Uncommon Relations: When should they be told?: Uncommon Relations, #3

By Rosalind Minett

TERRY'S MOTHER, WIFE, BROTHERS HAVE BETRAYED HIM. Who can he trust?
Terry has escaped a hounding by the press for a scandal, not of his making. Returning to Heathrow, he trusts interest has died down. He has another guilty secret. This one's about a wrong he's committed against his twin, and needs to put right.

First, he must follow his heart. He is hell bent on establishing contact with someone essential to his happiness. But new people he's about to meet may stand in his way, present new dilemmas, or even help him. Can he win them over and reverse the life-changing revelations he's been faced with?

Complex family relationships, hidden secrets, psychological tensions abound in Terry's world. So far, this domestic suspense series has been told from his point of view, now other characters face their dilemmas and show their colours. If there is power play, who will win?

Readers of Lisa Jewell, Celeste Ng and Natalie Barelli should love this series.

"Stunning writing this... Highly Recommended." San Francisco Review of Books.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosalind Minett
• Release date: Feb 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393108603

Rosalind Minett

Rosalind Minett writes novels and short stories. She relishes quirkiness, and loves creating complex characters of all ages instead of assessing them as she had to in her previous working life as a psychologist. Her understanding of how people think, learn, feel and behave drives her plots whether the genre is humour, historical or crime.   She lives in the South West of England and loves scenic walks, theatre, sculpting and painting. 

Book preview

Chapter 1

ON YOUR DOORSTEP, your favourite **SENSATIONAL** monthly magazine.

CENTRE SPREAD

!!!* His WIFE is his SISTER! * !!!

(Photo, Below Left)

Terry S. rapidly packs an overnight bag for his escape before the WORLD learns this SHOCKING TRUTH! 

Terry thanked Dame Fortune that the photograph only showed his back view—and hopefully no view to work colleagues, neighbours, past friends, mates, anyone whose lifestyle would not ordinarily include reading the salacious gossip magazine On Your Doorstep. (And what sort of person would read such stuff?) He hadn’t even risked packing the wretched thing in his hold luggage, but shoved it into his cabin bag inside a drawstring tote that held his dirty washing… where it belonged, he reasoned.

Since this issue outed, the magazine had published two further issues exposing other unfortunates; described as guilty of some monstrosity, or as an innocent victim of others’ misdeeds. The magazine described him as the former; in fact, he was the latter.

The magazine was loathsome, but he was treating it like a stash of illicit drugs. Much as he’d have loved to chuck his copy, and every copy of that magazine into landfill, he might need it as some kind of evidence some day. Who knew?

Heavy clouds outside the plane window showed they were now near Heathrow. Goodbye Milan! The work placement had allowed this welcome avoidance of any further intrusion on his privacy. He had Richard to thank for this: his boss and Gerry’s oldest brother, who’d sent him to Italy before publication. 

And, now, instead of cringing and cowering away from sensational exposure, he had something immensely positive to look forward to; something so potentially life-enhancing he’d hardly dared think of it until the plane wheels touched down.

It wasn’t long before he was freshening up in the Gents after passport check. He’d bought a suede jacket in Milan, forest green, same tone as the stripe in his shirt. It looked good, a satisfactory buy. The mirror confirmed the improvement in his appearance since Gerry had helped him pay more attention and care to it. He’d also had a comfortable flight, particularly as he’d been upgraded to business class. How great to feel a more important passenger worthy of a full seat width.

He collected his hold luggage, and made for the exit. Could this be a new beginning, returning home without the problems: Gudrun far distant, annulment or divorce a month nearer; home no longer the two-up, two-down terraced house in Colliers Row, Hollingsworth, but a share of Gerry’s designer apartment in a leafy avenue near Ealing. Unbelievable to think he was now an executive in Richard’s sportswear firm, no longer a demoted admin guy at Lings Pharmaceuticals.

Gerry was waiting for him at Arrivals. ‘Over here!’ He gave Terry a bear hug. ‘Like your new gear! Lings wouldn’t recognize you.’

‘Product of the one and only shopping trip. I bought one jacket, one young person’s toy.’

‘So Milan was no holiday? I see you’ve no tan.’

‘Ha! Hardly left the office to witness any sunshine. I slogged! Richard should be pleased with what I’ve achieved there. How about you?’

‘Same old. Managed a couple of fresh contracts. All good, really.’

‘Brill. You must fill me in on the way home.’ All the heavy stuff, both thrills and anxieties, were his. He followed his twin through the crush of people and suitcases towards the exit. ‘What’s new on my plate, then?’

‘No fresh disasters to divulge.’ color

‘That’s a relief. Not that I can put the total shit behind me.’

‘The slag mag? Just weather it. At least you weren’t recognizable from the photos.’

‘Could’ve been worse, I suppose. I was dreading that flash photo the journos took as I opened the door to them.’ 

