‘Mrs Nagel asked me to stand in for her while she is unwell,’ Nancy replied demurely. ‘Don’t let her get the better of you,’ Alexa had warned. However, being kind, Nancy added a little white lie of her own. ‘She appreciates how busy you always are without taking on extra work. Anything urgent in this lot?’
‘Nothing I can’t deal with – Mrs Loom.’ Minnie refused to be mollified.
‘Oh, come on, Minnie, you must know I prefer you to call me by my first name. That’s how we started off, eh?’ When you tried to undermine my confidence, thought Nancy. If it hadn’t been for dear Walt and Aggie . . .
Minnie had the last word as she turned to go. ‘There is something in that pile which’ll interest you. I’ll be in Accounts if you need me.’
Orders for a special saddle, requests for catalogues, a letter of appreciation, several cheques settling outstanding accounts – then Nancy uncovered the postcard from Australia, boldly and inaccurately hand-coloured. She recognised the scene immediately. The mission chapel back home! She slowly turned it over. The address was almost obliterated by the postmark, but the simple message was clearly written:
Dear Mrs Nagel,
I am still with Mr and Mrs Hind.
Unexpectedly, I have found my vocation! Working with them is a wonderful, humbling experience.
Kind regards to all my friends in the House of Leather.
Yours,
Arthur Gray
Nancy fingered the card absently, lost in thought. It was difficult to take in that now she was here and he was there. It might have been so very different. She was free, surely he was aware of that? She was no longer afraid of giving and receiving love, but it was too late. She wondered if Art had learned of her troubled past: if so, at least he would understand why she had rejected him. Could he almost glimpse the pale, determined girl who had been hungry not only for food but for learning? They had both come from impoverished backgrounds, but Art’s home had obviously been rich in love and laughter. She’d really liked his family but supposed that she was unlikely to meet them again.
The telephone on the desk rang, making her start. ‘Mrs Nagel’s House of Leather,’ she said, as if she’d never been away.
*
It wasn’t easy being a full-time mother, Molly discovered, especially when your child was ill and there was a chance she would normally have jumped at: to appear in a musical play in the West End. A bit part of course, but it could have been a diverting step forward in her career.
Fay had indeed succumbed to measles: she was now recovering at home, and Matthew telephoned them most evenings to report on her progress and to ask anxiously after Almond.
A week or so after her return, Molly became aware that her daughter was obviously sickening for the same complaint. She had a heavy cold, a runny nose which had to be constantly wiped, making her fractious, she was feverish and demanding, and in a way it was a relief when the telltale rash appeared on her face and behind her ears then rapidly spread all over her body and limbs. Molly sat by her bed, trying to amuse her, but Almond cried constantly. She rubbed at her sore eyes in the darkened room, and complained of earache.
Molly gently wiped her eyes with a weak solution of boracic acid, and treated her troublesome cough with a few drops of ipecacuanha wine as the doctor prescribed. He was reassuring: the illness was running its course; the cough must be watched, of course, in case the child developed bronchitis; the absence of a discharge from the ears was a good sign. As the fever ebbed, and the need for sponging down was no longer necessary, Almond was able to sit up and to take a spoonful or two of bread and milk, sprinkled with demerara sugar. She constantly grizzled to be allowed out of bed, to empty the toy cupboard. It was Molly who longed to slide under the covers and sleep the day away.
After nearly two weeks, the rash faded to a mere speckling of brown. Almond was on the mend.
Molly had been so busy and concerned with her that she realised with compunction she had hardly seen Alexa for days.
Now that Almond was officially no longer infectious, Molly was able to give her a quick refreshing bath, to get her dressed and to take her downstairs to see her fellow invalid, who had been cared for by the invaluable Mrs Moore while Nancy was at work.
Alexa too was dressed and sitting by the window, looking out at the small garden full of summer blooms, including full-blown roses. A newspaper lay untouched in her lap. She was obviously pleased to see Almond up and about.
‘Here you are then! Up to all your pranks again?’
