A Dream to Share

by A Dream to Share (retail) (epub)

  ‘The woman’s jealous. If it weren’t for Alice, she’d be ruling the roost. She resents Tilly because she’s Alice’s sister and Seb is fond of her.’

  ‘I think it’s a great shame she can’t be nicer and accept that she can’t have things all her own way. Anyway, how about a cuppa?’

  Emma glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and decided now wasn’t the time to bring up the subject of Bert. ‘I better hadn’t if I’m going to put some of those leaflets through doors and see Mam.’ She picked up a wad of them. Hannah thanked her and saw her out.

  The smell of petrol hung in the air and, as Emma crossed the yard, Seb came out from one of the old stable buildings, wiping his oily hands on a rag. He smiled when he saw her. ‘Hello, Emma. How are things with you?’

  She returned his smile. ‘Fine! I’m just on my way to see me mam.’

  ‘It looks like Hannah’s roped you in to help.’ He nodded towards the leaflets in her hand.

  She said ruefully, ‘I couldn’t say no. Although, I’m not convinced they’ll do any good. I know me dad would hit the roof if he was home long enough to read one of them. He thinks if there’s any money going spare from the government, it should be used to up his wages not those for women. A woman’s place is in the home and not in competition with men for jobs.’ She mimicked his voice.

  His eyes twinkled. ‘You should have said no if you think it’s a waste of time. You’re too soft-hearted.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that. Besides, I do believe in their aims. Mrs Black pays me well and that means our Johnny doesn’t have to damage his feet wearing tatty cast-off boots but can have a brand new pair once a year.’

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you on by paying you more, Emma,’ he said sincerely. ‘But you know how things are and it’ll be some time before I start making a decent profit.’

  ‘I understand. Anyway, at least you’re working for yourself.’

  ‘I know I’m lucky. I feel sorry for the likes of David. How is he, by the way? He still hasn’t been to see me.’

  She shrugged. ‘He’s fine as far as I know. We don’t really get the chance to see much of each other with us both working long hours and him still involved with the union.’

  ‘Alice thought there was something serious between the pair of you.’

  Emma smiled. ‘Possibly. I’d best be going. See you around.’

  ‘Tarrah!’

  She left the yard, wondering if she should have said something to him about Bert. Seb would have been able to take it in his stride with­out worrying Alice. For a moment, she thought of going back but if she did that then she was going to have even less time at her mam’s.

  When Emma reached the street, she realised that it wasn’t going to be easy slipping the leaflets through letterboxes unseen. The weather was unusually warm for February and several housewives were either scrubbing their doorsteps or gossiping; her mam was one of them. Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, thought Emma, deciding to hand out leaflets to those taking the air, too. It would be useful to hear their opinions and then she could pass them on to Hannah, who could give them to Mrs Stone. She pushed leaflets through several doors and a childhood friend, now married and with a baby, asked what she was doing. Emma told her.

  ‘Bloody ‘ell, Em! Haven’t yer got anything better to do? Yer should find yerself a husband and he’d keep yer too busy for that malarkey. They should know better the lot of them, throwing stones and smash­ing windows. They’re not going to get people supporting them doing that sort of thing.’

  ‘They’re not all like that,’ said Emma defensively. ‘And when the government say they’ll do one thing and then does another or doesn’t do anything at all it gets yer dander up. Anyway, if you don’t want to come you don’t have to.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘It’s your loss.’

  Emma walked on, handing out leaflets to several women. One of whom looked at it and turned it over. ‘Nice clean back to it. Thanks, Emma. It’ll do for one of the kids to pencil on.’

  ‘You do what you want with it, Mrs Evans, I’m just doing my bit for the advancement of women,’ said Emma, not surprised.

  The woman smiled. ‘Good luck to you, luv. We need someone speaking up for us.’

  Emma thanked her for the encouragement but did not bother post­ing any more leaflets. Instead, she quickened her pace until she reached her parents’ house. As soon as Olive spotted her daughter, she broke off from talking and delved into the pocket of her apron. ‘A letter, Em, from our Chris. Alf’s read it to me and it says he’s coming home.’

