Free Family Betrayal by Kitty Neale

been killed during the war. She and her mother had been grief-stricken, but Uncle Dan had taken them under his wing, continuing to support them until her mother died. Oh, yes, nice Uncle Dan, kind Uncle Dan – or so everyone thought. Ivy knew better.
    At twenty-three years old she had married Steve,pretending to be grateful when Uncle Dan had secured them the tenancy of this house. Her eyes darkened with hate. She wasn't grateful, why should she be? Not when she suspected the truth. Of course she couldn't prove it, but her resentment had festered until it became an obsession. Oh, she'd make him pay – somehow – someday, she'd find a way. Until then she had to be content with stirring things up, causing mischief for the family at every opportunity.
    With a thin smile Ivy consoled herself with the thought that she had a bit of information now. George had been hitting Linda, something that would upset her aunt and put the cat amongst the pigeons. She hated the way her aunt wanted for nothing – the way Uncle Dan called her ‘Queen’. Her own mother should have been equally well off, but instead had suffered the humiliation of Uncle Dan's so-called largesse.
    Ivy made for number one, looking forward to wiping the smile off her aunt's face.
    With a Woodbine between his lips, one eye shut as the smoke curled upwards, Steve Rawlings endeavoured to ease paint-encrusted screws out of the window frame. Joan was bustling about as usual – the woman never stood still. He could hear the thump, thump of Petula's record player, but at least the music was a bit muted since Joan had told the girl to close her bedroom door.
    He'd been glad to get away from Ivy's questions, worried that one day she'd wear him down and he'd blurt out the truth. Like Ivy, he didn't have a lot of time for the Draper boys – well, except Chris, who was always friendly – and he was shit scared of Danny and George.
    Ivy had talked him into joining the family business, wearing him down with her nagging. They might be better off, but in truth he hated working for Dan Draper. He'd started at the yard and it hadn't been a bad job, until after only a few months he'd been roped into the other stuff.
    He'd been happier as a totter, his own man, riding the streets with his horse and cart, picking up scrap from households all over the borough. He may not have made a lot of money, but he'd never been frightened – not the gut-wrenching churning in his stomach he now felt every time he took out a delivery of the shit that the Drapers turned out. He dreaded getting stopped by the police, dreaded a vehicle search, knowing that if and when it happened, he'd have to take the fall. There was no way he'd dare implicate the Drapers – not if he wanted to stay alive.
    His lips tightened. Of course, Ivy had no idea that the Drapers produced porn. The daft cow still thought they made their money from the yard, with a bit of thieving thrown in. Ivy still had her suspicions, of course, but there was no way hecould tell her the truth, not when Dan had made it clear what would happen if he did. With a sigh he continued working on the catch, but then scowled when Ivy knocked on the door before sticking her head inside.
    ‘Hello, Auntie Joan. Can I come in?’ she called.
    ‘I suppose so, but I'm up to my eyes at the moment,’ Joan replied from the kitchen, her tone making it obvious she resented the interruption.
    Ivy ignored the rebuff and Joan came fully into the room, wiping her hands on her apron as she said, ‘I'm cleaning out my cupboards. Everything's upside down.’
    ‘I won't stay long. I just popped down to see how Steve's getting on.’
    ‘I'm nearly finished,’ Steve said, annoyed to think that Ivy was checking on him, but when she spoke again he realised the truth of her visit.
    ‘I hear there's a meeting at the yard, Auntie Joan,’ Ivy said. ‘Do you know what it's about?’
    ‘No,’ Joan said shortly, adding as an afterthought, ‘why don't you ask your