Bye Bye Love. Patricia Burns

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ through the door. She knew by the way they were standing, by the way they turned as she entered the room. She knew by the look on their faces.

      ‘Mum?’ she croaked. ‘She’s not—? Please say she’s not—’

      There was a ringing in her ears. Everything was blurred, everything but the woman lying on the floor, the dear woman who was the rock of her life, the one dependable point upon which everything else was fixed.

      ‘Mum!’ she wailed, running forward, dropping to her knees. She grasped one of the limp hands in hers, clasping it to her chest. ‘Mum, don’t go, don’t leave me!’

      Hands were restraining her, arms were round her shoulders. She shook them off.

      ‘No, no! She can’t be dead, she can’t!’

      Dr Collins was listening to Joan’s chest, feeling for a pulse in her neck.

      ‘Do something!’ Scarlett screamed. ‘You’ve got to do something!’

      Two strong hands were holding the tops of her arms now.

      ‘Now, then, that’s enough,’ a firm female voice was saying.

      Scarlett ignored her. She was staring wildly at her mother, at the doctor, willing him to perform some miracle of medical science. But he just gave a sad little shake of the head.

      ‘I’m sorry, Scarlett—’

      ‘No!’ Scarlett howled. Her chest was heaving with sobs, tears welled up and spilled over in a storm of weeping. Her father was there, kneeling beside her, pulling her into his arms. Together they rocked and wept, oblivious to the people around them.

      ‘She was the best woman in the world,’ Victor croaked. ‘A gem, a diamond—’

      Scarlett could only bury her face in his broad chest and cry and cry. It was like the end of the world.

      After that came a terrible time of official things to be done. However much Scarlett and Victor wanted to shut out the world and mourn the dear woman who had gone, there were people to see, forms to sign, things to arrange. The funeral was very well attended. The Red Lion was a centre of village life. Joan had been there behind the bar all through the terrible war years and the difficult days of austerity afterwards. Everyone missed her round smiling face and her sympathetic ear.

      ‘She was a wonderful woman,’ people said as they left the church.

      ‘One of the best.’

      ‘Salt of the earth.’

      ‘She’ll be much missed.’

      Standing by her father’s side, Scarlett nodded and shook hands and muttered thanks.

      ‘You’re a good girl,’ people said to her. ‘A credit to your mother, a chip off the old block.’

      And all the while she wanted to scream and shout and rage against what had happened. This couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be happening to her. Her mother couldn’t really have gone and left her like this.

      But she had, and there was worse to come.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ONE Saturday about three weeks after the funeral, Scarlett walked into the lounge bar to find her father sitting on a stool at the bar counter staring morosely at a letter. He looked dreadful. There were bags under his eyes, a day’s growth of stubble on his chin and he hadn’t bothered to brush his hair.

      ‘We’ve got to get out,’ he said.

      Scarlett stared at him. ‘What do you mean, get out?’

      ‘The brewery wants us gone. They’ve been holding the licence for us since your mum—’ He hesitated. Neither of them could bring themselves to say the word died. ‘But they won’t go on doing that for ever. They want a licensee on the premises to deal with any bother.’

      Long ago when Scarlett had first learnt to read, she had asked why only her mother had her name above the pub door as licensee. She had been told that the brewery preferred to have a woman in charge and, since the brewery’s word was law as far as they were concerned, she had never really thought to question it.

      ‘But surely they wouldn’t mind having your name up there now,’ she said. ‘You’ve been here for years. Everyone likes you. They all say what a good landlord you are. The brewery must know that, surely? And I could help as much as possible. We can keep it going between us.’

      ‘It’s not as easy as that,’ her father said.

      ‘What do you mean?’

      Victor sighed. He dropped his head in his hands and ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up on end. Fear wormed through Scarlett’s stomach. This was her dad. When things went wrong, her dad was always there with his cheery manner, making it all right again.

      ‘Oh, we don’t have to bother ourselves about a little old thing like that,’ he would say. ‘Worse things happen at sea.’ Or, ‘It’ll all come out in the wash.’ And generally he was right. Up till now, whatever life had thrown at them, they had coped. Surely he could solve whatever was worrying him this time?

      ‘I can’t hold a licence,’ he admitted.

      Scarlett stared at him. ‘Why not?’ she demanded.

      ‘Because I can’t, all right?’

      Fear fuelled the anger that had been simmering in her ever since her mother had died.

      ‘No, it isn’t all right! You say we’ve got to leave here, leave the Red Lion, because you can’t hold a licence? I want to know why.’

      ‘Look, it’s best you don’t know.’

      The anger boiled over, all the irrational resentment at what had happened, even at her mother for going and leaving them when they needed her so much.

      ‘I want to know! I’ve got to leave my home because of whatever it is. I’ve got a right to know!’

      Victor rubbed his face and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Because—’ his voice came out as a croak ‘—oh, God, Scarlett, this is so hard. Worse than telling your mother—’

      ‘Go on!’ Scarlett raged.

      Victor still wouldn’t look at her. ‘Because I’ve got a record,’ he admitted.

      His whole body seemed to sag in defeat.

      Scarlett did not understand at first. She gazed at her big strong dad, who used to throw her up in the air and catch her, who could move the heavy beer casks around the cellar with ease, who could down a yard of ale quicker than anyone. All at once he seemed somehow smaller.

      ‘A record? What do you mean? What sort of—?’ And then the truth dawned on her. ‘You mean a police record?’

      She couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it. It just wasn’t true. Her dad wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was everyone’s friend. He СКАЧАТЬ