A Perfect Christmas

Chapter FOUR


Jan had never been so cold in her life. Her bones felt as if they were frozen solid and she was afraid that if she didn’t manage to stop her teeth from chattering together they’d smash to smithereens. The bare stone step of the shop doorway was unyielding and, with no other protection against the bitter weather than the clothes she was wearing, getting herself into a position comfortable enough to afford her some sleep was impossible. Very kindly her travelling companion had offered her his blanket before they’d gone into their separate shelters, but at the time she couldn’t help but look utterly disgusted by the thin holey material with the vile smell emanating from it. Later she wished she hadn’t been so particular as the bit of warmth it would have offered her would have far outweighed her initial revulsion. The only consolation was that the doorway was deep and so for the most part shielded her from the relentless wind.

It wasn’t just the incessant cold and hunger that were getting to her. She felt so terribly vulnerable and her nerves were on edge, the incident in the arches still weighing heavily on her. Even had she been able to make herself comfortable enough to sleep, she doubted she would have dared to render herself so helpless. Another evil-minded person like the one in the arches could easily happen upon her and see her as easy prey, despite the fact that her saviour was only a few feet away in the doorway of the shop next-door.

A picture of him rose in her mind then. The dregs of society, most people would see him as, like she herself had only a few hours ago, but underneath those tattered, filthy clothes and mass of matted hair was a man with some common decency. She had noted too that he did not speak in the thick Leicester brogue of these parts, and his speech was free from swear words. She judged that his background was probably very different from the rest of the lowlifes she’d come across these last few days. She wondered how a man like him had come to end up living on the streets. It was with a sense of shock that she then realised he had saved her from a terrible ordeal and yet she didn’t even know his name.

She froze suddenly as she sensed another presence nearby and jerked her head up to look fearfully at the entrance to the street. Her heart thumped, the breath seeming to freeze in her lungs. A shadowy figure seemed to be staring back at her. She immediately assumed an assailant was sizing her up to ascertain whether she was worthy of robbing. Instinctively she brandished her handbag at them, to show that she was armed and wouldn’t take an attack on her person lightly. The shadowy figure stepped into the entrance. She opened her mouth to scream blue murder, desperately hoping that yet again her saviour nearby would come to her rescue, when to her utter relief a flicker of light lit the stranger’s face and a puff of smoke streamed into the bitter air. Her would-be attacker was just a pedestrian who had stopped to shelter in the shop doorway while lighting a cigarette.

After they had gone on their way it took several moments for Jan to calm herself down enough to try and get some desperately needed sleep, but each time she heard the slightest noise she would sit bolt upright again, eyes locked on the doorway to the dark street beyond. Finally she decided that risking the chance of catching fleas or lice and enduring the foulest of stenches was preferable to causing herself a heart attack with her own jagged nerves.

She struggled up and made her way round to the doorway where her saviour was sheltering. He was staring back at her before she set foot inside.

‘Oh, you can’t sleep either,’ she said to him as she stepped into the long entrance. Shop windows to either side displayed the goods for sale in the establishment – a selection of winter woollens in bright colours which were being promoted as perfect Christmas presents. Jan stopped a foot or so away from where he sat huddled up against the shop door.

He responded a mite grumpily, ‘I was asleep until I sensed your arrival. You’ll learn to sleep with one eye open and your ears on alert if you want to survive on these streets.’

A violent shiver ran up Jan’s spine, which was nothing to do with the freezing weather but more acute fear at the thought of having to spend another night like this. If anyone had ever believed that sleeping rough held an element of freedom and glamour to it, then they were mad. She meant this night to be her one and only experience of sleeping out. She had to stay positive, believe there was a way to get herself out of this situation, it was just that she hadn’t thought of it yet.

She said to the man, ‘I apologise for waking you.’

He stifled a yawn. ‘Well, if you hadn’t, there’s a good chance I would have been awake soon enough as it’s nearly chucking out time . . . that’s if the coppers haven’t moved us on before then. It’s rare to get a full night’s sleep, what with one thing and another. Did . . . er . . . you want something?’

She eyed him awkwardly. ‘Well . . . I was wondering if that offer of the blanket is still open? I . . . er . . . didn’t take it up before as I didn’t want to deprive you of it, but . . . well . . . I’m so cold.’

He knew she wasn’t being truthful over the reason for declining his offer and supposed if their roles were reversed he would not have wanted to accept the filthy article either, but the bitter weather tonight was overriding any fear of what she might catch from it. He supposed she didn’t give a thought to the way her manner towards him only served to remind him further to what a low state he’d been reduced, for which again he couldn’t blame her. Thankfully he had learned over the years to ignore others’ negative reactions to him. Pulling the blanket off himself, he held it out for Jan to take. Her slight hesitation before she did so was not lost on him.

‘Thank you,’ she said, wrapping the article around herself. Then she stood eyeing him awkwardly again for a moment before she ventured, ‘Er . . . do you mind if I squat down here, only . . . I’m . . . er . . .’

Scared, frightened, feeling vulnerable on her own, just like he’d been when he’d first started sleeping rough. Glen wasn’t at all keen on the idea of sharing space. He was used to his own company, and it was bad enough having to watch his own back in these mean streets let alone hers as well, which he’d feel obliged to do as he had in the arches. He’d had no choice about losing his self-respect and being reduced to doing things in order to survive that would have absolutely appalled him when he’d been part of normal society, but at least he’d managed to cling on to some of his old beliefs, including the one that a man naturally protects a woman, which was urging him now to tell her to stay. But his opinion turned out to be irrelevant as she was already trying to make herself comfortable on the hard stone floor a foot or so away from him.

He watched her for a while, trying to achieve her task but failing miserably. Finally, in frustration that her shuffling about was preventing him from snatching some sleep while he could, he snapped, ‘Why don’t you take that brick out of your handbag that you just about finished me off with, then use the bag as a pillow?’

‘Oh, I never thought of that,’ she gratefully responded. ‘Thank you.’

He then spent another frustrating few minutes watching her try to get herself into a comfortable position until finally he sat up and said gruffly, ‘Look, why don’t you swallow your pride and go home?’

