Carrie found herself being hugged even more tightly.
‘He looks fuller in the face, don’t you think?’ Evadne whispered and Carrie nodded.
Working at Armstrong’s and occupying an essential role clearly suited Mr Weston, as did the home cooking he was enjoying, though he never took it for granted. He ate with the family when the shop shut for dinner and once or twice a week he stayed for tea in the evening, repaying this additional hospitality by bringing boxes of Cadbury’s chocolates.
Today was Wednesday, half-day closing, and after a dinner of chops followed by apple charlotte, Evadne got ready to go out, feeling an unaccustomed pleasure. Had Grandfather ever invited her before? He had never had the chance; she had been too quick to invite herself. But now he had written a postcard, asking her to come and see him.
Had he missed her? She had been so busy in recent weeks, what with the shop and Brookburn – and enjoying being with her family. That would surprise him. Would she mention it? His displeasure, his criticism, used to crush her and leave her scrambling to make amends; but if he sneered at her new-found closeness to Mother and Carrie, she would call him a pompous old snob, and let him put that in his pipe and smoke it.
Not that she wanted any argument or ill feeling, even if he had let her down when she needed him most. She had never referred to the matter and neither had he, which had felt odd to start with, but then she shrugged it off. She couldn’t have it both ways. She had no business claiming she wanted to put it all behind her if she was secretly hankering after apology and explanation.
And the fact was they were rubbing along better than she could remember. Because she was no longer haunting Parrs Wood? Because he was no longer bombarded by hints and sighs and complaints? What a trial she must have been.
It was a beautiful day of snowdrops and sparkling winter sunshine. Evadne thought cheerfully of the bottle of home-made all-year-round chutney in her bag that, no matter how tangy it was, would make Grandfather rumble with discontent that his granddaughter had sunk so low in the world as to mince her own onions and apples.
Descending from the tram, she set off for Grandfather’s, keeping her eyes firmly to the fore as she passed the homes of the unfortunate neighbours who had been part of Alex’s scheme. They hadn’t been swindled, but they must know, the whole world must know, that Miss Evadne Baxter had been involved in … something, albeit unwittingly. Being seen as honest mattered, but it hurt to be thought of as honest but stupid.
She could enter Grandfather’s house these days without being overpowered by yearning. She slipped off her outdoor things and went into the sitting room, dropping a kiss on Grandfather’s whiskers before holding out her hands to the fire.
‘How are you, Evadne? Still at that shop? Pretty poor show for a Baxter, working in a shop.’
‘You make it sound like a corner shop that sells paraffin and cough drops until ten o’clock at night.’ She took a seat. ‘Working at Armstrong’s suits me.’
‘For how long, that’s what I want to know.’
‘Did you invite me here to scold me?’
‘I’ve a proposition for you. Mrs Hanbury has given notice. She and her sister are going to pool their resources and open a boarding house in Rhyl, so I need you to live here and run things for me. That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? Well, now it’s yours.’
The beginning of February. A year ago Joey hadn’t been born. A year ago she had been thanking heaven and all the angels that he was overdue. Carrie stood in front of the chest of drawers. It was a handsome piece, its elegant bow front housing eight drawers, two wide ones at the bottom and two half-sized pairs above. Joey’s things were in one of the smaller drawers. She had disposed of Ralph’s things without a second thought, couldn’t get rid of them fast enough, but Joey’s remained, a little bit of him left behind, a part of herself that would never be still.
Her hand reached out, but didn’t touch. The drawers had slender brass handles, two each for the large drawers, one each for the smaller. They lay flat against the wood until you lifted them to pull a drawer open; and when you let go, they dropped back with a soft sound like a teeny-tiny letter-box flap.
Her hand stayed in mid-air, yearning towards Joey’s drawer. Her heart was hot and swollen. You were supposed to be reunited with your loved ones in heaven, but she didn’t really believe in heaven any more. Besides, what was the point of going there when Joey was in limbo? Unbaptised and a Protestant burial. It didn’t get much worse than that. Yes, it did. Not living long enough to fill one of the large drawers.
