LITMIR.BIZ

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was too useful to him to be dumped for a younger woman. A lot of people, Tony included, believed May ran the show where Wes’s business was concerned and he merely provided a bit of bought-in muscle and credibility.

      Tony knew it was sticking in Blanche’s craw that her husband’s lack of emotion made it seem Wes Silver had actually done him a favour by sleeping with his wife and breaking up his marriage.

      ‘There you go …’ Nick slid a glass of gin and orange towards Blanche.

      She pouted him a thank-you kiss.

      ‘Done something different to your hair, ain’t you?’ Tony asked, to break the silence that had settled on them since his daughter’s arrival. He could tell Nick was pissed off by Blanche’s presence, and he knew why. A young blonde seated at a window table had been quite obviously giving his son-in-law the eye, and Nick had been encouraging her with subtle glances. Tony knew her name was Joyce Groves and that she worked in the café up the road. For a moment, Tony had thought trouble might start. Then he’d realised that the fellow sitting with Joyce was her older brother rather than a boyfriend. He recognised Kenny Groves from way back, when he’d been in the same class at school as Blanche.

      ‘What job you getting then, Dad?’ Blanche asked, her tongue loosened by a few quick gulps of gin.

      ‘Ain’t really spoke about that just yet,’ her father answered, glaring from beneath his brows. ‘Ain’t long been in here so not had a chance.’

      ‘Well … I’ve gotta be off in a minute,’ Nick said, looking at a fancy wristwatch. ‘Got to see some bloke in Shoreditch.’

      ‘No, stay and have another. My round …’ Tony Scott knew if Nick went off without offering him a job, he’d swing for Blanche for turning up and ruining his chances.

      ‘Can you start on a house in Commercial Street in the morning?’ Nick asked. ‘It needs decorating from top to bottom, interior and exterior. I know the weather’s a bit against us for outside work but—’

      ‘Course I can,’ Tony snapped at the offer of employment. He was a painter and decorator by trade but, lately, he had been picking up any sort of work he could find just to keep some wages rolling in. Although Gladys did piecework, sewing coats for a Jew boy, she never let him forget it was her regular money keeping them all afloat. ‘Be glad to start this afternoon on the preparing, if yer like,’ Tony burbled, keen to get his foot in the door.

      ‘Be obliged if you’d get going straight away, as I’ve got tenants lined up ready and waiting to move in.’ Nick took a notebook from an inside pocket and ripped out a page. Having written down the site address, he handed it over, upending his glass and draining it in a swallow. ‘Gonna get off now …’ He started towards the door.

      He’d only managed a yard or two when Blanche rushed up to hang on his arm.

      Nick kept going, trying to curb his impatience when his wife wouldn’t take the hint and leave him alone.

      Outside the pub, he turned up his coat collar, then removed Blanche’s hand from his arm. ‘What do you want?’

      ‘Thought you might like to go to the flicks tonight?’

      ‘No, I don’t want to go to the flicks with you tonight or any other night,’ he said mildly. ‘We’ve been through this. We ain’t married now, Blanche … well, we are,’ he corrected himself, ‘but it’s over between us and has been for a long time.’

      ‘Don’t need to be.’ Blanche moved closer, rubbing her hip against his thigh. ‘I’ll come over yours ’n’ show you it can be like it was between us.’

      ‘Right …’ Nick drawled. ‘Well, I’d need to be some sort of demented mug to want to go back to that, wouldn’t I?’

      Blanche slid her arms about his neck, gazing up into his lean sarcastic face. ‘Be better this time, Nick, promise …’ She turned her head as she noticed she’d lost his attention. A young blonde woman was on her way out of the pub with a man Blanche thought she recognised. She’d been at school with Kenny Groves but she realised the years hadn’t treated him kindly. In her opinion, he looked a good decade older than she did. Blanche could see that the petite blonde was more interested in Nick than the fellow she was with, and after a second she realised it was little Joyce, Kenny’s younger sister. She felt like flying across and slapping the little cow’s face because it was obvious she was giving Nick the come-on. Blanche understood why that was: at twenty-seven, her husband was only two years older than she and Kenny, but he had an air of confidence that made him seem mature and powerful. Nick Raven was also tall and good-looking, and able to afford quality clothes to show off his muscular frame.

      ‘Know her, do you?’ Blanche snapped. Her female intuition was telling her that Nick was not immune to Joyce’s charms.

      ‘Not as well as I’d like to.’ He removed her arms from his shoulders. A moment later, he was heading off towards his Alvis parked at the kerb.

      Suddenly Nick halted and strolled back towards Blanche, hands thrust into his pockets. Now he ignored Joyce giving him a come-hither glance over her shoulder, concentrating on his estranged wife. ‘We need to talk about the divorce, Blanche.’ He gazed into the distance, hoping she wasn’t about to get hysterical as she usually did when he mentioned putting an official end to their marriage. In the past he’d backed down rather than upset her and her family. But enough time had passed and he knew he would never again love her or want to live with her. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he ever had loved her or wanted to live with her. But four years ago he’d been determined to do the right thing by their unborn child and meet his responsibilities. Not that he could be certain it had been his child … and he never would know, as she’d miscarried the little mite at about five months. They’d been married when that happened. The booking at the town hall had been just six weeks premature because Blanche had insisted she wanted to have a ring on her finger before she got a pot belly. In the event she never did get fat but she got her ring and Nick had wondered, once they were all over the turmoil of losing the baby, what the hell he’d done.

      Now Blanche shot backwards, clearly not going to listen to any talk of divorces. She knew if she could just get Nick to sleep with her, make her pregnant again, he’d never leave her. He’d stood by her before when she’d been carrying his child and she reckoned he’d do so again.

      Nick smiled acidly as he saw her stumbling towards the pub. He’d learned that if there was one sure way to shake Blanche off it was mentioning putting their divorce into motion.

      ‘Ain’t talking about it. You know how I feel.’ Blanche pointed a shaking finger at him. ‘When I took me vows they was for keeps.’

      ‘Yeah? Which ones exactly?’ Nick asked sarcastically, following her to the pub door to prevent her entering. ‘Weren’t the vow of fidelity, was it?’ He pulled her roughly to one side so people could exit the pub. ‘Now I’ve told you I can get a divorce on the grounds of adultery – come to think of it, so can you now. But it’d be best if we keep it all nice and friendly, for everybody’s sake.’

      ‘We can make a go of it. Why you being horrible?’ Blanche gazed up at him, bottom lip wobbling. ‘I’ve said sorry. So I made a mistake – we all make mistakes, don’t we?’

      ‘Right ’n’ all … I made one when I married you,’ Nick said, but not nastily. ‘It weren’t ever right between us and you know it. It ain’t ever going to be right between us, and you need to accept that, Blanche. Find yourself somebody else,’ he added quite gently. ‘Don’t pin your hopes on me changing me mind, ’cos I never will.’

      Blanche ripped her arm out of his clasp. ‘You’re me husband.’ Her mouth was set stubbornly as she whipped past him, diving into the pub to find her father before Nick could say anything else to upset her.

      Tony sighed as he saw his daughter storming towards him. ‘Ain’t having any of it, is he?’

      Blanche ignored her father’s pessimism, polishing off her gin and orange, sniffing

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