‘No.’ He sat up in bed beside her. ‘The horrid little monkeys. Does Pawley know?’
‘I’m not sure. I hope not. She does speak to him, but only when I’m around, but I’ve got the feeling the children have been making up a sort of silent “What’s the Time, Mr Wolf” game.’ She told Spencer how she had found the children whimpering in fear in Vicki’s playhouse.
Spencer was very cross. ‘The little horrors. Have you spoken to them?’
‘Yes and I punished them and threatened I’d tell Joy. I don’t think they will do it again. I explained that Pawley got his injury because he was very brave during the war, and all for their sake. I reminded Vicki about the white-tailed calf, how despite it being born deformed she’d loved it, that she wouldn’t have dreamt of being cruel to it. I hope she’ll come round to Pawley. I know he says he likes his own company but I think he’s lonely. I’m sure he’d appreciate the occasional meal with us in the house. Do you think I did the right thing with Vicki?’
‘Yes, but if she does something like that again I’ll punish her quite strongly.’
He said no more and Laura made an attempt to keep the talk going. ‘You get on well with Pawley, don’t you?’
‘He’s a good bloke, a hard worker. I’ve got no complaints.’
Laura didn’t need to ask, she knew well enough by the slight bitter inflection in his voice that he was missing Ince’s friendship. She wished she could look deeper into his mind, to know how much he regretted thumping Ince, if he would ever forgive himself for it, what his true feelings were for her.
Without putting out the light, she lay down beside him, hoping it would provoke a reaction from him. She lay still. He lay still. Her body was hot and damp and it heightened the smell of the musky perfume she had dabbed on just before he’d come up the stairs. The clock on his bedside table seemed to tick more loudly than usual. A sudden gust of wind pressed against the window. Barney barked at a small creature that scuttled through the yard. They lay still.
Vicki cried out in her sleep and Spencer got out of bed and went to the door. Laura half sat up. There were no further sounds from the little girl and Spencer closed the door and came back to the bed. Laura lay down. She had left the buttons of her nightie undone and he stared down at the smooth swells of her breasts.
The next moment he was running his hands through his hair and crying out, ‘Bloody hell, Laura, I can’t go on like this!’
‘You mean you want us to finish?’ All her hopes and dreams disappeared in one terrible flash.
Flopping on the bed, he looked down on her. ‘No, I mean not being able to… I want to… Damn and blast it, woman, we are married. Can’t we… ?’
Laura’s heart did so many twists and leaps she couldn’t breathe for a moment. She ventured, ‘Make love?’
He nodded. She swore she saw tears in his eyes but he swiped his hand across his face. ‘Sleeping alone is one thing. Lying next to you every night, feeling you there beside me, warm and alive, is sheer bloody torture.’ After her moment of fear, to know he wanted her so much filled Laura with a desire that made her body tremble. She held out her arms to him. ‘I want the same thing too, Spencer.’
His sigh of relief threatened to blow out the lantern. Pulling off his pyjama bottoms he got back into bed and they greedily assuaged much of their hurt and frustration.
Chapter 22
Celeste was completely satisfied with the transformation of Dolores Uren’s house even though she had not lifted a finger to help with any of the cleaning. When the front door was opened now a visitor was greeted either with the fresh odours of disinfectant or polish, or the homely smells of baking. The walls throughout the house had been scrubbed, some newly painted. Each room had basic furniture, curtains at the windows and some form of floor covering. Bedsteads had been added to the children’s mattresses. Outside, the front and back gardens, thanks mainly to neighbours Len and Biddy Grean, were more than acceptable, planted with flowers and vegetables, the lawn mown and all the rubbish burnt or discarded.
The rub was that Alfie and his brothers didn’t seem to be any happier and their baby sister, who Joy Miller had told Celeste had rarely cried, was always fractious these days. Celeste had hardly known Dolores before giving her the money at the fete, but she was sure she had been more cheerful then. Celeste was worried her efforts would turn out to be ill-judged interfering. She never saw Gerald Uren to find out what he thought about the villagers’ acts of kindness. Dolores had been unsuccessful in moving him upstairs to the big bedroom she used and she always kept the sitting room door tightly closed when she had visitors.
