Josephine Cox Mother’s Day 3-Book Collection: Live the Dream, Lovers and Liars, The Beachcomber

He’d had them all in this office at some time or another: the evil and the gullible, and those who were really in need of help. But this one was unique. A woman who was able enough to work but chose not to, who had squandered her own inheritance and who, without compunction, was prepared to rob her sister of her home, had to be amongst the worst.

Going to the window, he flung it open, as though needing to rid the room of her presence.

In Bridport, Kathy made straight for the café and Mabel.

Seeing the older woman at the far end of the room, Kathy gave a quick wave and, smiling, Mabel hurried down to be with her. ‘It’s good to see you,’ she said. ‘I’ll be finished in a minute or two, then you can walk me home and stay for a cup of tea. We’ve not been so busy today, and I’ve had very little company.’

Patting Kathy’s arm affectionately, she added, ‘Besides, we hardly ever get time to talk properly, do we, dear?’ Kathy had to agree.

A short time later, arm in arm, the two of them strolled down the street, Mabel setting the pace, and Kathy content to chat as they walked. ‘Will your husband be in?’ She had visions of that ugly lout waiting for them as they entered the house.

Mabel shook her head. ‘He’s off down the pub with his cronies,’ she answered. ‘Come Friday, he can’t wait to pack up and get away.’

Sensing the sadness underlying Mabel’s words, Kathy merely nodded. And no more was said on the matter.

The cottage was spotless; every nook and cranny scrubbed and shining, and each ornament polished until you could see your face in it. ‘This is such a pretty place, Mabel!’ Kathy thought it enchanting.

Peeking out the back window, she observed the same loving care and attention to detail: the tin bath hanging neatly on its hook, the flagstones washed clean, and the pegs on the line all lined up like little wooden soldiers. Even the brick walls were washed white.

Mabel was flattered. ‘I like to potter about,’ she answered. ‘If I had more spare time, I’d have it looking even nicer.’ Going into the scullery, she put the kettle on to boil. ‘And how are you, my dear?’ she called out. ‘Settling in all right now, are you?’

‘I’m doing fine,’ Kathy answered, but did not sound very convincing.

Returning with the tray, Mabel set it down on the table. ‘What’s wrong?’ Pouring them each a cup of tea, she handed Kathy hers and sat opposite on the big armchair. ‘Family, is it?’ she asked. In her experience it was always family that caused the worries.

‘I just can’t understand,’ Kathy began, knowing she could confide in this dear soul. ‘My sister Samantha is beautiful, spoiled, selfish, and greedy. She has little compassion for those around her, she treats Mother like dirt, and yet, in Mother’s eyes, she can do no wrong.’

‘I see.’ Mabel had heard it all before. ‘And why do you think that is?’

‘I’m not sure, but I imagine it’s to do with Mother’s personal disappointments.’ Kathy had often thought about it and this was the only answer she had come up with. ‘I reckon Mother only wanted one child, a beautiful creature much like herself … someone people would pause in the streets to look at, and gasp with admiration.’

‘I see. And that was Samantha, was it?’

Kathy nodded. ‘Then I came along … an accident, no doubt; plain and noisy with chubby legs and unruly hair. I spoiled all her ideas of being special, and having that one very cherished, magnificent child.’

Mabel was having none of it. ‘You’re certainly not “plain”, or “noisy”. You’re a very pretty young woman with a beautiful nature.’

Kathy smiled naughtily. ‘And chubby legs.’

Mabel returned her smile. ‘We can’t all be perfect, but there are worse things than a sturdy pair of legs, my dear!’

Kathy satisfied Mabel’s curiosity about Samantha, and in the telling, Kathy began to feel less disillusioned about the situation between herself, her mother and Samantha, though she knew things would never change. ‘It’s too late for all that,’ she told Mabel. ‘Mother gets worse as she gets older. She’s one of those people who are never satisfied with what life gives them. She yearns for glamour and excitement … all the things she never quite seemed to acquire. You see, she married my father, a quiet, hard-working man who worked long hours to provide her with a lovely house and expensive clothes and other luxuries she may never have enjoyed. When Father was lost to us, she seemed to grow more arrogant and domineering. There was no living with her.’

Mabel could see the regret in Kathy’s troubled eyes. ‘You loved your father very much, didn’t you, my dear?’