‘Shame the outside one of Colliers Row was so clear.’

‘Yeah.’ Gerry had sent him the issue the minute it reached the newsagents. The double-spread feature - sensationalised as predicted - Terry examined at night, cringing, alone in his hotel room. He said, ‘What’s the score today?’ as they made for the carpark.

‘Some hate mail on your doormat. I burnt that straightaway. A note from The Sun asking you to call them.’ 

Terry snorted. ‘Yeah! I’m frantic to do that!’

‘Thought you’d be amused. Collecting your mail caused an interesting confrontation with a couple of female neighbours who assumed I was you. I hadn’t parked in Colliers Row so it was easy to stride off and ignore them.’

‘Sorry you had to experience that. The agent could’ve collected my post.’

Gerry shrugged. ‘I was round the corner at Petra’s, so thought I’d check how everything was at your place. I picked up some of your personal stuff off the mantlepiece and shelves. It’s in the small suitcase on your bed.’

‘Thanks.’

They had reached the pay machine. Terry automatically scrabbled in his pocket for coins before spotting Gerry’s ironic glance.

‘I imagine you didn’t use many pound coins in Milan, Bro.’ He fed the machine. ‘I checked progress at your estate agency.’

‘Any joy?’

‘Quite a lot of viewings, apparently. I phoned the guy rather than spark any amazement about identical appearance by going to his office.’ 

Terry grimaced. ‘It’ll be a relief to have the place off my hands and my link with it cut. Then I can sort finance with you.’

‘No sweat. Rent’s fine ’til you can buy half share. You covered the necessary with your last cheque.’

‘Good. Richard reckons gossip should’ve died down by now.’

They’d reached Gerry’s Audi and were loading it up. ‘Petra says there’s been some chatter at the local shops. The newsagent spotted the article. You can imagine him telling customers: I know that guy well. He used to buy his Sunday newspapers here, until recently. ’

‘Ha.’ Terry grimaced. ‘You’ve got him spot on.’

‘But Petra’s done her best to divert gossip. She’s waved around a Telegraph cutting about some other victim suing the mag. Court proceedings— misrepresentation. She thought she’d sow the seeds of mistrust about whether the feature was true.’ 

‘She’s a sport. Resourceful.’ Terry loaded his suitcase into the boot. ‘You’ve been over there quite a bit, then?’ He’d been trying not to think of Petra except as Gerry’s new possible girl-friend.

Gerry didn’t answer for a moment, probably too busy getting into the car. So as the engine purred into life, Terry went on, ‘Fixed that damaged paper animal for Tabitha?’

‘I have indeed. It was a lengthy procedure.’ Was his formal, ironic tone to hide his interest in Petra? ‘I let Tabitha help, so that slowed the whole thing down long enough for Petra to clear her backlog of chores, so she said.’

‘I’ll be amazed if you salvaged the thing. Gudrun only slung it together briefly, in one college session on paper and cardboard craft.’

‘But I did salvage it, good as new. Nothing like a glue gun! I’ve never seen a child so thrilled. Not that I’ve seen many children close up, thrilled or otherwise. You’d better have that Italian animal in your luggage, because there’s no way Tabitha’s forgotten.’

It was sounding as if Gerry had warmed up towards Tabitha, vital if he intended to date her mother. 

‘No, I found something, but not a giraffe. I don’t know whether she’ll take to it.’

‘Petra will be grateful you’ve remembered, given all your woes.’

‘And excitement.’ Hadn’t Gerry remembered he was about to meet his child!

‘Of course. How soon, your initial visit?’

‘Soon. I rang Betty from Linate airport while I was waiting to board. She’s contacting the family to fix a time. I can’t wait. But whether they’ll allow further visits…’

‘Depends on how open they are toward introducing a birth father.’

‘Don’t I know it! Betty hasn’t been clear about how willing they were. It could be solely persuasion by Vee, Claire’s husband. He’s in the grandfather role. He suggested a growing boy brought up by two women will need a male role model.’

‘Seems about right. Not that I’d know.’

Terry kept quiet while Gerry negotiated heavy traffic. One airport, one motorway seemed much like another, Italian or British, whether sitting on the left or the right. 

When they were on the main route, he said, ‘I must call in on my parents soon to let them know how Milan went. Ideally I’d go on a rainy day; fewer neighbours about, just in case they read the sleaze mag. I rang from Milan the day after I got it, but they fobbed me off. I need to check if they suffered any consequences from it. After that, you’ll come over with me one Sunday, won’t you? Remember, I was going to include Petra and Tabitha when we went next.’ 

Gerry didn’t answer. Mind on the traffic, no doubt. His own mind was full. He had a briefcase of work to discuss with Richard the next day, plus the thrill of the event ahead; his first sight of Malcolm. 