‘I’m afraid this visit must serve as a goodbye today,’ Celeste said as they sat at a proper wooden table on sturdy varnished chairs, drinking coffee from clean cups in the kitchen. ‘Unless you come to the farewell drink I’m giving in the pub tonight.’
‘I don’t expect I’ll come,’ Dolores said, spoon-feeding Emily with rusks and milk at the highchair someone had provided. She would like to have gone and she was sure she could get someone to mind the younger children for an hour, but she was reluctant to face a mass of villagers all in one go, and she had to keep an eye on Gerald. Since he had beaten her in a rage over her pleading that he get a job he was always in a foul mood, demanding more and more drink and getting drunk earlier in the day. ‘It’s a shame you’re going, Celeste. I shall miss you. But it is time for you to move on.’
Dolores obviously knew Celeste was pregnant and although the two women had talked all round her condition they had never mentioned it openly before. Celeste did now; Dolores was her friend and friends confided in each other. ‘I hope my baby is as sweet as Emily.’
‘I’m sure it will be.’ Dolores eyed Celeste’s face for some time. ‘I hope you’re wanting a little boy.’
‘You think it’s going to be a boy, do you? I can’t wait to hold my baby.’
‘I’m not usually wrong, but if you want to take some girls’ clothes with you, I’ve got plenty to spare.’
‘I’d be delighted to.’
Dolores was pleased that a woman as wealthy and classy as Celeste would even consider accepting passed- on clothes for her child. She was curious about the lack of a father for the child but felt she had no right to know all the details.
‘Dolores?’ To hide a flush of embarrassment, Celeste toyed with a cigarette but didn’t light it in the baby’s presence. ‘I hope I’ve done the right thing by you.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, you don’t seem as happy as you ought to be. I hope no one, especially me, has made you feel patronised. I’ve only ever wanted to help you. I hope you don’t feel I’ve interfered unnecessarily in your lives.’
‘Not at all,’ and Dolores smiled warmly. ‘Others talked behind our backs or were sarcastic to our faces. They may have followed your example, but you were the only one who actually did something for us and Jacka Davey was the only one who had the guts to say exactly what was on his mind. I’m grateful to everyone who’s been kind to us but especially to you two. If the kids aren’t happy it’s because they aren’t used to being well dressed and having to keep themselves clean and tidy.’
This had occurred to Celeste. She had seen Alfie pulling at his shirt collar, scowling at his polished shoes, messing up his shiny cropped red hair, heard him swearing at being ‘done up like a bleddy ponce’.
If she had been looking at Dolores at that moment instead of putting the cigarette back in its case she would have seen the other woman was going to say something else but changed her mind. If she told Celeste that Gerald was beating her it might cause more trouble.
‘If you don’t mind some blunt speaking, is it necessary to keep the boys so spotless all the time? It’s important for school and if they go to church or a special occasion, of course, but can’t they play more like they used to? Even the vicar’s three children wear old clothes and get grubby playing at times.’
Dolores looked as if a great truth was dawning o
n her. ‘I suppose I have got carried away with the idea of cleanliness, haven’t I? Alfie in particular hates being all dressed up. Poor love. He hasn’t made much fuss for my sake. He’s realised how important it is to me to have people think well of us. I don’t want to have to move again because the neighbours are hostile.’
‘If we lead a normal life then people should either take us as we are or they aren’t worth knowing, Dolores.’
Dolores stuck her head outside the back door. ‘Alfie!’
‘What?’ He was never far away these days, forgoing the pleasure of racing round on his bike, worried that his mother would receive another beating, ready to keep his younger brothers from wandering into the sitting room and risking Gerald’s cruelty.
‘Come here a minute.’
‘Why?’ He retained a touch of cheek.
‘Never mind why. Just you come in here.’
Alfie came and the other boys trooped in after him, all afraid they were going to be told to wash their faces or scrub their knees; Alfie afraid he’d have to run an errand in full view of the village while dressed like a soppy young lord.
‘You know those clothes I put on your bed this morning?’ Dolores said to her eldest son.
‘Yeah,’ he replied cagily.
