Looking Back

by Looking Back (retail) (epub)

  When the two of them were settled, Molly voiced the question uppermost in her mind. ‘Is Alfie all right?’

  Rosie swallowed the chunk of barmcake, her sorry gaze on the young girl’s face as she answered. ‘He’s done nothing but talk about it, lass. “Did she mean it, Mam?”… “How can she end it just like that?”… “She’s seeing another fella, and now she wants no part of me”.’

  ‘Oh, Rosie. I never wanted to hurt him.’ Molly’s lips were trembling. ‘I only want what’s right for him, you know that.’

  ‘Aye, an’ there’ll come a day when Alfie will know it, too.’

  ‘Will he go to America?’

  ‘Yes, it’s all planned. His grandaddy is taking him to Ireland for a short while, to visit his kith and kin. He says it’s so the lad can have a few days’ quiet afore the long journey, but if ye ask me, he’s taking him there to show him off, so he is. The Irish half of the family will be sending Alfie straight to America from there.’

  ‘When does he leave for Ireland?’

  ‘First thing in the morning, lass. We’ve hurried it up a bit, in the circumstances, and it seems best all round.’

  Molly smiled, but the tears shone through. ‘That’s good,’ she murmured. ‘He’ll do well.’ Biting back the tears, she lapsed into a deep, thoughtful silence.

  Rosie ate her barmcake and drank her tea. Never once did she take her eyes off Molly.

  Anger surged through her. She loved the girl like her own. And from now on, if anybody was to hurt that lass, she would kill them with her own bare hands, so she would!

  Part Two

  CHRISTMAS 1948

  THE PRICE OF LOVE

  Chapter Twelve

  Jack proposed a toast. ‘Happy Birthday, Amy.’ He chinked his glass with hers, took a sip of his wine and, leaning over, kissed her tenderly on the mouth. ‘You’re looking lovelier than ever tonight.’

  He was right. Amy did look lovely. The pretty cream dress from a shop in Bedford town seemed to lift the brown of her eyes. Her dark brown hair was coiled into the nape of her neck and her skin shone like pearls in the candlelight.

  For Jack, although the little restaurant was crowded, there was no one else in that room. All he could see was Amy, and his love for her shone in his face. ‘How did I ever live without you?’ he whispered.

  Amy blushed at his compliments. ‘Ssh! Somebody will hear you.’

  He smiled. ‘Let them. I want everyone to know how much I love you.’

  Reaching into his pocket he took out a small velvet box. ‘It’s been burning a hole in my pocket all night,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘I saw it in a shop window last week and I knew you would just love it.’

  Curious, Amy opened the box, and for a moment she was mesmerised. In all her life she had never been given a gift such as this. The ring was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen; fashioned from gold and silver, its dainty shoulders were enmeshed with tiny diamonds, and the slim, open claws held the prettiest, darkest ruby. ‘It’s wonderful!’ she gasped. ‘Oh, Jack, thank you – and you’re right, I do love it. I’ll cherish it for ever.’

  ‘Are you happy, Amy?’ That was his constant worry, that she might grow unhappy away from her children, and he would lose her.

  Amy read his thoughts. ‘I do miss them,’ she murmured, ‘Molly and the others. I can’t help but wonder what they think of me, running away and leaving them all like that.’

  ‘They knew what your life was like,’ he reminded her. ‘I’m sure they understand.’

  ‘I hope he isn’t making their lives as much of a misery as he made mine.’

  ‘Why would he? None of it is their fault, any more than it was yours.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, Jack. I hope he sees it that way, too.’

  ‘I haven’t changed my mind, love.’ He thought to put that straight right now. ‘It would cripple me to have the children. I’m not the father type. I wish I was, but I’m not, and I never could be.’

  Amy had seen that, and accepted it. ‘I know,’ she laughed. ‘I’ve seen for myself how you cringe when a child comes near you.’

  ‘That’s what comes of being brought up in a children’s home,’ he said. ‘You never have space enough for yourself. They’re everywhere. You can’t escape them day or night… children of all ages, some so young they cried for their mammies every waking minute, and others, the bigger ones, who bullied us all without mercy.’