‘Not exactly – I really wish she was,’ Molly said ruefully.
‘Can I go outside?’ Almond asked hopefully.
‘Not today, dearie, in a day or two. When that nasty cough’s completely disappeared, eh? Sit down and look at your story book, there’s a good girl. Well, how are you, Alexa?’
‘Not much improved, which riles me,’ she said frankly. ‘I spoke to Matthew earlier. Now the quarantine is over, they intend to visit us this Saturday, just for the day he says. They go back to their respective schools next Monday. He was glad to hear that Almond, too, is better, and asked me to pass on his love to you both.’
‘Thank you,’ Molly said demurely.
‘I have an appointment to see a specialist next Wednesday – Harley Street no less. Doctor Foster must think I’m made of money.’
‘Doctor Foster – in a shower of rain, right up to his muddle!’ Fay declaimed excitedly, having turned to that page in her nursery rhyme book.
‘It’s me in one of life’s puddles, I’m afraid,’ Alexa said wryly.
Don’t let there be anything really wrong with Alexa, Molly prayed silently. Though even I can tell it’s more than the doctor has diagnosed so far . . .
*
Molly and Matthew, at Alexa’s urging and Nancy’s willingness to babysit the two small girls, had been out for the evening for a meal followed by a visit to the Gaiety Theatre. ‘Don’t think of driving back to Kent tonight,’ Alexa insisted. ‘I’m afraid we haven’t had a chance to make your usual room ready, but Fay can share with Nancy, and there’s the long sofa in the living room. We have plenty of blankets.’
‘Thank you, that would be fine,’ Matthew agreed. ‘We mustn’t be late leaving tomorrow, though, as I have things to make ready for Monday.’
‘You need a helpmate, Matthew, a wife.’
‘I wouldn’t disagree with that,’ he said quietly. ‘I found it a huge responsibility on my own when Fay was so ill. I longed for someone to be with me, to share my fears.’
‘I understand.’
‘I know you do, bless you.’
The house was quiet when they let themselves in. ‘Take your shoes off,’ Molly whispered. ‘We don’t want to wake anyone up – particularly Almond, she takes so long to settle down again. You can use the cloakroom off the hall. I’ll make us a nightcap – don’t get too excited – something milky and malty!’
‘I don’t know if I care for whisky and milk mixed,’ Matthew said with a grin.
‘You know very well what I mean! No alcohol after midnight in this house, all right?’
‘All right. As long as you stay down here with me while you’re sipping the righteous cup. Why not seize the moment to tell me if you’ve changed your mind about marrying me?’ He almost sounded as if he were joking.
‘Have I got to?’ She didn’t sound worried at the prospect.
‘You have!’
Molly leaned against the pile of blankets that Nancy had placed at the end of the sofa.
‘Why don’t you lean on me instead?’ Matthew invited.
‘I don’t want to be distracted while I say what I want to say,’ Molly told him. ‘Remember I did hold your hand when the lights went down in the theatre, and I got all excited, knowing exactly how the artistes were feeling. Wasn’t that enough?’ she teased.
‘No. I was bewitched by your beautiful dress, Molly. It made me look at you in a different way, I suppose.’
‘Silk purses and sow’s ears
, eh?’ she quipped. Perhaps she shouldn’t have worn the oyster silk, she thought, recalling how it had inflamed male passions at the party in Madrid. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to cartwheel round the room,’ she said mystifyingly.
Matthew looked puzzled. ‘I should hope not,’ he told her. Then: ‘Let me start, eh? I know you don’t love me—’
‘You don’t know anything of the sort! You’re like the brother I never had—’
‘Allow me to finish, girl! I know there is no great romance between us – maybe neither of us needs that now, with our children to think of – but we get on so well, we know each other through and through. We’ve both made mistakes. I shall always regret that I didn’t leave the Army, come home to care for Fay nearly soon enough—’
‘And I had a baby. Not your baby,’ she stated baldly.
‘But she could be, if you decide to marry me.’
