"We had a row in the street about the way he was treating Alan and he pushed my arm up behind my back and said if I ever interfered again he'd wipe the smile off my face." It's not a complete lie, I thought. The place was wrong, and the threat-which had nothing to do with my smile-was inflicted anyway, but Derek had certainly told me never to interfere again. "So I did what any sensible person would do and reported him to the police," I told her, "but they didn't believe me and repeated what I'd said to Derek."
If I were telling it as it really was, I would have added that I was betrayed twice in as many days by the same policeman and reaped a double dose of Derek's anger in consequence. But I wanted to woo Beth with amused indifference, not frighten her off with evidence of her father-in-law's savagery.
Her eyes widened. "What did he do?"
"Nothing much," I lied. "He was a typical bully-bluster on the outside and blancmange inside." I paused. "Danny told me he disappeared after Alan gave him a thrashing with a baseball bat?" I put an upward inflection into my voice, and Beth nodded. "So where did he go? Does anyone know?"
"Al doesn't talk about him much, except to say he doesn't want him anywhere near our kids. I know he went to prison because Sally got his address off a con who'd done time with him. It was before Tan's christening and she kept pestering us to invite him. She said he was back in London and wanted to meet up with his family again"-she shrugged-"but Al said if he showed his face here he'd get another thrashing, and that's what caused most of the aggro at the party. Sally and Pauline said Derek was skint and needed help, and Al said he could die of starvation before he'd lift a finger for him."
"Weren't you worried he'd come anyway?"
She glanced at the dog. "That's why Al got Satan. He wanted a Rottweiler but I said it'd be too dangerous with kids. Mind, I thought it was money down the drain at the time." She flexed the muscles in her right arm. "I reckon I'd be able to deal with Derek ... no trouble ... if he dared push his way in here, but Satan's sort of grown on us and I wouldn't be without him now."
I wanted to warn her against complacency, but instead I murmured, "Still ... it's not surprising Alan was worried, particularly if Derek was close."
"Not that close. Sally said he was shacked up with some bird out Whitechapel way."
"He was lucky to find someone."
"Too right. I said the bird needed her bloody head examined-unless, of course, he hadn't bothered to tell her he was a wife-beater-and Sally got miffed and said I shouldn't spread rumors about people I'd never met. So I said, 'I'll remind you of that when he clobbers this one.' "
I smiled. "What did Maureen say?"
Beth grinned back. "Said it was a pity Derek hadn't died of drink years ago and that the two girls deserved everything they got if they let him swan back into their lives just because he was family. She got well worked up, said he'd done his best to ruin their lives when they were children and if they had any sense they'd keep well away from him now."
"Better late than never, I suppose," I said dryly. "She didn't do much to protect them when they were living with him."
A thoughtful expression creased Beth's forehead and I wondered if I'd displayed my prejudice a little too blatantly. "Except I reckon she was just as bad. It was her who bought the baseball bat, you know ... not to use against Derek ... but to beat her kids about the head whenever they annoyed her."
"How do you know?"
"Danny was teasing Al one day about being slow on the uptake. He said it was because his mum had addled his brains with the bat."
"Was she strong enough?" I asked doubtfully.
"According to Danny she was. He said she was like a wild animal when she was in a temper, and you either scarpered or locked yourself in the toilet till she calmed down." She watched my frown of disbelief and gave a small shrug. "I couldn't swear on oath that it's true-Danny's always telling fibs-but it was pretty convincing at the time. Let's put it this way, Al didn't deny it-just told me never to lift a finger against Jace and Tan or I'd be answering to him. So I said, 'You've gotta be joking! Since when have I ever raised my hand in anger to anyone?' " She grinned suddenly. "And I told him straight, it's fucking rich coming from a bloke who calls his dog Satan and reckons the only way to discipline him is to take a rolled-up newspaper to his backside," She blew an air kiss toward the animal, which raised its head immediately and thumped its tail on the floor. "I mean, what kind of way is that to train a dog when he'll do anything as long as you give him a biscuit?"
Satan and I examined each other cautiously. "He's a good guard dog," I murmured. "I wouldn't fancy my chances much if I were Derek."
"He'd rip his throat out soon as look at him," said Beth. "I used to tie Satan to the pram outside shops when the kids were smaller. He growled at anyone who came closer than six yards, which meant I could do my shopping in peace without worrying about someone stealing my babies."
"Amazing! And he does all that for a biscuit?"
Her grin broadened. "Don't knock it," she said. "It's a damn sight more effective than beating the poor brute with a newspaper. That just made him vicious."
"Mm." Ripping throats out seemed fairly vicious to me, and I wondered how he'd react if I stood up unexpectedly. I glanced at my watch. "I really ought to be going," I said, putting reluctance into my voice. "It's a long journey back to Dorchester and Sam will be wondering where I am."
"Al'll be sorry to have missed you."
I nodded. "It's a shame. I'll phone first another time." I finished my tea and stood up. "Can I say good-bye to the children?"
"You surely can. They're in the sitting room. I'd be interested what you think of it." She pointed to the floor as a growl rose in Satan's throat and he subsided immediately.
"So when does he get the biscuit?" I asked, following her into the hall.
"When I feel like it. That's why he does what I tell him. He's never too sure when the moment will come."
"Does it work with husbands and children as well?"
She flattened her palm and made a rocking gesture. "It depends what the treat is. Biscuits don't work so well on Al. He likes basques and black stockings better." She grinned as I gave a splutter of laughter. "The kids are in here," she said, opening a door. "You'd better like it because it took me two months to finish. I'll phone for a cab while you're looking."
I did like it, although it was totally out of keeping with a 1930s semi. It can't have been bigger than five meters square, but it was decorated in Mexican style with an arched ceiling, tessellated floor, roughly stuccoed walls and an ornate bronze candelabra hanging from the ceiling. French windows opened out onto a tiny patio, and a huge rococo mirror, with a myriad of tilted facets in a scrolled gilt frame, reflected the light in indiscriminate dazzling shafts across every available surface. Even the fireplace had been transformed into something that would have been more at home on a ranch than in a back street in Isleworth, with a brass artillery shell laden with silk flowers standing in the hearth. I wondered why she'd done this room so differently from the rest.
"It's all fake," said Jason from the corner where he and his sister were watching television. "Mum just painted it to make it look real."
I tapped my foot on the tessellated floor and listened to the hollow ring of wood. "She's a clever lady," I said, touching a hand to the rough stucco and feeling the smoothness of plaster. "Did she make the mirror as well?"
"Yup. And the candy-laber."
"What about the picture?" I asked, gazing at the Quetzalcoatl mosaic on the wall.
"That's Dad's."
"The sofa and chairs?"
"Ten quid, job lot, from a junk shop," said Beth proudly behind me. "And five quid for the patchwork throws. I begged, borrowed and stole material ... dresses ... old curtains ... tablecloths ... whatever ... from everyone I knew. The five quid went on the reels of cotton to do the sewing. What do you think?"