by The Castlefield Collector (Watch for the Talleyman) (retail) (epub)
‘I wish we could stay like this forever, not let the tram come back for us. We could live in one of those little cottages with our children around our feet and be happy as larks.’
Perhaps it was the mention of children, or this idyll of togetherness he’d described which brought her to her senses. Dolly sat up and picked up her abandoned sandwich, now curling slightly in the heat. ‘I think we’d best eat our picnic and try to come back down to earth, don’t you?’
‘I don’t ever want to come down to earth if it means losing you, Dolly. I want you to be my wife. I want to marry you.’
‘Oh, Matt!’ Her eyes were bleak, raw with longing as she looked at him. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know love, but I mean it to happen, come what may. You’re my woman now, Dolly, and my future wife. Make no mistake about that.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Later, back home in the solitude of her little house, Dolly was swamped by guilt, almost overwhelmed by it. It gnawed at her, consumed her, had her pacing the bedroom floor before dawn. One minute she wished Mam was still at home so she could talk her worries through with her and share the tumult of these emotions, the next she’d feel relieved that she wasn’t.
Hadn’t she tormented Maisie for doing this self-same thing, going with another man while she was still married? Hadn’t she blamed Sam too? She was no better than either of them. Dolly saw herself as a hypocrite. Loving Matt as she did was no excuse at all, not in her eyes. She’d allowed him to make love to her, a man other than her husband. Never mind that it had been wonderful and glorious, what had she been thinking of to let it happen?
It was time to take stock and come to her senses. Sam was still her husband, but had made mistakes and was not perfect.
‘We’re all weak because we’re human,’ she told herself sternly as the first rays of sunlight prodded away the dusky shadows of her room. Marriage was sacred, so if for nothing else he surely deserved another chance. It surely wouldn’t be right to lead a double life, one of secrecy and furtive meetings? Could she afford a divorce, now that she was as guilty as him?
Dolly stood at her bedroom window for a long time with the image of Matt’s face before her, seeming to be imprinted on the rose-tinted glass as the sun grew in strength and filtered through the grime, tears rolling down her cheeks. Oh, but how could she ever manage to give Matt up, now that she’d found him? They needed to talk, and hopefully he’d call by later.
* * *
Matt fully intended calling on Dolly, just to check that she was all right, and reassure her about how he felt after what had taken place between them yesterday. He certainly didn’t want her to feel guilty, or to think that was all he’d been after. He was getting ready to go when his boss called at his door to ask if he’d pop to the yard for an hour or two, even though it was a Sunday, as a load of timber had just been delivered that needed shifting and sorting. Matt agreed. He liked his gaffer and needed the work.
In the event it was nearly three o’clock by the time he’d finished but Matt decided to go anyway. He desperately wanted to see her, and it was important to tell her again how much he loved her, how much their special day together had meant to him. He hurried home to sluice himself down with hot, soapy water and quickly change into his smart Sunday suit.
Moments later he was striding along Potato Wharf, all slick and smart, when he spotted Sam leaning on a lamp post talking to Lizzie Bramley, one of the mill girls. Matt didn’t pause he merely nodded by way of recognition and continued on his way. Seconds later, Sam was at his elbow, playfully punching his shoulder, almost dancing along beside him.
‘Are you still not speaking? Too stuck up to talk to an old mate?’
‘You seemed busy, more interested in your new girlfriend.’
Sam punched him harder, bringing him to a halt. ‘Hey, what you implying? She’s not my girlfriend, just a bit light relief as you might say. What about you? Where are you off to in such a hurry? Still trying to catch a bit of skirt for yourself, eh?’
Matt shrugged him off and kept on walking. ‘None of your damned business! You and me haven’t been mates in a long while, Sam. I don’t like your style any more.’
‘It’s my style that gets me any likely lass I set my cap at.’
‘So I’ve heard.’
