Joyce had not been to see Margaret very often since the move to Scale Hall. Her father had died recently and she had inherited his pub. Not slow or frightened to delegate, she employed a manager and set herself free to carry on enjoying herself.
She went to and from Queen Street, as always, when it suited her. But she had a good head for business and kept a careful watch on the stock, the till, the bank account and the books. No man was going to take her for a ride! Not that sort of ride!
With nothing much else to do, one Thursday afternoon in February she went to see her friend in Sefton Drive. She'd sold her little sports car and bought a more expensive four-door saloon.
"Lady Muck," the regular customers called her jokingly.
It was a couple of months since she'd seen Gordon with Beth at Halton. Immediately afterwards, she'd thought of calling on Margaret and dropping a few hints about Gordon and the woman she'd seen him with. But the better side of her nature had rejected the idea. Gordon would always be special to her. He was quite a decent sort of chap. Not as bad as some she'd known! Margaret was one of the few female friends she'd ever had. Why go out of her way to be nasty and upset their marriage? Although part of her found it a tempting prospect.
What made her change her mind and decide to act was when her friend at Williamson's brought an envelope for her.
"Gordon asked me to give you this," the messenger said.
Inside the envelope were five pound notes and a typed sheet of paper. The message was terse. It wasn't personalised and it wasn't signed. "Please find enclosed what I owe you. I hope you know how to keep your mouth shut."
She was furious. She was not going to be treated like that. Not by him or anybody else!
Four year-old Gwyn opened the door and Joyce picked her up. She hugged her then put her down again. Gwyn ran along the hall excitedly calling to her mother. "Mam! Mam! It's Aunty Joyce! Aunty Joyce has come to see us."
Joyce followed the child into the dining-room. Margaret was sitting near the fire scorching her legs. There was no excuse for doing that now. Her new house wasn't cold or damp.
"Hello Joyce!" she greeted her friend.
"Hello Margaret! Wow! It's hot in here. I don't know how you can stand it!"
"Take your coat off. You'll feel cooler. Sit yourself down. It is nice to see you again. What have you been up to?"
The two friends sat in the easy chairs either side of the blazing fire. Joyce pushed hers back away from the flaming coals.
Joyce told Margaret she enjoyed running the pub her own way. "I do miss my dad though. He was always good to me."
"Always spoiled you, you mean! Yes, he was a good sort. And how's your love life? Not thinking of marrying yet?"
"Not likely!"
"What happened between you and my brother-in-law?"
"Oh him! God's answer to a woman's prayer! I don't think! Him? He wanted too much of his own way. I packed him in."
"That's a shame. It would have been nice to have you part of the family."
Margaret made Joyce a cup of tea. While she was doing that, Gwyn showed her aunt her new doll's pram and doll's house. "Look, Aunty Joyce," she chortled. "I've some toy furniture for all the rooms." Joyce showed an interest and gave Gwyn some sweeties which she had brought her.
"Shall I save some for Michael?" the little girl asked.
"No, that's all right love. I've brought another lot for him."
"How many can I eat, Mam?"
"Four now and save the rest for later," Margaret replied.
"Now be quiet please and play with your toys! Aunty Joyce and I want to have a chat."
They began to exchange gossip about relatives and mutual friends. Eventually, Joyce asked, "How do your friends like living at Halton?"
"Halton?" responded a puzzled Margaret.
"Why yes, Halton! Don't you have friends there? I saw Gordon with someone, outside the pub there. You know the one I mean. The Greyhound Hotel. I thought you must all be in there somewhere. It being a hotel they let children go in with their parents. You must have been inside with Michael and Gwyn. You remember. It was just before Christmas. I was with one of my chaps so I couldn't go looking for you.
"Gordon must have told you, she continued, a thin smile on her face. "I spoke to him when I saw him. He was just saying goodbye to some young woman."
Margaret was absolutely bewildered. At first, she had no idea what Joyce was talking about. Not a clue!