  Emma’s spirits soared. ‘Does he say when?’

  ‘Doesn’t give a date but it shouldn’t be long.’ Olive’s eyes were shin­ing. ‘When he comes, he might be home for good. He’s finished his time and says he’s in no hurry to sign on again. He’s going to wait and see what’s going on here. Isn’t that the gear? He’ll sort yer dad out for me.’ Emma was over the moon. She couldn’t wait to get back to Mrs Black and tell her the good news.

  But Emma had no sooner reached the crescent, when she spotted Mary coming out of Mrs Waters’ gate. When she saw Emma, she hur­ried towards her. ‘Guess what?’

  ‘Alice’s baby’s started.’

  Mary smiled. ‘It’s arrived! Dead quick for a first despite it having kept them waiting the last week or so. It’s a lovely bouncing boy!’

  Emma was delighted. ‘Is Alice alright?’

  ‘Tired but happy! I’m going up to the yard to tell Mr Bennett right now. See you!’ Mary hurried away in the direction of the footbridge.

  Half an hour later Emma saw Seb and Mary chugging along the cres­cent in the Ford automobile. He parked at the kerb and was out of the motorcar in seconds and running up the path to the house, his face alight with happiness. She gazed after him, remembering the conversa­tion she had overheard the day of Victoria Waters’ funeral between the solicitor and Mr Martin Waters. She wondered what he would think of a great-grandchild being born to Mrs Waters, to share her estate with when she died.

  But such thoughts did not enter the new parents’ minds as they gazed down at their first-born, nestling in his father’s arms. ‘He’s so tiny,’ marvelled Seb.

  ‘He’s a good weight,’ assured Alice, her eyes alight with love.

  ‘He’s got your perfect nose.’ Seb kissed the baby’s tiny button and then Alice’s mouth. ‘You clever girl.’

  ‘Aren’t I just?’ she said smugly.

  Seb chuckled. ‘He has my hair, though.’

  ‘I’m glad about that. I didn’t want him to have my father’s carrot top… but have you ever seen such a mop of black curly hair on a baby?’

  ‘I’ve never taken much interest in babies before… but my hair was probably just the same… you’ll have to ask Ma.’

  Alice sighed. ‘She’s going to get at me… I just know it.’

  Seb had no need to ask her what she meant. ‘Leave her to me. Now names – we don’t want a fancy name.’ The baby whimpered and Seb rocked him awkwardly.

  Alice smiled mischievously and held out her arms for her son. ‘We’ve already discussed this; you don’t want him named after you.’

  ‘Correct, Mrs Bennett. I like sensible names.’

  ‘James! He was one of Jesus’ disciples, one of the Sons of Thunder.’

  Seb nodded. ‘Our son doesn’t look like he’s going to be hot-tempered.’

  ‘It would be good if he grew up able to stand up for himself, though.’

  ‘Yes. And for a middle name – Thomas after my father. Only because it’s due to him I was able to set up in the automobile business.’

  ‘He wasn’t a bad man,’ murmured Alice. ‘I can think of worse fathers.’

  ‘I’m aiming to be the best dad in the world,’ said Seb, a doting expression on his face as he watched her cradle James Thomas.

  ‘And I want to be the perfect mum,’ said Alice firmly.

  That seemed to bring the discussion on names to an end
, which was fortunate because at that moment the nurse entered. ‘New mothers need lots of rest,’ she said, and shooed Seb from the room.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  March, 1910

  Hannah cooed over the baby, rocking him in her arms.

  ‘You’re a natural,’ said Emma, polishing the brass door knocker with vigour.

  Hannah smiled. ‘Someone’s got to look after James Thomas when his mother’s having a rest now the nurse has gone.’

  ‘I see Mr Martin Waters has remembered he has a mother.’ Emma glanced in the direction of the man talking to Gabrielle a couple of gar­ dens up.