‘Who from? Who’s been gossiping about me?’ Sam was hurrying now, his shorter stride finding it hard to keep up with Matt’s cracking pace. ‘It wouldn’t be my wife, would it?’
‘Dolly never says a word against you. Far too trusting, more’s the pity.’
Sam chuckled, preening himself with delight. ‘Aye, that lass thinks the sun shines out of my bleedin’ backside! I regret having left her and will ask her to take me back. She’s a right little cracker in bed, and never minded how much I went out of an evening. Not the nagging sort, our Dolly.’
Matt abruptly stopped, his expression livid and grabbed Sam by the collar and pulled him up sharp. ‘I hope that doesn’t mean what I think.’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘You know how I feel about Dolly; always have, and I won’t see her badly treated. If you do wrong for her again, you’ll have me to deal with.’
‘Who are you to tell me how to treat me own wife?’ Sam’s expression changed to one of open curiosity. ‘Hey, have you been having it off with my missus?’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Try as he might, Matt could not prevent the tide of colour from flooding his cheekbones.
‘You bloody have.’
‘Who are you to cast judgement? You walked out on Dolly months ago. We’ve become much more friendly, but don’t try to make it out as something dirty, because it isn’t. I love Dolly and she’s falling in love with me.’
Matt knew, the instant he said these words, that he’d made a bad mistake. If there was one thing Sam Clayton couldn’t abide, it was competition. He’d always been that way, in sport, in lessons at school, and particularly with girls. He always had to be top dog, the one who won all the prizes, scored the most goals and, now, slept with the most women.
His eyes had narrowed, his tone hardened. ‘Clearly I’m not the only one who enjoys playing away from home. Always makes for a better match and more goals, don’t you reckon?’
Matt turned from him in disgust, eager now to put some distance between them. The fist that connected with the side of his jaw came out of nowhere, taking him completely by surprise, instantly followed by a punch in the stomach, which brought him to his knees.
‘Serve you right, you bleeding scumbag. Nobody else enjoys my wife’s favours, do you understand?’
Matt managed to say, ‘I’ll not fight you. I refuse to lower myself to your standards. Just leave Dolly alone and—’
His words were cut off as he was kicked with the toe of Sam’s boot. He managed to grab hold of his leg and pull Sam down with him. Then the two men were grappling and rolling about in the filth of the wharf, Sam aiming wild blows, punching and kicking. Matt did his best to hold him off, to stop the fight before too much damage was done. That was a bad mistake. He never knew what hit him but he was knocked out cold, flat on his face on the hard stone setts. Nor was he aware that Sam went on kicking him for some long time.
* * *
Dolly was warming herself a dish of soup in an effort to rekindle a failing appetite when the knock came. She ran to the door, guessing it must be Matt come to see if she was all right. Then stopped, her hand on the knob, paralysed by indecision. How could she let him in? They could never be together as he had described yesterday. How could she ever be his wife? It was an impossible dream.
And yet…
The knocking came again and her heart began to thud, whether with excitement or blind panic she couldn’t be sure. It was all very well to talk herself into giving Sam another chance but what if it didn’t work? And how could she give Matt up now that she knew how she felt about him? She opened the door but it wasn’t Matt standing on the doorstep, it was Sam.
/> ‘Can I come in? There’s something I need to say.’
Dolly gave him the dish of soup and sat and watched while he ate it, smacking his lips with gusto. ‘Nobody makes a good Scotch broth like you, Dolly. You’re a wonder in the kitchen. I must say I’ve missed your cooking. Is there any more bread? I’ve worked up quite an appetite for some reason.’ Silently, she spread a dab of marg on another slice and handed it to him.
Dolly couldn’t think of a thing to say. She was too heartsore, too utterly miserable. Where was Matt? Why hadn’t he come to see her today? If he’d really cared about her, as he claimed, surely he would have called by now. Perhaps it was true what people said, that once a man has enjoyed your favours he’s no longer interested. Or perhaps he thought her cheap and of no account. She could feel her eyes burning with tears and quickly brushed them away, afraid Sam might notice.