  As he spoke, she could see the tension in his face. ‘We were squashed into these awful dormitories – even had to share a bed if there were none going spare. Three in a bathtub, and sometimes eighteen or twenty round the table, always crowding… noise and fighting every day.’

  He visibly shuddered: the awful memories of his parents dying, and the trauma of growing up in the children’s home still affected him badly. Taking a gulp of his drink, he told her truthfully, ‘I’m sorry, Amy. If I could change I would, but I can’t… not even if it means losing you.’

  ‘It’s all right, Jack. I understand, really I do.’ She had witnessed his nightmares and seen the pain in his eyes whenever he talked of ‘that place’, and she knew him now, better than she had ever done. She had come to understand how he grew to be a tearaway, and how hard it must have been for him to make a success of his life the way he had. Jack was a good man; Frank was not. ‘You won’t lose me,’ she said passionately. ‘Never!’

  He looked at her then, and no man had ever loved a woman more. ‘You’re the only light in my life,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve always loved you, Amy. Ever since I first saw you.’

  ‘And you’re the only man I’ve ever loved,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve never known such joy and contentment before.’ But there was a price, and whatever others might believe, she would pay it every time she saw a child on the streets; every time she woke with a start, haunted by the faces of the innocents she had left behind.

  Frank had been the biggest mistake of her life. The consequences of that were hard to live with, yet she saw no way out of it, not if she wanted to stay with Jack. And she wanted that with all her heart and soul.

  His voice broke through her thoughts. ‘Are you ready for home, Amy?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered with a smile. ‘Whenever you are.’

  * * *

  Home for Amy was now a big, grand house down by the River Ouse in a beautiful suburb of Bedford. Built in Edwardian times, it had spacious rooms and huge windows that overlooked the park at the back and the river at the front. The sturdy furniture had been bought with the place, and from the moment Amy walked in the door, she had felt at home.

  She had the same feeling now, as they parked the black saloon and walked up the garden path. Shoving the key in the lock, Jack flung open the door and waited for her to pass inside. ‘Fancy a nightcap before we go to bed?’

  Amy shook her head. ‘Not tonight.’ Too many memories seemed to have crept in on this, her fortieth birthday. Normally, Molly would come home with flowers for her, and the children would sit round the table after dinner and make something very special; a card, or a picture for her to stick up on the scullery wall.

  If she had to choose again, to be with Frank and the children, or to be with Jack, she would still make the same choice. But it was hard not to have the children with her; harder than even Jack realised.

  As she undressed in the bedroom, Jack watched from the doorway. He saw her roll the stockings off her slim legs, and take down her panties. He smiled when she folded them with the same meticulous care she took with all the beautiful underwear he had bought for her. Now, when she raised her arms and slid out of her clothes, he caught his breath at her beauty.

  As she went to slip the pretty pink nightgown over her head, he hurried across the room to stop her. ‘Don’t,’ he murmured, and the passion was alight in his eyes. ‘Let me look at you first.’

  Amy laughed. ‘You say the same thing every night.’

  Taking her in his arms, he kissed her on the neck. ‘What man could blame
me for that,’ he murmured, and held her away from him, his gaze admiring her every curve. ‘All those children,’ he said, ‘and you still have the figure of a young girl.’

  ‘I have not!’ Turning to look at herself in the mirror, she saw what he obviously didn’t – the sag of her stomach muscles and the way her breasts had begun to droop; she knew this because where once the nipples had been upright and pert, they were now not so prominent. ‘I’m forty today,’ she said. ‘And it shows.’

  ‘Not to me,’ he answered, and bending his head, he teased her nipples with the tip of his tongue. When he felt her responding, he slid his hands round her waist and drew her to him.

  A moment later, naked and wanting each other, they made love, right there on the rug, without shame or guilt. In their hearts, they were innocents, snatching at life with both hands. And, for whatever reason, at that moment in time, life was good to them.

  They didn’t mind what tomorrow brought, or whether their contentment would go on for ever. They accepted the gift of each other and, for as long as it lasted, they enjoyed the moment.