‘Well, I just might, Matthew – don’t look so amazed! I thought things over, you see, while I was away. But, please, can we continue as we are – say nothing at present – until Alexa feels herself again? If I do marry you, and at this moment I almost believe I will, I’d even be prepared to give up cavorting on stage and to be a good schoolmaster’s wife.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked, just as Rory had, what seemed a long time ago.
‘Put down your cup,’ she said. ‘And I’ll show you how sure I am.’ She leaned dangerously close, completely disregarding her provocative neckline.
She’s sure I won’t take advantage, he thought. She has no idea how it was between me and Lucy . . .
*
In darkened rooms above both Nancy and Alexa lay awake, waiting for Molly to come up. More than an hour must have passed since they’d heard the couple come in.
Nancy hoped fervently that Molly would not be led astray, as she thought of it. There had been that look of sparkling anticipation about her when she’d turned to wave to Almond, in Nancy’s arms, watching from the bedroom window, Fay at her side, holding the net curtain back. Perhaps she shouldn’t have worn that gorgeous gown, Nancy thought. Still, she reassured herself, Matthew is always the gentleman, and it would be perfect if . . .
Alexa, reaching for the carafe of water on her bedside table, sighed. Well, it looks as if I was wrong when I told Matthew that time that I didn’t think she’d ever commit herself to him: something, or someone, has changed her mind. Don’t go too far, dear impulsive Molly, not tonight . . .
They would have smiled if they had seen the reality: Molly, curled up contentedly, head on Matthew’s shoulder, having surrendered to sleep after that long, tender, but chaste embrace which put the seal on their tentative new relationship.
Matthew gazed down pensively at her. He made no attempt to adjust the table lamp. He was all too aware of disturbing feelings that had lain dormant within him since he’d lost his young wife. He was, despite his best intentions, hopelessly in love with Molly: hopeless because of the qualifications she had stipulated, which really meant that she was still unsure, despite her assurances when they embraced. Then he rested his face against her soft hair and closed his eyes.
*
Molly awoke before dawn. She stretched and yawned, suddenly aware of their compromising situation. Gently she removed herself from his clasp, scrabbled on the floor for her shoes, then pulled the blankets up over him and crept away.
She hesitated outside Nancy’s door, but there was no indication that her friend was awake. She went into her own room, slipped out of the seductive dress and into bed, warmed by the presence of her little daughter. It was hard to break her of the habit of sharing her bed since she had been ill.
‘I can’t remember whether I actually committed myself to marrying Matthew or not,’ she whispered to the sleeping child, tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘But I don’t need to worry about that yet, you see, because we’re going to carry on as usual until . . . ’ She sighed, and cuddled Almond to her. ‘All I want is what’s best for you, my love.’
THREE
Alexa grimaced with disgust. ‘Raw chopped liver – whoever decided this was the treatment for pernicious anaemia?’
Almond, mimicking her expression exactly, added: ‘Nasty, Gran Lexa!’
‘What, me? Or the contents of this sandwich your mother has just forced on me, Miss Sparkes?’
‘Liver!’ Almond reassured her, thumb in mouth because she wasn’t too sure if this daily sparring was funny or not.
‘Do you two have to watch every mouthful?’ Alexa said plaintively.
Molly, switching to her other role as nurse, with her lengthening hair escaping the confining pins and one of Mrs Moore’s baggy aprons tied twice around her waist, reproved her: ‘Now you know the doctor said we must make sure you actually eat it.’
‘Well, kindly pass me that vulgar stout with which I must wash it down, then.’
The sodden leaves on the lawn just visible through the long, misted windows were raked into tidy piles: Nancy’s doing. She was still working in the House of Leather, despite Minnie’s barely veiled animosity, while Molly, staunchly supported by Mrs Moore, coped here at home.
Alexa was really no better, which was worrying, but Molly was fiercely committed to caring for her. Since the shocking news in July – it was now November – Alexa no longer sighed that she really should return to her business, that Molly must take up any offers of theatrical work that might be offered.
