A Lesser Evil Part 19

She wanted to discount it all after all, what did the woman know, she was still living here, for all her good breeding and hoity-toity ways.

But she couldn't discount everything. Miss Diamond had as good as said that Fifi was silly, weak and misguided. More or less what her mother thought about her. Surely she wasn't like that? Was she?

Looking out on to the dreary rain-washed street, Fifi couldn't help but wish she could go back to the beginning and start again, this time thinking things through at every step. She could have told her mother when she first met Dan, got him to call for her so it didn't look as though she was hiding something shameful. She certainly shouldn't have rushed into marrying him the way she did.

Miss Diamond was definitely right in saying it should have been her who looked for the flat, not Dan. People were wary of him because he looked so tough, but she could have got round a very cautious landlord.

But she couldn't go back, so what was she to do now?

Glancing out of the window, she saw Yvette going through her front door, so she thought she would call on her and get her opinion.

'Ah, Fifi!' Yvette exclaimed as she opened the front door and found her neighbour standing there. ''Ow are you?'

'Fine, thank you,' Fifi replied, even though she was close to tears. 'Could I come in for a chat? You've been out every time I've called over.'

'I am a leetle busy,' Yvette replied.

'Just for a few minutes,' Fifi pleaded. 'I've missed you.'

She observed that Yvette was pale and drawn, the dark circles under her eyes suggesting she hadn't slept much recently. She took this to mean the dressmaker was as troubled by what had happened next door as herself.

'Okay,' Yvette sighed. 'I was just going to make some coffee anyway.'

Number 12 was exactly the same as all the houses in the street, and Yvette's flat was identical to Frank's, with two adjoining rooms and the kitchen at the end of a communal long hallway. But number 12 was very dirty and neglected. The wallpaper on the stairs must have been put up before the war and it was worn away where people rubbed against it. The hall floor didn't look as if it had been swept or washed for years. Mr and Mrs Balstrode who lived upstairs were elderly, so perhaps they couldn't manage cleaning, but Fifi wondered why Yvette didn't do it.

But it was obvious from her kitchen that Yvette didn't care much about her surroundings. Although not dirty, it was dingy and disorganized. She took a percolator down from a shelf, filled the bottom with water, put a couple of tablespoons of fresh ground coffee in the top and lit the gas beneath it.

'You will have the plaster taken off soon?' she asked.

Fifi thought it funny that people asked about that all the time, as if it was really important, but didn't want to discuss more serious problems. 'Just another week,' she said. 'I wish I could get over all this other stuff as easily. Are you finding it hard too?'

Yvette nodded, glancing out of the window towards the Muckles' kitchen window which faced hers beyond a six-foot fence. 'I find it hard to live 'ere any more.'

'At least it's quiet now,' Fifi said, but realizing how callous that sounded she blushed. 'Oops, I shouldn't have said that!'

'We should say it how it is.' Yvette shrugged. 'It is quiet now, that is good. I do not miss all the trouble, the fighting, the insults. I weesh to forget.'

'I want to too,' Fifi said. 'But I can't stop thinking about them.'

'You must, Fifi,' Yvette said reprovingly. 'They are not worth a moment's thought. You and your Dan, you should go out and 'ave good time together. Find a new home and move away.'

'But I will be a witness at the trial,' Fifi said. 'Until that is over I can't forget about them.'

The water in the percolator began to boil and bubble up and the aroma of coffee filled the small kitchen. Yvette put some dainty china on a tray and milk in a jug. 'Just because you 'ave to be witness does not mean you have to halt your life. You 'ave had much sadness losing your baby, Fifi. Do not bring more sadness into your life by wasting a moment of it on that family.'

Yvette put the percolator on the tray and then lifted the whole thing. 'We will go into the front room,' she said. 'You have a cup of coffee, a leetle chat, then you go home.'

