Read Online A Perfect Christmas by Lynda Page - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lynda Page
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was no one left working at my old business who would remember me or feel any inclination to help me. I had no choice but to put my past life behind me and get on with the one I had instead.
‘The prisoners’ welfare people had secured me a job as a labourer at a lumber yard, where I could sleep in one of the outbuildings. That was one of the conditions of getting parole – that I had a job and somewhere to live. I knew from the moment I met my new boss that I was going to hate working for him. He was squat, thickset and brusque, in his late-sixties, and he and his thin, mean-faced wife lived in a ramshackle filthy old place on the premises. I was expected to do as I was told, no questions asked, and be eternally grateful that I had somewhere to rest my head, never mind that it was a rotting shed with just sacking for a mattress. The food I was given was not fit for pigs. My hours of work were from six in the morning until the boss decided I’d finished at night. After deductions to cover accommodation and food I received ten shillings a week, barely enough to buy myself any personal things, let alone clothes.
‘I’ve never had any aversion to hard work, my parents certainly believed in it, but being worked each day until I was fit to drop, and treated like I was the scum of the earth while being expected to show gratitude, was something I wasn’t prepared to tolerate. I stuck the job for three months until I’d managed to save up five pounds and walked out of the job without a word to my boss as I didn’t believe he deserved an explanation.
‘Knowing I’d got to take care of my money until I found another job, I stayed in a hostel for homeless men that night, in a large dormitory surrounded by types as bad as any I’d been in prison with. Next day I spruced myself up as best I could and went looking for work. I wasn’t fussy, would have taken anything suitable. All I was asking was to be given enough of a wage to manage on and to be treated like a human being. I was obviously expecting too much.
‘Two weeks later I’d visited that many places asking after work I’d lost count, but each time a prospect looked promising, as soon as I told potential employers about my time in prison and that I had no fixed abode, I was shown the door. My money was all gone by this time so I couldn’t even afford the two shillings a night to stay in the hostel. I was starting to look really shabby as it’s very difficult to keep yourself looking clean and tidy when you’ve no facilities other than the public baths, for which you need to pay. And I needed money for food more than for hot water. With no job and nowhere to live, I had no choice but to live rough. That was over five years ago.’
Glen’s narrative abruptly stopped and he looked at his companion with surprise and shock on his face. He had never told another living soul the whole story of how he’d come to be in the dire situation he was now, he’d kept the whole sorry story locked inside himself. But somehow his subconscious had told him that this stranger would not judge him for his behaviour or use this information she now knew about him to her own advantage.
He took a deep breath and said gruffly, ‘Now you know.’
There was a look of understanding and also of great sadness in Jan’s eyes when she muttered, ‘Yes, I do.’ She looked thoughtfully at him for several moments before she said, ‘I expect you’ve lived all these years hoping that somehow your wife has been made to pay for what she did to you.’
Glen growled, ‘I would be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted to seek revenge, spent numerous nights trying to find a way to bring that about, but then I realised that all I was doing was making myself more bitter and twisted. Since then, all I’ve prayed for is that Nerys has kept good her promise to care for my daughter and has raised her to be an honest, likeable young woman with a promising future, as I would have done myself.’
Jan was
‘The prisoners’ welfare people had secured me a job as a labourer at a lumber yard, where I could sleep in one of the outbuildings. That was one of the conditions of getting parole – that I had a job and somewhere to live. I knew from the moment I met my new boss that I was going to hate working for him. He was squat, thickset and brusque, in his late-sixties, and he and his thin, mean-faced wife lived in a ramshackle filthy old place on the premises. I was expected to do as I was told, no questions asked, and be eternally grateful that I had somewhere to rest my head, never mind that it was a rotting shed with just sacking for a mattress. The food I was given was not fit for pigs. My hours of work were from six in the morning until the boss decided I’d finished at night. After deductions to cover accommodation and food I received ten shillings a week, barely enough to buy myself any personal things, let alone clothes.
‘I’ve never had any aversion to hard work, my parents certainly believed in it, but being worked each day until I was fit to drop, and treated like I was the scum of the earth while being expected to show gratitude, was something I wasn’t prepared to tolerate. I stuck the job for three months until I’d managed to save up five pounds and walked out of the job without a word to my boss as I didn’t believe he deserved an explanation.
‘Knowing I’d got to take care of my money until I found another job, I stayed in a hostel for homeless men that night, in a large dormitory surrounded by types as bad as any I’d been in prison with. Next day I spruced myself up as best I could and went looking for work. I wasn’t fussy, would have taken anything suitable. All I was asking was to be given enough of a wage to manage on and to be treated like a human being. I was obviously expecting too much.
‘Two weeks later I’d visited that many places asking after work I’d lost count, but each time a prospect looked promising, as soon as I told potential employers about my time in prison and that I had no fixed abode, I was shown the door. My money was all gone by this time so I couldn’t even afford the two shillings a night to stay in the hostel. I was starting to look really shabby as it’s very difficult to keep yourself looking clean and tidy when you’ve no facilities other than the public baths, for which you need to pay. And I needed money for food more than for hot water. With no job and nowhere to live, I had no choice but to live rough. That was over five years ago.’
Glen’s narrative abruptly stopped and he looked at his companion with surprise and shock on his face. He had never told another living soul the whole story of how he’d come to be in the dire situation he was now, he’d kept the whole sorry story locked inside himself. But somehow his subconscious had told him that this stranger would not judge him for his behaviour or use this information she now knew about him to her own advantage.
He took a deep breath and said gruffly, ‘Now you know.’
There was a look of understanding and also of great sadness in Jan’s eyes when she muttered, ‘Yes, I do.’ She looked thoughtfully at him for several moments before she said, ‘I expect you’ve lived all these years hoping that somehow your wife has been made to pay for what she did to you.’
Glen growled, ‘I would be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted to seek revenge, spent numerous nights trying to find a way to bring that about, but then I realised that all I was doing was making myself more bitter and twisted. Since then, all I’ve prayed for is that Nerys has kept good her promise to care for my daughter and has raised her to be an honest, likeable young woman with a promising future, as I would have done myself.’
Jan was
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