Her hand dropped to her side, fingers brushing the warm wool of her skirt. Jilted, widowed and childless, and not yet twenty. It wasn’t much to show for a life. She wouldn’t have minded the other two if the third could be different.
Not much to show? She had nothing to show. Just a wedding ring she kept on for form’s sake and a half-sized drawer she couldn’t bring herself to open.
Stop wallowing!
It wasn’t wallowing. Just let anyone dare call it wallowing. It was bereavement; it was mother love. It was hopeless endless yearning that sometimes pounded her into the ground like a runaway horse.
And she did have something to show for her life. She had the shop. Owning it remained a source of pride and amazement in equal measure. She hadn’t worked for it; she hadn’t achieved it; but, by heck, she had earned it, brick by brick, jingle after jingle of the brass bell over the door. Every day she had been married to Ralph, she had earned a bit more.
And she had her family, Mam and Evadne, the three of them close now as never before. But her family would be for ever incomplete.
My fault, my fault.
Carrie Armstrong, bad mother, plastered a smile on her face and went to have breakfast. Not that she actually ate anything, unless a single bite of toast and Marmite that lodged in her throat and took two cups of tea to swill it down counted as eating.
She went downstairs to the shop. She wanted to disappear into the office, sit at the desk, fold her arms on top of it and put her head down, like the babies’ class used to at school after dinner.
‘There’s so much to learn,’ she said in an undertone to Evadne as Mr Weston discussed the merits of decorated glass with a customer. ‘Not just about furniture and fine china, but running the business. It’s too much to think about.’
‘I’m happy to take on the administration. I’m good at that kind of thing.’
‘No. Sorry, I don’t mean to be abrupt. But I wouldn’t be much of a shopkeeper if I couldn’t do the books.’
‘A matter of pride.’
‘Common sense.’
‘Both,’ said Evadne. She glanced at Mr Weston and the customer, then indicated with a small jerk of her head that Carrie should join her in the office. ‘You aren’t yourself today. If you tell me why, I can help.’
‘Big sister laying the law down?’
‘Or a friend expressing concern.’
Carrie tugged at her cuffs. ‘It’s Joey. He’s never far away, but today he feels very close.’
Evadne squeezed her shoulder, then let her hand fall away when Carrie didn’t respond. ‘What do you need?’
‘Need? I need Joey to be alive. That’s what I need.’
She glared at Evadne. Go on. You’re supposed to be so clever. Say the right thing.
Evadne gave her a long, assessing look. ‘Well, I fear for the stock if you stay here.’
‘What?’
‘You heard. You’re … boiling over. I’m meant to go to Brookburn this afternoon. Why don’t you go instead?’
Was she insane? ‘To read to the men?’
‘No, do something else, preferably something that involves banging and crashing. Let your feelings out, before you explode. I shan’t insult you by saying I understand how you feel, but I remember how it felt to be desperate to escape my old life and live with Grandfather. I’d get so angry and frustrated and frightened that I hardly knew what to do with myself. Then I discovered that
if I borrowed Miss Martindale’s bicycle and rode as hard as I could, it relieved some of my feelings. It didn’t change anything, but it took the edge off the unhappiness for the time being. So do as you’re told. Go to Brookburn. Strip all the beds, vacuum-clean all the carpets: I don’t care what you do, but don’t come back here until you’ve worn yourself out. Big sister laying down the law.’
Evadne could be right. Physical activity might help, and the more mindless and strenuous the better. And because today wasn’t her regular day, Adam wouldn’t be on the lookout. She could slip inside, get a job allocated and get on with it, without having to keep one eye open for him.
She didn’t want to think about Adam. She wished he would clear off and leave her alone, then maybe her feelings for him would die away. If she didn’t see him, her heart would beat normally instead of giving that absurd little jump. If she didn’t see him, her skin would be smooth and cool instead of warm and tingly.
