Unspoken: A story of secrets, love and revenge T. Belshaw (good books to read for beginners txt) 📖

realised with a shock how parchment-like her skin was without the rouge that she had been applying over the last few days. She hadn’t been able to rub it into her cheeks that morning because she had never been out of sight of Jess or Gwen.

Her eyes were dimmer too, that famous glint of mischief was no longer there. Her forearms were thin, the skin hanging off them, the hands that she had spent so much time on over the years, had the look of chicken’s feet. Jess reeled. How could she have deteriorated like this in such a short space of time, and why hadn’t she, the one who loved her so much, noticed it happening?

When Alice returned her stare, Jess retrieved her voice recorder from the bag and was about to press the on switch when Alice asked her if she knew the story behind her own parents’ antipathy towards her.

Jess shook her head. ‘I assumed it was the same reason Gran and Marjorie had.’

‘No, although it’s not all that different a story.’

She stopped suddenly.

‘Are you sure you want to hear it, Jessica? You will almost certainly be shocked by it. I don’t want you to be upset.’

‘Tell me, Nana. I want to know. It’s always been a puzzle and they’d never tell me when I asked.’

‘I’m not surprised to be honest,’ said Alice with a shake of her head. ‘I wouldn’t want anyone to know either.’

Chapter 39

Alice

Your mother and father were, on the surface, a relatively happy couple. Martha despised them for it. In her mind they had somehow stolen the happiness that she and Roger should have been enjoying.

When you came along in the summer of ninety-four, there were no joyous visits to the hospital from a loving, first-time grandmother, no excited telephone calls and demands for photographs when your mother took you home. Instead, all that was sent was a cheap, supermarket card, with one word scrawled across it. Congratulations. Marjorie treated your birth in the same unforgivable manner.

I, on the other hand, visited you at the hospital every afternoon. I had my picture taken with you and handed over a generous donation to your – what was the term, some Americanism that doesn’t make sense… Baby … Bath? … No, Shower. I have no idea where Nicola got the idea from, possibly the American pen pal she had written to for years. Anyway, she had this big party and just about every woman she had ever spoken to in her life, was invited. Only half a dozen turned up though. Martha and Marjorie declined, but I went.

The money was supposed to be placed in a bank account that your father claimed to have opened in your name on the day that your birth had been registered, but I later found out, from your mother, that he used most of the money to pay off one of his debts and he gambled the remainder away. Your mother wasn’t happy about it and I was furious. I ended up setting up an account for you myself that you could access at twenty-one. You were at Uni at the time it matured and it turned out to be very timely, what with fees and what have you.

Anyway, I’m waffling now.

Your father was a salesman for an office supply company and he was very good at it, but he was also a heavy gambler. When he was away from home, visiting out of town clients, he used to seek out illegal poker games, or he’d go to the dog track or horse racing meetings. Sadly, he wasn’t as good a gambler as he was a salesman, and he was soon in serious trouble with money lenders.

When you were eleven, you moved house. Your father told you it was because he needed the money from the house sale to invest in a new project that his colleague at work was setting up.

The rented house was smaller, older, shabbier, and not a patch on the one your parents had just sold, but luckily you could still go to the same school. That was the only good thing about the whole episode.

Now, enough history, you know all that. Here’s what really happened behind the scenes.

Your mother came to see me in a blind panic one Friday afternoon.

‘Gran, I’m desperate, I need your help.’

I took her through to the front room where I had denied financial assistance to Martha all those years before.

I cut straight to the chase.

‘How much and what for?’

‘Twenty thousand pounds. I can’t tell you why, Gran. It’s too painful.’

I told her that if she didn’t spill the beans there wasn’t a hope in hell of her getting anything out of me.

‘It’s Owen. He’s been gambling again.’

This news wasn’t a surprise to me after the way he’d stolen the money I’d handed over at your Baby…thingy, so I sat there, said nothing and waited for it all to come out.

‘He’s got big debts, Gran.’ Her hands were shaking. ‘We’ve never had much money to throw about, what with the mortgage rate being as high as it is, but we did have enough to get by on. After he stole Jess’s baby fund money, I laid the law down. He had to stop gambling or I would sue for divorce. I also told him that he had to visit Gamblers Anonymous sessions. I used to drive him there every week, and pick him up afterwards. I know he stayed for the duration of the meetings because I’d sit in the car park for two hours and watch the exit in case he sneaked out.’

I began to develop a modicum of respect for Nicola. She had come down hard on him. It’s what I would have done too.

She went on. ‘The sessions appeared to have worked. Over the next five years we managed to pay off most of the debts he’d accrued and there was hope on the horizon. We even started to plan for a holiday abroad. Then