"No, we weren't there. Not at Halton. I expect it was something to do with Gordon's politics. He's not as involved as he used to be but he still goes to a few meetings. He does a bit of canvassing for Labour candiditates. But Halton, I don't remember him saying anything about Halton."
"No," she thought. "And I don't remember him saying anything about a woman friend!"
"Well," Joyce went on, "I expect that explains why he was there. Something to do with politics. It was definitely him though. I spoke to him. Fancy him not telling you! Typical man! You know what they're like. You never know what they're up to."
"That's enough," she thought. "Enough to put the cat amongst the pigeons. Enough to cook darling Gordon's goose!"
She wished she could be a fly on the wall and watch and listen to what happened when Gordon came home from work that evening!
After Joyce had gone, what had been planted in Margaret's brain began to fester. Her Gordon at Halton, on a Saturday afternoon, with a young woman, just before Christmas? Outside a pub! The only Saturday afternoon he had not been at home looking after the children, or out with her, was when he'd been to watch the football match at Preston. It did not make sense.
Clearly, Joyce had not been mistaken. She'd said that she'd actually spoken to Gordon outside the Greyhound Hotel. There was obviously only one possibility. He had not been to Preston at all. Instead, he'd gone to Halton. To be with another woman!
It did not seem feasible. But what else made sense?
Slowly the conviction grew. Her husband was a liar and a deceiver. He was a cheat. He had a girl friend. There was another woman in his life.
At first, she was incredulous and puzzled. Then she accepted what must be the truth. A mixture of outrage, anger and hurt feelings began to ferment inside her. Her hands started to tremble. There was no question of her crying about it. She was too incensed for that. She just wanted him home. Home with her so that she could give him what he deserved!
Presently, Michael came in from school. She hadn't noticed what the time was and she had not started preparing his meal. He prattled on about Miss Clemence.
"I got four stars today, Mam. Miss Clemence moved me up two places. I've got the front desk now Mam. I'm top of the class."
Margaret found it hard to respond and Michael sulked. It wasn't like his Mam. She was always interested in what had happened to him at school. Had he done something wrong? No, she would have told him off as soon as he arrived home. It couldn't be that. Usually, it was his Dad who went all quiet and moody if he misbehaved, not Mam. What she did, when he was in the wrong, was maybe shout at him or give him a slap across the back of his legs.
There was something up. He knew there was.
Michael and Gwyn had their tea. Margaret was still quiet. Without intervening she let them argue then squabble about who should have the last slice of apple pie.
It was nearly time for their Dad to come home. Margaret told the children to put their coats on. She took them next door to the Martins. She whispered with Mrs. Martin and then left them there, playing with John and Doreen.
Michael thought it was all a bit odd.
Mrs. Martin let John set his train lines out. Michael liked playing with John's expensive train-set. The girls played with some dolls. It was very enjoyable. But it was unexpected.
Back at the Watson's, Hell's Fury awaited the return of Gordon.
September 1939 was the year that World War Two started - but when Gordon looked back, it seemed to him that his war started many months earlier. Conflict began the evening he returned from work after Joyce the informer had visited.
All that spring and summer, he felt like a prisoner of the Gestapo. He was subjected to numerous interrogations, frequent clothing searches, much verbal abuse, occasional physical attacks and continual harassment by the enemy. The enemy who had been his best loving friend - Margaret, his wife.
Margaret had always been her father's daughter. There was something in her which wanted to domineer, to be the boss person. To bully! Gordon's lapse, the full nature of which she had no certain knowledge, was her opportunity.
He'd dodged and weaved, lied and evaded. But she knew that she had been given the chance to gain the upper hand. The puritan in her enjoyed exercising power from high moral ground. Margaret was in charge!
No more nonsense from you Gordon my boy! No more meetings at Jack's place! Forget your political activities! Forget everything apart from work. Work at Williamson's. Work at home. No diverting to your mother's on the way home from work! To heel boy! You will obey. My eye is on you. You have been a naughty boy. You will not stray again.
Your place is here, with myself and my children. At all times!
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