If she didn’t see him, she might loathe herself less.
Entering Brookburn via a side door, she headed for the housekeeper’s room. Rounding a corner – someone there – she danced sideways.
‘Sorry – oh! It’s you.’
‘There’s no need to sound quite so thrilled,’ said Adam, with a forced smile.
It was as if her thoughts had conjured him up. And yes, her heart did give that absurd little bump. And her skin did feel warm and tingly.
‘I didn’t know you were coming today,’ he said.
Or you’d have been on watch. ‘Neither did I until a while ago.’
‘I’m pleased to see you.’
He was, too. It was there in his expression. The hope in his eyes, the softening of a frown into a look of—
She didn’t want this. ‘Excuse me. I—’
‘I need to talk to you, Carrie.’
‘I must get on—’
‘Stop avoiding me!’
There was an edge of desperation in his tone that ripped into her. She almost – almost – reached out a hand, but restrained the impulse. She couldn’t let herself respond.
‘Adam, leave me alone. If you’re going to hound me, I’ll stop coming. Brookburn is important to me and I don’t want to give it up, but I will if you don’t leave me alone.’
He stared. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. He looked dazed, then he stiffened, standing taller.
‘Very well. I apologise for … hounding you.’
She winced. ‘Adam—’
His hand moved, silencing her. ‘Actually, you’ve helped me make a decision. I won’t trouble you again.’
A chill shimmered through her. ‘What decision?’
But he was already walking away.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Evadne felt fidgety. She had done the right thing in giving up her Brookburn slot, because Carrie obviously needed to work off her turmoil, poor girl. Imagine suffering like that, suffering that would never end, even if it dulled over time.
Joey. She had barely known her little nephew. She bitterly regretted that now. She had been so busy, rushing round making a twit of herself over Alex, when what really mattered had been right under her snooty nose – her family and the possibility of friendship and maybe more than that with a good man, a solid, dependable, honest man who would never lie to her or let her down. She had rebuffed Ted Geeson countless times without putting him off. Now that she had changed, now she knew his true worth, was it too late? Had she rejected him one time too many? Had he given up?
Hence the fidgets. It was so unlike her. She was self-possessed, elegant, sophisticated. She had all the social graces. She was a lady.
It wasn’t elegant to tap-tap-tap-tap-tap the end of her pencil against the ledger. It didn’t show poise to rearrange the display of figurines for the dozenth time when there had been nothing wrong with it in the first place. It wasn’t good manners to be so lost in thought that Mr Weston kept having to repeat himself.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said – again. ‘I do apologise. My mind is elsewhere this afternoon.’
He nodded. ‘Mrs Armstrong also appeared distracted, if I may say so. If this isn’t a good day, perhaps I shouldn’t join you for tea this evening.’
‘You must come. I’m sorry if we’ve made you uncomfortable.’
‘I wouldn’t wish to intrude.’
‘You won’t, I promise. Please come. You’ll be doing us a kindness. Carrie and I – well, we’ve had better days.’
He smiled and there was a twinkle in his eyes as he said, ‘I do have some rather nice chocolate that would go to waste if I took it home.’
‘That settles it. We can’t do without our Cadbury’s.’
‘Actually, I’ve brought Fry’s for a change. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘We’ll try not to.’
And now she really must concentrate. But it was hard. She had been anxious to get to Brookburn today because she wanted to seek out Ted Geeson, even if she had to search every inch of the grounds and take the woodpile to pieces, so she could tell him about Grandfather’s offer. Surely that would give him the prod he needed.
She didn’t want to be mistress of Grandfather’s house. Amazing. It was what she had craved since she was a girl. Live with Grandfather, meet a suitable man, get married. Over the years, her craving had matured, or possibly degenerated, into heart-twitching desperation as the post-war dearth of men hit home.
But now, she didn’t want it. Not that she planned to tell Ted Geeson that. No, she was going to tell him of Grandfather’s offer and watch his face as he realised he couldn’t bear to let her go. Her pulse quickened, hope, fear and excitement merging into one tight knot.
