by Rosie Clarke
He stared in disbelief. ‘Harry dead? What are you talking about? I thought he was coming home on a visit – your aunt said it was odd he didn’t come to tell us the news himself…’ For a moment he swayed as if he’d received a physical blow and then sat down on the nearest chair with a bump. She thought he was fighting for his breath and felt guilty that she hadn’t broken it to him in a gentler way. ‘That’s terrible, Lizzie, terrible. No wonder you gave birth too early… I’m so sorry, my dear. This is a terrible blow for you…’ He shook his head as if in disbelief.
‘Yes, I was very shocked and upset…’ Lizzie swallowed hard as he gave her a sympathetic look. ‘It didn’t happen on a mission – there was some kind of an accident…’
‘What do you mean?’
‘His friend just said it was a car accident. I expect I’ll get something from the War Office soon.’ Lizzie hesitated, then, ‘He wanted to be buried not cremated. He told me that once – so I’ll arrange it when I get up. I shall be out and about in a couple of days and I haven’t heard about – when I can have his body…’
‘It isn’t fitting that a young woman in your circumstances should have to do such a thing,’ Uncle Bertie said. ‘I insist that you leave this to me. I’ll arrange it for the next week or so and give you time to get well, Lizzie.’
‘Thank you…’ Lizzie said, frantically wondering how she was going to conceal the truth from him. ‘I should be up by tomorrow…’
‘Nonsense, you must stay in bed for a few days and when you leave here come to us. Your aunt will be glad to look after you both…’
Chapter 40
Beth was returning from Lizzie’s home with several letters in the basket over her arm. Just as she turned the corner of the street, she saw a man in Army uniform standing outside her door. He seemed to be hesitating, turning away without knocking. She caught her breath as she saw his face… Tony!
Beth was undecided whether to walk quickly away or face him, but then she knew she couldn’t avoid him forever.
‘Tony…’ she said and stopped as they reached each other. ‘How are you? You haven’t been hurt?’
‘No, I’m fine. I’ve been training most of the time, sitting around waiting to see some action – this is embarkation leave.’
‘Oh, well I wish you lots of luck,’ Beth said, feeling oddly sad because they were talking as strangers. Despite her love for Mark, she’d never quite forgotten Tony. ‘And I’m glad to see you, Tony. I’ve wondered how you were getting on.’
‘I heard you had twins,’ Tony’s brow furrowed. ‘I understand he died… the father…’
‘Mark’s ship was sunk and he was posted missing in action.’
‘I’m sorry, Beth.’
‘Yes, me too,’ she said, ‘but I’m lucky to have the twins. Matt looks like his father, I think…’
‘Oh…’ Tony seemed lost for words. ‘It can’t be easy living at home?’
‘My mother doesn’t mind, but my father thought I’d shamed him. He’s letting me stay for the moment, but I shall have to leave one day…’
He hesitated then, ‘Well, I’d better go. Got a lot of friends to catch up with – just wanted to know you were all right.’
‘Glad you came, Tony…’
He walked off down the road. Beth watched him, wondering why her throat caught and her eyes pricked with sudden tears. What was there to cry about, just because Tony had come to see her?
She went into the house, taking her jacket off and hanging it on the hallstand. Halfway up the stairs, she saw Lizzie at the top, obviously preparing to come down.
‘Should you be up yet? It’s only been a few days.’
‘I can’t stay here forever. I want to go home and settle in,’ Lizzie said. ‘Aunt Miriam wants me to stay there, but I shan’t. I need to be independent…’
‘There are a few letters for you,’ Beth said. ‘One of them looks official – I expect it’s from the RAF… and one smells of perfume.’
‘Yes, from the RAF,’ Lizzie said as she saw the heading and began to read it. ‘It doesn’t say anything about when I can have the funeral. I’m having a cremation, because I don’t want Uncle Bertie to hear things –I told him it was an accident, as you suggested.’ Lizzie sniffed the perfumed letter and smiled. She opened the envelope and discovered a cheque from Mrs Mabel Carmichael, and a note apologising. She would be in shortly to purchase more hats and hoped Lizzie would forgive her. ‘That’s one piece of good news at least.’ She showed Beth the letter.
