Crack in the Foundation of Trust

A Crack in Trust

“Mrs. Bennett, are you in? It’s me, Linda from number twelve! I’ve got some leftover scones for youstill warmand I wanted a quick chat Wont you open the door?”

I stood by the window, a cold mug of tea in my hands. Outside, a grey November wind scuttled sodden brown leaves across the estates square. Most people hurried, heads down, collars up. The silence in my flat had become familiarthe creak of the wood floor, the tick of the clock, the soft hum of the fridge. I was used to no one knocking at my door anymore.

“Mrs. Bennett, I see your lights on! Dont hide, I dont bite!”

Lindas voice was cheery, insistenta kind of joshing brightness that refused to be turned away. I placed the mug on the windowsill, shuffled to the hallway, and looked through the spyhole. Linda was grinning, red hair scraped back in a careless ponytail, coat as bright as a fire engine, scarlet lipstick glowing.

“Honestly, youre locked up in here like its a fortress,” Linda called. “Open up! Im freezing!”

I undid the latch and opened the door. She bustled in as if she owned the place, carrying the scents of perfume, cold air, and something freshly baked.

“I made these this morning,” Linda announced, pressing the paper bag into my hands. “A few with cheese, a few plain. Theyre still warm. Youre far too thin! Must be wasting away, all on your own.”

“Thank you, Linda, you shouldnt have”

“Dont be daft! I like doing good for people. You go oneat, and brew yourself a proper brew, none of this weak stuff.”

She strode straight into my kitchen, as if it were her own, put on the kettle and fished two mugs from the cupboard. I stood awkwardly by the kitchen door, bag of scones in my hands, not quite knowing what to do. After being alone for so long, another persons presence felt a bit unrealalmost alarming.

“Come and sit down,” Linda commanded. “Lets have our tea and a natter. I know how it is. Lost your husband, kids live far off, its all foggy afterwards. My aunt ended up like that after Uncle Tom diednearly lost her mind from loneliness.”

I sat at the table. The scones did smell good. I hadnt baked in agesno reason when it was just me. These days, I bought microwaveable meals from Tesco and ate them without much appetite.

“Look, I know Im interfering,” Linda said, dropping four spoons of sugar into her tea, “but I cant help myself. See someone suffering and I have to do something. Thats just me. My husband jokes, ‘Linda, you save everyone but yourself!’ But never mind, I am what I am.”

She talked fast, lively, hands flying, laughter bubbling up now and again. I listened, feeling some part of me unthawing. How long had it been since Id spoken to anyone over tea in my own kitchen? James called from Reading once a week, but the conversations were short, polite. How are you, Mum? Fine, son. Have you eaten? Yes, dont fuss. Need money? No, thank you. Take care, love you, Ill ring again. Then silence, for another week.

“You know, Mrs. Bennett, Ive been meaning to invite you out for ages,” Linda scooted closer, her eyes warm, almost motherly. “Theres a little café, The Willow Basket, by the parade, you know it? Just a handful of us women pop in now and then for a natter. Why not join us? Get you out for a bit.”

“I dont know, Linda Im not really”

“Nonsense! Ill call round for youyou cant wriggle out. Needs mustcant hide yourself away indoors. Its not good for you, believe me. Loneliness makes people poorly.”

I nodded, uncertain how to say no. Linda finished her tea, glanced around the kitchen, gaze lingering appreciatively.

“Ooh, how lovely youve kept everything! And your tea set!” She went to the dresser, pointing at the porcelain tea set with its thin gold rim. “Bit of an heirloom, is it?”

“It was a gift from George,” I said softly. “Our thirtieth anniversary.”

“Gorgeous. You keep hold of that, you hear? Anyway, Id best be off. Busy day ahead. Eat your scones, dont be shy. And Ill see you tomorrow, three oclock?”

She swept out as swiftly as shed arrived. I stared at the bag of scones, the mugs, the trace of her lipstick on one mug. The flat was quiet againbut the silence felt ever so slightly altered, not quite as empty.