But he wasn’t even looking at her as all his attention was fixed on scraping up the last of his soup before setting the dish aside with a satisfied sigh.
‘I wondered if you’d had time to think over what I said the other week. I’ve tried to be patient, not force you into a quick decision but I feel we should get things straight between us. We can’t go on like this. I miss you, Dolly. You know I’m crackers about you really, never realised how much till we split up. Like that time when you ran away, I missed you something shocking. Never know what I’ve got till I lose it.’
‘Perhaps we should stay apart more, then you might really start to love me,’ Dolly said, a touch of asperity in her tone. She was still secretly hoping for a second knock to come to the door. It didn’t happen.
He laughed, as if she’d made a joke. ‘Don’t be like that. We’re good together, you and me. I’ve told you already how sorry I am for hurting your feelings. What more can I say?’ Sam was desperate to move out of that overcrowded little house with Davey and his wife constantly carping at each other, and their noisy screaming kids. They nearly drove him mad. He’d promise anything for a decent billet and he’d nothing to lose and everything to gain for a little peace.
Dolly could hear the anxiety in his voice and a part of her began to soften. There was a pleading in his eyes, that little-boy-lost expression she’d once loved so much; a sulky droop to the sensual mouth, which always undid her. If he really did love her, perhaps she should give him another chance. They’d both made mistakes but with good will on both sides, it might work. Surely that was the right thing to do, and the sensible answer? And Matt hadn’t called again, as she’d hoped.
Sam was growing anxious. He’d expected her to fall on his neck and for some reason she was proving obstinate. He had to get round her somehow. Not only did he miss the creature comforts Dolly had to offer but Aggie had revealed to him her suspicions over her pregnancy, which had alarmed him greatly. The last thing he needed was for Harold to find out it was his. It wasn’t that he was a violent man or anything of that sort, but what if he dumped Aggie on to him and said; it’s your child so you must keep her and bring it up? What the hell would he do then? A bit of fun was all very well, everyone enjoyed a bit of slap and sex, but he really didn’t want the responsibility of bringing up a kid.
In any case, how could he be sure it was his? He didn’t know how active she still was with Harold. For all he knew, the pair of them could still be going at it hammer and tongs. How could he be sure since she’s a married woman? Much safer to move back in with Dolly and write it off as a bit of a lark. Sam was very good at shutting such difficulties out of his head, as more than one girl had discovered to her cost. Dumping Aggie would also give him more time to pursue Evie. He’d quite neglected her recently.
‘So what do you say, Dolly? You’re me own sweet, lovely wife, after all, and I need you. I’m asking for your forgiveness so won’t let you down again. I’ve learned me lesson.’ He was fast running out of patience, and certainly had no intention of begging. That would be too much, though he could always pretend. ‘Do you want me to go down on one knee and declare my undying passion?’ He wondered if he’d pushed it too far but she was blushing prettily, and even gave a little chuckle. He hoped he might be winning her round.
Dolly glanced across at the front door, which remained obstinately closed and silent. ‘All right,’ she said wearily, coming to a sudden decision. ‘We’ll give it one more try. But you sleep in the spare room, right?’
Sam eagerly agreed. ‘That’ll be grand. Dolly. You won’t regret giving me another chance, and I’m sure you’ll soon change your mind about our sleeping arrangements, in time.’ Being back before his own fireside would make the point to Aggie that their past was over and done with, and she’d best get used to her baby having Harold for a dad and not him. As for the back bedroom, well, he’d be out of there in no time, given his skill with women. Dolly would be putty in his hands before the week was out.
Something inside her gave a silent cry of denial. She really didn’t want him in her bed ever again, yet gave no indication of this as she valiantly smiled her agreement. ‘We’ll see how things go, shall we? Take things slowly. You can fetch your things round tomorrow and come home to that spare room.’ That gave Matt one last evening to call and say that he still loved her, and she hadn’t shamed herself by giving in to his charms. Maybe then she’d change her mind allowing Sam to stay.
