Read Online Moderate Violence by Veronica Bennett - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Veronica Bennett
Ads: Link
believe even you can be so selfish.”
“Tess…”
“You’re insane, do you hear me? In… sane !”
“No I’m not.” Jo could hear her father trying to keep
calm. “And I don’t think I’m being selfish either. I like it in Wales. I mean,
you’re always saying you’d like to have a house in Belgium, so – ”
“What are you wittering about Belgium for?” Tess’s voice had got a bit
squeaky. “Can’t you see how mad this is? What do you know about running a business? You’re like those imbeciles
on TV who buy a house in Provence and find there’s no water supply or
something. You’re going lose all the money from the house, money we could – ”
“Who’s ‘we’?” interrupted Trevor. “This is my money, Tess.”
“Is it?” Tess stopped squeaking. “I seem to remember
something about a wedding present from my father.”
“And who’s paid the mortgage every month for the last
seventeen years, and is still paying it?” Trevor’s voice was steady, but Jo
could hear the frustration in it. “Face it, Tess, the proceeds of the sale of
the house are going to be split between us, and so are the contents. It’s
called divorce.”
Tess couldn’t refute this. Half-rising, she prodded
Trevor’s shoulder. “And supposing I refuse to give you a divorce?”
Trevor gave a weary sigh. Jo filled the kettle, feeling
almost sorry for him. Why couldn’t Tess just let him buy his Welsh farmhouse
and leave him in peace? “Look, Tess,” he said steadily, “stop fantasising. What’s
going to happen is this. We’ll sell this house, I’ll go back to Wales and you
and Jo will move somewhere smaller, maybe a flat, or maybe not, if your dad can
be persuaded to stump up again. But I’ll support Jo, like I always have done.”
There was a silence while Tess, still trembling
theatrically, pondered this scenario. Jo leaned against the worktop beside the
murmuring kettle and folded her arms. “I know, Tess!” she said, pretending
enthusiasm, “you could get a job!”
More silence, though Jo was pretty certain Tess wasn’t
pondering this scenario.
“I mean,” Jo went on cheerfully, “if I leave school, I
can get a job too and move into my own place, and you won’t have to live with
Trevor or me. Wouldn’t you like
that?”
Tess stopped pondering. “You’re not leaving school,” she said sharply. “You’re
going back in September and you’re going to do your A Levels and go to
university. I insist , do you
hear? And so does Trevor.” She turned on him. “Don’t you?”
Trevor, looking exceedingly tired, nodded soulfully at
Jo. “Yes, I suppose I do,” he said bleakly. He put the farmhouse details back
in his pocket. “Hasn’t that kettle boiled yet?” Fumbling for his cigarettes, he
opened the back door and went into the garden.
“And shut that door!” bellowed Tess after him. “How
many years did we live together, and you still don’t know about my hay fever?” She turned to Jo and patted her hand. “Never
mind him, darling. Granny and Grandad want to take us for lunch at the golf
club on Sunday, to wish you luck in your exams. That’ll be nice, won’t it?”
Jo tensed her left forearm. The muscle responded with a
light stroke – more of a memory, really – of the press-release sensation. “That’ll
be splendid,” she said, and picked up what was left of her cake.
* * * * * *
At work on the following Saturday, every
time Toby’s legs appeared before his head as he came down the staircase from
Menswear, Jo felt a jolt of recognition. Every time, she watched him cross the
ground floor with a sense of propriety, fighting the desire to say to the
customer she was serving, “That’s my boyfriend, you know!”
But at half past five she stopped having him to
herself. The scene was so predictable, Jo could have written the screenplay and
sent it to a film production company, which would have been encouraging at
first, but would ultimately reject it. “Sorry,
“Tess…”
“You’re insane, do you hear me? In… sane !”
“No I’m not.” Jo could hear her father trying to keep
calm. “And I don’t think I’m being selfish either. I like it in Wales. I mean,
you’re always saying you’d like to have a house in Belgium, so – ”
“What are you wittering about Belgium for?” Tess’s voice had got a bit
squeaky. “Can’t you see how mad this is? What do you know about running a business? You’re like those imbeciles
on TV who buy a house in Provence and find there’s no water supply or
something. You’re going lose all the money from the house, money we could – ”
“Who’s ‘we’?” interrupted Trevor. “This is my money, Tess.”
“Is it?” Tess stopped squeaking. “I seem to remember
something about a wedding present from my father.”
“And who’s paid the mortgage every month for the last
seventeen years, and is still paying it?” Trevor’s voice was steady, but Jo
could hear the frustration in it. “Face it, Tess, the proceeds of the sale of
the house are going to be split between us, and so are the contents. It’s
called divorce.”
Tess couldn’t refute this. Half-rising, she prodded
Trevor’s shoulder. “And supposing I refuse to give you a divorce?”
Trevor gave a weary sigh. Jo filled the kettle, feeling
almost sorry for him. Why couldn’t Tess just let him buy his Welsh farmhouse
and leave him in peace? “Look, Tess,” he said steadily, “stop fantasising. What’s
going to happen is this. We’ll sell this house, I’ll go back to Wales and you
and Jo will move somewhere smaller, maybe a flat, or maybe not, if your dad can
be persuaded to stump up again. But I’ll support Jo, like I always have done.”
There was a silence while Tess, still trembling
theatrically, pondered this scenario. Jo leaned against the worktop beside the
murmuring kettle and folded her arms. “I know, Tess!” she said, pretending
enthusiasm, “you could get a job!”
More silence, though Jo was pretty certain Tess wasn’t
pondering this scenario.
“I mean,” Jo went on cheerfully, “if I leave school, I
can get a job too and move into my own place, and you won’t have to live with
Trevor or me. Wouldn’t you like
that?”
Tess stopped pondering. “You’re not leaving school,” she said sharply. “You’re
going back in September and you’re going to do your A Levels and go to
university. I insist , do you
hear? And so does Trevor.” She turned on him. “Don’t you?”
Trevor, looking exceedingly tired, nodded soulfully at
Jo. “Yes, I suppose I do,” he said bleakly. He put the farmhouse details back
in his pocket. “Hasn’t that kettle boiled yet?” Fumbling for his cigarettes, he
opened the back door and went into the garden.
“And shut that door!” bellowed Tess after him. “How
many years did we live together, and you still don’t know about my hay fever?” She turned to Jo and patted her hand. “Never
mind him, darling. Granny and Grandad want to take us for lunch at the golf
club on Sunday, to wish you luck in your exams. That’ll be nice, won’t it?”
Jo tensed her left forearm. The muscle responded with a
light stroke – more of a memory, really – of the press-release sensation. “That’ll
be splendid,” she said, and picked up what was left of her cake.
* * * * * *
At work on the following Saturday, every
time Toby’s legs appeared before his head as he came down the staircase from
Menswear, Jo felt a jolt of recognition. Every time, she watched him cross the
ground floor with a sense of propriety, fighting the desire to say to the
customer she was serving, “That’s my boyfriend, you know!”
But at half past five she stopped having him to
herself. The scene was so predictable, Jo could have written the screenplay and
sent it to a film production company, which would have been encouraging at
first, but would ultimately reject it. “Sorry,
Similar Books