Jan stopped her shuffling and sat up to look at him, her face tight with annoyance. She snapped, ‘Do you seriously think I’d be willingly putting myself through this . . . this . . . living nightmare if it was as simple as that!’

‘Well, in my experience many people end up on the streets after silly family feuds that go beyond repair because neither side will make the first move to sort things out.’

She eyed him curiously. ‘Is that what happened to you then?’

He fell silent for a moment before he said, ‘No. It’s more complicated in my case.’

‘So is my situation.’ Jan gave a deep sigh and said quietly, ‘My husband’s chucked me out. Told me never to darken his door again. He meant it.’

It was Glen’s turn to eye her curiously. ‘Just like that? For no reason?’

‘Oh, he had a reason. Me having an affair.’

‘What reason did he give you for believing such a terrible thing?’

‘He didn’t need to give me any. He caught me red-handed in bed with another man.’

Glen had heard many dreadful stories about how people landed up in dire straits, but nevertheless he was taken aback by this woman’s admission as she didn’t seem the type somehow. But then appearances could be deceptive, as he’d found out to his own cost many moons ago. Whether he wanted to know the gory details or not it seemed he was going to be given no choice as Jan continued speaking.

‘Harry could at least have asked me what had driven me into another man’s arms before he threw me out. Maybe then he might not think so badly of me and would accept part of the responsibility.’ She paused for a moment, her eyes growing misty. ‘At one time we had a successful marriage. He was a good husband to me and father to our son. The three of us always did everything together . . . well, until that horrible evening.’

She paused to flick a tear off her eyelid and there was great sadness in her voice when she carried on. ‘I couldn’t have wished for a better son. Keith loved his mum and dad and never in all his years did I hear any back chat from him or grumbles and groans if I asked him to run an errand for me.’ A smile on her lips, she said, ‘He had this shock of thick brown hair, the kind that whatever you plastered on it would not lie down, and a splattering of freckles across his nose . . . and such a cheeky grin. He was the happy-go-lucky sort and everyone loved him. I always had a succession of kids knocking on my door, asking for him to come out and play.

‘A gang of them come knocking for him that night. They’d all had their dinner but we hadn’t. I told Keith he couldn’t go out until he’d had his, but then Harry asked me how long it would be before I dished up. When I said about fifteen minutes, he said it wouldn’t hurt to let the lad go out meanwhile as long as he came in as soon as he was shouted. I relented and off Keith went. I remember I was singing to myself in the kitchen. I was so very happy, you see. After trying for another baby for the best part of nine years and being convinced it was never going to happen for us again, I had only the day before found out from the doctor that I hadn’t got a stomach complaint but was about three months pregnant! Harry was jubilant and Keith couldn’t wait to have a little brother or sister.’

She paused to draw breath, pain at the memories she was relaying evident on her face before she went on. ‘I was just about to shout through to ask Harry to fetch Keith in when there was this horrendous banging on the front door and I could hear our names being shouted from outside. Harry got to the door first and I was hurrying down the passage when I heard one of Keith’s friend’s screeching we’d best come quick as he had had an accident. I knew it had to be serious as Keith wasn’t the sort to cry over a grazed knee.’

Her voice lowered to barely a whisper then and Glen had to strain hard to hear her. ‘He was already dead by the time we got there. Ten years old he was, his whole life in front of him, and it was taken away over some foolish bet. One of his friends had been given an old stop watch and it was decided that they would see who out of them could shin up and down the lamp-post the quickest. Keith had got to the top and, in his haste to get back down, lost his grip and fell off, smashing his head on the pavement. The doctor told us he died instantly. Next thing I can remember is waking up in hospital hours later. I’d gone into deep shock and passed out. Harry, my mother and my two sisters were crying at my bedside. Their tears weren’t just for Keith but for our unborn child too. The shock had caused me to miscarry. So, that dreadful night, we’d lost not one child but two.

‘I can’t remember the next few days. It’s like I’ve wiped out my memories as that time was so dreadful. The funeral is just a blur. I remember finding a small amount of consolation in the thought that Keith was with his little brother or sister and they’d be a comfort to each other. For several weeks afterwards Harry and I just about functioned, both locked in our own ways of dealing with our grief. We barely spoke to one other. Although he never said as much to me, I did suspect he blamed himself for allowing Keith to go out that evening instead of telling him to wait until after he’d had his dinner. Then eventually I began to come out of the fog I was in and to accept that my son was gone from us, our unborn baby too, and whether I liked it or not I was alive and had to get on with life. It was only then that I really saw what was going on with Harry. Just after the funeral a neighbour had come to visit and told us that we might find some comfort in the church. She told us that she had turned to God when her husband died and it had greatly helped her. She left a Bible behind when she went. Neither of us had been the church-going sort before – we got married in a register office – although we never judged anyone else who did and I was surprised when Harry showed an interest in attending the next Sunday service. Of course, I said I’d go with him.

‘I rather enjoyed the service, I have to say, and the rest of the congregation were very welcoming towards us, but all the time I was there it was on my mind that I would never get our dinner ready on time for one o’clock when we usually had it . . . my mother and sisters and their families were coming that Sunday. I can’t say as I took to the vicar either. He’s the fire-and-brimstone sort, the type to bully you into believing that it’s eternity in purgatory for you unless you live a pure and wholesome life and all your spare time is given up to the service of the church. Harry, though, really seemed to enjoy it, which chuffed my mother very much as she’s always gone to church and won’t have the Lord’s name taken in vain in her hearing. I remember getting a heavy clout around the ear when I was a child when I stubbed my foot and yelped out “Oh, Jesus Christ”.

