all that trouble from school, then the screaming in the night. There’s something wrong with you, I’m sure of it! You should be locked away.’ Soon after that, she packed up, lock, stock and barrel, and sold the family home, leaving her son with his late father’s silver tank-ards and the sum of £1,000 to make his own way in the world.
Just now, going through the past, Jack knew he had to make a decision. Things could not carry on as they were. Surely the right thing to do – both for Molly and for his own peace of mind – was to face up to his demons.
‘OK, Molly, you win,’ he decided. ‘I’ll take your advice and talk to the doctor. After all, what have I got to lose?’
He suddenly felt as though an unbearable weight had fallen from his shoulders. Besides, his GP, Dr Lennox, was a very understanding man. ‘That’s it!’ Going over to his desk drawer, Jack took out a batch of paperwork, and concentrated his mind on that. ‘Decision made!’
BOWER STREET IN Blackburn was a quiet little street of ordinary homes and ordinary families. Like families everywhere, they all had their problems, but the mother and daughter at Number 20 had more than their fair share. On this fine brisk morning, Eileen Harrow was in an angry mood.
‘If I want him in my bed, that’s for me to decide – and you, my girl, should learn to mind your own business!’
The sixty-year-old woman had entertained many men in her bed these past years, and though her judgement was sadly misguided, her determination never wavered. ‘I’m sorry, Libby. I know your father did wrong by you, by going off when he did, but that’s all in the past – and if I can forgive him, why can’t you?’
While Libby frantically searched for an answer, the older woman jabbed a finger at her. ‘All right, then. Forgive him, don’t forgive him – it’s up to you. But I will not have my own daughter telling me what to do!’
‘I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Mum. I only want you to be safe.’
‘Why can’t you forgive him?’ Eileen persisted. ‘If I’m ready to forgive him, you should be too.’ Fired up and itching for an argument, she squared up to her daughter. ‘My man is home now, and this time I want him to stay. And if you don’t like it, you can clear off out of it!’
Libby remained silent, while her mother ranted on, sadly convinced that the stranger she had brought home in the small hours was actually the husband who had deserted her many long years ago.
‘Well?’ Eileen waited, hands on hips, for an apology. ‘Do you forgive him? Is he welcome to stay?’
Libby had seen it all before. Not for the first time, she had woken up that morning to find that her mother had taken a stranger into her bed. ‘Mum, please listen to me . . .’
‘No! I’ve heard enough. Pack your bags and leave, you ungrateful girl!’
‘You’ve got it all wrong.’ Libby gently persisted. ‘I don’t want to upset you. Trust me, Mum.’
But when Eileen was in this kind of mood, it was hard to calm her. ‘I’m only trying to help. I don’t want you getting all riled up.’
‘Then stop telling me I can’t sleep with my own husband! If my blood pressure goes through the roof, it’ll be your fault, not mine.’
‘Please, Mother, you need to trust me,’ Libby pleaded. ‘You’re not well.’
‘What d’you mean, I’m not well?’ The older woman rounded on her. ‘You think I’m off my head, don’t you? You think I’m incapable of making my own decisions. Well, you just listen to me for a minute, young lady. I know you were upset when your father left us, but now he’s back – and if you’re not happy with that, then you can pack your bags and bugger off!’
‘Please, Mother, don’t be like this.’ Libby knew she must calm the older woman before it got out of hand. ‘Please hear me out.’
‘No!’
With surprising suddenness Eileen became docile. She was no longer the angry woman who had threatened to throw her daughter out of house and home. ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ she said, looking bewildered. ‘What were you saying?’
Relieved that the moment had passed, Libby told her, ‘I’m about to make breakfast for us.’ She glanced cautiously up the stairs. ‘When he comes out of the bathroom, you need to send him on his way.’
Eileen followed her gaze. ‘Send who on his way?’
‘Your friend.’
‘What friend?’ Not for the first time, Eileen Harrow had somehow sneaked out of the house in the early hours, desperate to find the man who had deserted them so long ago. ‘Oh! You mean your father!’ In her fragmented mind she was young again, deliriously happy because her man was home. Clapping her hands together, she giggled like a child. ‘I told you I’d find him, and now I have. It was so dark, though. I got worried I might never see him again. But then I found him and I brought him home where he belongs.’
‘No, Mum.’ Libby’s heart sank. ‘You made a mistake. We don’t know this man. I’m sorry, but he doesn’t belong here.’ Libby hated being the one who shattered her mother’s hopes and dreams, but it was her lot in life to love and protect this darling woman. ‘I still can’t believe you managed to sneak out when I was sleeping.’ She had been extra meticulous in taking all the necessary precautions, but somehow her mother had fooled her yet again.
‘Ha!’ The older woman chuckled triumphantly. ‘I watched where you put the key.’
‘Really? Well, I shall have to be even more careful in the future.’ Libby made a mental note of it. ‘Right, Mum, we need to talk,’ she went on. ‘Once we’ve got rid of your new “friend” we’ll take a few minutes to enjoy our breakfast. After that, we’ll get you dressed and all spruced up, before Thomas runs us into town. We don’t want to keep him waiting, and besides, we want to have a good look round the shops. Last time we went out, we had to rush back for your hospital appointment. Remember you saw that lovely hat in British Home Stores? Well, if it’s still there, you can try it on and see if it suits you. It would be perfect for spring and summer outings.’
Reaching out, she took hold of her mother’s hand. ‘Would you like that?’
As with many things these past years, Eileen did not recall the hat, but she smiled at the thought. ‘Am I going somewhere special?’ she asked excitedly. ‘Do I need a new hat?’
Libby beamed at her. Sometimes her mother’s affliction reduced her to tears, but not this time, because once again she had a situation to deal with. ‘Yes,’ she answered brightly. ‘Thomas promised to take us to the park, the first really warm day we get. It’s too cold now – March winds and rain most days. But come April, we might take him up on his kind offer. So yes, you do need a new hat, and if that one suits you, it’ll be my treat.’
With her fickle mind shifting in all directions, the older woman remembered, ‘Oh, a fresh pot o’ tea, you say?’
‘That’s right.’ Libby was relieved. She went to put the kettle on.
‘And
