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.
Fifi wondered if that was a suggestion they come back to Bristol. ‘I expect they are the ones Dan was working on,’ she said. ‘It would be lovely to come back and live in Bristol but he couldn’t be sure of getting work there, not like here where they are crying out for skilled bricklayers.’
‘I wish you would come back,’ Clara said unexpectedly. ‘Patty and your father miss you.’
‘What about you?’ Fifi asked hesitantly.
‘Of course I do. It’s not right to have one of my children so far away.’
‘And Dan? Would you be prepared to see him as part of our family?’
‘I’d try,’ Clara said. ‘I can’t say fairer than that.’
Fifi’s heart leaped for it seemed as if at last her mother wanted to build bridges. ‘It’s a start,’ she said, and her smile was a joyous one. ‘I’ve missed all of you, and I’ve hated the way it’s been between us. Maybe when the trial is over and we’ve got on our feet again, we can come down to Bristol and give moving back some thought.’
Clara looked at her reflectively, perhaps surprised her daughter had met her halfway. ‘Now will you tell me about this murder?’ she asked, clearly anxious to move on to safer ground. ‘Maybe if I understood about it all I wouldn’t be so frightened by it. No one I know has ever been a witness to anything like this.’
It seemed quite ironic to Fifi that she’d been unable to get any of the people she classed as friends around here to discuss the ins and outs of the case, yet her mother was desperately eager to hear it all.
She could be a good listener when she chose, and Fifi found herself pouring out all the detail, how it had affected her, and the aspects which were still baffling.
Every now and then Clara would stop her to question something. She winced from time to time at the more graphic descriptions, but she didn’t interrupt with any opinions or snobby remarks.
‘It’s been good to talk it over with you,’ Fifi finished up. ‘I really struggled just after it happened. Dan didn’t want to talk about it, and I’d sort of got everything stuck in my head.’
It was in fact the first heart-to-heart talk she’d ever had with her mother, and it felt good, as though they’d taken a huge leap forward.
‘Your father never wants to discuss things either. I think it’s a male thing. Maybe by refusing to talk they think it will go away. But what an ordeal for you, darling! It must have been appalling.’
‘I’m well over the worst of it now,’ Fifi said. ‘I just hope to God it really was Alfie and the police can prove it.’
As Fifi said this, she realized that in fact it was this slim possibility that Alfie was innocent which was causing most of her anxiety. Once she knew for absolute certain that it was him, she felt she’d be able to put it all aside. She admitted as much to her mother.
‘It must have been him,’ Clara said firmly. ‘If it was one of those other men at the card game, or one of your neighbours, the police would have found out by now. I bet he’s only trying to muddy the waters by not admitting who was there with him that night. Look at it logically, Fifi, why would anyone else kill her? And how can the couple claim they loved the child if they were prepared to leave her alone in the house while they swanned off to the seaside? They are evil people and they deserve to be hung, drawn and quartered.’
Fifi made them both a ham sandwich and more tea and at long last Clara began to behave as if she was glad to be there. She helped Fifi finish making the bed and admired the bookcase Dan had found in a junk shop and painted. She even praised the cleanliness of the bathroom after visiting it.
Clara had to leave and meet her husband about the time Fifi had her hair appointment. She offered to cancel it and go with her mother, but Clara wouldn’t hear of it.
‘It’s not worth you coming with me for just five minutes with your father, we’ve got to catch the train at five,’ she said pleasantly. ‘You keep your hair appointment, it will make you feel good about yourself tomorrow when the plaster comes off.’
‘I feel good just because you came,’ Fifi said, impulsively hugging Clara. ‘I really am sorry I caused you both such distress, I hope we can start again now.’
Clara took Fifi’s face between her two hands and kissed her forehead, just the way she did when Fifi was a little girl. ‘It was good to see you,’ she said. ‘A mother always worries about her eldest child the most, and perhaps expects too much. You’ll find that out when you have children. I don’t know if I’ll ever really like Dan, but I will promise to try. If he can get a long weekend off work, then come home to see us.’
On the way to the tube station Fifi felt she had to ask her mother to explain the remark she’d made on the evening of her wedding day.
‘Did people really say you should put me in an institution when I was little?’
Clara blushed. ‘I never meant to tell you that,’ she said. ‘I was angry.’
‘But was it true?’
‘Yes and no. Child guidance did suggest a special school, but that made me so angry I never took you to them again. But that was the only suggestion, and I’m ashamed I told you in such a nasty way.’
‘I must have given you a very hard time,’ Fifi said thoughtfully. A year ago her childhood problems had seemed funny and she’d never seriously considered how worrying it must have been for her parents.
‘You couldn’t help it, dear,’ Clara said. ‘Now, don’t let’s bring up any more unpleasant things we’ve said to one another. We need to forgive and forget.’
They parted at the tube station, where Clara bought a big bunch of flowers which she gave to Fifi. ‘I could see you’d made a great effort to make your flat a real home, that pleased me. Now ring me, and if you haven’t got enough change for the phone I can always ring you back so we can have a chat. I hope the trial won’t be too long off, it must be dragging you down worrying about it. If you want us there to support you, just ask.’
Fifi’s eyes filled with tears at such sweetness from her mother. ‘Thank you, Mummy,’ she said, feeling like a little girl again. ‘Give Dad, Patty and the boys my love. I feel all hopeful now.’
That evening Dan listened to Fifi’s jubilant tale about the visit with a wry smirk. ‘It’s nice to see you so happy to be thrown crumbs from the table,’ he said.
‘What do you mean, “crumbs from the table”?’ she asked indignantly. ‘She was really nice!’
‘She had to be to get the lowdown on the murder, and to get in here to inspect the flat. I wouldn’t mind betting that as we speak she’s telling your father that she’s almost persuaded you to come back to Bristol, and once you’re back where you belong it will only be a matter of time before I get the big elbow.’
‘Don’t be so nasty,’ Fifi snapped. ‘Can’t you just be glad she’s coming round?’
‘No, because I don’t believe it,’ he said. ‘You said yourself she was snotty when she first arrived. She only warmed up once you gave her all the dirt about over the road. You told her that I was fed up with you talking about it, I expect, and she saw that as a chink in the armour.’