‘When Harry announced he was going to go to the next Sunday service, I thought that if he was getting some sort of comfort out of it then I was glad for him, but I told him it wasn’t for me and I would be staying home and getting his dinner ready. He didn’t seem concerned by that. I got the feeling he was relieved I wasn’t accompanying him as this was something he wanted to do by himself. Then he started going every Sunday, not only to the morning service but the evening one too, and I noticed him reading the Bible that our neighbour had left when usually he would have been reading the newspaper and listening to the wireless. We still weren’t talking much apart from necessary everyday conversation and we didn’t go out together. The only time Harry went out apart from going to work was to church and Bible classes and we . . . well . . . er . . . hadn’t had any marital relations since Keith’s death, but I put that down to Harry’s grieving and still thought that he’d eventually return to his normal self and our life be back to how it was. Well, it would never be the same, of course, but we’d become a proper couple again some time.’ She heaved a sigh and said softly, ‘But we didn’t.

‘When that neighbour came round and suggested we try to find comfort in going to church and reading some helpful passages in the Bible, I don’t think for a moment she meant it should take over our life. It got to the stage, though, where nothing got in the way of what Harry called his church business. He’d even go without his dinner if it meant he was going to be late arriving for a service or a Bible class or some do-gooding expedition he’d offered to be part of. He started a Bible class of his own in our house, expecting me to provide refreshments, which I did without complaint. The other women who attended used to give me a look because I was Harry’s wife yet I wasn’t joining in, but I’d just smile sweetly at them and leave them to it while I went back to what I was doing. I tried to talk to him about our marriage suffering because of church activities taking up all his time. His answer really shocked me. He told me he was giving his life to God in an effort to gain redemption for the part he’d played in his son and unborn child’s death, in the hope that he would be reunited in the afterlife with his children and gain their forgiveness there. I tried so hard to make him understand that he wasn’t to blame, that Keith’s death was just a terrible accident, but he said that it was he who’d allowed our son to go out that evening, so the blame did lie with him. And he wouldn’t discuss the matter further.

‘I spoke to my mother, hoping for some help in persuading Harry that he was going to extremes, to the detriment of everything else. She said that it was as plain as a pimple on a nose how badly he had taken his son’s death and the miscarriage, and told me to stop being so selfish and allow Harry to grieve in whatever way suited him and to support him like a proper wife. I should try going to church myself, she said, then I might be a little more understanding – instead of going once and dismissing it. I should have known that in my mother’s opinion I’d promised to serve my husband loyally, through thick and thin, when I’d recited my marriage vows. No matter what, I was duty bound to do that until the day he or I died.’

Jan heaved a miserable sigh. ‘I tried, I really did. I didn’t start going to church with Harry, that wasn’t for me and I stuck to my guns there, but I did try and be an understanding wife, never complaining when I was left alone while he went about his church duties. I made his guests as welcome as I could in our house when he held his Bible classes. I was upset but I kept my feelings to myself when he told me that any spare money he had left after paying me my housekeeping and setting some aside for the bills would be given to the church. Harry wasn’t mean with housekeeping. I’d always had enough to fund any pleasures I wanted out of it . . . meeting my sisters on a Saturday afternoon for a traipse around the shops, a coffee and cake afterwards, occasional trips to the pictures, that kind of thing, although anything like that is no fun on your own so usually I contented myself with reading or listening to the wireless, doing a bit of dress-making. The years went by like that and my hopes that Harry would snap out of this misguided need for redemption and revert back to the man I had married were in vain. We grew further and further apart.

‘Last Saturday morning I was hanging out the washing. I could hear the kids next-door playing in their yard. They were discussing what they were hoping to get from Santa this year at Christmas. Then their mother shouted to them from the back door and said it was too early for them to be making their Christmas lists. And besides, if they didn’t come in and see to their chores none of them would be getting anything. I remember laughing as I heard all three of them immediately shoot back inside and the back door bang shut after them.

‘It wasn’t until I was sitting at the table having my elevenses that what I’d heard came back to me. It triggered something inside me, made me see my future, the years stretching ahead in my empty marriage, just making the best of things. It all seemed so bleak that I broke down and sobbed, feeling utterly sorry for myself. Next thing I knew I felt this arm around me and heard someone asking me what on earth the matter was. It was Bernie the window cleaner.

‘He’s been cleaning our windows for years. He’s a nice man, just ordinary-looking, I’ve never heard him say a bad word about anyone. His wife is a cripple. She had an accident not long after their second child was born, slipped on ice, landed heavily and broke her back. Lying in bed year after year, unable to move, has made her bitter and twisted. She treated Bernie like she blamed him even though he wasn’t with her at the time. Bernie has never once complained about his lot in my company but I knew his life wasn’t easy, working the hours he does plus caring for his wife and children, although they were both at work by then. He obviously knew about Keith but as far as he . . . anyone, in fact . . . was aware my marriage was as it has always been. I was feeling so . . . so low, I couldn’t stop myself. I poured it all out to him, how hard I was finding it, living in a physically loveless marriage. I knew he’d understand, you see, because it must have been the same for him.

‘Next thing I knew we were in our bed making love . . . well, it wasn’t love, it was rampant sex we were having, as if both of us were getting rid of pent-up passions we’d kept buried for years. As we fell back on the pillows in exhaustion, I remember thinking that I knew without doubt Bernie had never done anything like this before, nor had I, and nor would we again, despite the way our marriages had turned out. We still loved our spouses, it was just that neither of us had been able to resist the temptation of some physical contact after our years of famine. It was then I sensed someone else in the room. I looked over to the doorway and saw Harry standing there, staring at us both. I hadn’t realised the time and he’d returned home from work for his dinner. I can’t describe to you the look on his face . . . of disgust, hurt, devastation. Before I had a chance to say anything, he’d left. I can’t remember Bernie leaving, just my own scramble to get dressed and go after Harry and beg his forgiveness, make him understand why I’d ended up with Bernie like I had.

‘He was waiting for me downstairs. The back door was open, my coat and handbag were in his hand which he thrust at me. His eyes were lifeless when he said to me that I’d done the worst thing I could have in God’s eyes, committed adultery, and that my actions could be responsible for him being denied his own redemption and the chance to make amends to our son and unborn child, when the time came for him to be reunited with them in heaven. I lost my temper then, shouted at him that I was still alive and had needs that he seemed to have forgotten about in his misguided quest to ensure his own admission through the pearly gates. I asked him how God would view his breaking his marriage vows to love and cherish me, which was what he should be doing instead of turning his back on me.

