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Chris explained.

      ‘Don’t you go wasting yer money!’ Matilda mockingly rebuked. ‘You know I don’t hold with drinkin’ ’n’ gamblin’!’

      Christopher grinned at that. It was common knowledge in the family that his great-aunt Matilda had been a very heavy drinker and a bookie’s runner in her time.

      Christopher drew out his cigarettes and offered the pack to Ted. He knew his aunt had never smoked, which he found quite a surprise as she’d had plenty of other vices. Having lit up and taken a long drag he settled back. ‘Any more tea in that pot?’

      ‘Make a fresh lot if there ain’t,’ Matilda offered, giving the pot a shake.

      Christopher was aware of his friend slanting an irritated look at him. Ted was eager to get going and Chris was equally eager to get shot of him. In fact he wished Ted hadn’t accompanied him to his aunt’s because he’d wanted to speak to her in private about something. But Ted could be thick-skinned, and not easy to shake off, when he had nothing else to do.

      ‘Why don’t you get off now, mate? I’m stopping a bit for another cup of tea with me Aunt Til. Didn’t realise it was getting on.’ Christopher very obviously checked his watch.

      ‘Yeah … will do,’ Ted mumbled. He’d had enough sitting around in Matilda’s shithole. He got up with much shaking of his trouser legs and polished his shoes on the backs of his shins. ‘See yer then, Mrs K. Thanks fer the biscuits.’

      ‘Mind how you go, son,’ Matilda called as he closed the door. ‘What’s on your mind, Chris?’ she asked as soon as they were alone.

      Christopher darted a look at her and shrugged, thinking she could be too cute and blunt at times. His aunt had realised straight away he had an ulterior motive in getting rid of Ted, but he’d not yet worked out how to go about things. What he wanted to talk about had always been a taboo subject in their family. ‘Just wondering what you can tell me about me mum,’ he blurted out.

      Matilda dropped her eyes to her cup. She hadn’t been expecting that! It had been some years since Christopher had last quizzed her over his mother, and she’d thought she’d satisfied him that she’d nothing more to reveal. ‘What is it you want to know about yer mum that I ain’t already told you?’ she asked levelly.

      ‘Well, that’s just it … nobody’s really told me anything much about her.’ Christopher made an effort not to sound as if he was blaming anyone. ‘Dad won’t tell me nuthin’. Bleedin’ hell, wanted me to think she was dead for years and years, didn’t he!’ He gestured in annoyance. ‘You know what he’s like. He just clams up and gets narky soon as I mention her.’

      ‘Well … that’s understandable. They’ve been divorced a very long time, y’know. Weren’t married fer long in the first place.’

      ‘Yeah, I know; but I don’t see why he won’t even talk about her,’ Christopher insisted, his voice rising. ‘Ain’t I allowed to know anything other than her name was Pamela Plummer and they was only married a very short time?’

      ‘’Course you are,’ Matilda soothed gruffly. ‘But it were all a long time ago now, Chris, and things get forgot. Yer dad probably can’t remember a lot of what went on. Crikey … you’re twenty-four. You was only a babe in arms when they broke up and yer dad took on looking after you.’

      ‘Have you forgot everything about her?’ Christopher asked.

      ‘No … like I told you before, she was a pretty young woman, I thought so anyhow,’ Matilda said carefully. ‘Quite small and blonde, were Pamela, so nothing like you in looks.’ She gave her tall, dark-haired nephew a fond smile. ‘You’re the spit of your dad and Uncle Rob.’

      ‘Is there a photo of her, d’you know?’

      ‘I’ve not seen one in years,’ Matilda replied truthfully. ‘But I saw a picture of them on their wedding day. I know yer dad gave it to Pam when they broke up. He didn’t want it.’

      That was a vital clue Christopher hadn’t known and he pounced on the information. ‘So me dad were the one wanted to split up?’

      ‘Don’t think it was just him,’ Matilda said gently. ‘As you know, yer mum ’n’ dad didn’t get on and both of ’em soon realised they’d made a mistake. They was too young, y’see. It just didn’t work out between them. It happens sometimes; people get caught up in the excitement of weddings ’n’ ferget that afterwards babies come along and it’s not all a lark but bloody hard work.’

      ‘So it was me that was the problem. When I come along …’

      ‘Don’t be daft!’ Matilda ejected quickly, cursing herself for phrasing things badly. ‘What I meant to say is: when money’s tight, and work’s tight, it puts pressures on people and …’

      ‘And they couldn’t be bothered to try and stick together, even though they had me …’

      ‘Now I didn’t say that, Chris!’ Matilda gave him a stern look. She felt she’d dug herself into a hole and must be careful how she climbed out.

      ‘And me mum never wanted to see me after that?’ Christopher asked earnestly. ‘Why not?’

      ‘I’m not saying she didn’t want to see you,’ Matilda answered slowly. ‘But I do know she went back home to live with her folks. Mr and Mrs Plummer moved away from round here shortly after the divorce came through. I think Pam went with them, and haven’t seen nuthin’ of her since. Could be she got herself hitched again.’

      ‘So I might have half-brothers or -sisters?’

      ‘S’pose you might …’ Matilda agreed.

      Christopher drew out his cigarette packet and Matilda pointed at them, glad of a reason to change the subject.

      ‘And you can do with cutting down on them coffin nails, ’n’ all, Christopher, or you’ll be going the same way as poor old King George.’

      She suddenly turned her head, frowning. The bang on the door was unexpected, but she was very glad of the distraction. She knew she’d have to say something to Stephen about Christopher’s renewed interest in his mother. She wasn’t too cowardly to get involved – in her time she’d upturned greater cans of worms within the family – but this truth was very personal and would be hurtful to Christopher. It was his father’s place – or his mother’s – to tell him the whole story about his past, not hers. The fact that Stevie avoided all mention of Pamela told Matilda he still harboured bitter memories about his brief marriage.

      ‘Go down and see who it is, will yer, Chris. Paid me rent so it can’t be Podge,’ she reassured him. Podge Peters had been collecting Mr Keane’s rents for decades. Only Podge wasn’t fat any more. He was a shadow of his former self now he had lung disease.

      Chris shoved himself up out of his chair, a soundless sigh in his throat, knowing the conversation about his mother was finished and he’d discovered very little that was new, or might help him find her.

      As Matilda heard him clattering down the stairs she shook her head sadly to herself.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘Oh! Sorry! We were after Mrs Keiver.’

      Being confronted by a dapper young man, rather than Matilda, had disconcerted Shirley Coleman. The door had only been open a matter of seconds but already an odour of damp was assaulting her nostrils and behind him, in the hallway, was a disgusting glimpse of decay.

      ‘You’ve found her,’ Christopher replied. His eyes lingered on the younger of the two women, thinking she was worth a second look and not just because she appeared vaguely familiar. They seemed neat and well-spoken and Christopher knew if they were Jehovah’s witnesses, or rattling a tin for the Sally Army, they were in for a surprise.

      ‘You ain’t

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