***

Linda started coming every daysometimes in the morning, sometimes the evening, always with some reason. Out of sugar. Needed advice. Just wanted a natter. She drew me into long, aimless chats, trips to the corner shop, gatherings at The Willow Basket, where three other women metloud, chatty, always swapping stories about the neighbours, prices, what was on telly.

At first, I felt terribly out of place. They were down-to-earth, sharp-tongued, laughing at things I never would, using turns of phrase that made me uncomfortable. But Linda would link her arm through mine, boast, “Heres my friend Mrs. Bennett, used to be a teacher, a proper lady,” and there was pride in it.

Bit by bit, I adapted. I started looking forward to Lindas visits, preparing for the outings, finding myself, oddly, relishing them. This wasnt the life Id had when George was alive, when wed attended the theatre or had old friends over for dinner. Those friends had moved, grown ill, or passed on. Now, there were only plastic-cupped teas and chit-chat in a discount café. But it was better than the hush of my flat.

“Mrs. Bennett, do you remember that brooch you had on last time?” Linda asked one day. We were sipping tea and eating digestives in my kitchen. “Amber, wasnt it?”

“Yes, my mothers.”

“Ooh, could I have a look? I adore old thingsreally cheers me up.”

I fetched my jewellery box and handed her the brooch. Linda turned it over in the light.

“Isnt it a beauty! May I show it to my daughter? Rebecca, you remember me telling you about her? Her graduation from universitys next monthshe wants to wear something vintage for it. Ill just let her see, I promise, and Ill bring it right back, cross my heart!”

I hesitated. The brooch was precious to methe last thing of Mothers. But Lindas expectant smile and earnestness made refusal feel rude.

“Alright,” I said. “But please be careful with it.”

“You can trust me! Wont let it out of my sight. Youre an angel!”

A week passed. Then another. No brooch. I dropped hints; Linda brushed them aside”Oh, Rebeccas still got it, just a few more days, dont worry!” Then she said Rebecca had misplaced it, but would look and bring it soon.

I fretted, sleeping poorly, blaming my own foolishness. When I tried to press her, Linda was genuinely offended.

“You think Im lying to you?” she exclaimed. “Me, who pulled you out of loneliness, comes to see you every day? Thats gratitude! If thats the way of things, maybe I should just stop coming round!”

“No, Linda, its not thatplease” The thought of Linda leaving, the long hush returning, was unbearable. “I just that brooch really means a lot.”

“I get it, I get it. Well find it. Rebeccas still lookingshell turn the place upside down. Try not to worry, yeah?”

So I pretended not to worry, and Linda kept coming, always bringing another little problem with her.

“Mrs. Bennett, might you have a spare fifty quid until the end of the month? My sons ill, needs prescription, but were skint ’til payday. I promise Ill give it straight back!”

I gave her the money, because she was my friend nowalmost family, the only one who cared about what happened to me. Fifty pounds, then a hundred. The loans were never repaid, and when I ventured a gentle reminder, Linda looked so hurt it shamed me for asking.

“Id have done anything for you, and you quibble over pennies? Friends dont keep tabs, Mrs. Bennett. Id give my last breath for you, honestly!”

***

James rang on Wednesday evening. I was in my nightdress, perched on the bed, half-listening to some DIY show, only to fill the emptiness.

“Hi Mum,” James sounded tired. “How are you?”

“Im alright, love. Hows work?”

“Heaps on, as usual. Listen, Mum, was just thinkingwhy dont you come stay with us for the weekend? Lizzies craving your stew, and the girls miss you.”

“Im not sure, Jamie Ive got things on here.”

“What things, Mum? Youre always at home.”

“Im not! Ive got a friend, actually,” I retorted, annoyed. “We meet up, go to the shops, cafés. Im not as lonely as you all think.”

“A friend?” Jamess tone sharpened. “Who?”

“Linda, from downstairs. Shes lovelychecks in on me daily, always thoughtful.”

“Mum do you really know her?”

“Of course! Weve been mates for months. Shes the one who got me out again. Id have gone to seed otherwise.”

There was a silence, a little sigh.

