Fay slid down from Molly’s lap and went off obediently.
‘Did you hear the news?’ she asked quickly.
‘About Nancy, you mean? Alexa approves, obviously; it was an opportune time for you to return, it seems. She is very fond of you both. She confided in me that she was loath to part with Nancy though.’
‘She confided something else, didn’t she?’ Molly challenged him.
Matthew looked surprised. ‘No. But she’s aware that I know. Your father wrote to me, Molly.’
‘He hasn’t answered my letter yet!’ she cried childishly. ‘What did he say?’
‘He suggested a solution, for both of us. He thought I should ask you to marry me—’
‘How dare he? I turned down an offer of what I thought at the time was a marriage of convenience – from him.’ She pointed defiantly at her stomach so that he couldn’t miss the now unmistakable signs of her pregnancy. ‘I don’t feel guilty, you know. I’m not going to be a burden on you or anyone else – I mean it.’
‘I guessed that was how you would react,’ he said quietly. ‘All right, take it that I have asked and you have refused. But you know that I really like you and consider myself to be your friend: that I appreciate all you have done for Fay in the past. I just want to repeat what I told you that night after dinner at Wren’s Nest – was it really about eighteen months ago? You can always talk to me, Molly. I intend to be around if and when you need me.’ He rose, held out his hand. ‘Come on, let’s shake on it!’
She stretched up, dabbed a kiss on his cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Matthew. I always jump to conclusions.’
‘Cool down,’ he advised. ‘Wait to hear from Colonel Sparkes. You may well be surprised at his reaction.’
‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Now let’s go and find out why they are so long in bringing in tea!’
‘Molly?’
‘Yes?’ She turned at the door.
‘I never saw Lucy, you know, like that. It’s yet another regret for me. You look so young – but womanly, beautiful, at the same time. Don’t forget, if I can help in any way, please say.’
‘Thank you, Matthew,’ she said. ‘I’m glad I’ll be seeing the New Year in with you.’
*
‘Go and ask Walt how much longer he’s going to be with mending the lining of that portmanteau,’ Minnie said to Molly. No grudging pleases or thank yous from her: merely a challenge. She knew very well that Molly got all out of breath climbing those steep stairs now she was almost six months pregnant but wasn’t going to make concessions for her. She couldn’t get at Nancy, what with her about to wed Mr Loom. Minnie smouldered inwardly whenever she saw them together. But Molly, despite being a favourite of Mrs Nagel who seemingly had overlooked her rash behaviour, was vulnerable of course.
‘Sit down, dearie, while you’re waiting.’ Aggie told her with real concern. She didn’t stop sewing, nor did Walt, but he was on the last lap of his task.
Molly was all out front with the baby. The only comfortable way to sit was with her knees well apart, but she couldn’t do that in mixed company. So she sat upright on the bench, biting her lip as her insides were butted and kicked by the baby, hoping that all this movement was cloaked by her skirt. She thought: Oh, it must be a boy, a tumbler and a juggler like the father who doesn’t know of his existence . . . Rory’s written three times now, despite my brief replies: I was really happy to hear that dear Serena is slowly improving in health, and that he plans to join his brother for a while in mining for gemstones, but it was quite a shock to learn that he’s taken me at my word and is getting to know his mother’s young nurse rather well, Sarah Riley – didn’t I say he’d meet a nice Irish girl? Molly twisted the opal ring on her finger; she would have to take it off soon, wear it once more on the chain round her neck; it was becoming too tight. Anyway, it reminded her too much of the past.
‘I said,’ Aggie repeated, ‘we was very pleased to get an invitation to the wedding next week and Walt was certainly surprised when the bride – such a lovely, natural girl, Nancy – said, “I wonder if you’d give me away?” which he’s proud to do, not being a father himself so no chance otherwise. Of course she’d have asked Mr Loom, wouldn’t she, if he, well . . . Mr Loom seems over the moon.’ She was overcome with one of her hectic flushes, having said more than she should.
‘You sound quite the poet, old girl,’ Walt observed, coming to her rescue. ‘There! Check that for me, will you? Then Miss Sparkes can take it to Minnie. Bit of a slave-driver, our sister, eh, I imagine?’
