lips pursed at the mention of Pearl. She had no time for John’s mother, never had. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, she refused to talk to her and even sacrificed calling John on the telephone in case it was Pearl who answered it.
Pearl had been a naive sixteen-year-old when Dolly first met her. She had been a thin, nervous, mousy little thing with huge brown eyes that seemed to take up much of her face. However she’d blossomed, ensnaring Kevin by becoming pregnant with his child. Dolly tried to prevent the marriage, to prove Pearl a tart, but then Kevin admitted she’d been a virgin. With no other choice, they had married, but Pearl then turned Kevin against her – his own mother. Dolly would never forgive her for that.
‘Dolly, did you hear what I said?’ Bernie asked.
‘Yes,’ she said, dragging her thoughts back to the present. ‘Why is Pearl having a bit of a do?’
‘It’s her mother’s fiftieth birthday.’
Nobody had made a fuss when it was her birthday, Dolly thought. Not only that Pearl’s mother, Emily Harmsworth, got to see John every day, not just once a month, and now even this visit was being curtailed. It still rankled that when Pearl had divorced Kevin she’d been granted sole custody of John, and from the start she had laid down the rules. There was only one that Dolly agreed with: that John should be told only that his father was in prison for robbery and the rest kept from him.
Dolly forced a smile as she tousled John’s hair. ‘I’d planned to cook you a lovely dinner, but never mind,’ she said, pretending acquiescence to Pearl’s demand for his early return, ‘I’ll do us a nice lunch instead.’
‘Smashing,’ said John, grinning.
Dolly led him into their sitting-cum-dining room which was overstuffed with heavy, mahogany furniture. It had come from their previous home, but looked a bit out of place in this low-beamed cottage.
‘Sit down, love,’ she said to John, thinking that though Pearl held the upper hand now, things were set to change. Kevin had been turned down last year, but he’d written to say that he was sure to get parole this time. Yes, Dolly told herself, of course he would, and as soon as the prison gates opened for her son she’d be ready to act. If Bernie dared to stand in her way she’d show him who was boss again, and if Pearl and Derek Lewis, her second husband, tried to stop Kevin from seeing his son, they’d have her to deal with.
Bernie looked at Dolly as she went through to the small back kitchen. She was fifty-five years old now, her brown hair greying, yet even when she had been young there was no way that Dolly could’ve been described as pretty, or even attractive. Far from it. She was tall and big-boned, with a broad, plain face over wide shoulders.
Of course, Bernie thought, he was no oil painting either. He was shorter than Dolly, with a paunch, and at fifty-six years old, almost bald now. Their marriage couldn’t be described as a love match: it had been forced on them by their respective parents when Dolly had been three months pregnant. From the moment she’d given birth, Kevin had been the centre of Dolly’s world, and Bernie had hardly been allowed a say in the boy’s upbringing.
Bernie’s lips tightened. He’d been unhappy with the situation, with the way Dolly ruled him, but too weak to do anything about it. He’d stuck it out, because though divorce was commonplace now, in his day it was unheard of. Not only that, Dolly had held the purse strings and kept him short with a paltry few quid a week. Of course, Bernie reflected, that had been in the distant past and things were a lot different now – he was the one in control of their finances.
‘I saw a jay last week, Granddad.’
‘Did you now?’ Bernie said as he sat down opposite John. ‘They’re lovely birds.’
Dolly appeared in the kitchen doorway, saying, ‘Do you both fancy macaroni cheese for lunch?’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Bernie said and John agreed with him.
Bernie was unwinding after the long drive, yet found himself thinking back to when Dolly had her breakdown. For the first time in their marriage she had turned to him. He had seen another side of her, her vulnerability, for a short time, but then she had lost it completely and had been sent to a psychiatric hospital. The electroconvulsive treatment Dolly had received seemed to shrink her, and she’d developed a stoop along with a shuffle when she walked. He had seen his once formidable wife diminished, and after each session Dolly appeared disorientated. It had affected her memory too, sometimes temporarily, yet there were other things she’d forgotten permanently.
‘Here you are,’ Dolly said as she placed a cup of tea in front of him, along with a glass of orange juice for John. She then went back to the kitchen and returned with a plate of chocolate biscuits. ‘Don’t eat too many or you’ll spoil your lunch.’
Bernie winked at his grandson. ‘I’ve got a sweet tooth so dig in or I’ll scoff the lot.’
They munched companionably while Bernie’s thoughts drifted again. Dolly had forgotten that when Kevin had been sent to prison, the thought of losing her grandson too when Pearl left, had turned her mind. John had been just a baby when Dolly had run off with him, and it was only thanks to Pearl’s largesse that she hadn’t been charged. Instead Dolly had been admitted to the psychiatric hospital and when she finally came home, it was again thanks to Pearl’s kindness that they saw their grandson regularly.
Bernie’s ears pricked up when Dolly spoke to John.
‘Did you know that we once had a café in Battersea?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Gran, you told me, and my dad used to live in Battersea too. He ran a boxing club.’
‘You’re talking about Derek Lewis and he’s not your real father,’ Dolly snapped. ‘You seem to forget that your name isn’t Lewis – it’s Dolby.’
Bernie tensed. There was something different about Dolly lately. For one thing she was standing straighter and at times, like now, she seemed almost argumentative. Of course it could be that she was stimulated by John’s visit. That could explain it, and there was the added excitement of Kevin’s letter to say that his parole was likely to be granted.
Or was it that her medication needed adjusting? Worried now that Dolly was becoming psychotic again, and remembering the woman she had once been, who had thought nothing of laying into him with her fists to get her own way, Bernie decided to keep a closer watch on her. If she didn’t quieten down, he’d ask the doctor to increase her medication.
John was used to his gran being a bit unfocused, but today she appeared more alert than usual, her dark brown eyes brighter than he’d ever seen them before.
She’d been annoyed that he had called Derek his dad, but he was the only father he’d known. Derek was great, but despite that John was curious about his real father and said, ‘Gran, can I look at your photograph album again?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, her tone milder as she took it from the sideboard drawer.
John turned the pages, struck as always by the similarities as he looked at the grainy black and white snaps of his real father. ‘I look just like him, Gran.’
‘You certainly do. You’re a chip off the old block.’
John peered intently at his father’s face and said, ‘I wish I knew more about him.’
‘Kevin