“Alright, if you say so, Mum. Im glad you have company, truly. Just take care of yourself. And your things. Dont put your trust in people too easily.”

“Dont be ridiculous,” I snapped. “Lindas like a sister. Dont judge heryou dont even know her!”

“Im only saying. Never mind. Sleep well, Mum. Love you.”

He rang off. I sat holding the phone, simmering with resentment. See? Even my own son couldnt stand me having someone close. They all preferred me quiet, tucked away, needing nothing. Now I was alive again, distracted, and they didnt like it. Selfish, thats what it was.

The next day, Linda showed up with a proposition.

“Mrs. Bennett, got the most marvellous idea,” she breezed in, coat half-off, shoes already kicked away. “Remember that spa break I mentioned? Wells in Somersetmy mate gets discounts there. Lets go together! In April, when the weathers bright. Two weeks of pampering and walks!”

I froze. I hadnt been away since George passed; our last trip had been Devon, three years before he died. The idea was at once enticing and terrifying.

“It must be expensive” I hedged.

“But with the discount? Its only six hundred quid each! Pennies for a place like that! Ive put by halfyou could save too, easily.”

“I dont know, Linda my pension doesnt stretch far. Five hundred a month, thats all.”

“Oh come on, youve got savings, havent you? Didnt you and George always put money away? Six hundred isnt a fortuneand youd be making memories! Whats the point of savings otherwise?”

Truth was, there were savings. Two thousand in the bank, left by George “for a rainy day.” Untouched for yearsalmost sacred. But surely, a trip with Linda, for my wellbeing that wasnt frivolous?

“Alright,” I said softly. “Yes, lets try.”

Linda beamed. “I knew youd see sense! Tell you whatlets nip to the bank together tomorrow. ATMs are a pain, Ill help.”

The next day we went. Linda held my arm the whole way, chattering about what to pack and who else might be there. At the bank, I withdrew six hundred pounds, handed it to her.

“Ill pop round to my friends, pay the deposit. ll bring you the receipt this week.”

But the receipt didnt come. First her friend was away, then forms were delayed, then something else. I started to worry, but didnt quite press the issue. Linda was as charming as everbut began asking for more.

“Mrs. Bennett, could I borrow that tea set of yoursthe pretty one? My daughters got her wedding in a month, and I want the table to look proper. Ill bring it back, all washed and lovely. Promise!”

That tea setwhite and gold, Georges present. I stared blankly. It was too much. Too dear. Too sacred.

“Linda, I” My voice faltered.

“There you go again,” Linda said sharply. “I do all I can for you, visit daily, get you out of your rutand you wont trust me with a few cups? I rescued you from being buried alive in this idle flat! And this is my reward?”

“Im grateful, Linda, I really am,” I said, trembling, throat tight. “But the tea set”

She stood, snatched up her bag.

“If you cant trust me, then perhaps I shouldnt bother anymore. Dont need friends who count every spoon. I thought you were better than that.”

She headed for the door. Dread swept over meI couldnt go back to silence, to emptiness.

“Wait,” I whispered. “Take it. Just please, be careful.”

Linda turned, triumphant. “See? Real friends have no secrets. Ill take it nowswear Ill bring it back in one piece.”

***

Three weeks later, the phone rang. My daughter-in-law, Lizzie, sounded troubled.

“Hi Mum, its Lizzie. James is still at work, so I thought Id ask myself. Did you really withdraw six hundred pounds from your savings?”

I stiffened. “How do you know?”

“James checked the statementhes got power of attorney, remember? We saw the withdrawal. Is everything all right?”

“Yes. I took it. So what?”

“Mum, please, what was it for?”

“Its my money, Lizzie,” I shot back, voice going cold. “I can spend it as I like.”

“Of course. Were just worried. Youve been mentioning this neighbour who comes round a lot. Sometimes, older people get taken advantage of by”

“Taken advantage! Are you saying Im a fool? That I cant tell friend from fraud?”