  Hannah lowered her voice. ‘Alice told me that he must have left the farm as soon as he received the news about the baby and was off to see the solicitor. He’s desperate to pay off the loan he borrowed because of the fire damage last year, but he’s still going to have to wait for his inheritance until the old woman dies… which can’t be much longer. When that happens Seb might have to sell up and move somewhere smaller.’

  ‘I wonder how Alice feels about that. Although, it could be for the best. No fear of Bert finding her then,’ said Emma without thinking.

  Hannah blinked. ‘Come again? Bert’s in Australia. Mother said she’s had letters… not that she’s ever shown them to me.’

  Emma flushed. ‘Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. How did Seb’s mother take the news about the house having to be sold when the old woman dies? She didn’t offer to help them out with the money she was left by Mr Waters?’

  Hannah smiled mirthlessly. ‘She’s not speaking to Alice because she’s dug in her heels and refused to have this little man here…’ Hannah kissed the baby’s black curls, ‘baptised into the Catholic church. Seb told his mother that the decision was Alice’s and that’s the end of it.’

  ‘I’m glad he’s supporting Alice. What do you think she’ll do when they move? She can’t have gone through all her inheritance, surely?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’ Hannah frowned. ‘Kenny’s wondering whether we should offer to move out of the house in the yard and find somewhere else, so Seb and Alice and the baby can move in there.’

  Emma looked surprised. ‘Surely Seb wouldn’t put the pair of you and Tilly out. Besides, would Alice think it was good enough for her? I’m not saying you haven’t got the house nice,’ she added hastily.

  ‘You didn’t have to say that,’ said Hannah dryly. ‘I know exactly what you mean. What concerns me is if my dah suggests us living with them. One of the lodgers has moved out and Mother’s looking for someone else. It would never work, not with the way she feels about Kenny.’ She changed the subject. ‘So what’s this I hear about your brother coming home?’

  ‘April! I can’t wait to see him. Although, it’s going to be strange after all this time.’

  * * *

  Chris Griffiths marched up the street with his kitbag on his shoulder and a cheery hello for everyone he passed. He was a couple of inch­es short of six foot, with broad shoulders and a finely shaped head. His blue-green eyes appeared lighter than they truly were in contrast with his sunburnt face, and his jaw was strong and firm. He whistled a marching song, which took him back for a moment to the heat and dust of Palestine and he thought how bloody glad he was to be in England at the beginning of Spring with the Chester races to look forward to and the processions and events in May… and, if he was not mistaken, it was Emma’s twenty-first birthday that month, too. He must buy her a real nice present, as it was unlikely she’d get anything decent from their parents. For a moment his eyes darkened, thinking about what she had said in her last letter about their father. Then he became aware that several women, young and old, couldn’t take their eyes off him and he put his father out of his mind. He was not so modest that it didn’t please him to know that the opposite sex found him attractive but he made no sign of having noticed them. Even so, he was grinning when he came to his parents’ house.

  The door was open and on the front step sat a small boy eating a slice of bread spread with jam; a small amount of the conserve was smeared on his chin and nose. His mouth fell open as he gazed up at Chris. ‘You must be young Johnny!’ said the man.

  The boy nodded and pointed a finger at him. ‘Soldier!’

  Chris slid the rucksack from his shoulder to the pavement and got down on his haunches and ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘I’m your big brother Chris. How are you doing, little fella?’ He had an attractive baritone voice and the sound of it was enough to bring his mother to the door.

  As Olive let out a shriek, he stood up. She flung herself at him. He caught her and, lifting her up, danced around the pavement with her clinging to him. She laughed until the tears rolled down her thin, sallow cheeks and then he set her down. Taking a large handkerchief from his trouser pocket, he wiped her damp face and kissed her cheek.

  By then several of the neighbours had gathered round, patting him on the back or touching his arm and saying how good it was to see him home. He thanked them, asking after sons and daughters that he had known in his youth. Although, Emma had been quite thorough in keeping him up to date with their neighbours’ news, he still considered it good manners to ask these questions and listen to what they were up to now.

  ‘Enough, enough,’ said Olive, putting out an arm as if to ward the women off. ‘My boy will be wanting a cup of tea and a bite to eat. So leave him alone now and let’s get inside.’