  Because, more than most, these two lonely souls knew how fleeting a moment could be.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It had snowed all day yesterday, all through the night, and now, at six in the morning, it was still coming down. ‘When in God’s name will it stop?’

  Molly’s gaze followed the constant flurry of snowflakes as they rained down on the windowsill. She thought how beautiful it all was; the solitary tree at the top of the street was hanging low, its branches silvered by the snow, its long arms outstretched like a woman about to cradle her child. The lamp post had a collar of snow round its lumpy neck, and where the snow had settled in between the cobbles, a curious criss-cross pattern was beginning to emerge.

  Every house had a white roof, the chimney-pots like little people swathed against the cold. Snow had settled on the windowsills, thick and whipped by the wind, like froth on milk. Some way down, old Jimmy Tuppence, wrapped up in long coat, flat cap and a scarf, was shovelling the snow from his path.

  Molly chuckled. ‘You might be going on eighty,’ she muttered, pressing her nose to the window, ‘but you could show the young ’uns a thing or two – eh, Jimmy boy?’

  Suddenly, a small hand stole into hers. ‘Can we make a snowman?’

  Having crept out of bed and down the stairs like a ghost so as not to wake anyone, Molly was surprised to see Bertha standing beside her, shivering in her nightgown. ‘Well, well, what have we here?’ Lifting the bairn into her arms, she said, ‘When I looked in on you just now, you were fast asleep. What woke you, sweetheart?’

  Bertha put her arms round her big sister’s neck. ‘I saw the snow come tumbling down.’ And she wiggled her fingers to demonstrate.

  Molly showed her the snow on the ground outside the window. ‘Only three days to Christmas,’ she told the child. ‘If it snows on Christmas Day it’s supposed to be magical. What do you think?’

  ‘I think Father Christmas throws it out of his sleigh, so he can land easy.’

  Molly laughed at that. ‘Well then, it really is magical.’

  ‘Can we make a snowman?’ Bertha asked again.

  ‘We’ll see. Maybe when you’ve had your breakfast.’

  ‘Georgie said he once made a snowman, and its head fell off.’

  Molly remembered. ‘He’s right, it did.’

  She recalled the very morning; it was the end of November, some three years since. The snow had come early. The children had gone out into the yard and scooped all the snow into the centre. Everyone had helped make the biggest snowman ever… Mam and Lottie, and Molly, and Georgie with Milly and wee Bertha. Eddie hadn’t been born then.

  There had been a lot of screeching and laughing, and afterwards their mam had made hot soup and they sat round the table like a real family.

  ‘I wouldn’t like it if my snowman’s head fell off.’

  ‘Georgie didn’t like it either.’

  ‘What did it look like?’

  ‘Well, it was big and fat.’ Molly blew out her cheeks and stuck out her belly. ‘And it smiled all the time. Georgie made its head by rolling the snow round and round in the yard. Milly found two buttons for the eyes and I made the mouth out of Dad’s old bootlace.’ She chuckled. ‘The snowman stood in the yard for two whole days, then the weather changed and its head began to shrink, until it fell sideways and dropped to the ground with a splosh. Georgie was so upset he ran to his room and didn’t come out till teatime.’

  Bertha listened to the story with wide eyes. ‘Did he cry?’

  Molly winked. ‘Just a bit.’

  ‘No, I didn’t!’ Georgie was at the parlour door, his pride dented. ‘It were our Milly who cried, not me.’

  Molly pretended to have made a mistake. ‘Was it? Oh yes, I think you’re right.’ Then she quickly changed the subject and told them to go and wash, while she got the breakfast ready.

  ‘I want two boiled eggs.’ Georgie licked his lips in anticipation. ‘With soldiers to dip in.’

  ‘I want porridge, with jam and sugar and everything.’ That was Milly’s favourite.

  ‘I’m sorry. No soldiers and no porridge. You had the last of it yesterday, so now you’ll have what you’re given,’ Molly told them kindly.

  Her announcement was greeted with a melody of groans.

  Bertha was all right. She never worried too much about what was put in front of her; she just ate it. And Eddie was happy with his biscuits and bottle of milk. But the others were grown up enough to know what they wanted, and kept on at Molly. ‘Why can’t we have what we want for breakfast?’ Milly insisted. ‘All the other girls at school get to choose, so why can’t I?’