“No, I didnt mean that,” Lizzies voice was careful, bruised. “Were just worried. We love you, but with the kids, jobs, the mortgage, its hard to come over all the time. We wish we could”

“If you cared, youd make more of an effort,” I said harshly. “Once a week isnt enough. Sorry, Lizzie, I have things to do.” I hung up.

Guilt gnawed at me as soon as I put the phone down. I knew James and Lizzie worked hard, that their own lives were frantic. Still, I couldnt help the hurtthe anger that they doubted my choices, Linda, and me.

Linda came by that evening, chattering about a sale at The Willow Basket.

“Lovely new crockery set in the window. Fifteen quid instead of twenty-five. Lets buy it between usyou pay half, Ill give mine when Ive got it. Itll go to my daughters wedding. Shall we pop by tomorrow?”

“Linda, I dont have any spare money,” I mumbled. “I already gave you six hundred for the spa. Remember?”

“Youve got some left in the bank, Im sure. Or just get it on creditthey do interest-free for six months! Everybody does these days. My own fridge is on credit.”

I tried to protest, but Linda steamrolled ahead with other conversation. By the next day, she was at my door at two sharp.

“Come on, Mrs. Bennett, lets get you wrapped upstill chilly out there!”

The shop was bustling, loud, crowded. I clung to Lindas arm, feeling lost. She led me to a displaybrightly painted plates and bowls.

“Look! Isnt it gorgeous? Just what Rebecca would love. And only fifteen pounds!”

“Its expensive,” I said faintly. “And credit at my age? Is it really necessary?”

“Oh, come off it, its a wedding gift! Please, Mrs. Bennettyou know you love me like family!”

I caved. Linda called over a shop assistant, a young woman with bright pink nails. Paperwork was thrust at me; Linda peered over my shoulder, telling me where to sign. The music and chatter swirledmy head swam. I just wanted to go home.

We were nearly at the exit when a voice called out.

“Mum?”

It was Lizzie, carrying shopping bags, face pale.

“Mum, what are you doing here?”

“Buying some crockery for Lindas girls wedding,” I tried to say, feeling foolish.

“And who paid for it?”

“I did. Were splitting it.” My cheeks were hot with shame.

“Mum, listen. James checked up on Linda. Shes known hereconning older women, taking money, things, disappearing after. Mum, shes using you!”

“Thats not true!” I almost shouted. “Shes my friend, she cares about me! Youre jealous because Im not at your beck and call!”

“Mum, we only want you safe. Shes had the brooch, your money, the tea setwhat next?”

“Shell return them! She promised!”

“Mum, please”

“Leave, Lizzie. I said, go.”

Lizzies gaze was hurt, almost pitying. She walked briskly away, and I made my way to Linda, legs shaking.

“Lets go,” I said curtly.

We rode the bus in silence. Linda cradled her box, face stony. On the walk home, Linda finally spoke.

“Was that one of your lot? What did she say?”

“Said youre a cheat.”

“And did you believe her?”

“No,” I lied.

Linda took my hands, staring me in the eyes. “Youre the only one I care about, Mrs. Bennett, honest. The brooch is being looked for, spas delayed, tea setll be back next week. The crockery, Ill pay half. Trust me, youre my closest friend, thats the truth.”

I wanted desperately to believe. So I nodded.

“Good. Dont let anyone come between us. Were real friends, you and I.”

***

I ignored James and Lizzies calls after thatevery day for a fortnight, sometimes more. I couldnt face them. Linda still came round, but lessalways some excuse. The crockery was in her car, or waiting to be washed; the spa booking still being confirmed. My doubts awoke, but I tried not to dwell on them. I started taking my blood pressure pills again, sometimes having to sit down unexpectedly short of breath. But I didnt call anyonenot even Linda.

Saturday morning, the doorbell rang. James and Lizzie stood there, bags of food in hand.

“Hi Mum,” Jamess eyes were red with exhaustion. “We had to see youcouldnt just keep phoning.”

“I told you Im fine.”

“We made some soup. Lets eat and talk.”

I wanted to order them out, but I couldnt. I sat sullenly while Lizzie made lunch and James set the table, as tentative as if I were a stranger.

