In spite of herself and the panic that was coursing through her, the thought brought a weak smile. Who would have imagined that, after nearly eleven months of marriage and with a baby daughter to boot, she would be seducing her own husband? Not that Perce would take much seducing, she knew that. She understood the reason for his restless tossing and turning over the last months and the odd burst of temper that his frustration caused.
She heard his footsteps on the stairs, then in the room outside. The bedroom door opened and still she sat on the bed as she looked across the room to where he stood surveying her, his face stretched in comical surprise. His big arms hung loosely by his sides and he didn’t move, nor did he speak. Strangely, his bewilderment eased her shyness and fear of what lay ahead. Softly, she said, ‘Why don’t you turn out the lamp and come to bed and love me?’
It hadn’t been anything like she had expected. In spite of herself and her desire to ease the craving of his body, she had become stiff and unyielding once he was in bed beside her. When his arms had gone about her, the trembling of her body had increased. She forgot that this was Perce and that he cared about her, she was only conscious of feeling smothered and helpless, but he had begun to talk to her, to stroke and pet her, his voice deep and unhurried.
Slowly, very slowly, her tensely held shoulders and limbs relaxed and her hands, which had been knotted against his huge chest, uncurled. She could do this, she told herself fiercely. It wasn’t so bad. Perce wouldn’t hurt her more than he had to.
In the event, he didn’t hurt her at all. When he had at last nudged her thighs apart she had braced herself for the pain and discomfort, but there was only a brief sensation of tightness as he entered her. And it had been over quickly.
Now she lay in the darkness listening to him snore beside her, knowing this was to be her lot from now on. It wasn’t what she would have chosen, but she had Daisy, and Perce loved her. Of that she had no doubt. She had known so before tonight, but the things he had said under cover of darkness had confirmed it. And he asked so little of her in comparison to what he gave.
Her pent-up breath escaped in a tiny swoosh of sound.
She would make Perce happy and ensure their home would be a good place for Daisy and Matthew and the others. And, in doing so, she would be happy too – as long as she didn’t let herself think of Jacob and that other life that could have been.
Chapter Seventeen
The summer was a warm one and Daisy flourished, growing more enchanting with each week that passed. Her cot was now in the girls’ room and, although Lucy missed having her near, she felt she owed it to Perce to make their bedroom their own again. She had ceased inspecting her daughter’s baby features for any sign of Tom Crawford. Daisy was a replica of herself, everyone said so, and Lucy was content. Perce was besotted with the infant – if Daisy had truly been his, he couldn’t have loved her more – and the flat above the fishmonger’s shop was a happy place.
Summer mellowed into a crisp autumn with sharp white frosts and high blue skies, and the Wall Street Crash over the ocean in America at the end of October barely impacted on Lucy’s life. The papers were full of the news that the bursting of the stock-market bubble meant the withdrawal of American loans to foreign countries and other such financial details, but Lucy, still only sixteen years old, couldn’t drum up interest about such faraway happenings. By the time the weather worsened, though, both she and Perce had become aware that the domino effect of the collapse of the American money market had plunged Britain into a recession that made the previous years look like a walk in the park.
November was a raw month of bitterly cold winds and fierce snow showers, and the queues at the end of the day for the cheap fish and odds and ends grew daily as the recession bit harder. Inevitably at close of business there were folk who were turned away with empty baskets.
The amount of dole given to a family was supposed to be related to their ‘needs’, but Lucy knew this meant a standard of bare subsistence and inadequate diet. She hated to see the thin, poorly clad men, women and children trudging out into the winter’s night empty-handed and desperate.
She was thinking about the problem as she sat with Perce in front of the fire one evening at the beginning of December, her hands busy with a basketful of darning, but her mind occupied elsewhere. ‘We could provide hot soup,’ she said, out of the blue. ‘Just in the last couple of hours before you shut up shop.’
Perce’s newspaper lowered and he stared at her. ‘What?’
