Kay Brellend - The Family

‘Yeah, and I’ve told you it’s not this business … it’s his business.’ Stephen continued rolling tobacco then licked an edge of paper and stuck the smoke between his lips.

‘Still, he should’ve let you in as his partner ages ago.’

‘He would’ve done,’ Stephen mumbled past the obstacle in his lips. ‘But I’ve never had the money to put in, have I?’ A look passed between them. ‘Even when he’s given me the soddin’ money to put in, I’ve messed up.’

‘He could’ve lent you more.’

‘He ain’t that stupid,’ Stephen barked harshly and raked impatient fingers through his short, wiry hair. ‘You think he’s going to shell out again so you can run through the bleedin’ lot?’ His tone had become edgy.

‘Well, he could’ve give you another hundred, as a loan,’ she retorted sullenly. ‘Not as if he ain’t had it to give, is it? I reckon –’

‘Fuck’s sake, shut up, will you,’ Stephen snarled past the drooping cigarette and slung himself back in an armchair that faced the one Pam had just vacated. He twiddled half-heartedly at the knobs on the radiogram by his side, producing a whining medley of varying volume.

Pamela watched him from beneath her lashes, looking as though she might be on the point of adding something. She mouthed something obscene at his profile then shuffled to the table and started to pour tea from the pot. Once the cups were filled she waddled to the sideboard and got the biscuit box.

‘What’s to eat?’ Stephen snapped meaningfully as he stared at the oblong tin she was about to offer him. His eyes shifted to the open doorway that led into the small kitchenette. ‘Forgotten we’ve got a nice new cooker out there, have yer?’

She pulled a face. ‘I’m not hungry; feelin’ a bit sick, actually. If you’re that hungry can’t you go to the fish shop and get yourself something?’

‘I’ve been to the chippy every bleeding night this week, you lazy mare. You said you wanted a new cooker and I got a sub off Rob to buy you one. But you can’t be bothered to do a bit o’ grub for me when I get in from work, can you?’

‘I’m pregnant, in case you ain’t noticed,’ Pamela sniped back, swiping a hand over her bloated belly.

‘I’ve noticed, don’t you worry about that,’ Stephen sent back acidly as he jerked forward in the chair and started rolling down his sleeves. He whipped a resentful glance at her fat figure as he snatched up his jacket from the chair back then headed for the door with his wife’s indignant stare following him.

When he got back with newspaper wrapped around his hot fish supper, Pam had got the plates out. Stephen noticed there were two of them.

‘Not feeling so sick now?’ he jibed.

‘Oh, have it all yerself then,’ she said tremulously. ‘I was only trying to be a bit of company for you. I was only trying to give you a bit of advice over what your father said, ’n’ all. Can’t do nuthin’ right though, can I? And it ain’t fair, you takin’ it out on me ’cos your brother keeps you under his thumb. I’m going to bed.’

Stephen sighed and went and put his hands on her shoulders before she could storm off along the passageway towards the bedroom. ‘Can’t keep arguing all the time like this, Pam.’ He drew her back into the sitting room. ‘Kid’ll be with us soon.’ Inwardly he wished to God it wouldn’t be. His petite, chatty wife had in a matter of months transformed into a hefty whiner. But what riled him more than anything was the knowledge that, if he’d taken his brother’s advice and been sensible with that hundred pounds, investing it where Rob had told him to, he could have been a partner in the business, taking profits instead of a wage each week. It was all right her moaning now, but she’d wanted the day out with her family at the dog track, and she’d been the one wanted to show off in front of them all, betting big money on outsiders.

In addition to paying for their wedding, Rob had given him some cash as a wedding gift. He’d said he could invest it as he saw fit: to buy a stake in the company, or to start his own enterprise if he preferred to go it alone. Stephen wished he’d never told Pam about it. When he’d hared home with the wad, she’d still been revelling in big-day excitement. They’d only recently returned from their Brighton honeymoon – a week’s holiday reluctantly paid for by his father-in-law, who had become aware that his failure to contribute to his daughter’s wedding was the subject of gossip. Pam had counted the wedding cash out and announced she wanted a few more little honeymoon treats before they got back to normal. So they’d gone for a night at the dogs with a big party of family and friends, and come out of the stadium with not a lot more than their cab fare home.

That had been months ago now, but it was still causing arguments between them. In a way, Stephen wished his brother had never given him the money at all, for it had planted a seed of ambition in him that previously he’d failed to acknowledge, or nurture.

Robert had said nothing when he’d found out that Stephen had squandered his wedding present. He hadn’t needed to: the look he’d given him had been witheringly explicit.

‘I don’t want to be rowing with you all the time neither,’ Pam mumbled. ‘I know I look a fright. Sorry I can’t be more … y’know … attractive for you. I know you miss doing what we used to do …’

‘Yeah …’ Stephen sighed. He turned her fully towards him so he could insert a finger down her cleavage. ‘Got this advantage though …’ Before she’d got pregnant she’d been quite flat-chested; now she had a round heavy bosom and Stephen couldn’t get enough of it. He put down the fish supper and growled a laugh. He roughly yanked open buttons and lowered his head to her warm swollen flesh. While he was occupied, Pam shuffled sideways and, one-handed, began removing the newspaper wrapping so she could get stuck into the chips before they got cold.

‘You spoke to Jimmy last week.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Don’t matter who told me. I thought we agreed to give him a wide berth because he’s trouble.’

‘He’s me father and if I want to speak to him, I will,’ Stephen retorted. ‘You pay me wages, you don’t rule me life. Got them keys?’

It was five o’clock on a misty October morning and they were standing in the hallway of Rob’s house. It had been arranged the previous week that Stephen would call by early and collect the keys to the warehouse next door to Rob’s office, just off the Holloway Road. The place was stacked floor to ceiling with market-stall stock and Stephen’s job today was to load stuff on to one of the vans and distribute it around London to be stashed away in smaller stores close to their various pitches.

Robert pulled several sets of keys out of his pockets and sorted through them before putting one on the table.

‘Perhaps one day I’ll get me own set, will I?’ Stephen suggested sarcastically.

‘Yeah … it’ll be the day you put your money where your mouth is,’ Robert said quietly. ‘Got anything else you want to say to me before you get off?’

Stephen shuffled uneasily before meeting his brother’s dark stare. He could tell from that steady challenge that Rob had been told, or had guessed, what Jimmy and him had been talking about. He wouldn’t put it past his father to have told Robert himself. Jimmy was itching to start trouble. He was also angling to get involved in the business and grab a share of the money. Stephen knew his father wasn’t above getting him the sack so he could take his job if he thought Rob would wear it. Fortunately for Stephen, he knew Robert hated their father so much he wouldn’t even slow down to piss on him if he was on fire.