  ‘Because this is not a canteen, and besides, I haven’t been to the shops yet.’ The reason being that lately she had to count her pennies more than ever.

  These days, she had to budget very carefully. It was dog’s work getting anything out of her dad, although she had managed to squeeze a few pounds to keep them going. But, all in all, times were hard, and getting harder by the day.

  Looking at the disappointed faces now, she felt a failure. ‘I’ll see what I can do tomorrow,’ she promised.

  Knowing that if their big sister made a promise she would do her best to keep it, they turned their attention to other matters. ‘Where’s Dad?’ Nervous, they all glanced towards the parlour door.

  ‘He’s still in bed,’ Molly answered. ‘You know he always has a lie-in on a Sunday.’

  ‘When’s Mammy coming home?’ That was Bertha, still hoping after all this time. ‘Will she be home for Christmas?’

  Molly had already begun to ease them away from the idea that their mother would be coming home sooner rather than later. ‘Do you remember how I said that Mammy had not been very well since the bairn, and that she would not be coming home for ages and ages?’

  ‘It’s been ages and ages. I want her to come home now!’ That was Bertha again.

  Molly took a deep breath. ‘When you’ve all had your breakfast,’ she said, ‘there’s something very important you have to know.’

  Thinking it was something good, Bertha shouted, ‘Tell us now, Molly, tell us now!’

  Molly shook her head. ‘Breakfast first.’

  If she were to tell them now, none of them would feel like food, and besides, she had to decide how best to let them know that their mammy wasn’t still in the infirmary, but had gone away.

  From the scullery, she could hear Bertha and Georgie talking to each other about what they would make Amy for Christmas. It brought a lump to her throat.

  Setting about their breakfasts, she lit the stove, half filled the pan with milk and put it on to heat. Once that was underway, she took out three dishes and broke some bread into each one. Then she added a sprinkle of sugar and now the milk, which by now was just at the right temperature.

  Next, she dished out two rusks for Eddie, and put his bottle of warm milk beside them.

 
Taking a clean bib for him, and three spoons for the others, she placed everything on the tray and carried it to the parlour, where the children were waiting patiently.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Milly was the first to moan. ‘Not pobbies again!’

  ‘Don’t start!’ Molly had to keep a firm hand. ‘I’ve already told you I’ll see what I can do tomorrow. Besides, pobbies are good for you.’ Leaning towards her, she whispered so Georgie couldn’t hear, ‘They make your hair curl.’

  That seemed to do the trick. In any event all three of them tucked in and appeared to enjoy their breakfast, though after a time, Milly began toying with her food and only managed to eat half. ‘I can do you some toast if you like?’ That much at least, she could offer. But Milly shook her head and Molly didn’t press the point.

  She waited for the others to finish, then: ‘I want you all to listen carefully to what I have to say,’ Molly began quietly.

  But before she could go on, Milly scrambled out of her chair and, leaning across the table, yelled at the top of her voice, ‘Mam’s run away, and she’s never coming back! Lottie’s gone for ever, too. I heard Dad fighting with her.’

  For a moment time was suspended. All eyes turned to Milly, and when she began to cry, so did the others, all except Georgie. ‘I don’t care if they never come back!’ White-faced and shocked, he fled from the room and ran up the stairs.

  Before Molly could go after him, she had to deal with the others. Bertha was inconsolable. ‘Why isn’t she coming back? Doesn’t she love us any more?’

  Milly went into a sulk and Molly couldn’t get through to her. Eddie was crying simply because the others were upset, and she had to juggle her time between them all.

  After a while, Milly came out of her sulk. ‘I don’t want her to come back now,’ she said coldly. ‘I don’t like her any more.’ And to Molly, that was worse than if she’d sobbed her heart out.

  Bertha was teased out of her misery by the promise of a snowman. ‘You go out and make a start, and I’ll come out in a minute,’ Molly said, and the two girls went off, covered against the cold in woolly hats, thick stockings and winter coats. Muffled up and warm, Eddie went out, too.