‘Yes, but she got you into trouble, didn’t she?’ Beth pointed out, then, looking thoughtful,. ‘I hope that my advice to you about telling Mr Oliver it was an accident doesn’t cause trouble. .’
‘I only wanted to spare him and Aunt Miriam pain,’ Lizzie said. ‘I see no reason for him to be angry.’
‘He’s a funny sort,’ Beth said and frowned as she changed the subject, ‘Bernie sent me another letter to tell me my job will be there for me when I’m ready to return.’
‘Bernie sounds really nice, Beth?’
‘I suppose he is. I keep thinking and wondering if I should accept his offer of marriage or try to get my own place.’ She sighed, then, ‘I just saw Tony. He’s home on leave and then he’s off overseas somewhere.’
‘What did he want?’
‘He just came to see how I was before he was posted abroad.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘I’m not sure – a little sad perhaps? I don’t like to think of him perhaps being hurt…’
‘No, of course not, but I’m afraid a lot of our men are in the thick of it somewhere,’ Lizzie said. ‘It was strange, as if the war wasn’t really happening for ages, but it certainly is now…’
‘It’s really happening now,’ Beth agreed. She glanced at Lizzie’s pale face as she took her letters. ‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’
‘I think I can manage. I shan’t go home today but by tomorrow or the following day.’
Lizzie pushed away the feeling of loneliness that overcame her as she contemplated returning to the flat where she’d hoped to be so happy with Harry Oliver. Her dreams had been shattered, but there was no point in looking back. She just had to get on the best she could.
*
‘I shall feel all at sea once you’ve both gone,’ Mrs Court said looking wistful as the three women sat drinking tea that afternoon. ‘I do understand why you feel you ought to get home, Lizzie – but you don’t have to go yet, Beth.’
‘I think I ought to stand on my own two feet,’ Beth smiled at her mother lovingly. ‘It doesn’t make you redundant, Mum. We’ll both need you to babysit sometimes.’
‘Well, you know I’ll always help where I can.’
‘Thanks Mum.’
‘You too, Lizzie.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Lizzie smiled at her. ‘I shall never be able to thank you enough, Mrs Court. It was so generous of you to do what you did and I’m very grateful.’
‘In the circumstances I wouldn’t have dreamed of letting you go home alone,’ Mrs Court said. ‘You must think of this house as your second home, Lizzie. I stand in place of a mother to you – and if you need anything, come to me for help.’
‘You’re so kind,’ Lizzie said. ‘I wish my aunt had been more like you – but she didn’t have a very happy life.’
‘Have you heard from her recently, Lizzie?’
I wrote once but she didn’t answer my letter. Perhaps she doesn’t feel up to it.’ Or perhaps she didn’t want anything to do with Lizzie.
Someone was knocking at the door. Beth went through to the hall and opened the door. It was Harry’s uncle and he looked grim.
‘Is Lizzie here?’
‘Yes, she’s in the kitchen. Would you like to come in?’
‘I’ve something to say to her in private.’
‘Then perhaps you should go through to the parlour – at the end of the hall, Mr Oliver. I’ll ask Lizzie to join you…’
He glared
at her, and then walked past her to the door at the end of the passage. Beth went back to the kitchen, feeling uneasy.
‘Mr Oliver wants to speak with you in private,’ she said, giving Lizzie a warning look. ‘He’s in the parlour…’
‘Oh… I’d better go and see what he wants.’
Lizzie got to her feet immediately and went out.
‘What does he want?’ Beth’s mother asked as the door closed after Lizzie.
‘I dare say it concerns the funeral,’ Beth said. ‘I did tell you that Tony called round, didn’t I? I think he’s being posted overseas…’
*
Lizzie carefully closed the parlour door behind her. Beth’s warning glance had told her that Uncle Bertie wasn’t in a good mood. Had he discovered the rumours about Harry’s death? His eyes met hers with a glacial stare.