‘Well, I haven’t finished sorting ’em out yet but they’re old clothes, clothes you can play in. Take your brothers upstairs and you can all put something on. I don’t mind you getting a bit grubby out playing but mind you keep your shoes on. I don’t want people thinking you haven’t got none.’
‘Wowwee! Thank goodness for that. I was getting afraid we were going to have to dress up like ponces for our day out on the beach.’
There was a clatter and a good deal of whooping as the five boys raced upstairs.
Dolores carefully wiped Emily’s face clean and fed her a bottle of goat’s milk, a supply she was obtaining, via Alfie’s willing feet – he was scornful of all talk about hauntings – from Carrick Cross. ‘So, when are you leaving, Celeste?’
‘Tomorrow, Sunday.’
‘But that means you won’t be here for the beach outing next week.’
‘Never mind,’ Celeste replied, looking as if she was putting on a brave face. ‘Laura will write to me and tell me all about it.’ Wiping sticky, sandy, little faces wasn’t for Celeste and as Dolores had said, it really was time she left. Ada Prisk’s eagle eyes wouldn’t miss the significance of her swelling middle much longer.
‘I’d like to see your baby.’
‘I’ll send you a photograph.’
‘Thanks, that’ll be nice. I’ll try to get one of my new baby for you. We’re due about the same time. Wonder which of us will deliver first. Make sure you take plenty of exercise and try to walk around when you’re in labour, it makes the birth easier.’
They talked about babies and childbirth then Celeste’s thoughts turned to Alfie. Aware of how much Dolores relied on him, Celeste reckoned he deserved a little break from his responsibilities.
‘Could you manage without Alfie around for a little while? I’d like to take him over to Rosemerryn with me this afternoon. I’ll give him lunch too. Laura would have invited all the boys over to play with Vicki but, well, you must have heard about the quarrel her husband had with Ince, his farmhand. Things are a bit difficult there.’
‘Ada Prisk stopped me one day and told me all about it. I was grateful to them for giving people something else to talk about. Yes, you can take Alfie with you. I think I’ll pack up some food and take the rest of the kids for a picnic on the moor. I could do with a bit of fresh air myself.’
When Alfie came back downstairs, he was looking his old lovable scallywag self, the saucy swagger back in his step, chin raised in cheeky defiance. He was thrilled when told of his coming treat. He left with Celeste, leaving a bundle of jealous little brothers miserable on the doorstep.
Dolores had got herself into a routine, and today being Saturday, she fried egg and chips for dinner and when her four remaining sons had eaten theirs and were outside playing, she cooked Gerald’s meal. He was awake when she took in his tray, his face dark and blotchy from drink and marked with discontent. A pungent offensive smell reeked from his body. Dolores was taken aback to notice a slight sagging to his jawline and realised his lifestyle, something she was partly responsible for when she had corrupted the boy, was turning the man into a repulsive slob.
‘About bloody time,’ he snarled. ‘I’m bloody starving.’ He pitted the rank air with foul oaths as she put the tray over his lap. ‘What’s this? Sodding tea? Get me a decent drink.’
‘There isn’t any money left for beer,’ she said firmly. She had lost her adoration for Gerald when he had persisted in using his fists on her and then had started to slap the children about. He had even brutalised his own son. Rodney had a big ugly bruise on his back where Gerald had kicked him viciously out of the room. Going to the window, Dolores pulled back the curtains and opened the top pane, letting in the cool fresh air. ‘I’d rather spend it on food for the kids.’
‘Bitch! Bugger those little bastards! Get me some beer or I’ll smack you one again. And don’t open the bloody curtains!’
Dolores was trembling but she turned round and placed her hands on her hips. ‘I realised the other day, Gerald, that you have two children and you’ve rarely set eyes on them. It’s about time you got off that damned settee and did something for them.’
‘Like what?’ he scoffed, ramming a forkful of chips into his mouth.
‘Like getting a job to support them and the one you’ve got on the way.’
Gerald waved the fork at her stomach. ‘That’s your sodding fault. If you always want to romp, you should be more careful. Speaking of which, after I’ve eaten this, you can come and join me over here.’
‘I’ve got too much work to do.’ She left the room.