It was a great disappointment to find Yvette wasn't her usual warm, interested self. In the past she had always asked so many questions, keen to hear about even the dullest of day-to-day incidents. She merely shrugged when Fifi repeated what Miss Diamond had said to her, and when Fifi launched into telling her how Dan didn't want to talk about Angela's death, she sighed.

'Why should he?' she said. 'In the war we saw terrible things, but after we 'ave to put them aside and go on. It is like that now. Angela is better in heaven, and the other children happier in new homes. I expect Dan feels there is no more to say.'

'I can't see it that way,' Fifi said heatedly. 'There is so much that doesn't fit right. We don't even know for certain it was Alfie that did it, the police won't say. I heard a woman in the shop say Alfie's two oldest daughters had babies by him. Is that true?'

'I don't know,' Yvette said, looking away as if wishing she'd never let Fifi in. 'But you should not be worrying about this, Fifi.'

'Someone should, if it is true!' Fifi's voice rose with anger. 'If people had really thought he'd done that to the older girls, and done something then, Angela might not have died.'

'Perhaps,' Yvette said. 'But Alfie will be answerable to a higher authority one day, just as you and I will.'

Fifi started to cry. She had expected Yvette to feel as she did. 'Don't you sense all the nastiness in this street?' she sobbed out. 'We are all partly responsible for what happened. But we were too cowardly to stand up to Molly and Alfie.'

Yvette gave another of her Gallic shrugs. 'The nastiness was always in this street, there are many damaged people.'

'What do you mean by that?' Fifi sniffed.

'They may all be hurting over something in their past. They cannot feel the way you do about Angela because they have used up all their tears on themselves.'

Fifi stopped to think about that for a moment. 'Are you that way too?' she asked eventually.

'I theenk so,' Yvette nodded. 'But you, Fifi, you have so much, love, youth, beauty and intelligence, your life is good.'

This sounded like a re-run of what Miss Diamond had said. 'It doesn't feel good,' Fifi blubbed through tears.

'I think it is time you grow up and look at 'ow lucky you are,' Yvette said archly. 'Many of us 'ave 'ad to live without parents. Yes, you lost your baby, but that happens to many women and one day you'll 'ave another. Go home now, think about all you 'ave, and be glad.'

Fifi felt completely demoralized. Dan had lost patience with her, Miss Diamond had been dismissive, and now Yvette was packing her off with a message that she should be grateful for what she had.

'I'm sorry I took up your time,' she said weakly, getting to her feet and brushing away her tears. 'I didn't mean to be a nuisance.'

Chapter twelve.

Fifi was singing along with 'She Loves You', a new release from the Beatles, on the radio as she changed the sheets on the bed. It was an awkward job with a plastered arm, and when she heard the front-door bell ring she ignored it, thinking it was for Frank. But when it rang long and hard again, she dropped the blankets and went downstairs.

She was feeling happier today than she'd felt for a very long time. Part of it was due to some fantastic lovemaking last night. But that had only come about because after the miserable Sat.u.r.day with both Miss Diamond and Yvette telling her what was wrong with her, she had decided to try to modify her behaviour.

On Sunday afternoon she and Dan had gone to Hyde Park for a walk, and she didn't mention Dale Street or the murder once. Out in the sunshine in a place she a.s.sociated with the happy times when they first came to London, it was easy to be her old self. Dan seemed relaxed and happier too, and they looked out an Evening Standard Evening Standard and sat on the gra.s.s ringing round each of the flat-letting agencies that seemed to have plenty of flats on their books. and sat on the gra.s.s ringing round each of the flat-letting agencies that seemed to have plenty of flats on their books.

In the evening they went to see The Day of the Triffids The Day of the Triffids at Leicester Square and when they got home Fifi was too scared to go downstairs alone to use the lavatory, so Dan had to go with her. That made them both laugh until they were almost crying, and from then on things had got better and better. at Leicester Square and when they got home Fifi was too scared to go downstairs alone to use the lavatory, so Dan had to go with her. That made them both laugh until they were almost crying, and from then on things had got better and better.

