He ran upstairs and got the photo album and returned with it. He opened it and took out the photo of the couple in front of the grand house. “Do you recognize them?”
“No,” said Barbara. “What about you, Tom?”
“Never seen them before.”
“Aunt Agnes?”
“Well, I’d better be going. Tom’s offered me a lift to back home.”
“But do you recognize them?”
“No. What do you want to bother about a lot of old photographs for, Fell?”
“Because I find it odd that there aren’t any of me as a child.”
“That was Doris for you. Never could abide getting her photo took. Now, Tom, if you’re ready…”
¦
Maggie and Fell were alone. “That’s that,” said Fell, but he felt flat and disappointed. Ever a romantic, his busy imagination had begun to weave stories about that aristocratic couple in the photograph. Perhaps he had been adopted. Perhaps the elderly couple in the photograph were his real grandparents. Maybe their daughter had fallen pregnant to someone unsuitable. His father, he remembered, was always bragging about some ‘nob’ or other he had chatted to on the platform. What if old Lord Thingummy had paid him to adopt the daughter’s unwanted baby?
“Penny for them,” said Maggie.
Fell gave a reluctant laugh and told her about his fantasy.
“I don’t know,” said Maggie slowly. “I often used to dream I was adopted. Unhappy children usually do.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Fell looked downcast.
“I tell you what we could do,” said Maggie quickly. “Once we’ve got this place fixed up, we could get a book on country houses and see if we can find one that looks like the one in the photograph.”
Fell brightened. “We could do that. Then we’ll see about setting up some business or other.”
“The bookshop?”
“Or maybe a restaurant.”
“Like I said, wouldn’t that be a bit like what we’ve always done – waiting table?”
“We’ll think about it. I mean, the glorious thing, Maggie, is we don’t really need to work for a bit.”
There was a ring at the door. “Now who can that be?” Fell rose and went to the door.
A hard-faced, middle-aged blonde stood on the doorstep. “I’m Maggie’s mother,” she said harshly.
“Come in.” All at once, as he stood aside and she walked past him, Fell realized he hadn’t changed at all. Nothing had changed. He felt weak and cowed.
Mrs. Partlett sat down and crossed her legs. She was wearing a short tight skirt which rode up about her thighs. Her muscular legs ended in high-heeled sandals. A low-cut blouse plunged down to reveal the tops of two flabby breasts, pushed up by her brassiere. Her mouth was painted scarlet, and her discontented face was floury with white powder dusted over some sort of heavy foundation cream with which she had attempted to grout the wrinkles in her face.
She lit a cigarette and blew smoke in Maggie’s direction. Another stereotype, thought Fell. The world is full of stereotypes. She’s like a stage tart.
“So what are you up to, girl?” asked Mrs. Partlett.
“I’ve moved in with Fell. We’re going to get married.”
“Oh, yeah? Where’s the ring?”
“We’re going to get one…soon.”
Fell noticed that Maggie wasn’t wearing the emerald ring.
“I met that wop from the hotel bar,” said Mrs. Partlett. “He told me you’d both jacked in your jobs. What are you going to live on?”
“I’ve got a little money,” said Fell.
“Won’t last long. You’ll need to provide for her.”
“It’s got nothing to do with you,” said Maggie, turning blotchy red with anger. “You’ve never bothered about my welfare before.”
“Don’t get snippy with me. No one going to offer me a drink?”
“No,” said Maggie, getting to her feet. “We’re just going out.”
Mrs. Partlett rose to her feet. She’ll wriggle her hips and smooth down her skirt, thought Fell. Mrs. Partlett did just that.
She turned on Fell. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you, and do you know why? I think you’re a pervert.”
“How dare you!” shouted Maggie.
Her mother looked at her with scorn. “What man’s ever been interested in you before? Oh, don’t give me your lies about Tom, Dick or Harry who died or went abroad. I knew they were lies. I know just about everyone in this town.”
“You should,” said Maggie evenly. “You’ve slept with most of them.”
Mrs. Partlett shrugged her shoulders and walked to the door. “You never really grew up, Maggie. I’ll be watching you.”
She went out and slammed the door behind her.
Maggie collapsed into a chair and began to cry.
Fell circled helplessly around her, saying, “Don’t cry. She’s gone.” He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his. “I know, let’s get out of here. Take me for a drive.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere, and where’s your ring?”
Maggie fished in her pocket and drew out the ring and put it on. “I took it off as soon as I knew it was her. If she saw it, she would smell money and we’d never be rid of her.”
¦
When they were driving along the country lanes, Fell said, “Was she always like that?”
“I suppose so,” said Maggie wearily. “My sisters are like her. I was the bookish one. I always felt like a stranger in my own home.”
“Never mind. Listen to me, Maggie. The old part of our lives is over. We’ve never really had any fun.”
“Maybe it’s too late for us.”
“Don’t say that,” exclaimed Fell, suddenly furious with her because he feared what she said might be true.
¦
But during the following weeks, thoughts of adoption and worries about where the money in the cash box might have come from were temporarily forgotten as Fell and Maggie, once they had cleared the house of all the old furniture, set to work. Fell decided his idea of turning the living room into a kitchen was too ambitious. He quickly ordered a modern three-piece suite for the living room, then he and Maggie concentrated on refurbishing the old kitchen. All the old units were taken out – the fridge, the ancient washing machine, and the inadequate cooker. They ripped off the old wallpaper and painted the walls sparkling white. They ordered the kitchen counter complete with stainless-steel sinks and cupboard from a D.I.Y. store. Fell assured Maggie that all they had to do was study the instructions and they could do it all themselves, although by the time they had bought a whole range of expensive electrical tools, Maggie privately thought it would have been cheaper to pay the shop extra to fit it for them. They ripped up the old green linoleum and found a stone-flagged floor underneath.
“You’ll need to get some new clothes,” said Fell, watching Maggie scrubbing the flags.
“Why?” demanded Maggie defensively.
Fell laughed. “It’s all this exercise. You’ve lost a lot of weight.”
It was not only the exercise. Maggie had always eaten comfort food – chocolate puddings, piles of pasta, anything to fill the empty spiritual hole inside. But Fell had become a gourmet, wanting to get as far away from his mother’s ‘good plain cooking’ as possible. The weather was becoming increasingly hot and they had been eating a lot of salads.
“You could take a break, and we could go and get you something,” suggested Fell.
“Do you want to come with me?”
“Why not? I’ve never had the experience of watching a woman choose clothes. Let’s go to Cheltenham.