Matt didn’t call. Dolly waited up quite late, hoping and praying that he would, that he’d have some reason for leaving it so late and would finally arrive to reassure her that his feelings for her were as strong as ever, that he still respected and loved her. But she sat alone, largely in tears, all evening.
* * *
Sam moved in the following day and Dolly suffered a second night of torment, worrying over whether she’d done the right thing. Why had Matt let her down so cruelly? After that on the next day, she went early to the timber yard, long before any of the men had arrived for work and left a note for him with the night watchman. It stated that she couldn’t ever see him again. It explained that Sam had moved back in, and she closed by saying that, however much she cared for Matt, she believed their time together had been a mistake, as perhaps he did too. She hoped he wouldn’t think too badly of her. Making her marriage work seemed to be the best solution all round. She signed the letter in friendship, tears blotching the words.
On Tuesday, when Matt finally received the letter, following his return from hospital where he had spent the last two days, he screwed the paper up into a furious ball and flung it into the canal.
If only he hadn’t met Sam on Saturday afternoon! If he’d kept his mouth shut and not given the impression he loved Dolly and she was growing fond of him, Sam might not have goaded him into acting like a fool. That had cost him dear and Dolly was now persuaded to take her husband back. In despair and fury Matt punched the wall with his fist, damaging his knuckles. Then he kicked several big stones into the canal that sank along with the note and all his hopes and dreams. His agony was so unbearable he didn’t speak to another soul for the rest of that day. Even his workmates recognised distress when they saw it in his face, guessing it had something to do with the cuts and bruises he’d recently acquired and judiciously kept a respectful distance.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aggie was bitterly disappointed when she heard that Sam had moved back into Tully Court with Dolly. It wasn’t that she had any intention of leaving Harold for him, far from it. Nor did she have the slightest wish of eliciting scandal by carrying on the affair for too long. Her nerves had been a wreck during those few short weeks while she and Sam had been having their little fling. Oh, but it had been so exciting, so thrilling, and such a boost to her morale that it had even livened up her flagging sex life with Harold.
But what she’d enjoyed most of all was getting one over on Dolly, the sister who’d inveigled her way into the Tomkins family under false pretences. A cuckoo in the nest! A bastard, no less, however much she might claim otherwise.
Filled with her own self-righteous view of life, and
obsessed by petty jealousy and malice, Aggie didn’t make the connection that she was about to do the very same thing as Maisie. She was about to present her husband with a child that wasn’t his.
This baby was special and must have the very best. For that reason she asked Harold for money to buy the layette, cot, baby carriage and other essentials.
‘We’ll wait till it’s safely born, shall we?’ Harold cautioned. ‘By then we’ll happen have found some second-hand equipment we could buy.’
‘Second-hand?’ Aggie was appalled. ‘I’m not having second-hand for any child of mine.’
‘Why on earth not? How long does a baby use a cot or a bath? Hardly any time at all. We have to be prudent with our savings, Aggie, now that I’m not earning as much as I used to.
Aggie paid no heed to this but called at Kendal Milne’s baby department and ordered not only a complete layette, since she certainly had no time to knit while working at the mill, but also every item of furniture and baby equipment which she might conceivably need for baby’s nursery. From bottles to a baby bath, from a cot to a high chair, bibs to pram suits, baby Entwistle would be the smartest child on the street, as was only right and proper.
They promised to store the items for her, until they were needed, handed over the necessary forms for her husband to sign and a club card so that weekly payments could be made. Aggie walked away perfectly happy, and with only the slightest reservation about the actual filling in of the form. She put off telling Harold that evening as he was in a sour mood, complaining about a fist fight that had broken out in the mill yard, which he’d had to deal with. He was tired and snored loudly in his chair for hours before waking up with a start and ordering her to bed.