She'd spent all day Monday and Tuesday going to register at flat agencies, and most of them had seemed quite hopeful, particularly if she and Dan were prepared to move a few miles further out of central London.

But the main thing which was making Fifi feel happy was that the following day the plaster cast was coming off. On Monday, in five days' time, she could return to work. She had an appointment later on that day to have her hair done, and she thought she'd make a special meal tomorrow night to celebrate.

The bell rang a third time as she reached the last flight of stairs.

'All right, I'm coming,' she called out. She hoped it wasn't the police again; now that she had begun to try to put all that business behind her, she didn't want anyone bringing it up again.

She opened the door and to her astonishment there stood her mother, wearing a pink two-piece. Fifi was so surprised she was rendered speechless.

'Well, say something,' Clara said. '"Come in" would be nice.'

'I'm sorry, I'm just so taken aback,' Fifi said, almost stammering with shock. 'What are you doing in London?'

'Your father had to go and see someone at King's College, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to come and visit you.'

Ever since they moved into Dale Street, a surprise visit from her parents had always been Fifi's greatest fear. While she felt some relief that she'd cleaned the living room that morning, she dreaded to think what her mother would make of the kitchen on the landing.

Fifi invited her in, even kissed her cheek, and then led the way upstairs. Clara seemed surprised her arm was still in plaster, as she seemed to think it had been broken much longer than six weeks ago.

'How nice,' Clara said as Fifi showed her into the living room. But it didn't sound a sincere compliment, only a display of the good manners she had always prided herself on. 'It is a rather grim street,' she added, going over to the window to look out. 'Which house was the child murdered in?'

Fifi's heart sank. 'You heard about it then?' she asked.

'Well, of course I did, it was in all the nationals,' Clara said tersely. 'You could have told us yourself, we shouldn't have had to read of your involvement in the papers.'

'As you weren't particularly sympathetic about me losing my baby, I didn't think you'd be interested in hearing about the death of a complete stranger,' Fifi said cuttingly.

'Ghastly business,' Clara continued, almost as if she hadn't heard what her daughter had said. 'Is it that house? The one with no curtains?' she asked, pointing at number 11. 'Do they know yet whether it was the mother or father?'

'Yes, it was that house, and no, we don't know for sure which of them did it, or even if it was someone else. But I'd rather not talk about that, Mum, I'm trying to forget about it. How is Patty? Is she still going out with Michael?'

Fifi had received a very funny letter from her sister on Monday. She said she was getting bored with Michael because he only ever wanted to stay in and watch television with her. She said he hadn't even got it in him to try to seduce her.

'Michael's a good boy,' Clara said vaguely, without turning away from the window. 'Oh! A coal yard so close to you! How dreadful.'

'Okay, Mum.' Fifi thought she'd try humour. 'The street, complete with coal yard and resident child murderer, is grim. Most of the other neighbours are what you'd call "Not Our Sort". I will have to be a witness at the trial too. But looking on the bright side, Dan and I are looking for a new flat. My plaster comes off tomorrow and I'm going back to work next week.'

'It's no joking matter.' Clara turned to face her daughter, her face tight with disapproval. 'Whatever were you thinking of coming to live in a place like this?'

'It was cheap and available.' Fifi shrugged. 'Now, would you like tea or coffee? Could I make you a sandwich? Or would you rather go somewhere more salubrious?'

Clara sat down. She looked as if she wanted confrontation but knew it wasn't the best course. 'Tea would be nice,' she said brightly. 'The curtains are very pretty. Did you make them?'

Fifi nipped out and lit the gas under the kettle. 'No, Yvette, the lady across the road, made them for me,' she called back. 'She's French, and a fabulous dressmaker. She makes clothes for rich women in Chelsea and Kensington. She gave me those silk cushions for a house-warming present.'