‘He told me how selfish I was being, thinking purely of myself when a man’s wife, of all people, should be the one to cast her own needs aside in her duty to support her husband.

‘My anger really erupted when he said that. I’d stood by him and not complained once in ten years since he’d joined the church. I told him that this was the damned vicar talking, not him. That man had brainwashed him into thinking as he was, at a time when he knew Harry to be vulnerable. In my eyes he was nothing more than a home-wrecker. Well, I never got any further as Harry manhandled me out of the house then, telling me he wouldn’t have that saint of a man spoken about so disgustingly, and I was never to darken his door again. He locked it after me.

‘I decided it was best I give him some time to calm down before I tried to talk to him again and I went and sat in the park for a couple of hours. The door was still locked and bolted when I went back, so I knocked. It wasn’t Harry who opened it but the vicar. I knew he hadn’t any time for me once I’d refused to join his church. I swear there was triumph in his eyes when he told me that I had no place in this house any more after what I’d done, and the church was looking after its disciple in his great sorrow. That vile man then shut the door of my own home in my face.

‘She’s very old-fashioned and set in her ways is my mother. One of her favourite sayings is, “You’ve made your bed, now lie on it.” I knew she’d hit the roof if I went round to tell her what had gone off and ask her to let me stay there until I could sort things out with Harry, which I still felt I could do once he’d had time to think for himself when that vicar wasn’t poisoning his mind against me, so it was my eldest sister I went to see first. I thought I’d get her as my ally, she’d then get my younger sister on board, and we’d tackle Mother together. I’ve always got on with both my sisters and knew they must have wondered why I hadn’t turned up to meet them in town as usual that afternoon. They should both be back home by now, I thought. I couldn’t believe it when I walked into my elder sister’s house and there they were, the three of them, Mother and my two sisters, having a big pow-wow. That devil of a vicar had wasted no time and been to see my mother with the whole sordid story, even though she didn’t belong to his congregation.

‘All three of them looked at me like I was something they would scrape off their shoes when I walked in and it was Mother who told me she thought I had a nerve, showing my face here after what I’d done to poor Harry and the shame I’d brought on the whole family. All she was concerned about was how she was going to hold her head up when she went to church after it became common knowledge that she had an adulterous daughter. My elder sister was worried her husband’s boss would get to hear and it might affect her husband’s promotion. My younger sister just sat nervously looking on, frightened to open her mouth in case she put her foot in it. Anyway, I wasn’t given any chance whatsoever to tell my side of the story. No sooner was I in the door than I was herded out, being told never to darken any of their doors again and that they were all going round to offer what support and comfort they could to Harry. With that vile vicar and my own family pecking his ear against me, I knew there was no point in hoping we could work out a reconciliation. So as it turns out on that terrible evening Keith died, in reality I lost the three people I should love most dearly – two children and my husband.’

Jan heaved a deep sigh. ‘Thankfully I had a few quid on me from the housekeeping. For the first three nights I managed to get myself rooms in cheap bed and breakfast places, the standard dropping drastically as the days passed and I realised my money was running out. The last place I stayed in . . . last night, in fact . . . the slovenly landlady had the nerve to charge ten shillings, all I had left, for a damp room no bigger than a cupboard. I swear blind the bedding hadn’t been washed after the last person had slept in it and the mattress was that thin I could feel the springs on the bed through it, so I hardly got any sleep. That’s why I had no choice but to take shelter in the arches tonight. After leaving that dive I’ve been wandering around all day, desperately trying to work out what to do next. I’d heard of the arches as somewhere homeless people slept, and that was me, wasn’t it? Homeless. But call me naive, I never expected it to be so bad or that some of the people would be . . . well, no better than animals.’ She flashed Glen a wan smile. ‘Thank God you were there tonight or I dread . . . Anyway, now you know why I can’t go home. I’m not welcome any more. Like you obviously haven’t, I’ve no home either.’

Glen sensed it had done her good to have someone listen to her side of the story, albeit a stranger, when those close to her had not deigned to. He felt it was a pity her family had not given her a chance to explain her actions to them as they might not be viewing her so harshly now if they had. He took hold of his sack of belongings, delved inside and pulled out a crumpled brown paper bag, holding it out to her. ‘You must be ravenous, not having eaten all day. You’re welcome to this.’

Jan was so hungry she could have eaten a whole horse and for pudding a pig. Regardless, she eyed the bag cautiously. ‘Er . . . what is it?’ she ventured.

It was a half-eaten sausage roll that he’d rescued from a litter bin in the park this lunchtime after seeing it deposited there by the man who had bought it in the first place and eaten the other half. Most of what Glen ate came from bins or from where people had carelessly dropped it on the ground. That was where this woman’s meals would mostly come from in the future. It was a whole new way of life she was going to have to learn, where pride didn’t figure. He was loath to part with the food, it being the only edible thing he’d unearthed today, but he felt that her need was greater than his. Jan had not had time to learn to live with constant hunger pains gnawing at her stomach, whereas he’d had years of practice. He just told her, ‘It won’t poison you. It was fresh today.’

Despite how desperately ravenous she was, Jan was very suspicious of just where he had come by this food. Wrapping a filthy flea-bitten old blanket around herself to keep warm was one thing, but putting suspicious food inside herself was another. She said politely, ‘I’m not that hungry, but thanks for the offer.’

‘Then I hope you don’t mind if I do,’ he said, taking the roll out of the bag. He took a large bite.

Jan watched him devour the remains of the sausage roll, fighting to keep saliva from dripping out of her mouth. The pastry looked dry and unappetising but as he hungrily tucked in, hunger pangs exploded within her and she deeply regretted that she had turned her nose up at it.

Glen saw her frown in bewilderment as he carefully folded up the now-empty brown paper bag and put it back in his sack. ‘You’ll learn not to throw anything away. You never know when something that seems utterly worthless at first will suddenly mean the difference between life and death to you. This bag will come in extremely handy when I go down the market tomorrow evening just on closing, to see what leftovers I can get before the sweepers get hold of them.’