Ten minutes later Gerald came through to the kitchen. He threw the tray, the empty plate and mug, knife and fork across the room, then grabbed hold of Dolores. Beating her down to the floor in front of a screaming Emily, he raped her.
Outside weeding in her garden, Joy Miller closed her mind to the slapping and crying she could hear.
* * *
‘I could do with a few things from the shop, Ince,’ Johnny said slyly, shuffling through from the kitchen with a straw bag and some money in his hand. ‘Your legs are younger than mine.’
Ince had just come down from his room and edged back towards the stairs, looking as if he wanted to make a retreat. ‘You brought a bagful back with you yesterday, Johnny.’
‘I forgot to get margarine and salt.’
‘Can’t it wait?’
‘What, until you feel like facing the world again?’ Johnny demanded stubbornly. ‘Like sometime next year perhaps? You can’t hide away all your life, Ince.’
Sighing impatiently, Ince waited for the daily barrage he got from Johnny on how he was wasting his life and it was time he pulled himself together. He put up his usual protest. ‘I don’t intend to hide away all my life, Johnny. I just want some peace and quiet until I sort myself out, that’s all.’
‘Understandable for a few days but it’s over three weeks since your face saw the light of day. It won’t do ’ee any good to sit and mope any longer. ’Tis time you got yourself over to Rosemerryn and saw Spencer and sorted things out with un. He come here to say he was sorry. If you can’t accept that,’ Johnny wagged his finger as he did every day, ‘and it’s not like you to be so unforgiving, then punch the living daylights out of him if it’ll make you feel better! Look him in the face and say what’s on your mind. And you ought to see Laura again. I don’t think things will be put right between they properly until you and Spencer air your feelings. You say you don’t want your job back, fair enough. Spencer’s taken on someone else anyway, a war veteran. He can’t afford to let time stand still. You ought to do the same. You’ve got a permanent home here with me, all you’ve got to do is get yourself a new job and start over again.’
Ince had heard it all before and he wasn’t listening properly. ‘You needn’t worry about my keep, Johnny. I’ve got savings—’
‘Did I mention keep?’ the old man bellowed, getting angry. ‘You can live here for bleddy nothing for all I care! But isn’t that a stupid thing to be doing anyway? Spending your savings like this? If you pull yourself together and go looking again you might find yourself a nice young woman to marry and you’ll need your savings then. And through all your disillusion and self-pity there’s one person you’re forgetting and I think it’s pretty rum of you.’
‘Who?’ Ince snapped. He snapped at Johnny a lot. He didn’t mean to hurt his feelings but Ince was in the grip of a depression and harsh words spilled from his mouth before he knew he had said them.
‘Young Vicki. Have you forgotten her? You mean a lot to that dear little maid, you helped rear her and you seem to have forgotten your obligations to her. She must be missing you a lot. What do you think all this staying away is doing to her?’
Ince looked down guiltily at the floor and moved the passage runner around with his toe. He missed Vicki too, more than Johnny could ever know. It was because of her that he had set out three times on the short journey to Rosemerryn, but Spencer’s sudden outburst of fury had played through his mind, the unfairness of the situation, his public humiliation; the closer he’d got to the farm, the slower had been his steps. The last time, he’d seen Pawley Skewes driving the tractor, cutting the hay that Ince had taken for granted only three weeks before would be his job. While he was glad the unemployed man had found work, it had seared his soul to see another taking his place. He had not been able to go on. Vicki might be suffering but he couldn’t bear to set foot in his old home yet.
‘I’ll get the shopping,’ he said meekly, and he took the bag and half a crown from Johnny before he started off again about the glowing attributes of Eve Tremorrow.
With some relief Ince made the short journey round the corner and up the hill without seeing another soul and he was the only customer in the shop. He was served by a whey-faced Bruce Tamblyn. Bruce seemed to have lost his friendly manner and plonked the two items Johnny required on the counter in stony silence. Ince asked for some sweets, paid for his shopping and then walked back briskly down the hill, praying he wouldn’t be assailed by Ada Prisk. He heard someone calling his name and when he looked behind him he didn’t mind that it was Alfie. Alfie ran up to him, head up, face clean, hair brushed, hands plunged confidently in his pockets.
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