‘Can’t stop thinking about meeting my son. I can’t get a mental picture of how he’ll look. You know, I haven’t even seen a photo of him. Betty doesn’t have one.’

‘Bit weird. Not even on her phone?’

‘No. It’s not a smart phone. She’s rather… she’s not someone who buys more than the essentials. I mean, the sort of life she’s led, probably no-one’s photographed her, and she doesn’t think to record moments.’ He didn’t go on to tell Gerry what she’d said when he’d asked about a photo. Too risky, in case Bobs spot it and get on my case. You know. He did. If Bobs saw a baby photo when Betty didn’t even have a man-friend, they’d be hot on the trail. They knew she was close to Gudrun (or Elsie, as they’d known her). Bobby, he could tolerate, but with luck, his oldest two half-brothers were out of his life. Betty, of course, was very much in it.

‘She sounds a drag.’

‘No!. I made that assumption in the beginning but I’ve badly under-estimated her. I just saw a dumpy figure with ill-fitting clothes covering for Gudrun. But, truth is, she’s done far more for others than I have. And if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have any knowledge of my son.’

Gerry merely grunted, so he stayed quiet. Only a few hours ago he’d phoned Betty from Linate airport to let her know he was on his way, eager to see Malcolm as soon as possible. She’d sounded thrilled to hear his voice. Heart-warming to know she valued him as a brother. He could picture her in her dingy kitchen along the narrow hall wearing a shapeless sweatshirt and trousers, likely maroon or brown, her Lowprice overall hanging neatly over an indoor airer, her eager round face and tilted eyelids a heavier version of his wife’s. Betty was a good sort. She’d spent her whole life skivvying for her mother and brothers, and the lone soul secretly sorting out her sister’s problems. Now she was his only route to his son. He should find some way to improve her lot. She was worth more.

The car drew into its reserved space and Terry opened his eyes.

‘You nodded off, Bro.’ Gerry hauled the suitcase out of the boot. ‘Come on, I’ll take this one.’

Terry followed him indoors with his cabin bags. It was good to be back in the flat—home? He unpacked while Gerry put together a meal. He the small suitcase on his bed, the post, nothing important, the items off the shelves, mostly for his briefcase…except for one thing. He picked it up with his finger-tips: Gudrun’s worry dolls.

Chapter 2

‘He’s definitely back.’ Eileen was checking what Terry had written on their postcard from Milan. ‘His arrival date’s quite clear on this,’ and she waved it towards Will. ‘You’d have thought he’d have come straight from Heathrow to his Mum and Dad.’

They were in the kitchen where they seemed to spend most of their time, despite a living room and a dining room, a conservatory and a good-sized garden. Will rocked to and fro on his heels, his hands spread on the back of a mahogany chair. ‘I always like to leave it up to him to make contact. We’re retired; he’s not. And now he’s living up at Gerry’s this is some distance for him. Anyway, he might be avoiding places he’s known, since the magazine feature.’

Eileen rubbed a hand up and down the side of her face. ‘Like wondering which neighbour has read the thing; which are whispering behind their curtains?’

‘That’s folk. I dare say before coming over here he’d take a couple of days to check whether there’ll be any—’ He stopped himself. ‘For reactions.’

‘Reactions? You mean, police calling, getting hold of the story? I thought you said the journalist wasn’t going to give surnames. If they knew Gudrun was his sister…’

‘Half-sister, that may make a difference.’ He tried to shrug it off. Eileen hadn’t badgered him so far for legal details; she’d assumed the seamy story was more a matter of embarrassment, a low-life neighbour of the birth mother providing information which could be thought untrue. ‘The feature could have been worse; such a vile magazine, full of sensational stories. Folk who read such things probably don’t worry too much about truth.’

‘Incest’s about as bad as you can get, though. I mean, he’s back, and he hasn’t come here. He could be at the police station right now.’

‘No.’

Eileen shook his sleeve. ‘Will. What would happen if the police visited him?’

He pursed his lips. ‘Very unlikely.’

‘Did you find out what the punishment—if they found out, you know?’

He put his hands on her shoulders and sat her down. ‘Don’t worry. He’d get a solicitor who’d explain how he’d been trapped.’

‘But if they didn’t believe him, what’s the worst that could happen?’

Will said, ‘It’d be all right, under the circumstances. Wait, I copied it out in the library.’ He went to the hall and opened the desk drawer.’ Here,’ he pulled out a sheet of lined paper. ‘The charge happens if - quote - the defendant knew or could reasonably have been expected to know that he was related in that way, and we’d give evidence our son never had the slightest inkling. Leon would give witness. Terry met Gudrun through him, and now Leon’s been over and told us his side, he’d obviously support Terry’s statement. He’d say how devastated Terry was when he found out.’

