the bungalow sold and a divorce. I’ve waited a long time to put that old bat in her place. So, when Mary stormed in, shouting the odds about our Bea being back. Well! Son, I let rip, I can tell ya. Now! Where’s our Bea? I’ve got some serious apologising to do.” Harry could hardly believe what his father was saying. Stunned, he stood aside to let George pass, then shut the door and followed his dad into the living room. Immediately on seeing Bea, George began to regale his story and apologises to his youngest daughter. Bea listened carefully as her father told her how, after many years, Harry had broken his silence and had shown him Bea’s letters. How, ever since that day, he had hidden the loathing he felt for wife and Mary. Until today. Her return had set him free, he said. Free to begin a new life before it really was too late for him. Bea told George that she had never blamed him for what had happened and neither had Arthur. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing to forgive him for. They’d held onto each other, almost afraid to move apart in case the spell of happiness that had been cast upon them was broken. They’d both missed not having the other around. Finally, George left for Frank’s, with a spring in his step and a renewed zest for life. But there was one more stop to make before Frank’s.

  George stood by the fresh mound of earth covering his grandson’s coffin and began to speak.

  “You would have loved Bea, Freddy. I’m only sorry that you never got to meet her. Even more sorry that it took your death to bring her back to us. I’ve no doubt your Aunt Mary and Gran filled your head with tales of her wanton ways. Well, she wasn’t like that, Freddy. She was a gentle child. Warm and loving. Funny too. I used to wonder where all that good nature of hers came from. It certainly wasn’t from your gran. Then I’d remember. I used to laugh a lot before I meet Ethel. You look at the world through rose-tinted glasses, she used to say. I think she stole those lovely glasses from me, along with my desire to laugh. But I’ve got a new pair now, Freddy and for the first time in a long time I can see a better future. My only regret is that you’re not here to share it. But I know you’re up there, watching over us now. I best be off now, lad, but I’ll be back. I’ll be here so often that you’ll be sick of the sight of me. Love you, kiddo.”

  JANIE & BEA

  Janie lay in her bed and thought what an odd day it had been. At six and three quarters, she�
�d never been to a funeral before and she certainly didn’t want to go to one again. She missed Freddy so much; it just didn’t seem fair that he was dead, especially when there were really old people, like miserable old Mr Forbes who lived next to the green, still alive. It just didn’t make sense. Janie didn’t like the thought of Freddy being in a coffin down in that deep dark hole. It was all wrong. Today had been all wrong. Everything was changing again. Just when she seemed to get used to things, they changed! First her mum had gone. Change! Then Freddy had gone. Change! Then this Bea had arrived. Change! Now grandad was leaving granny. Change! Would it ever stop? Why did things have to keep changing? She hadn’t wanted her mum to leave or Freddy to die. Had she done something really bad to make all these things happen? She didn’t think she had. And now, not only was her head hurting but she was crying again, and she couldn’t make either of them stop.

  “Janie’s crying, Dad,” said Charlie as he entered the living room. “I could hear her as I passed her bedroom door.” Harry got up to go see to his daughter but Bea stopped him.

  “Let me go see to her, Harry, please,” asked Bea. “Give us a chance to get to know one another, hey?”

  “Okay, Bea, thanks.” Bea patted her brother’s shoulder and headed upstairs to Janie’s room. She knocked gently on the door before entering. Janie was hiding under the covers but Bea could still hear Janie’s suppressed sobs. She perched on the edge of the bed and began to tenderly stroke the mound beneath the covers.

  “Let them all out, sweetheart,” Bea began. “You’ll feel so much better when you’ve let them all out, believe me. I’ve cried many tears over the loss of loved ones over the years. I’ve also got angry and screamed and shouted at the unfairness of it all. It didn’t change anything. None of it did. But, boy, did I feel better afterwards.” Janie began to peek over the covers. Her tears were silently ebbing away.