Kathy nodded. ‘He was a very special man … he loved me for what I am, not for what I might have been. As for Mother, I can’t remember a time when she put her arms around me with affection, or told me she loved me, or held my hand as we crossed the road.’ Her voice broke. ‘Do you know, Mabel, there were times when I thought she’d be happier if I’d never been born.’

‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true, my dear. No mother could ever wish that.’

It did Kathy’s heart good to talk with this sweet, kind old dear, who was more of a mother to her then her own had ever been.

When it was time to leave, she wrapped her arms around Mabel and held on to her for what seemed an age. ‘You’re a lovely lady, Mabel,’ she told her, and Mabel’s heart went out to her.

‘I’m here whenever you want me,’ she reminded Kathy. ‘Don’t ever forget that, my dear.’

On the bus home, Kathy recalled the old woman’s words. She was more content now than she had been in a long time. After all the niggling doubts, she was really happy with her new life.

‘I’m sorry, my dear, but you know how things are.’ Irene had her own troubles. ‘I’d like to help you, but it’s not possible.’ Pouring herself another drink, she poured one for Samantha, too. ‘He puts only the tiniest amount into my account; just enough for basic necessities. I have to ask him for every little thing, and even then he wants receipts.’ Gulping down her drink, she was close to tears. ‘He’s moved into the spare room … though I don’t mind that, but he treats me like a stranger. It’s just awful!

‘I haven’t finished yet, though.’ She grinned – a wonky, half-drunken gesture that distorted her face. ‘I’ve been thinking. If you were to help me, I could be rid of him.’ Her secretive expression told it all.

Samantha couldn’t believe her ears. ‘You’re drunk!’

‘Oh no I’m not.’ Sidling up to her, Irene lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, at the same time glancing at the door to make sure he wasn’t hiding there like last time. ‘I’ve thought of a way to finish him off.’ She giggled. ‘Then we can both enjoy his money.’

Samantha thought her mother was losing her mind. ‘I might have been persuaded,’ she confessed, ‘but you seem to have forgotten one thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘He’s cut you out of his will, hasn’t he?’

Irene was taken aback. Unsteady on her feet, she fell into the nearest chair, eyes glazed over after hours of steadily knocking back the booze. ‘The bastard! You’re right, I forgot about that.’ She forgot most things these days.

Samantha stared at her with loathing. ‘Look at you! What good are you? I came here for help and find you drunk!’ She began to shout. ‘You’re always bloody drunk lately.’

Irene laughed. ‘You should try it, dear. It helps to pass the time of day.’

Samantha was in no mood for this. ‘You disgust me!’

‘Don’t be like that, my dear.’ Sitting up in the chair, she focused her gaze on this wayward, beloved daughter of hers. ‘Look, dear. You do what the solicitor said … go to your sister and tell her how things are. You know how soft she is … I’m sure she wouldn’t turn you away.’

She giggled. ‘You might even find yourself a rich old man down at the seaside … that’s where they usually retire to, isn’t it?’ Throwing her arms about, she laughed insanely. ‘Perhaps I should come with you.’

‘Who would want you? You’re becoming an old slag,’ Samantha warned. ‘If you’re not careful, you’ll be the next one out on the street!’

Slamming out of the house, she left her mother in tears. Yet, as she walked down the street to the bus stop, she thought on what her mother had said. Her sulky mouth turned up in a devious little smile. ‘You could be right, Mother,’ she murmured. ‘Maybe it’s time I paid my little sister a visit.’

But that would take money. ‘I need a whole new wardrobe, and money in my pocket,’ she mused. ‘I might have to think of a way to earn some money fast.’ Just then a man walked by and winked, obviously making a play for her.

Though she rebuffed him, it triggered an idea in her mind.

She smiled to herself. ‘Hmh! If the end justifies the means, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too much of a hardship.’

Chapter 11 (#ulink_329b3c64-7cfe-5c55-9b22-e23fb75f3b0c)

JUST AS THE postman was about to drop the mail through the letterbox, Jasper opened the door and saved him the trouble. ‘Morning, Ted,’ he yawned. ‘What you got for me then?’

Thinking Jasper looked a right sketch in his old, worn pyjamas with his hair stood up on end, the postman turned the letter over in his hand. Squinting at the postmark, he told Jasper, ‘It’s from Buckinghamshire.’