“Mum, did Linda return anything? The brooch? Money?” James asked softly.

“She will, she promised,” I muttered, not able to meet his gaze.

James was shaking. He spoke of talking to local policeLinda had complaints against her already, a known story.

“No,” I whispered, “No. Shes my friend. Shes the only one who cares.”

“Thats not fair,” Jamess voice hardened. “We work, we call, we do what we can. Youre giving everything to a con artist!”

“Get out,” I said, standing. “Out of my house.”

“Please, dont”

“OUT!”

They leftLizzie in tears, James silent. I bolted the door and slid to the hallway floor, head in hands, torn and empty. Id known, deep down, that they were right. But owning itfacing itwas more than I could bear.

Linda didnt show for three days. Then one grey afternoon, she appeared as if nothing had happened.

“Hello, Mrs. Bennett! Just in the neighbourhood.”

“You promised to bring my tea set back,” I said at the door, voice steady.

“Oh, bugger, yes. Thing is, Rebecca got a bit clumsy and broke a couple of the cups. But dont worryIll buy you new ones!”

“Broken?” My voice was very quiet.

“Just a few! Ill fix itoh, by the way, can you lend me another fifty quid? For the wedding dressRebeccas stuck!”

And in that moment, I saw her as I should have from the start. The sharp glint in her eyes, the calculation. All the kindness, the laughs, the gifts were staged. She saw me as a purse, nothing more.

“No,” I said, levelly.

“No, what?”

“I wont give you more money. Bring me my tea set. Now.”

“Oh, dont be sillytheyre just cups! Real friends”

“Were not friends,” I said, and steadily closed the door.

She banged, shouted, called me a fool, an ingrate. Finally, her steps retreated down the stairs. I leaned on the closed door, heart racing. Utter silence.

I returned to the kitchen and my dresser. Where the tea set had once stood, there was only empty space. I ran a finger along the shelfs dust and, for the first time since George died, cried my heart outnot quiet tears, but heaving sobs, more for shame and bitterness than for Linda.

***

The following morning, the bell rang. I opened the door to Linda, her mouth a scowl, a box in her hands.

“Heres your precious tea set,” she spat, dropping it at my feet. “Dont you ever ask me for anything again, you miserable cow.”

She whirled and was gone. I hauled the box to the kitchen and opened it. Nearly every piece was cracked, the teapots spout broken clean off. They smelled slightly sour, as if theyd been left unwashed.

I took out a faded saucer, split in two. I sat for a long time, then rose and dialled Jamess number.

“Mum? Are you alright?” His voice was anxious.

“Can you come over, James? Please?”

“Were on our way, Mum. Sit tight.”

An hour later, James and Lizzie arrived. Seeing the shattered tea set, and me pale and shaking, Lizzie sat beside me and wrapped me in her arms. I let myself cry, only this time, the tears were for relief. They were here. They hadnt abandoned me.

“Im sorry,” I whispered through my tears. “Im so, so sorry.”

“Its alright, Mum,” James said, squeezing my hand. “Well talk to the police. Well try to get something back.”

“No,” I shook my head. “Let her keep it. Whats broken is broken.”

Lizzie looked at the broken china in my hands.

“We can glue it back together. The cracks will show, but itll hold. If you want.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Maybe thats enough.”

We spent the evening together. Lizzie made soup, the very sort Id cooked for James when he was small. We talked, gently, of ordinary things. It hurt, but there was a slow, warm comfort in their presence. When they left, it was dark, the flat quietbut not as fearsome as before.

I fetched some glue from the drawer, took the broken saucer, and tried to fit the pieces together. The cracks were jagged. My hands shook. But I kept at it, patient, determined.

The phone rang. James, checking in.

“How are you, Mum?”

I looked at the saucer in my handcrack visible, mended but forever marked.

“Ill come over with the girls tomorrow,” he said. “Well cook stew, have a proper afternoon together.”

I rotated the saucer in the lamp light. Itd never be perfect again. But it would hold.

“That would be lovely,” I said quietly. “Ill do my best.”