It was fortuitous after all, she thought, that she and Matthew had not been alone together or spoken since of the half-decision they had come to that night they shared the sofa. She was sometimes aware that he was looking at her questioningly, but certainly not reproachfully, when he brought Fay to visit her sick grandmother. When Almond hugged him, Molly hung back. The old friendship was dissolving, but she was uncomfortably aware she was not permitting something more to take its place.
She confided eventually to Nancy: ‘It’s not as if we can’t bear to be apart but we both hoped – believed – it could work out. Though this is not the moment, of course. It would be selfish of me to consider leaving Alexa now.’
‘You should tell him that,’ Nancy said solemnly. ‘Be fair to him, Molly.’
‘You can leave me to rest now,’ Alexa’s voice cut into Molly’s reverie. ‘Not that I do anything else these days.’ She lay back limply on Leonard’s chair, slipping her chilly, white hands under the rug which covered her. Even that small effort appeared to exhaust her.
How pale she is, Molly worried. I admire her so much for her determination to get out of bed each morning; the way she dresses and does her hair. She’s still got her spirit, that’s vital to her recovery. She must get better! We can’t lose her.
‘Nancy will be in soon,’ she said to Almond. ‘Let’s get the table laid for dinner, and put Mrs Moore’s casserole in the oven.’
Alexa didn’t open her eyes, but she was still awake. ‘Make the fire up before you go, will you, please, Molly? I feel very cold this afternoon. Foggy out, is it?’
‘Getting that way,’ Molly agreed. She motioned Almond to stay back while she unfastened the fireguard and shovelled coal on to what was already a good fire. ‘Shall I pull the curtains, switch the light on?’
‘Yes, to the curtains, no to the electricity. I like the firelight. Molly – you still there?’
‘Mmm.’
‘Before Nancy takes me upstairs tonight, I want to talk to you both.’
*
More coal on the drawing-room fire, and their chairs drawn up to the blaze so they could bask in its glow.
Nancy smothered a yawn. It had been a long day with plenty of problems to solve. She had taken a later bus home. She still wore her sober office costume, but had replaced her shoes with slippers and had loosened her hair, as Leonard had always encouraged her to do.
Almond had taken quite a while to settle down. Molly read so many stories she developed a husky throat and was sipping hot lemon and honey to soothe it.
‘Now’ Alexa said
, asking for their attention. ‘I think it’s probably best to come straight out with it. Doctor Foster advised that I would benefit from a move to the country; too much fog, not enough fresh air in London, he says. This has coincided with an offer that I find heart-warming in the extreme: Matthew has invited me to live with them at Wren’s Nest. He believes it would do me a power of good to be with Fay. I can’t argue with that, can I? However, I have made it clear that I will only agree if I am allowed to pay for the conversion of the old stables there, so that we could be, well, separate, on occasion. I would also need to engage a companion – no, hear me out, both of you – I do not intend to impose further on either of you, I believe I could persuade my invaluable Mrs Moore to come with me. She knows all my idiosyncrasies; her family have moved away, she is on her own and can please herself these days.
‘You must be wondering why I have not spoken of this before. I needed to discuss the practicalities with my solicitor first. As you know, Molly, Mr Amos called with his clerk earlier this week; it is true what I intimated to you then: I wished to rewrite my will. To realise capital, I must sell this house and my business. There is no need for alarm on your part because I intend to ensure you are both well provided for now, rather than later.
‘I suspect that you, Molly, would have announced your engagement to Matthew some time ago if I had not been incapacitated. But we both know that you need to resolve another matter first, my dear, even though you must go a long way to find the truth. And I have a strong feeling that Nancy yearns to return to Australia, too, to see a certain young man. Won’t you travel there together, say next spring when everything should be settled, with my backing and blessing?’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Nancy looked bewildered.
‘For once, neither do I!’ Molly cleared her throat. But she knew that she would seize the chance even though she would find it hard to tell Matthew when the time came.
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