God forbid that she was reduced to eating rotting fruit but Jan’s common sense was telling her that it was something she was going to have to do if she didn’t quickly come up with a way to get herself out of her dire situation. Desperate to distract herself from thoughts of food and her worrying situation, she said to her saviour, ‘So how about you?’

He had been about to settle himself again in an effort to snatch some sleep but at her question stopped what he was doing to look over at her. ‘What about me?’ he queried.

‘How did you come to be homeless?’

He resumed trying to settle himself while saying to her in a dismissive manner, ‘Like I said earlier, it’s a long story.’ Hopefully she would take the hint and drop the matter. It was still very painful to him, how he came to be in the position he was in, despite its happening nearly eighteen years ago.

But Jan, like most women, had a streak of curiosity in her nature. His obvious reluctance to divulge his background only served to heighten this. ‘Well, it’s not like we’ve anything else to entertain us, is it? Not like we can put the wireless on or a light to read by . . . that’s if we had a book between us. So, did you cheat on your wife and she found out, the same as happened to me? Is that it?’

He snapped, ‘No. Now if you don’t mind—’

But Jan’s curiosity was at fever pitch. She cut in, ‘Oh, fell foul of the law then, did you, and your family disowned you?’

‘No,’ he replied, even more brusquely. ‘Well, in truth, yes, I did fall foul of the law. But I was innocent. I was framed for what I was put away for. Now if you really don’t mind . . .’

‘You’re an ex-con? Oh!’

He glared at her. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I told you, I was framed.’

‘Framed for what? And just who framed you?’

Glen sighed. This woman was not going to let it go. She obviously felt that as she had bared her soul to him, it was only right he should repay the compliment. It was apparent he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he did. Grudgingly he told her, ‘It was a woman who was responsible.’

Jan looked intently at him. ‘Oh! What exactly did she have you framed for?’

Glen sighed again as he thought back to a time he usually blanked out. Very quietly he said, ‘She got me put away for theft and grievous bodily harm, and at the time I had no idea she was behind it. By the time I did, it was too late. I’d already signed over all my worldly goods to her, as I thought for her to take care of for me until I was released and then return them.’

Jan said, ‘Even if you didn’t know she had framed you at the time, you must have trusted this woman very much to sign everything over to her for safekeeping?’

‘I had no reason not to trust her. She was my wife. She’d never given me any reason to doubt she wasn’t as honest as a new-born babe, until I discovered just how devious she was and how naive I’d been.’ Glen’s face tightened. ‘How I wish I’d never gone into that hotel on that particular night. It wasn’t one I’d ever been in before and more than likely I never would have again. But I did go in, and by the time I came out my fate was sealed.

‘I was a widower with a year-old child. Julia, my first wife . . . the love of my life . . . had died six months before from an embolism on her lung. I was still missing her terribly and the last thing on my mind was finding someone to take her place or be a replacement mother to our child.’ His voice grew wistful when he added, ‘Lucy was such a lovely child, very placid, always smiling, and I did my best to make sure she didn’t suffer from the loss of her mother. I always tried to be home in the evening, to take over from her nanny and give her a cuddle and have a play with her before she went to bed.

‘I’d had a particularly trying time of it that day. My father had started the family business just after he married my mother at the turn of the century. He named the company after her. Her name was Rose and so he called it Rose’s Bespoke Shoes. Just a small firm employing six people making handmade shoes, which the clients would come in and be specially measured for. I joined him when I left school at fourteen. My mother died three years after that. The doctor said it was from natural causes. She was fifteen years younger than my father, only forty-five. They were devoted to each other, and I know it was a broken heart that eventally ended his life. I’ll never change my opinion on that score. They were wonderful parents to me and I still miss them both and always will. The company had grown by then and employed fifty-three people, making handmade shoes for clients right across the Midlands.

‘After I’d been at the helm for about three years I decided to expand. As well as making bespoke shoes, we would offer a range of cheaper machine-made shoes and boots to be sold in shops. I also imported them from companies in France, Italy and Spain, to be sold to upmarket stores all over the British Isles. My workforce increased over that time to two hundred workers. Anyway, that day, one way or another, I’d had a particularly trying time and felt the need for a stiff whisky before I went home. That’s how I came to be sitting in the bar of that hotel.

‘Even though I wasn’t interested in women in a romantic way, and was still very much in mourning, I couldn’t help but notice that the barmaid was an attractive young woman. She was eighteen years old at the most but had an air of maturity about her. She was dressed in a tight-fitting skirt and low-cut blouse, but looked far from tarty. “Classy” is how I would have described her. After she’d finished serving the customer before me she turned her attention to me, saying that I looked like a man who had had a hard day and was in need of a drink. She asked what could she get me, and before I knew it I was telling her my story. She was very charming and attentive, and I was like a dog with two tails when she asked me if I would show her the sights of Leicester one night as she was new to the area. She seemed really pleased when I agreed. I was far from the tall, muscular, good-looking sort and was astonished that a pretty woman like her wanted to spend time in my company. I had thought that a night out with her would be our one and only date, and was stunned when she made it clear she wanted to see me again.

‘When I arrived home after that first date I can only describe that it felt to me like I’d been pierced in the heart by Cupid’s arrow. Nerys made no attempt to hide the fact that she’d fallen in love with me. She said my having a young child was of no consequence as she loved children, wanted a horde of her own, and certainly seemed to take to Lucy when I introduced them. Within a matter of weeks we were married. After my first wife had died I’d thought I’d never be happy with another woman. I had to keep pinching myself when I found I was, deliriously so. Nerys was doting towards me, kept the house clean and tidy, was a good cook and I couldn’t fault the way she treated Lucy.