‘All the end-of-day bits and pieces that you sell cheap, we could use them by making soup. They’d go further and most, if not all, of the customers could have something. People could bring their own bowls and pans and what-have-you; I don’t mean they’d eat in the shop, but they could take away something hot, to see them through the night at least. We could price it at a quart costing a penny, or something like that. There’s room for a good-sized range in the back of the shop where you store things, so we keep it separate from here. It’d be another kitchen so to speak, and you’d make more by selling soup like that than you ever do in selling the odds and ends to folk. What do you think?’
Perce shook his head doubtfully. ‘It’d be a lot of extra work.’
‘Not really. I could prepare it gradually throughout the day when I’ve time, and make sure it’s ready. With the Depression worsening it’d be another string to our bow, now wouldn’t it? And we’d be helping people. I – I know what it’s like to be hungry and at your wits’ end.’
‘All right, all right, I’ll think about it,’ said Perce hastily. ‘Don’t get all worked up.’
Lucy smiled. She knew what that meant. Perce refused her nothing that it was in his power to give.
Over the next two or three weeks Lucy bought a good second-hand range and various pots and pans and utensils, and Perce transformed part of his storeroom into a working kitchen. He put his foot down on delaying the new venture until after Christmas, however, feeling that with seven children in the house, six of whom were under ten years old, Lucy had enough to do over the holiday period. She was happy to go along with this. The year before she had been feeling desperately unhappy about her condition and hugely cumbersome to boot; this year she wanted Christmas to be a time of family fun and joy.
To that end, she and Ruby decided to take John and the little ones into the town to Fawcett Street, where all the big shops were lit up and sparkling with fairy lights and decorations on Christmas Eve. It had been snowing on and off for the last week, but over the past two days no fresh fall had occurred and the snow was packed hard on the ground, making it easier to negotiate Daisy’s perambulator through the streets. Just as they were leaving, Perce called Lucy into the shop where he was busy serving customers and slipped a couple of notes into her hand. ‘Take them to tea at Binns,’ he said, squeezing her arm. ‘An’ don’t rush back, neither. I can manage here. Enjoy yourself.’
She smiled at him, her eyes glowing, as excited by the little adventure as though she was going as far afield as Newcastle. On impulse she reached up and kissed him on the cheek, careless of his grimy apron and the smell of fish. His round, rough face flushed with pleasure and, to cover his delight, he said gruffly, ‘Go on with you, they’re waiting.’
It was a merry little party that made its way into the main part of town as an early twilight began to fall. The festive season seemed to have infected everyone with its magic. Although most folk were laden with parcels and last-minute shopping, they were, on the whole, bright-faced and jovial, and Daisy, sitting up in her perambulator clad in a small white furry coat and matching bonnet that Lucy had made for her, drew many a smile and a nod.
They didn’t hurry as they wandered along in the bitterly cold, crisp air. The children were well wrapped up against the chill and John had the twins on either side of him, whilst Ruby held tight to Matthew and Charley’s hands. It was the first time Lucy had come into the centre of town since Perce had taken them in and now she berated herself for not
having the courage to do so before. Hidden away at home with Perce close by, she had felt safe and secure, and for a long time that had been all she’d wanted. The fear of seeing someone she knew, of seeing him – Tom Crawford – had kept her in a kind of prison, she realized now, as she gazed at the crowds and the lights. And she was no longer the penniless young girl of yesteryear. She was a married woman. She had a husband and a child, a whole family.
It was gone six o’clock when they left Binns, after a sumptuous tea of wafer-thin sandwiches, little pastries and cream cakes. Each of the children – even Ruby – was clutching a small chocolate bell wrapped in silver paper with a picture of the store on it, which had been complimentary with the tea. Lucy had tried to prise Daisy’s away from her, fearing she would try to eat the silver paper, but to no avail. Now Lucy smiled at her daughter as she wrapped her up warmly in the perambulator, which they had left just inside the entrance to the shop in the care of the friendly doorman. Daisy might look like a tiny angel with her halo of golden-brown curls and huge blue eyes, but she had a mind of her own.
It was as they emerged as a laughing, chattering group into the icy-cold air in which the odd desultory snowflake was floating that a voice behind her brought Lucy spinning round.
