Read Online Lonely Teardrops (2008) by Freda Lightfoot - Free Book Online
Authors: Freda Lightfoot
Tags: Saga
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such names, if you don’t mind, Mrs Ashton. And I do assure you, my parents aren’t snobs.’
Joyce smirked. ‘That’s not what I heard. Well brought up lad like you with a father who’s something important in the bank. Your mother would have fifty fits at the very idea of joining her one and only son with a bastard. She’ll have you lined up for a conservative with a double-barrelled name, I shouldn’t wonder. If I were you, I’d find some other girl to dangle on your arm in future.’ And slamming the coins down on the stall in front of him, Joyce spun on her heels and walked away. Steve watched her go with eyes clouded with worry.
Joyce didn’t go straight back to the salon. She lit up a cigarette and scanned the market for the person most on her mind, Joe Southworth, with whom she was also anxious to have a word following Winnie’s gossip. She caught sight of him up by the market hall wrestling with some trestle tables. Glancing quickly about to make sure she wasn’t being watched, Joyce hurried over, and wasting no time came straight to the point.
‘Is it true that you and Irma are finally splitting up?’
Joe looked up, startled to find himself so unexpectedly accosted about his private life while in the middle of this steady job. ‘Hello, Joyce, and how are you this fine morning?’ he pointedly enquired.
She sucked hard on her cigarette. ‘Don’t mess me about. Are you?’
Joe scratched behind one ear with the screwdriver he’d been using to fix the trestles, and frowned. ‘Someone’s been talking, have they?’
‘Winnie, who else?’ Joyce had been engaged in an affair with Joe Southworth for the better part of six months. Not that Irma, his wife, knew anything of this, any more than Stan had, or so Joyce believed. ‘You’ve told her then?’
‘Not yet,’ Joe informed the legs of the trestle table as he again applied the screw driver to the task in hand, just as if the question she was asking was of no concern to him at all.
‘So when do you intend to?’
Joe knew Joyce wasn’t one to let go till she had her answer and stood up, easing the stiff muscles in his aching back. ‘Oh, pretty soon, but not today. She’s put a lot of work into this wedding. Let’s get that out of the way first, shall we? Anyroad, what’s the big hurry? Your Stan is barely cold in his grave.’
‘He never was my Stan, and you were happy enough to enjoy my favours while the warm blood was still flowing through his veins so why not now he’s dead and gone?’
‘Respect, Joyce. We need to show a bit of respect. Let some water flow under the proverbial before we push the boat out.’ He grinned at her, as if he’d made some sort of joke.
‘You still haven’t answered my question.’ Joyce was close to losing control. Everything was going wrong. She’d felt nothing but relief when she’d found Stan dead in his bed that morning. All she’d been able to think was that her sentence, her long term of punishment was finally over.
If she’d wept, it had surely been out of nostalgia for lost dreams, for the romantic young fool she’d once been, certainly not from grief. Even her mother spilling the beans over the big family secret hadn’t greatly troubled her. She’d have told Harriet the truth herself pretty soon anyway, although not quite the whole of it, naturally.
But if Stan’s death didn’t make it any easier for her and Joe to spend more time together, where was the point in being free?
Joyce cast him her most beguiling glance. ‘You’ll tell her soon though?’
‘All in the fullness of time, Joyce, all in the fullness of time.’
‘Make it soon, I don’t care to be made a fool of.’
And as she rushed back to the salon, tossing the half-smoked cigarette aside in a show of temper, Joe twirled the screwdriver in his hand with a thoughtful frown. He had the strangest feeling he was getting in over his head with this one.
It had been Joyce’s friend, Eileen, who’d invited
Joyce smirked. ‘That’s not what I heard. Well brought up lad like you with a father who’s something important in the bank. Your mother would have fifty fits at the very idea of joining her one and only son with a bastard. She’ll have you lined up for a conservative with a double-barrelled name, I shouldn’t wonder. If I were you, I’d find some other girl to dangle on your arm in future.’ And slamming the coins down on the stall in front of him, Joyce spun on her heels and walked away. Steve watched her go with eyes clouded with worry.
Joyce didn’t go straight back to the salon. She lit up a cigarette and scanned the market for the person most on her mind, Joe Southworth, with whom she was also anxious to have a word following Winnie’s gossip. She caught sight of him up by the market hall wrestling with some trestle tables. Glancing quickly about to make sure she wasn’t being watched, Joyce hurried over, and wasting no time came straight to the point.
‘Is it true that you and Irma are finally splitting up?’
Joe looked up, startled to find himself so unexpectedly accosted about his private life while in the middle of this steady job. ‘Hello, Joyce, and how are you this fine morning?’ he pointedly enquired.
She sucked hard on her cigarette. ‘Don’t mess me about. Are you?’
Joe scratched behind one ear with the screwdriver he’d been using to fix the trestles, and frowned. ‘Someone’s been talking, have they?’
‘Winnie, who else?’ Joyce had been engaged in an affair with Joe Southworth for the better part of six months. Not that Irma, his wife, knew anything of this, any more than Stan had, or so Joyce believed. ‘You’ve told her then?’
‘Not yet,’ Joe informed the legs of the trestle table as he again applied the screw driver to the task in hand, just as if the question she was asking was of no concern to him at all.
‘So when do you intend to?’
Joe knew Joyce wasn’t one to let go till she had her answer and stood up, easing the stiff muscles in his aching back. ‘Oh, pretty soon, but not today. She’s put a lot of work into this wedding. Let’s get that out of the way first, shall we? Anyroad, what’s the big hurry? Your Stan is barely cold in his grave.’
‘He never was my Stan, and you were happy enough to enjoy my favours while the warm blood was still flowing through his veins so why not now he’s dead and gone?’
‘Respect, Joyce. We need to show a bit of respect. Let some water flow under the proverbial before we push the boat out.’ He grinned at her, as if he’d made some sort of joke.
‘You still haven’t answered my question.’ Joyce was close to losing control. Everything was going wrong. She’d felt nothing but relief when she’d found Stan dead in his bed that morning. All she’d been able to think was that her sentence, her long term of punishment was finally over.
If she’d wept, it had surely been out of nostalgia for lost dreams, for the romantic young fool she’d once been, certainly not from grief. Even her mother spilling the beans over the big family secret hadn’t greatly troubled her. She’d have told Harriet the truth herself pretty soon anyway, although not quite the whole of it, naturally.
But if Stan’s death didn’t make it any easier for her and Joe to spend more time together, where was the point in being free?
Joyce cast him her most beguiling glance. ‘You’ll tell her soon though?’
‘All in the fullness of time, Joyce, all in the fullness of time.’
‘Make it soon, I don’t care to be made a fool of.’
And as she rushed back to the salon, tossing the half-smoked cigarette aside in a show of temper, Joe twirled the screwdriver in his hand with a thoughtful frown. He had the strangest feeling he was getting in over his head with this one.
It had been Joyce’s friend, Eileen, who’d invited
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