Tommy liked Len Upwood on sight and was pleased with the man’s qualifications. He had a round, friendly, open face below light brown hair and Tommy only had one reservation – Len was in his late thirties and he might not take kindly to being given orders by a twenty-one-year-old. Yet even as that thought crossed his mind, Tommy realised that the man’s age and experience could work to his advantage. If the business took off and he could employ more staff, with his qualifications, Len would make an excellent foreman.
He decided to give Len a try to see if they could work well together and said, ‘At the moment this is a small business, passed on to me by my father. I’d like to expand and to eventually employ more staff, however, for now, if I offer you the job it would just be the two of us. How do you feel about coming to work for me on a trial basis? Let’s say for a month, and if it works out I’d be happy to make it a permanent position. I can match your previous wage, and though I can’t guarantee it on a regular basis, there will be the opportunity for overtime.’
‘That sounds fine to me, Mr Frost. I’d like to take the job.’
‘Good, and call me Tommy. There’s only one other thing. When can you start?’
‘How about tomorrow?’
‘Great,’ Tommy said, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. ‘For now, until I can get another van delivered, I’ll do the in-house glass cutting and you can go out on installations. There are several jobs lined up for tomorrow, so I’ll see you at eight o’clock sharp.’
‘I’ll be here on the dot and thanks, Mr Frost.’
‘Tommy.’
‘Yeah, sorry, Tommy,’ Len said, and both standing up, they walked together to the unit’s exit door.
Tommy was glad to have the man on board. It was the first time he’d had to interview anyone for a job, and
he just hoped that in Len, he’d made a good choice.
Carol had awoken that morning feeling better, at least physically. Her mental state was another matter. At first, her only thought had been to get rid of the baby, one that had been conceived from rape instead of love. Now though, seeing other women in the ward in varying stages of pregnancy, she was beginning to feel a sense of loss; that the baby she’d been carrying hadn’t just been Roy’s, it had been a part of her too.
Her feelings seemed to be echoed by the young woman who was continually crying, and later that day Carol felt worse when the sour-faced nurse told her that, though the young woman was desperate for a baby, it had been her fourth miscarriage. Carol had closed her eyes against the disapproval on the nurse’s face as she attended to her – she could guess what the nurse was thinking; that she had taken a life, killed her baby, while that poor woman longed to have one.
When the doctor began his rounds, Carol hoped he’d discharge her. She wanted to go home, to get out of this ward, but he insisted that she remain another day. A dark cloud of depression now hung over her, and she escaped into sleep, spending most of the day dozing on and off until visiting time.
‘Hello, love, how are you feeling?’
Carol looked up at her father and as he put the pillows behind her back, she sat up. ‘I want to come home, Dad. I pleaded with the doctor and he said I can leave tomorrow, so can you bring me some clothes in the morning?’
‘It’ll have to wait until the evening. I can’t take another day off work.’
Carol felt tears flooding her eyes and said, ‘Please, Dad, you could drop them off early, before you go to work and if you bring my purse too, I … I can get a taxi home.’
He looked about to protest, but then his hand reached out and with one finger he gently wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘All right, I’ll do that then, but with your mother gone, you’ll be coming home to an empty house. As far as anyone knows, you had a bout of food poisoning, your mother too, so nobody has twigged yet that she walked out. Make sure that if you see anyone, you keep to that story for now.’
‘I will, but have you heard from Mum?’ Carol asked, still unable to accept that her mother had left and sure that she’d come back at any moment.
‘No, not a word,’ he said then adding softly, ‘Come on, don’t start crying again. It may be just the two of us now, but we’ll be all right. You’ve had a rough time, but can stay at home and forget about work for a while.’
‘Yes, all right,’ Carol agreed meekly. All she wanted was to get out of this ward and to be at home. For now, she couldn’t think any further than that.
On Thursday, Mabel was on the look-out as usual when she saw a taxi pulling up next door. She shot outside in time to see Carol climbing out and hurried up to her, saying, ‘So you’re home. How are you? You still look a bit pasty.’
‘I’m fine,’ Carol replied tersely and almost throwing the fare at the driver she said no more before going indoors.
Mabel shook her head at the girl’s abrupt manner, but with a bit of news she went to pass it on to Phyllis. ‘Carol just turned up in a taxi. She said she’s fine, but I’m not so sure. She looked like death warmed up to me.’
‘Food poisoning can be nasty, but if they discharged Carol she must be all right. I’ll tell Amy when she comes home from work; no doubt she’ll be round there like a shot.’
‘Has Amy seen anything of Tommy?’
‘No, not yet, but she’s hoping to see him this evening.’
Mabel felt a bit sick. She’d promised to keep it quiet about Tommy’s dad and Rose, but now she’d spouted her mouth off and gossip was sure to have spread. The only thing she could do was bluff, insist that it hadn’t come from her, so keeping up the pretence she said, ‘It’s funny that he hasn’t been to see her since his father ran off. Maybe he and his mother have heard that he left with your Rose.’
‘With the story going round about her being re-housed, I don’t see how. Anyway, she isn’t my Rose and what she did has nothing to do with Amy.’
‘If she gets to hear the truth, I doubt Celia Frost will see it that way.’
‘Thanks, Mabel, you’re making me feel a lot better.’
‘Now then, I’m only warning you, that’s all. I’ve heard that Celia Frost can be a nasty piece of work.’
‘It’s not Celia Frost I’m worried about, it’s Tommy. Amy thinks the world of him, but this could break them up.’
Mabel pursed her lips in thought and then said, ‘If he blames Amy, then she’d be better off without him.’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right,’ Phyllis agreed. ‘But she’s still going to be upset.’
‘Amy’s young, she’ll get over it – as the saying goes, there are plenty more fish in the sea.’
‘That may be, but I could still kill Rose, I really could.’
‘I should think you’ll be able to leave that to Celia Frost,’ Mabel said and after chatting for a while longer, she returned home to put a glass to the wall and pressed her ear against the end. It served to magnify the sound of voices through the thin walls. If Carol had got over the food poisoning, surely her mother was up and about by now.
Though she kept listening for some time, not a sound could be heard and Mabel was puzzled. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something odd was