was on. ‘No …’ He dared not allow himself to believe what was running through his mind: the shocking idea of his wife and Len … up there in his own bed. All the same, he knew from experience that it was not an impossibility. Don’t be so bloody stupid! Len’s a good mate! he angrily dispatched the wicked idea from his mind.
But the seed was sown. Maybe it really was Len running out of the ginnel. ‘You’re wrong.’ he muttered angrily. ‘Take a grip of yourself, man!’
Opening the door, he entered the house, and called out his son’s name. ‘Casey! Casey, where are you?’
When there was no answer he closed the door, went down the passage and called up the stairs, ‘Ruth, I’m home.’
Ruth came rushing from the parlour, where she’d been congratulating herself on her conquest of Len, and her quick wit in covering her tracks. But then she’d had enough practice over the years.
Tom was surprised to see her coming from the direction of the back room. ‘I thought you were upstairs.’
‘Really? Well, now you can see I’m not.’
‘Did you know the lights are on up there?’
She feigned surprise. ‘Oh, are they? Well, yes, I was up there changing the beds, but I came rushing down when I heard you at the door.’
Cursing herself for leaving the lights on, she wisely changed the subject. ‘Anyway, you’re late! Where’ve you been?’ Keeping a distance, she groaned, ‘The tea isn’t ready yet, but I’ve been up to my neck in ironing, and I’ve been catching up on a multitude of things.’
Tom was not surprised. ‘So there’s no tea ready, then?’
‘Like I said, I’ve been that busy I haven’t even had time to go to the butcher’s and get the sausages I planned for your meal.’
Eager to vindicate herself she began to whine, ‘You’ve no idea of the time it takes to run a house.’ She held out her hand. ‘Oh, and I’ll need some money if I’m going to buy some food from the corner shop. You go and talk to Casey.’ She stretched out her hand, ‘come on then!’ waiting.
‘Where’s Casey?’ Normally, the boy would be at the door, looking for his dad.
‘He’s in the front parlour. He said something about cleaning your guitar.’
At that moment, soft musical tones emanated from the front parlour.
‘Well! The little sod!’ Ruth said angrily. ‘I warned him not to play the guitar, but you know what he’s like … doesn’t listen to a damned word I say.’
Oblivious to the fact that Tom was standing in wet clothes, she screeched at him, ‘Did you not hear what I said? If I’m going to the corner shop, I’ll need money.’
‘For pity’s sake, woman, let me catch my breath, will you!’ Not once had she asked how his day had been, or noticed that he was wet to the marrow. ‘I need to dry myself off …’
‘Oh, yes … you’re soaked, aren’t you!’ Stepping back a pace, she feigned concern. ‘You’d best dry yourself on the towel in the kitchen, while I go to the shop.’ She thrust her open palm beneath his face. ‘I’m waiting! The quicker you give me some money, the quicker I’ll be back.’
When she leaned forward to collect the little brown packet containing his wages, Tom could smell the other man on her; the thick tobacco odour that clung to her skin and lingered in her hair. Ruth smoked Woodbines, while it seemed this man rolled a stronger brand of tobacco.
The image of the man running from the ginnel raised a suspicion in his mind. He knew Len smoked roll-ups. Was it possible that he and Ruth had … No! It was too loathsome to imagine. Besides, any number of men smoked roll-ups.
He knew his wife had been with a man, though. The telltale tobacco odour had a woody smell, while her Woodbines were much sweeter. Over the years, Tom had learned to tell the difference.
With her wanton ways and devious nature, she had caused him a deal of misery, but now it no longer mattered. Now he had a plan. Whatever happened, Ruth was a survivor and would come through. It was young Casey he worried about, and to that end he had made contingencies.
Reaching into his coat, he took out the bag of fish and chips and handed it to her.
‘What’s this?’ She sniffed. ‘Fish and chips!’ Her face fell. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve spent good money on fish and bloody chips? Especially when I’d already planned sausage and mash. But, oh no! You had to take matters into your own hands, didn’t you, eh?’
Tom ignored her goading. ‘You just said yourself, you haven’t got the meal ready, so now you don’t have to bother, do you?’ Giving her a way out for not cooking a meal was becoming a regular occurrence.
He handed her the open wage packet. ‘There you are. Count it, if you like, while I go and put these out on plates before they get too cold to eat.’
‘Hey!’ She caught him by the arm. ‘You seem to forget, there are bills to be paid and I need to get your trousers out of Foggarty’s pawn shop. What you’ve given me is not enough. Oh, and while we’re at it, your son needs new shoes. How he wears ’em out so quick, I never will know!’
But with his troubling thoughts elsewhere, Tom was not listening.
‘Hey! I’m talking to you. What’s wrong with yer?’ Tom seemed too calm to her, too quick to back away from her attempt at an argument.
He looked up. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me except I’m starving. And, no doubt, so is Casey. And, as I recall, it wouldn’t be for the first time.’
‘Don’t you dare have a go at me!’ Ruth snapped. ‘I’ve already told you … I had a pile of ironing and other stuff to see to. Then some man came to the door, looking to sell me some rubbish. I got rid of him, though. Ask Casey, I’m sure he’ll tell you.’ She knew he would, and her idea was to get in first. ‘… And another thing, I’m really surprised at you opening your wage packet. You never do that as a rule.’
Tom looked her in the eye for what seemed an age. He wanted to tell her so many things. He needed to share his troubling thoughts, but she was not a woman to care one way or the other, so instead he answered in a quiet voice, ‘You’re right. I don’t open my wages as a rule, but sometimes, we need to break the rules, don’t we?’
Her face reddened with guilt. ‘That’s a strange thing for you to say.’ There was something really different about him tonight, she thought … something worrying. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d found out that she was having a fling with Len. She nervously toyed with the idea that he might be saving the confrontation for later; possibly after Casey had gone to bed.
‘Course I’m all right.’
Tom threw off his coat, hung it on the back of the chair, and went into the scullery. He was surprised to see the back door wide open, and the rain coming in.
‘What’s going on, Ruth?’ There it was again, that niggling suspicion.
Panicked,
