Shannon had, however, done the groundwork somehow, because Rhona did agree to let Jude come and see her. Maybe it was a gender thing. The old woman didn’t like being treated by a man. Shannon said she thought that was probably it. In future, she’d always recommend a male therapist for a man, and a female for a woman. Jude, whose experience did not support that approach – she had had an equal success rate with clients of both genders – had not taken issue about it.
At their first encounter, Rhona was very suspicious, but Jude’s easy manner had worked its customary magic. Since then, the old woman had expressed strong views on many subjects but she hadn’t said a word of disparagement about alternative medicine.
That day she and Jude were in the downstairs front room of the younger Sheffords’ house, an unimaginatively designed seventies four-bedroomed number called, for no very good reason, Waggoners. Ideal for a young couple with two infant sons, which is what Billy and Shannon had been when they bought it. Whether the house was quite so suited to accommodating a dying mother-in-law, as well, was a subject on which Billy had been heard to express views after a couple of pints in the Crown and Anchor.
Certainly, in the eight months since Shannon had decided her mother could no longer manage in her own flat, Rhona’s presence at Waggoners had caused visible disruption. For a few weeks, she had been allocated the spare room, between the two boys’ bedrooms on the first floor. But the stairs soon became too much for her to cope with, and Shannon had declared that her mother must have the front room, formerly the family sitting room. The change required a certain amount of DIY input from Billy. New shelves were needed to fit around the pieces of furniture Rhona had brought with her from the flat. A handrail had to be erected by the step up to the front door (though it became increasingly rare for the old lady to go outside the house). More rails had to be fixed in the hall on the route to the downstairs lavatory, and some inside the lavatory itself, which was now designated for Rhona’s exclusive use.
All of this work Billy Shefford undertook without complaint, though occasionally Jude got the impression he was asking himself if it was really necessary. It was, after all, only a matter of time before all of these geriatric aids would need to be removed. But, from her observations of Billy and Shannon’s marriage, Jude got the impression that such reservations would never be voiced.
Shannon had always adored her mother – ‘I love her to bits’ she kept saying – and that unalterable fact Billy had had to take on board right from the beginnings of their relationship. Those beginnings went a long way back. Billy and Shannon were childhood sweethearts. They had got together at the comprehensive in Clincham when they were both fourteen, and neither had had eyes for anyone else since. They had married four years later; ‘far too early’, in the opinion of Rhona, who was still going on about it that morning while Jude was treating her.
‘Shannon was definitely university material,’ she repeated. ‘Her teachers at the school said that. She could have gone on and got a proper qualification, rather than tying herself down with a garage mechanic.’
Jude had heard the contempt in the last two words many times before, but never made any comment. Rhona thought her beloved only daughter had married beneath her, and nothing would change that opinion. Jude felt considerable sympathy for Billy. He had accepted the mother as part of the package when he took up with the daughter. He had known Rhona would always be critical of him, but now the critic was firmly embedded inside his own house.
Jude decided to put up a minor defence of the poor man. ‘He’s a bit more than a garage mechanic now, Rhona. He and Shannon have a very enviable lifestyle.’
This was greeted by an entirely predictable, ‘Huh. Shannon could have done a lot better for herself on her own. If she’d gone to university, she could have become a lawyer or something like that. Moved in professional circles, ended up marrying someone who was more on her sort of … intellectual level. They make a lot of money, top lawyers, you know. Much more than garage owners.’
‘Well, from what I’ve seen of them together,’ said Jude, palliative in more ways than one, ‘Shannon and Billy seem to have a very happy marriage.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive,’ said Rhona darkly.
It struck Jude for the first time that maybe the old woman’s antipathy for her son-in-law arose from a dislike of men. All men. Jude had never heard any mention made of Shannon’s father. Had he abandoned Rhona with a young baby, leaving her to bring Shannon up on her own? And had that betrayal sparked in Rhona a distrust of the entire gender? It was a mildly interesting speculation but, Jude reminded herself, not really her business. Her sole function at that moment was to alleviate the discomforts of a dying woman.
And Rhona’s sole function at that moment – as at many other moments – seemed to be to continue criticizing her son-in-law. ‘Anyway, I’m not sure Billy’s future’s that secure at the moment.’
‘Oh?’
‘He’s worked for his dad all these years and everyone reckoned that, when Bill finally retired, the son’d take over. After Valerie died, Bill made a will leaving the business to Billy. But is that still going to happen now his dad’s taken up with this Chink?’
Jude, careful not to show any reaction, winced inwardly. Rhona’s generation were not great exponents of political correctness. All she said, mildly reproving, was, ‘Malee’s from Thailand.’
‘Thailand, China, they’re all the same. Can’t trust Asians. Gold-diggers, money-grubbers, the lot of them.’
‘I don’t think you’re being fair, Rhona. You can’t condemn a whole nation like that.’
‘Why not? I speak as I find. And I know that this Molly, or whatever she’s called, is only after Bill Shefford’s money.’
‘You can’t be sure of that.’
‘Oh no? So, tell me … what else is going to make a balding, overweight seventy-year-old man attractive to a girl in her twenties?’
‘I think Malee is actually older than—’
‘Poppycock! She’s got her claws into Bill all right. She only lets him out of her sight to go to the garage. She’s cut him off from all his old mates. Bill used to go fishing every Sunday with his chum, Red. He did that back when Valerie was alive. Him and Red had been at school together, with Valerie and all. I always liked Red – nice boy. Very fond of Valerie, he was. Shy man, could seem a bit standoffish, but always very polite to me. Not, of course, that I’ve seen him recently.
‘Because, you know why? Has Bill been fishing once since she’s been on the scene? No. She’s put a stop to that. Which means of course I don’t get to have a natter with Red. Which I always enjoyed. He and I think alike on most things.
‘But oh no, we don’t see Red now. She’s jealous of Bill seeing other people, afraid someone will put him right about who he’s actually got himself mixed up with. A gold-digger. She’s only ever been after Bill’s money and all she wants to do is diddle Billy out of his inheritance!’
Fortunately, further pirouettes in this circular argument went prevented by the appearance of Rhona’s daughter. Shannon Shefford was a tall, well-muscled woman in her late forties. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a no-nonsense T-shirt and jeans.
‘Hi, Jude. Hello, Mum, how’re you doing?’ Instinctively, she bent down to kiss the wrinkled cheek.
‘Mustn’t grumble,’ said Rhona. Then, after a well-judged pause, ‘Though, of course, I do. But I don’t need to tell you that.’
Her daughter’s presence had had an immediate effect on the old woman, mellowing, making her less spiky. Shannon’s love was clearly reciprocated.