‘We’d been married barely three months when I arrived at work one morning to find the police waiting for me, a detective and two constables. The detective told me that they’d been informed of suspicious behaviour going on at the premises during the early hours of the morning. A man had seen someone offloading boxes from a lorry and taking them round the back of the premises. The informant, who’d been walking his dog at the time, thought it suspicious for a firm to be taking delivery of goods at that time of night and felt it his duty to report what he’d seen to the police. They were very interested as a lorry loaded with shoes and handbags, which was on its way to Staffordshire, had been hijacked earlier that evening on a quiet country road just outside the city. The driver had been badly beaten with a hard implement, which they hadn’t found, and was in a critical condition in hospital. I was deeply upset that I or my firm could be under suspicion of doing the slightest thing underhand. I told the detective to feel free to search the premises from top to bottom as he wouldn’t find anything I couldn’t account for legitimately. The informant had obviously mistaken my premises for someone else’s.

‘They eventually found all the cartons from the hijacked lorry stacked in disused outhouses behind the factory, and the key to the padlock and a bloodied crowbar, wrapped in a sack, hidden in the glove box of my car. I was stunned rigid, and had absolutely no idea how the boxes or key and crowbar had got where they had found them. Regardless, I was cautioned and taken down to the station for questioning. Meanwhile all my staff were interviewed. All of them had solid alibis. I was the only one who couldn’t prove what I’d been doing. When I’d arrived home from work the previous evening, Nerys had told me she was suffering from a migraine. As soon as Lucy was put down for the night, she had taken a sleeping tablet and gone to bed. She didn’t wake until Lucy did, at six-thirty the next morning. She tried to cover for me but as soon as the police started probing about what we’d done that night . . . listened to on the wireless, et cetera . . . she had to come clean and admit that she had taken a tablet and gone to bed and had no idea what I’d done then. The evidence against me was overwhelming. My insistence that I was innocent carried no weight. Thankfully the driver pulled through so I wasn’t charged with actual murder, but I was charged with grievous bodily harm and theft. I received a fifteen-year sentence.

‘It all seemed to happen so quickly but all the time I was convinced that the police would realise their terrible mistake, find the real villain and then I’d have my life back. When that cell door closed behind me in prison, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Nerys got a visiting order as soon as she could. I wouldn’t allow her to bring Lucy, though, as I didn’t want her visiting a place like that. Nerys had made an effort to look nice and be positive when she first arrived for the visit, and I tried hard to assure her that, despite what we’d heard, it wasn’t that bad. But she couldn’t keep up the pretence for long and broke down, telling me how hard she was finding life without me and that neither of us during the lead-up to the trial had given a thought to how she was going to manage for money, to take care of Lucy and herself. And also, what about the business? Had I someone in mind to run it for me during my absence? Someone that I trusted implicitly.

‘I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought about such important matters and made proper arrangements. I put it down to my faith in the British justice system and a jury finding me innocent, so that I wouldn’t need to consider such matters. In fact, Nerys had been constantly telling me that anyone only had to look at me to see I wasn’t capable of doing what I was accused of, and to stop worrying. I trusted all my staff, several of whom had been with the firm longer than I had, but none of them was the right person to head up the business while I was inside. But how was I going to find someone who could do that on my behalf when I was in prison? Nerys said that I needed to put my affairs in the hands of a solicitor, give him my power of attorney, and he could then appoint someone to take care of the business and make sure that she and Lucy were taken care of financially. I felt stupid for not thinking of that myself. I asked her to make a visit to our family solicitor and have him draw up the documentation, which I would sign the next time she came on her monthly visit.

‘When she next visited, against my wishes she’d brought Lucy along with her, telling me that regardless of how I felt about not wanting my daughter to see me in prison, she felt strongly that Lucy needed to see her father and her father needed to see her, and she intended to bring her each time. I was in fact overjoyed to see my daughter, and how well she looked and how Nerys was looking after her. Any worries I’d had that she might already have begun to forget me were unfounded. The smile on Lucy’s face when she first clapped eyes on me was a sight to behold. I was glad Nerys had brought her in. These monthly visits from the two women I loved most in the world, and the regular letters Nerys wrote to me in between, would make such a difference to helping me through my period of incarceration.

‘Before I knew it the guard was announcing there were only five minutes left. Nerys was crying when she hurriedly dressed Lucy in her outdoor clothes. It would be a whole four weeks before she saw me again, she sobbed, and I was having a job not to weep myself because of the backlash this scene could cause me afterwards with some of the nastier type of inmates. By the time Nerys had finished dressing Lucy, the guard was announcing that visiting time was over and all were to take their leave. We had just said our goodbyes and Nerys was about to go when she remembered she hadn’t given me the document to sign for the solicitor.

‘The guard was really getting annoyed with the stragglers by now but I knew this couldn’t wait for another month . . . the business would be suffering without someone at the helm and Nerys needed money to live on. Not caring what trouble I’d get into, I ignored the guard and told Nerys to give me the document. She took it out of her bag, then from the envelope, and turned the pages over to the one I needed to put my signature on. After I had signed on the dotted line, I realised we’d need someone to witness my signature. Thankfully Nerys was able to use her charm on the guard and he obliged, if only so as to be rid of us so he could have his tea break. As I was being escorted out by him I turned and looked back into the visiting room. Nerys was at the exit door, gazing back at me. There was a look on her face . . . at the time I thought she was upset to be going off into the freedom of the world, leaving me shut up inside those high walls. But, thinking about it later, I realised how wrong I was. She was saying goodbye to me as she knew she’d never see me again.

‘When a week had passed and I hadn’t received any correspondence from Nerys and there was no answer when I telephoned her on my permitted weekly call, I was extremely concerned that either Lucy or she was ill. Another week passed and still there was no word by letter or telephone. I became very worried that something awful had happened to them, lots of different scenarios going through my head, none of them pleasant. I couldn’t sleep, eat, and was having difficulty concentrating on my job in the prison laundry. When visiting time came around again and Nerys did not appear or send any word to me, I became frantic.