Eileen put her hands on Will’s. ‘It’d be down to whether any of us were believed… we’re parents, Leon’s his best mate… unless she admitted what she’d done. No wonder she’s sailed off to far lands—luckily for her, because I could strangle her! It’s a blessing she didn’t have a baby—think of that! And that’s a curse, no chance of a little grandchild for the foreseeable future.’

Will detected tears not far below the surface. It wasn’t only Eileen who’d been longing to be a grandparent ever since Terry’s marriage. He stroked her hand. ‘Against my better judgement, I’ll ring him, though he’s probably at work.’

‘Yes. Do. Go on.’ She stood up, as if he’d help to use his mobile.

He nodded across to her as Terry answered. ‘Are you in a meeting or anything? Good. We were just wondering if you were comfortably back, son.

‘No, that’s all right. You don’t have to apologise. We’re fine. All okay? Right, right. Won’t keep you long, then.’

He nodded and smiled at Eileen.

‘Good in Italy, was it?’ Pause. ‘Well, I’m glad. You stayed much longer than we expected. Yes, probably wise.’ He mouthed to Eileen, ‘His boss didn’t want risk his being sought out and interviewed.’

‘Yes, we read the thing. Awful, but don’t fret. Not a serious problem here, so far as we know. No-one has mentioned it or looked oddly at us, so perhaps we’ve been lucky and no-one reads that mucky stuff around here. The main thing is, the article’s out and over with. Their readers will be busy with the next piece of sensation and will soon forget you.’

Eileen had her head cocked to one side, listening. When she heard Terry sounding cheerful, she busied herself getting their tea: smoked haddock, tinned mushy peas, brown bread and butter.

Will was nodding to Terry’s account of his journey. ‘Good, good. Anyway, when can you come over?’

She put the fish in the microwave, but didn’t switch on, her hands suspended while she waited for the answer.

‘Of course we’ll be here! Come whenever. If Gerry’s with you, even better.’

She heated the mushy peas and put the bread and butter on the table. The microwave pinged simultaneously with Will replacing his mobile on the worktop. He smiled over at her. ‘Tomorrow afternoon.’

She said, ‘You didn’t tell him Leon had been round. Fancy Terry leaving Leon with neither of his new numbers.’

Will narrowed his eyes. ‘Think, Eileen. Leon’s dating Fiona. That’s the likely reason why Terry’s left his best mate without any means of contact. He’ll be worried Fiona might say about…’

‘Oh dear me. But I think she’d be too ashamed.’

‘Probably. Leon didn’t seem to know. No embarrassment or hesitation about mentioning her. Mind you, his own news was exciting enough to keep us entertained.’

Eileen chuckled. ‘He always did keep us entertained. My favourite of Terry’s school friends.’

‘He was here often enough, celebrating your cooking.’

‘Yes, and you can, too, if you sit down.’ She put the two plates of food on the table. ‘Sad when those two grew up and had their fun in the wide world instead.’

‘Sad for us, love, not them.’ He picked up his knife and fork.

‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘But I’m proud to say how well we know him now so many people have heard of him. Terry’s going to be impressed - Haymarket, no less.’

‘We must let him talk about his time in Milan first. Then I’ll give him Leon’s news.’

Chapter 3

Betty fussed around her wardrobe, pulling out one garment and putting it back again. Her clothes were a worry now she’d created an Event. It had never mattered how she looked before, she’d never thought much about being well-dressed. At work she always wore an overall, and with Ma and Bobs, she was usually doing chores. Apart from the odd evening at the Multiplex, she never went anywhere. She pulled out the dark orange frock with the swirls. No. Auntie Claire passed on still-good clothes, and she wore them, but their fit wasn’t perfect and perhaps Auntie’s best colours weren’t Betty’s.

But now Terry was back, the Event would be real soon. He’d rung from an airport in Italy and asked her to find out when he could meet his little son. Fancy that, she, getting a call from a businessman in Milan just boarding his plane home, and that man her youngest brother! Straight after Terry’s call, she’d phoned Auntie. The family had geared themselves up for his visit. Auntie said next Sunday after lunch. It was an important day for them all and she was the one who had made this happen.

The mirror panel stuck on the back of her bedroom door reflected the pile of discarded clothes. She wasn’t going to turn up for Terry’s big day in any of them. She needed something new, not just a jumper but the whole lot. Not fancy, but smart. She’d always though it didn’t matter; no-one ever looked at her. They might notice her now, walking alongside Terry. She didn’t want to let him down. All Ma’s children had been let downs, or had let themselves down. Mostly— both.

It was great they were friendly now, after that dreadful first meeting. She went hot remembering the shock of coming face-to-face with him as she opened his spare bedroom door. Elsie had planned for them to collect her stuff from the house when he was safely at work, but he was waiting in that tiny room. He’d found the Betty Box and the baby’s birth tag there. He had no idea who Betty was. And