‘Lucy, lass?’ Enid Crawford was staring at her, amazement stretching her face. ‘It is you, as I live an’ breathe. And Ruby and John and the twins too. Well, I never.’
For a moment Lucy could only stare back. Her heart was pumping so violently it seemed to vibrate her ribs and fill her head.
It was Ruby who broke the awkward moment, her face beaming as she recognized their old neighbour. ‘Hello, Mrs Crawford,’ she said brightly, as though they’d only spoken the day before. ‘We’ve just been to tea in Binns and it was grand.’
‘It was a special treat for the bairns, it being Christmas Eve and all.’ Lucy found her voice as she stitched a smile on her face. ‘How are you, Mrs Crawford?’
‘Me, lass? Same as ever.’ Enid answered her, but her gaze had become riveted on Daisy. ‘The bab?’ she said bemusedly, for no one could mistake who her mother was. ‘She’s yours?’
‘Aye, yes.’ They were blocking the path, causing people to step off the pavement to pass them, and now, as Lucy turned the pram, she said weakly, ‘I think we’re in the way. It was nice seeing you, Mrs Crawford.’
Enid was not going to be dismissed so easily. ‘I’ll walk along with you a way, lass. Our Tom brought me in, he’d got a spot of business to see to, and I’m meeting him shortly at the corner of Bridge Street. He’s got his own car now, you know. Doing nicely for himself.’
Lucy said nothing. The mention of Tom’s name made her want to take to her heels and run, but that was impossible.
‘But enough of that,’ Enid continued, looking back at the others who were trailing behind them. She smiled, then turned to Lucy once more. ‘How long have you been back, lass?’
‘Back?’ Through the swirling panic, Lucy knew she had to stop and turn off into a side-street soon. She couldn’t walk on with Tom’s mother and risk seeing him.
‘Aye. You an’ Donald and the bairns went down south, didn’t you? When you left so suddenly?’
Lucy caught the edge to the last words and, strangely, it put iron in her backbone. She knew it wasn’t Tom’s mother’s fault that he’d forced himself on her and caused them to flee their home, but for a moment it felt like it. Mrs Crawford had no right to judge her. No right at all.
She stopped so abruptly that John and the twins, who were behind her, cannoned into her and Enid walked on a few paces without realizing.
When Enid turned, it was to see Lucy staring at her with a tight face. ‘We didn’t go down south, Mrs Crawford,’ she said flatly. ‘Not me and the bairns. Donald did. He left us. I knew I had to find work and a room somewhere for us or it’d have been the workhouse for the bairns.’
‘But’ – Enid’s brow wrinkled – ‘you could have come to me, lass. We’d have worked something out. To take off like that—’
‘There were reasons.’
‘Oh aye?’ Enid raised an eyebrow.
Lucy ignored the question. Instead she said, ‘I didn’t like to leave with Jacob in the hospital, but I had to.’
Enid remained still for a time as she stared into Lucy’s face, then nodded slowly. ‘Seems you landed on your feet right enough.’ Now her voice was as flat as Lucy’s had been. ‘Jacob’s done all right for himself too. He’s old Williamson’s legal heir now. It all happened after he come out of the hospital.’
Jacob was alive. Lucy was glad of the pram handle to hang onto. Weakly, she said, ‘I’m glad.’
‘How old’s the bairn?’
Lucy was surprised at the steadiness of her voice when she lied. ‘Six months.’ Mrs Crawford would report meeting her to Tom and the others and she couldn’t prevent it, whatever she said. She understood her mother’s old friend well enough to know that. Besides, she could give no legitimate reason to ask her to do otherwise. The most she could do was say that Daisy was younger, just in case Tom put two and two together. ‘I got married in July last year and fell for Daisy quite soon after.’ Thankfully Daisy, tired out after the excitement of the outing and with a full stomach, had fallen asleep clutching her silver bell and, being petite and fragile-looking, could easily pass for six months when sleeping.
‘She’s bonny, like her mam.’
The words should have been friendly, but the edge was back and stronger.
Aiming to steer the conversation away from Daisy, Lucy gestured towards Matthew and Charley. ‘These are my husband’s boys from his first marriage.’