Molly appreciated the sympathetic smile. ‘A bit,’ she agreed.
‘Don’t let her get you down,’ Aggie advised. ‘She’s jealous, poor thing. She was angling for Mr Loom herself, we could tell. She had a raw deal with that husband of hers.’
‘Her bark’s worse than her bite. She was a clever child, always got impatient with us, said we was too slow and not ambitious enough,’ Walt said, opening the door for her and ushering Molly out. ‘Not too heavy for you to carry, is it?’ He indicated the portmanteau.
‘I can manage, Walt, thank you. It’s empty after all.’
‘Oh, by the way,’ he suddenly recalled, ‘I met up with young Art by chance. Evening before last, wasn’t it, Ag? I told him all the latest going on here, and I believe he thought I was joking at first when I said about Nancy getting married – ‘specially who to, like. Then he come out with a bit of news himself: you know he always used to say he was going to emigrate to Australia? Well, he is! Made his mind up all of a sudden, apparently.’
‘Oh!’ Molly exclaimed. She wished Walt hadn’t told her that. She suspected Nancy still had a soft spot for Art. Too late now, in any case. Best say nothing, she decided. ‘Cheerio!’
‘Take care, my dear, God bless,’ Aggie called after her.
‘Poor soul,’ she said to Walt, when Molly was out of earshot. ‘She really don’t know what she’s in for before too long. Not everyone’ll turn a blind eye like we do . . . ’
*
April showers outside which made Alexa anxious, but, resolutely, no tears were shed by Nancy on her wedding day.
Alexa ordered: ‘Arms out, let me ease the dress over your head, Nancy – mustn’t spoil your coiffure, it took me long enough to arrange.’ Pity the girl looked so pale and had refused the offer of powder and paint. The freckles were prominent today.
Nancy stood there obediently as the silk dress fell in sensuous folds over her new but simple underwear, for she had resisted all attempts by Alexa to buy her an expensive trousseau, insisting that she wouldn’t feel right in frilly fripperies. Molly was resting on her bed, by order of the other two, having still to change into her own special outfit. ‘Everything flowing!’ as she said ruefully. So it was the older woman who had the dual role of dresser to the bride and chief confidante.
Alexa buttoned the tight cuffs: it wasn’t a wedding dress as such, Nancy hadn’t wanted that, either, but Alexa had got her way with the colour, pastel rather than dark blue. ‘There, you look very elegant. Let’s pray it doesn’t rain while you walk in and out of the church,’ she pronounced, stepping back to appraise the effect. ‘Shoes comfortable? You can manage the gloves yourself.’ She opened the hatbox, removed the layers of tissue and lifted out Nancy’s hat. ‘How d’you like my surprise? As worn by the Princess of Wales . . .’
Nancy thought privately that the hat looked rather like a table decoration on a dinner plate, festooned with blue silk roses and ferns to tone with the dress. However would it stay on her head? And the Princess, still thought of as plain Mary of Teck by many, wasn’t nearly as stylish as her mother-in-law, Queen Alexandra – even Nancy, a Colonial, knew that!
‘It goes with the gloves and the parasol beautifully. Thank you very much, Mrs Nagel, you’re very kind,’ she managed. Then she observed that Alexa’s eyes were suspiciously bright, and Nancy guessed intuitively that she was thinking of her only daughter’s wedding and how she had refused to attend that ceremony. She took a few careful s
teps forward – ooh, the shoes really pinched her toes, she wasn’t used to heels, and the skirt was so narrow, no wonder they called it a hobble – stretched up and kissed Alexa on her cheek. ‘I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me, I won’t, I promise! And I’m not going far away, you know, and I’ll still be working at Nagel’s, even though Leonard thinks he should support me, and – I’d like to say, Mrs Nagel, I look up to you, more’n anyone else, and – I’m really fond of you, you know, just like I am of Molly.’
‘It’s a silly hat, but right for a wedding so bear with me, dear Nancy, and wear it.’ Alexa’s voice sounded strange. She cleared her throat fiercely. ‘I should have adopted you, Nancy. Too late now, of course, but to me, you and Molly are my family since I lost Lucy.’
