Coronation Day. Kay Brellend
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gladly put down her cup of tea. It had a slight tang to it as though the milk in it was on the turn. ‘Yeah … I think I do. Quite short, wasn’t he, when we were at school?’
‘Yeah, that’s him; he still is a shortarse. He was here this afternoon. You only just missed him. How about Vic Wilson? Do you remember him?’
‘He was a rotten bully,’ Grace stated, narrowing her eyes.
‘Not any more.’ Christopher choked a laugh. ‘He’s married to Deirdre Thorn and she’s got him right under her thumb.’
‘Oh … I remember her! She was in my class at school.’
‘His wife only keeps tabs on him ’cos he’s been playing around,’ Matilda interjected. ‘Can’t blame the gel for doing that.’
‘How about Bill Bright?’
‘Remember Billy.’ Grace nodded. ‘My friend Maureen liked him.’
‘He got engaged a few months ago to Bet Sweetman.’
‘Sounds like you two have got some catching up to do another time,’ Shirley said with an arch look at Matilda. She gathered up her coat and handbag. ‘Anyway, time we got off, Grace. You ready?’ She shrugged into her coat.
‘Thanks for the tea, Mrs Keiver.’ Grace got to her feet, pulled her gloves from her coat pocket, and put them on. ‘It’d be nice to come over for your street party next year. Thanks for the invitation.’ Grace knew her mother had shot her a quelling glance but she ignored her.
‘You’re very welcome, Grace, and if I need some help with me plans I reckon I can count on you as another pair of hands.’ Matilda gave her a beam.
‘Of course,’ Grace said. ‘I make good sandwiches, you know.’
‘Well, got to get that bus,’ Shirley interrupted in a strained voice.
‘Want a lift back to Tottenham? I’ve only got the works van but you’re welcome to a ride. It’s only got one passenger seat in the front but you can squash together and I’ll dust it off first.’
‘No … it’s alright; thanks all the same … don’t want to put you out …’ Grace murmured.
‘No trouble … I’m going that way in any case.’
‘Yeah, why not, Grace,’ Shirley butted in. ‘Save us the bus fare and I don’t fancy hanging about waiting at the stop in this weather. Freeze to death out there, we will.’
‘Right, that’s settled then,’ Chris said and went to drop a farewell kiss on his aunt’s freckled brow.
Moments after pulling up at the kerb in front of their house Christopher had courteously jumped from the van to help them out as the passenger door wasn’t easy to handle: it slid stiffly along rather than opening outwards.
‘Have you got time to come in for a cup of tea, Christopher?’
‘I’m drowning in tea, thanks all the same, Mrs Coleman.’
Shirley’s eyes veered between her daughter and Christopher, noting they were standing close together.
‘Well … I’m going in,’ Shirley said with a significant look. ‘And I could do with a hand getting tea ready.’
‘D’you fancy coming out with me sometime next week? Say Thursday about seven?’ asked Christopher as soon as she was gone.
‘That was quick!’ Grace exclaimed, suppressing a smile. ‘No small talk first?’
‘We’ve done all that this afternoon,’ he returned. ‘No point in wasting time as far as I’m concerned.’ He tilted his head to look into her honey-coloured eyes. ‘So I don’t bother with small talk, and you don’t play hard to get … deal?’
‘Alright … but I can’t be home late as I start work early and have to catch the tube at seven-thirty.’
Christopher caught her chin to kiss her but she held him off with a fist planted hard against his coat. ‘We’ve not even been out yet,’ she squeaked in indignation.
‘Yeah … but I saved your life … and you still owe me …’
She giggled at the mock gravity in his voice, liking the way one of his fingers manoeuvred easily to stroke her cheek. ‘So you remember, do you? Thought you’d forgotten about teaching me to swim.’
‘It’s all coming back to me,’ he said softly and removing her controlling hand from his chest, he kissed her gently on the lips before strolling away.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘Got a bone to pick with you, Stephen.’
Stephen watched his aunt stomp over his threshold and carry on straight into the kitchen. He closed the door and followed her, quite meekly and without comment. She’d made the trip to Crouch End to see him so he knew something was bugging her.
After their mum had died of Spanish flu this woman had been a substitute mother to Stephen and his brother Robert. They both loved her and respected her blunt wisdom and sense of fair play. Even now she’d advanced in years, and was no longer the bruiser she’d once been, she wasn’t afraid to tackle any problem head on, especially if it involved family.
Stephen rocked the kettle to judge how much water was in it then put it on the gas stove and turned to face her, resigned to getting a lecture.
‘It’s time Christopher was told all about what went on between you ’n’ Pam.’ Matilda didn’t believe in preamble.
The month of May had arrived in a blaze of sunshine and had seemed to fire Matilda into action. For weeks past she’d been playing over in her mind the conversation she’d had with Christopher and wondering whether it was best to speak up or let sleeping dogs lie. She’d been glad to see Shirley and Grace Coleman that afternoon, not simply for a nice chat about her Coronation Day plans, but because their appearance had cut short her awkward conversation with her nephew. From the moment they’d all left, Matilda had been cross with herself for being relieved about it. One thing Matilda Keiver had never been was a coward, and yet she’d felt like one that day. She knew Christopher had reached a point in his life where he was no longer going to let the matter of his mum’s whereabouts drop. And that was brave of him. So she’d decided to be equally courageous and tackle his father, even though it was bound to cause ructions. It was a problem they could solve together because if he wanted help she was ready to offer it.
Stephen’s jaw had sagged towards his chest. He hadn’t been expecting that! He’d thought his aunt had probably got the pikeys on her mind, and was about to nag him to back off on further hostilities to protect his, and Christopher’s, safety and livelihood.
‘What the bleedin’ hell’s brought this on?’ he barked, rattling cups and saucers onto the wooden draining board.
‘Not what … who …’ Matilda replied, arms akimbo. ‘Few weeks ago Chris asked me again about his mum and I did me best to answer him. But I’m warning you, this time he’s not gonna be fobbed off.’ She dragged a chair out from under the small formica-topped table and sat down, sighing as she stretched out her aching legs. ‘Been giving it a lot of thought, y’know, Stevie; I reckon you should come clean over it once ’n’ fer all.’
Having conquered his shock Stephen made a dismissive gesture. ‘He’ll forget about it now he’s got this new girlfriend. Right keen on Grace, he is …’
‘He won’t forget it,’ Matilda contradicted him, undeterred by her nephew’s effort to change the subject.
‘What’s he said then?’ Stephen snapped testily.
‘He wants to know anything I can tell him about her. He asked to see a photo of her.’
‘Well, there ain’t