‘Oh aye, a widower, was he? What’s he do for a living then?’
The snow was falling in big fat flakes now and it was the perfect excuse for Lucy to deflect the question. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Crawford, I must get them home.’ As she spoke she began to walk, turning the pram into St Thomas Street to her left as she said, ‘Happy Christmas, Mrs Crawford.’
Enid had walked a few steps with her and now she stood as the others trooped by her, Ruby and John echoing Lucy as they passed. Enid said not a word.
Lucy walked as quickly as she could, the others slipping and sliding behind her on the packed snow. It was like a skating rink in places where children had been playing their games. She found that she was holding her breath and let it out in a silent sigh when Ruby’s voice came, saying, ‘Wait for us then. Where’s the fire?’
They were halfway along St Thomas Street, which, being a side-street, was not lit up like the main thoroughfare, with just the odd street lamp casting yellow pools of light on the snow, but when Lucy glanced behind her as she waited for the others, she could see Enid’s figure still watching them. As Ruby reached her, her sister said, ‘Why did you tell Mrs Crawford Daisy’s only six months old, our Lucy?’
Lucy stared at her, unable to think of one reason that would satisfy Ruby. ‘It’s complicated,’ she said at last, beginning to walk on.
‘I don’t see why.’
‘I have my reasons.’
‘Lucy, I’m not a bairn. You can trust me, you know.’
Lucy stopped again. Ruby’s voice hadn’t been belligerent, merely hurt. The two of them had become closer since Daisy’s birth, when Ruby had taken care of her for a week or two and seen to the house and the children. She had worked hard and from the first had proved to be a devoted aunty, as besotted with Daisy as they all were. But whatever Ruby said, she was still a bairn at twelve years old; besides which, the truth was so humiliating, so horrible, that Lucy didn’t know if she could voice it, even to her sister.
And then Ruby said something that startled her. ‘It’s something to do with you marrying Perce so quick, isn’t it?’
The snow was falling thickly and each of them had a layer of white on their hats and shoulders, apart from Daisy who was snug and warm. Lucy blinked a flake from her eyelashes, her voice low when she said, ‘We’ll talk at home when the others are in bed. I promise.’<
br />
Ruby nodded. Her voice equally hushed, she murmured, ‘Whatever you say, you know I’m for you, don’t you, Lucy? I’ve never really said it before, but I know there’s not many people who’d have done what you did when Donald scarpered. Like he said in that note, you could have put us in the workhouse and looked after number one, but you didn’t. I’ll always remember that.’
If Ruby had taken her clothes off and danced the fandango, Lucy couldn’t have been more surprised. And it was then she realized with a shock that Ruby was right: her sister wasn’t a child any longer. At some point in the last eighteen months Ruby had grown up and her age was irrelevant. Furthermore, her sister had turned into a friend and she hadn’t even realized it. Softly she said, ‘Thanks, lass.’
‘When you two have quite finished whispering, can we start walking again?’ John’s voice was aggrieved. He had been attempting to stop Matthew and Charley and the twins from breaking their necks sliding on a sheet of ice that the neighbourhood children had polished to a glassy finish during the afternoon, and which was lethal. ‘I want to get home, if no one else does.’
As Ruby and John took the four younger ones by the hands again, Lucy glanced down the street. Mrs Crawford had gone. But how much longer would it be before Tom discovered where she lived and made his presence known? Because he would, she knew it as sure as night follows day. It was merely a matter of time now.
She began to walk on. And Jacob: what would he think when he heard she was married with a baby? Did he hate her for leaving when he was so ill? She didn’t blame him. And maybe he had a lass now. A sweetheart who had taken her place in his affections. Someone young and pure, a lass with no dark secrets.
And then she glanced into the pram, Daisy’s sleeping face lit briefly by the street lamp they were passing. A love so strong that it made her chest ache gripped her.
Daisy was worth every single thing she had gone through, she told herself fiercely. Even if she could turn back the clock and set a different course, if it meant losing her precious little girl, she wouldn’t do it. Not for a second.
Dancing in the Moonlight Page 19