Nancy was hugging her now. She whispered: ‘I love you.’ I don’t want to leave you, she added silently, or this house, because it’s become home to me; but I can’t let poor Leonard down, not now.
*
‘Lucky I’m not the bride,’ Molly said ruefully, ‘I’d need a huge bouquet to cover this lot.’ She patted the bulge. ‘And forgive me for not wearing a hat. They don’t go with short hair, and anyway, I don’t want anyone looking at me, do I?’
‘You look very nice, Molly,’ Nancy reassured her. They were riding in an open carriage, more traditional than the motor car, Alexa had insisted; not travelling far it’s true, just down the road and round the corner to the nearest church, but as Alexa said, they must do things properly. A rather watery sun shone down obligingly on the three of them. Alexa wore a shantung costume with the splendid feathers on her hat waving in the breeze, just like the plumes on the grey horses’ nodding heads.
*
I’m Mrs Loom, Nancy realised when they emerged from the shadowy porch after a ceremony that had seemed unreal and even dreamlike to her.
‘Miss your dad, I expect,’ Walt had whispered to her as they prepared to make their entrance to the pealing organ. He gave her hand a little squeeze of sympathy before offering her his arm.
Nancy didn’t want to think of her father, not then. But for the first time really since she’d left Australia, she thought of her mother: Ma had suffered with her, but been too afraid, too cowed, to stick up for her. ‘I miss my mum,’ she whispered back.
‘She’s with you in spirit,’ Walt said.
He may be right, Nancy thought, as they walked down the aisle, but anyway, she’ll be glad I got away from all that, and am marrying a decent sort.
Now they were being showered with rice, and there was actually a photographer, which was another surprise arranged by Mrs Nagel, and Leonard was looking at her with beaming pride, and her friends were calling encouragingly: ‘Smile, Nancy!’
It was as she was being assisted into the carriage, with her new husband at her side this time, that she suddenly spotted a lone figure standing opposite the church. It was Art, she was sure of it, even as he turned and walked briskly away. She gave an involuntary gasp, and Leonard looked at her with concern.
‘Ready to go, dear? Take a deep breath, it’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?’
NINE
Just a small reception as they’d requested: wedding cake and a nice cup of tea, back at Alexa’s house. Mrs Moore had actually prepared rather more than that, on her employer’s secret instructions, but after two hours, the conversation was trailing off, Molly was looking tired, and Nancy couldn’t say, of course, but her feet were really paining her in the pinching shoes.
Walt solemnly presented the newly-weds with a bottle of port. ‘A bit of dutch courage,’ he intimated to Leonard, who reverted to being Mr Loom and said politely: ‘Thank you very much, this is most kind of you.’
Aggie and Minnie had clubbed together to buy a teapot. ‘We know what store Nancy sets by a cup of tea,’ Aggie said, adding archly: ‘Only one of you should pour at a time, remember—’
‘– or you’ll have ginger twins!’ Minnie finished, staring openly at Molly, not Nancy.
‘I’m sorry you’ve decided against going away, Nancy,’ Alexa said, as she waited in the hall while the bride put on her wrap.
‘Well, we’re having a few days off, aren’t we? It will give us the chance to sort out a few things at – our place,’ Nancy told her.
Alexa glanced round quickly to make sure Leonard was still talking to the guests in the drawing room. ‘You mean, throw out a few things, eh? All still just as it was when his mother was alive? Oh, you must make changes to suit yourself, Nancy. I shouldn’t say this, not today, but I do hope you’ve made the right choice – he’s a splendid chap, of course, but not one to see the lighter side of life, though perhaps you might say the same of me . . . But where’s the romance, Nancy?’
‘I don’t want none of that’ she said, lapsing grammatically, which didn’t happen so much nowadays. ‘I just want, well, respect, and to feel comfortable with my husband.’
*
There was no space for Nancy’s clothes, which for now would have to remain in her trunk. The chest of drawers and wardrobe were chock-full of old-fashioned garments which, if she didn’t just chuck ‘em all out, Nancy decided, needed a jolly good washing and airing.
‘It is very remiss of me,’ Leonard apologised. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to sort out Mother’s things.’
‘There’s plenty of folk’ll be glad of them,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry about it now. You sit down and I’ll get changed, then I’ll make us some supper.’