And now, after building herself up, the opportunity had vanished. No, not vanished. She had given it away willingly to ease Carrie’s troubled heart. She felt a glow of love and concern. Carrie was worth putting first, even though it meant giving up the chance of seeing Ted, because Carrie was her sister and her friend and she loved her.
A memory. Pa’s voice. ‘Here, hold your baby sister.’ A bundle being placed into her arms. The little face, eyes closed, the tiny rosebud mouth. Surprise at how small she was. Interest. Pride. And … a sensation of opening, of release, as the loving began.
Carrie was worth it. She was worth anything. And seeing Ted Geeson was only postponed. She could wait.
No, she couldn’t.
‘Mr Weston, would you mind awfully if I went out for a while?’
‘Not at all, Miss Baxter. During the war, when it was just myself and the late Mr Armstrong, I was often alone in the shop when he was out looking at new stock.’
She didn’t need telling twice. Forget poised, forget sedate: she flew upstairs for her coat. Putting on her hat, a gorgeous midnight-blue velvet toque embroidered with silver thread, in front of the dressing-table mirror – Carrie had insisted she choose one of the three pretty dressing tables that were in the shop when she moved in – she saw the flash of excited colour high on her cheekbones. She was going to see Ted!
Soon she was hurrying through the darkening streets, along the side of the Green and past the old graveyard. The road sloped downwards and the graveyard wall was correspondingly high, so she couldn’t see over. Was Carrie in there, perhaps, beside Joey’s grave? Ought she to double-back and see? No, Carrie had to find her own way through today, and whether that meant beating every carpet Brookburn possessed or crouching beside her son’s headstone was up to her.
‘Miss Baxter.’
‘Oh – Mr Geeson. I’m on my way to Brookburn.’
‘Then I’ll turn round and walk with you, if you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all. I’d welcome your company, as long as I’m not keeping you from an important errand.’
‘Nothing that won’t wait.’
He fell in step beside her. Evadne walked on towards Brookburn, which was stupid, because she didn’t want to go there, not if he was out here. She ought to stop and turn to him and talk face-to-face.
&
nbsp; ‘Are you reading to the men this afternoon?’ he asked.
Her mouth went dry. She swallowed. ‘Actually, I was hoping to see you.’
‘Oh aye?’
‘Yes. I’ve got news.’
‘And you’re sharing it with me? I’m honoured.’
‘Of course I want to tell you. I like to think we’re friends.’
Would he care? Would it matter to him? And if he responded the way she longed for, was the most romantic moment of her life really about to take place walking past the Bowling Green pub?
‘My grandfather has invited me to live with him in Parrs Wood and take over the running of his house.’
Say something, say something.
He said nothing.
‘Goodness, I’ve made myself sound like the housekeeper.’ Where did that silly trilling laugh come from? She had never laughed like that in the whole of her life. ‘Grandfather’s frightfully keen. He says as mistress of the house, I can have carte blanche, do any redecorating, as long as I leave his den alone, and organise the house as I see fit as long as he gets his dinner on time.’
Say something, say something.
‘Well,’ he said.
Well, what? Well, I can’t say I like it. Well, I’d rather you stopped here with me. Well, I’d rather you moved into my house. Will you marry me?
Say it, say it.
‘It’s no secret this isn’t the life you were born into.’
Was that it? Was that all?
‘What do you think?’ she asked, forced into bluntness.
They had reached the gates of Brookburn. He stopped. Evadne turned to face him. His expression was sombre beneath the peak of his cap. If she kissed the corner of his mouth, would he smile? Would he smile before he pulled her into his arms and—?
He nodded, lips pursed. ‘I can see how it would be right for you. I’ve not known you long, Miss Evadne Baxter, and I can’t claim to know you closely, but I know this.’
That you’re the only woman for me, the one I want to marry and spend my life with. Say it, say it.
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