As Fifi came back into the room she found her mother examining one of the cushions.

'If she can sew like this and has wealthy clients, why does she live here?' Clara asked.

'It's very difficult to find flats in London,' Fifi said. 'I've been to several letting agencies in the last few days. It's almost impossible to find anywhere central for less than fifteen pounds a week.'

'Fifteen pounds a week!' Clara exclaimed. 'You could rent a mansion in Bristol for that.'

Over tea, Fifi learned that Robin had got a girlfriend called Anna, who her mother thought was gormless. Peter was drinking too much in her opinion and she didn't understand why Patty was growing tired of Michael.

Fifi had to smile. It was a first to hear her mother complaining about her other children.

'It's sensible to stay in and save money if you want to get married,' Clara went on about Patty. 'She doesn't know when she's well off. Most young men these days want flashy cars. Michael is so sensible, he rides a bike.'

'I don't think "sensible" is very attractive to many girls,' Fifi said, trying hard to keep a straight face. 'Besides, I don't think Patty wants to marry Michael.'

'I can't think why not! He's got a good job in a bank, he's steady and reliable.'

Patty had described Michael as pudding-faced, unadventurous and inclined to smell of BO because he wore nylon shirts. Now Fifi knew he rode a bike, and was considered steady and reliable by her mother, she thought she'd hate him on sight.

'Getting married isn't the be-all and end-all for girls these days,' she said. 'I'm glad Patty doesn't think she has to marry the first man that asks her.'

'Like you did?' Clara said waspishly.

'Dan wasn't the first to ask me. Hugh did too,' Fifi said evenly, telling herself she mustn't rise to her mother's bait.

'And I certainly don't regret marrying him. We are very happy together it's our first anniversary next month.'

'I am well aware of that. From the day you got married I stopped being able to sleep at nights. I had to go to the doctor in the end for some tablets. I wish I could make you see what you've done to our family.'

Fifi found she couldn't ignore that.

'What exactly have I done to our family?' she asked.

'The boys hardly come home any more, Patty's not the same, and your father blames me for it all.'

'It's not my fault that the boys have got out from under your thumb, it's a sign they are growing up. Patty is changing too for the same reason. If you can't sleep at night just because I married a man I love, then perhaps you need to see a psychiatrist!'

'Are you saying I'm mad?' Clara's voice rose to a squeak. 'Any mother would be worried sick when her daughter's husband mixes with people who attack him in dark alleys, and she consorts with murderers.'

Fifi felt like asking why, if her mother was so worried, she didn't write to her. There hadn't been one letter since the curt one after she lost the baby. But instead she decided to deal with more recent issues.

'Even the police don't know who attacked Dan, and I do not consort with murderers. Why did you come here today, Mum? I thought for a brief moment it might be because you wanted to make it up. But it isn't, is it? I bet Dad suggested you came, and you felt you had to go through the motions or he'd be cross with you. What are you going to tell him? That I was impossible as usual?'

'You are. There's no talking to you.'

Fifi shook her head despairingly. 'Mum, you've only been here just twenty minutes and yet in that short time you've accused me of being a bad influence on Patty and the boys. Of forcing you to take sleeping tablets. You make snide suggestions about Dan and claim I consort with murderers. It's you who are impossible!'

There was sudden silence. Fifi decided she wasn't going to be the one to break it.

She looked objectively at her mother. She was a very pretty woman, with a good figure and smooth, clear skin. She had tied her blonde hair back loosely at the nape of her neck with a pink ribbon to match her two-piece. She really didn't look old enough to have a daughter of Fifi's age. She had a good life, with a husband who adored her. So why was she so confrontational about everything?

'What will you do if you can't find another flat?' Clara broke the silence first.

'We'll stay here until we've got enough for a deposit to buy a house,' Fifi said. 'That won't take long once I get back to work.'

'There are some nice new little houses in Horfield,' Clara said.