‘I can do that,’ he offered.
‘No, it’s my job now!’
She took her time in the bedroom, kicking off the shoes and thankfully putting on her slippers. She looked with fast-beating heart over at the double bed. Lucky she had changed the linen after the funeral, she thought. Let’s hope it’d not got all damp in the meantime. It was a narrow double bed, and Mr Loom – Leonard! – was a big man so they’d be well and truly lying side by side . . .
In the living room, he uncorked the port, poured out a generous tumblerful. Old Walt had actually been right. Dutch courage was just what he needed.
There was not yet any sign or smell of cooking. In the kitchen, Nancy leaned against the sink for support, wearing Mr Loom’s apron over the silk dress – it had seemed rather late in the day to change into something simpler. It was almost eight-thirty. She wasn’t hungry anyway.
He took her by surprise, tickling the back of her neck. She flew round to face him. ‘Sorry, I–’ she faltered.
‘I gather you’re not in the mood for eating either?’ His voice sounded teasing. He had a fatuous smile on his face.
She suddenly realised there was alcohol on his breath. This was totally out of character. She remembered how Mrs Nagel had almost forced the brandy on him, the night his mother died. Leonard was no drinker . . .
He wrapped his arms round her, pulling her with him, towards his mother’s room. They literally fell together onto the bed. ‘Two innocents, you and me, Nancy,’ he mumbled, allowing one hand to slide down and convulsively cup a firm young breast. ‘We’ve both got so much to learn.’ He let her go and stood up, rocking on his heels. ‘Get undressed quickly, there’s a good girl, we might as well go straight to bed.’
Obediently, shocked at the unexpectedness of it all, Nancy slowly unbuttoned the lovely silk dress and let it slip in a shivering heap to the floor. She sat there on the edge of the hard bed, with her head bent, rolling down her stockings mechanically as he set the phonograph in motion and the room throbbed to the notes of ‘Abide With Me’.
*
In the light of early morning, they lay side by side, just as she had pictured it. Mr Loom – she couldn’t think of him as Leonard just at this moment – slept deeply, his hairy chest rising and falling rhythmically. She reached down and stealthily pulled the eiderdown up under his chin. She had opened the window in the middle of the night; she didn’t want him to catch cold.
It struck her that she could easily have pressed that eider-down over his face, but she instantly dismisse
d the idea, with real horror.
She glanced down at her shoulders, which were still marked from his excited grip; but, after all, it had not been the ordeal she’d feared because he was inept and inebriated. Nothing had really happened except that he’d mumbled over and over that he loved her so much, kissing her compressed lips and nuzzling her neck like a sleepy child. Which made her feel sad because she was now aware that she could never love him like that. Had Art lain awake too last night? Did he feel sad – and bitter? Why had he come to gaze at her after the wedding?
*
She must have slept at last because she woke to the sound of a rattling tea tray and opened her eyes to see Mr Loom, fully dressed, washed and shaved, immaculate as always, obviously apprehensive as he offered her the cup and saucer. ‘Nancy, my dear, I must apologise for my unseemly behaviour last night. Whatever must you think of me?’
She took a sip of the tea. ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about, Leonard – but I’m going to hide that port away.’ She managed a smile. ‘Thank you for the tea.’
‘Would you like a little music?’ he asked.
She hoped he did not see her flinch. ‘Not this morning. Perhaps we could choose some new tunes together – something not so solemn. And, Leonard . . .’
‘Yes, dear?’
‘Can we afford to change a few things – move out some of this heavy furniture?’ Begin as you mean to go on, she told herself. He’s already afraid of losing you. Thinks he overstepped the mark last night.
‘I understand. Of course we can. You don’t want to be reminded of my mother at every turn, I should have realised that.’
It was going to be much easier than she had imagined, she thought with relief, and pushed back the bedclothes. ‘Aren’t we lucky? Living in the top half of the house means we have the bathroom! I must get washed and dressed now, Leonard.’
‘I hung up your dress in the wardrobe,’ he told her. Then she suddenly noticed the heap of clothes piled in the corner. He must have emptied it out for her earlier!
‘Thank you, Leonard, that was very kind of you, but I won’t be wearing that today,’ she said demurely.
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