‘It was bad enough dealing with the day-to-day living in that place, which was as bad as any stories I had heard, let alone worrying that something was wrong with my family while there was nothing I could do about it. The only thing I could do was write to my solicitor and ask him to find out what was going on. What an agonising wait to hear back from him that was! A week later, when I was pulled off my shift in the laundry as I had a visitor, I knew it had to be important for them to interrupt me at work. I really believed . . . prayed . . . it was Nerys who’d managed to get special dispensation from the governor to explain to me the reason for her silence. I was terrified it was something to do with my daughter but grateful that I’d be receiving some answers at last. My visitor wasn’t Nerys but my solicitor, Charles Gray. The grave expression on his face sent a chill through me.

‘He told me he that he was most surprised to receive my letter as he’d not been approached by my wife to have any papers drawn up concerning a power of attorney. After I’d been in touch by letter, he paid a visit to the house. A woman answered the door. When he announced who he was, she introduced herself to him as Nerys Thomas and seemed very surprised when he explained to her the reason for his visit. She told him that I must have had a brain seizure since the last time she had seen me. On her last but one visit I had informed her to contact a solicitor and have her given power of attorney so that she could take care of the business on my behalf and be able to access funds in my bank accounts to look after herself and my daughter. She showed him her copy of the document she’d had drawn up, which I’d signed.

‘Having handled not only my affairs but my father’s before him, Charles Gray knew my signature well enough to know this wasn’t faked. The firm Nerys had used to draw up the documentation and deal with the legalities was a very reputable one.

‘Charles then asked her why she hadn’t visited me since I’d assigned my affairs over to her and told her that I was extremely worried something had happened to either her or Lucy. He said she seemed really shocked that I was so worried as, after I’d signed the papers and given them back to her, I’d told her that I was handing over everything I owned to her as my way of apologising for the humiliation I’d brought on her by what I’d done. I’d also said that I couldn’t expect her to wait ten years for me, so she was to divorce me and feel free to meet someone else. My only stipulation had been that she should raise Lucy on my behalf, with the child believing that her father was dead so that she didn’t grow up with the stigma of being related to a convicted criminal. I’d left her in no doubt that I meant what I said as I was going to make sure that she didn’t receive any more visiting orders.

‘She told Charles Gray that she had done her best to talk me out of it but I wouldn’t budge. Therefore she’d had no choice but to build a future for herself and Lucy without me in it. She asked him to give me her best wishes when next he saw me.

‘I was struck dumb by these revelations and started to question if indeed her version of events was the truth and I was losing my mind. Then Charles asked me why, when I’d checked over the document and seen what it stated wasn’t actually according to my instructions, I’d still gone ahead and signed. That was when the truth dawned on me. Nerys hadn’t wanted me to examine the document before I’d authorised it. She had obviously brought Lucy along with her that visiting time, against my wishes, in order to distract me from the document until the very last minute, so that I wouldn’t have time to check through it. Then a terrible thought hit me like a sledgehammer. It could only have been Nerys herself behind my being put away in the first place.

‘I could see by the look on his face that Charles was thinking the same as I was, and said as much to him. He asked me just what exactly I knew about Nerys when I’d married her. It struck me it was hardly anything, and what I did know I had taken her word for. I had no choice but to accept that all her words of endearment to me were lies. To her I had been nothing more than a meal ticket. She was obviously on the lookout for a suitable victim to fleece and had found it in me that night I went into the hotel. But all the whys and wherefores . . . whether she’d had an accomplice who carried out the attack and theft for which I was framed, or whether she’d paid someone to do it . . . were irrelevant now as the document I had unwittingly signed was watertight and there was nothing even a clever lawyer like Charles could do about it. Nerys was now the legal owner of all my possessions.

‘No words can describe how devastated and guilty I felt for losing the family home I’d been born in and all the happy memories of life there, along with the business my father had worked so hard to build. But far worse than that was the loss of my precious child. I didn’t have anyone else to blame but myself, though, for falling for Nerys’s scheme. The only consolation I had was that she must love my daughter as if she was her own or she would have put her in an orphanage.

‘I was released on parole after ten years but they seemed like a lifetime to me. I’d had no visitors and no idea how my daughter was faring with Nerys. Release brought me little joy as I’d nothing to come out to. I knew I had no chance of getting back any of my possessions but I badly wanted to see my little girl, even from a distance, just to satisfy myself that she was well and happy. After settling in at a hostel, I paid a visit to my old home. To my shock I found that Nerys no longer lived there and hadn’t for ten years. She must have sold up and moved as soon as the house became hers. The present owners had no forwarding address for her. I would have asked Charles Gray’s help in tracing Nerys but found he had died years before, and there was no one left working at my old business who would remember me or feel any inclination to help me. I had no choice but to put my past life behind me and get on with the one I had instead.

‘The prisoners’ welfare people had secured me a job as a labourer at a lumber yard, where I could sleep in one of the outbuildings. That was one of the conditions of getting parole – that I had a job and somewhere to live. I knew from the moment I met my new boss that I was going to hate working for him. He was squat, thickset and brusque, in his late-sixties, and he and his thin, mean-faced wife lived in a ramshackle filthy old place on the premises. I was expected to do as I was told, no questions asked, and be eternally grateful that I had somewhere to rest my head, never mind that it was a rotting shed with just sacking for a mattress. The food I was given was not fit for pigs. My hours of work were from six in the morning until the boss decided I’d finished at night. After deductions to cover accommodation and food I received ten shillings a week, barely enough to buy myself any personal things, let alone clothes.

‘I’ve never had any aversion to hard work, my parents certainly believed in it, but being worked each day until I was fit to drop, and treated like I was the scum of the earth while being expected to show gratitude, was something I wasn’t prepared to tolerate. I stuck the job for three months until I’d managed to save up five pounds and walked out of the job without a word to my boss as I didn’t believe he deserved an explanation.

‘Knowing I’d got to take care of my money until I found another job, I stayed in a hostel for homeless men that night, in a large dormitory surrounded by types as bad as any I’d been in prison with. Next day I spruced myself up as best I could and went looking for work. I wasn’t fussy, would have taken anything suitable. All I was asking was to be given enough of a wage to manage on and to be treated like a human being. I was obviously expecting too much.