  The neighbours dispersed with only a second prompting and Chris followed his mother indoors, tailed by little Johnny. The kitchen seemed so much smaller than he remembered and he wondered how his mother stood it, day in, day out, existing in the same four walls, never going away on holiday but having to bring up the kids on very little money in such a small space. He knew there were thousands like her but he wasn’t particularly concerned about them. She was his mother and it saddened him that she looked ten years older than her age. He wanted to make life easier for her but knew he could only ease her trou­bles temporarily. From his pocket he took a wallet and removed a white banknote. ‘Here you are, Mam, do whatever you want with that.’

  Olive stared at the money as if it might vanish into thin air and then she snatched the five pound note from his hand and kissed it. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. ‘I’ve never had one of these before. I heard soldiers only earned about a bob a day, so I won’t ask where yer got it from.’

  He grinned and tiny lines formed at the corners of his eyes. ‘Good, because I wouldn’t like lying to you… not that I’ve done anything dis­honest.’

  She placed it in her apron pocket. ‘Don’t mention it to yer dad.’

  ‘You don’t have to say that, Mam. Yer know I’ve no time for him. Especially after what happened to our Aggie.’

  A shadow crossed Olive’s face. ‘Don’t remind me… and don’t go talking about it to our Em when yer see her. She still hasn’t got over it.’ He made no promise but asked after his sister. Olive poured milk into two chipped cups. ‘Thank God she’s still working for that Mrs Black. I’d be round at the pawnshop more often if it weren’t for that and what you send me. I don’t know if she’s mentioned yer dad and me not seeing eye to eye and that he’s away from this house more than he’s here. If I didn’t believe he was too tight to spend his money on anoth­er woman, I’d think he’d found someone else.’

  ‘You’re well rid of him, Ma. And while I’m around, I’ll see that you don’t go short. But our Em… her I’d like to see. So when’s her next afternoon off?’

  ‘Now yer asking me something.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I know she was thinking of going along to some rally down in the town to do with Women’s Rights if she could get away. I’ve a feeling it was today, but whether she made it or not, I can’t say. It all depends on what Mrs Black’s got on.’

  He nodded thoughtfully. ‘I think I might take a walk over there and give her a surprise.’

  Olive started. ‘I don’t know if yer should do that. Mrs Black might­n’t like Em having callers.’ />
  Chris grinned. ‘I can always pretend to be a client. Our Em’s told me a fair bit about her. She makes a good story of the happenings that go on in that house.’

  Olive sniffed. ‘She never tells me anything much. When I ask she says where somethings are concerned she’s sworn to secrecy.’

  ‘I was thousands of miles away, Mam, so it didn’t matter me know­ing.’

  ‘That’s true… but now yer here,’ she said, frowning as she handed him a steaming cup. ‘I don’t know where yer going to sleep, son. I’m really glad to see yer back but…’

  He smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Mam, I’ll find somewhere. But I’ll leave my kit here for now if yer don’t mind.’

  ‘No trouble, son. Here’s to you.’ She raised her teacup and clinked it with his and then began to tell him more about the trouble she’d been having with his dad and the kids.

  * * *

  Emma opened the front door and ushered out a middle-aged man and two chattering women who had come for a sitting. From listening to their whisperings as she led them downstairs, she knew he wasn’t con­vinced that the message received from his wife’s sister’s husband was genuine… but the sister seemed happy enough with what she had seen and heard. Another satisfied customer, she thought, watching the three figures go down the path.

  It was a pity about the rally but she felt that she’d done her bit for the Cause by at least delivering some leaflets. Besides which, she had other things to think about. Something really spooky had happened as she’d taken in the tea and cake after the sitting today. Aggie had been in her thoughts, which was not that unusual at such times, but then she could have sworn she heard her sister speak to her right inside her head. She had put it down to tiredness, having shifted furniture and been on her feet since she had got up. Now she couldn’t get the words out of her head. Guilt, sadness and frustration clouded her spirits and instead of going back inside the house she walked down the path, pausing to sniff a daffodil.