‘Two weeks later I’d visited that many places asking after work I’d lost count, but each time a prospect looked promising, as soon as I told potential employers about my time in prison and that I had no fixed abode, I was shown the door. My money was all gone by this time so I couldn’t even afford the two shillings a night to stay in the hostel. I was starting to look really shabby as it’s very difficult to keep yourself looking clean and tidy when you’ve no facilities other than the public baths, for which you need to pay. And I needed money for food more than for hot water. With no job and nowhere to live, I had no choice but to live rough. That was over five years ago.’

Glen’s narrative abruptly stopped and he looked at his companion with surprise and shock on his face. He had never told another living soul the whole story of how he’d come to be in the dire situation he was now, he’d kept the whole sorry story locked inside himself. But somehow his subconscious had told him that this stranger would not judge him for his behaviour or use this information she now knew about him to her own advantage.

He took a deep breath and said gruffly, ‘Now you know.’

There was a look of understanding and also of great sadness in Jan’s eyes when she muttered, ‘Yes, I do.’ She looked thoughtfully at him for several moments before she said, ‘I expect you’ve lived all these years hoping that somehow your wife has been made to pay for what she did to you.’

Glen growled, ‘I would be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted to seek revenge, spent numerous nights trying to find a way to bring that about, but then I realised that all I was doing was making myself more bitter and twisted. Since then, all I’ve prayed for is that Nerys has kept good her promise to care for my daughter and has raised her to be an honest, likeable young woman with a promising future, as I would have done myself.’

Jan was looking thoughtfully at him. ‘It’s a pity you can’t find out your ex-wife’s whereabouts and have your mind put at rest over your daughter. I know you tried to find her when you first came out of prison, but there must surely be some way to unearth where she’s living. She installed a manager at the business, didn’t she? I realise his first loyalty will be to her, but he has to have a telephone number or some other means of making contact with her if he should need her say-so on a business matter, and they must meet up regularly for her to reassure herself that all is as it should be.’ She paused for a moment before adding, ‘We need to get into his office and have a rummage round, to see if we can find out where he keeps those details. It’s the only way to get a lead on where Nerys is living and for you to have your mind put at rest about your daughter’s welfare.’

Glen thought it was generous of her to be centring her thoughts on him when she had her own worries to face. ‘I’ve been to prison once, I’ll not go back again,’ he said cautiously.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean you should break in and run that risk.’

‘How then? I mean even if there were a ruse I could come up with to get into the factory, it’s not likely anyone would let a vagrant like me into the manager’s office unattended.’

Jan responded matter-of-factly, while thinking to herself that it was going to take some doing, ‘Then we need to get you smartened up.’

‘I’m dying to hear how, when you know I’ve no money.’

She had no idea at all, considering the circumstances they were both in, but was saved from admitting that to him by noises coming from the entrance to the shop doorway. They both looked over to see several young men leering down nastily at them. They were all either holding bottles of drink or newspaper parcels of chips. It was obvious they were the worse for drink. Jan inwardly froze. Her companion had warned her about possible trouble at chucking-out time, and she wasn’t sure what to expect. The men then started shouting abuse at them. It was extremely offensive and hurtful and Jan was ready to answer back, but she felt a hand on her arm and instinctively knew it was a warning to keep quiet. Receiving no response, the men then started throwing missiles. Several bottles fell short of their intended target and smashed on to the concrete floor around them. One did hit home and caught her companion heavily on his shoulder, but he instinctively caught the bottle before it too smashed on the ground. Jan then found herself being pelted with chips, and a half-finished parcel landed beside her. Finally, no missiles left to hand and finding no fresh abuse to hurl, laughing and joking together the men went on their way.

Deeply insulted, Jan snapped, ‘How could you just sit there and not retaliate?’

‘And give them an excuse to give me a beating? As you know yourself, no one will come to the rescue. When you encounter people like that it’s best to do nothing to provoke them further. Then, like those thugs just did, eventually they’ll get fed up and move on. Look on the bright side, though.’

She gawped at him, stunned. ‘Bright side! What bright side?’

‘We’ve landed ourselves supper,’ Glen told her, picking several chips off his coat and putting them in his mouth. He then took a swallow from the remains of the bottle of beer he’d managed to catch hold of. ‘That’s good. Long time since I’ve had a drink of beer. Want some?’ he asked her, holding the bottle out towards her.

It was just what she needed to help steady her nerves but Jan dreaded to think how long it was since her companion had last cleaned his teeth. She politely refused the beer. The newspaper parcel at her side was a different matter, though. She grabbed it, delighted to see a good portion of chips still left inside, and started ravenously ramming them into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten for months, totally forgetting her manners and to offer a share to her companion as he had to her.

The chips were far from a banquet but enough to take the edge off Jan’s hunger. She had to stop herself from licking the last of the crumbs off the newspaper. She made to screw up the greasy paper until she remembered her companion’s words that in the world she was in now every object had value, so she smoothed it out and folded it up instead, then handed it to him.

Glen thanked her, saying as he put it in his sack of belongings, ‘That’ll come in handy to help light a fire with when I’m on my travels in the countryside.’ He then suggested to Jan that they move into the doorway next-door because of the danger to them both from the broken glass surrounding them.

Rehoused in their new shelter, Jan once again began to shuffle herself about, trying her best to get comfortable enough to snatch some sleep, her ears ringing to the sound of her companion’s snores. Finally, from sheer exhaustion sleep began to steal over her, but just before oblivion hit an idea struck her. Eyes wide open, she proclaimed, ‘Well, how stupid of me not to have thought of that before.’

Always with his senses on alert, at the sound of her voice Glen shot bolt upright, one hand automatically diving into his pocket to grab hold of the penknife while his eyes darted round seeking any potential danger. When he realised it was Jan who had woken him, he snapped at her, ‘You shouted out. What for?’

She shot him a triumphant look. ‘Because I know how we can get you cleaned up.’ The only part of his face that was visible, his eyes, told her he was utterly confused as to how and, as exhaustion had overtaken her again, at this moment she lacked the energy to go into detail. Lying back down again, her eyes closing without any effort on her part, she mumbled to him, ‘Tell you later.’