‘Why did you lie to me, Lizzie? You left me to discover the truth from a stranger…’
‘What have you been told?’ Her heart was thumping wildly but she tried to appear calm.
‘My nephew disgraced himself and our name – he stole a car when he was drunk and deliberately drove it into a tree. Suicide is the coward’s way out…’
‘No, that isn’t fair.’ Lizzie’s nails dug into the palms of her hands. ‘Yes, Harry was frightened of dying, but who isn’t? He’d flown mission after mission over enemy installations, taking pictures that helped us to know what was going on with the German army and their capabilities – not once did he refuse to go.’
‘Then why did he take his own life? Tell me that, if you can – or can I guess? Did he discover that you had other men? I’ve seen you leaving the flat with different men twice. Is that why Harry didn’t want to come home – why he didn’t take his leave and finally felt he couldn’t go on?’
How could he blame her – accuse her of being unfaithful to her husband? It was totally unfair of him and it made her angry - and yet he was partially right. She had let Sebastian kiss her and she had gone to tea with him, but that was very different to what Uncle Bertie was hinting at. ‘I can’t believe you just said that to me,’ Lizzie said quietly. ‘I went out to tea with Sebastian Winters once, but he’s a client of the business, and the other time was when Robbie told me about Harry’s accident…’ Her head went up proudly. ‘I’d like to know who told you about Harry. I’m Harry’s next of kin and if I chose to keep it from you that was my privilege.’
‘You’re a cold bitch. I was right about you from the start. I warned Harry not to be a fool. I knew you were just out for what you could get – well, don’t think you or your brat will be getting my business when I’ve gone, and any arrangements we had are finished. I don’t want you back at the workshops – do I make myself clear?’
‘I’m sorry you feel I’ve let you and Harry down, but for what’s it’s worth I don’t believe Harry did kill himself,’ she said quietly, keeping calm despite her emotion. ‘As far as the business is concerned that is your privilege – and I do thank you for all you’ve done for me. I never asked to be left anything in your will – and I think you must leave now.’
‘Bitch. You won’t get a reference from me…’
As he threw open the door and strode out into the hall, Beth looked thunderstruck. She went to Lizzie as the door slammed after him.
‘What has he been saying to you? You’re as white as a ghost…’
‘He thinks I’m to blame for what happened to Harry. He said that I was a cold bitch and had made Harry so miserable that…’ Lizzie felt faint and ill after Harry’s uncle’s verbal attack on her and grabbed at the back of a chair to steady herself.
Lizzie sat down, her head spinning. She bent her head, covering her face with her hands as the tears started. Then Beth’s arms went round her, holding her as she sobbed. She kissed the top of Lizzie’s head and stroked the back of her neck, gradually easing her.
Lizzie looked up. ‘Harry’s uncle is severing all connection with me. He wants to ruin me, refuses to give me a reference, but I’ll manage – I’ll manage somehow.’
‘Of course you will,’ Beth said. ‘You’ll find another job somewhere…’
‘Yes, I shall manage, Beth. I’ll have to think about what I’m doing – but I’ll survive.’
Chapter 41
The flat struck cold after being closed up for some days. Lizzie switched on the electric fire; the air would soon warm up and she was used to living alone so this feeling of isolation would go. It was very strange knowing that Harry would never come home – and she no longer had the support of his family.
It wouldn’t be easy to find a new job in the trade, but did she really want to work for anyone else? Lizzie had been too shocked to think straight at first but now she was wondering if perhaps she could work for herself. She still had the money Sebastian had sent her and the address of someone he’d said might help her if she wanted to leave Oliver’s.
Lizzie had been reluctant to take his money, but now it might be the only way for her to go on making the hats she loved. It was surely what Sebastian had intended and she could repay him if she made a success of her own business…
Betty had started to cry. Lizzie picked her up and cuddled her before putting her back in her cot. She was feeling warmer now and she turned the fire off. She had a small amount of her own money put by because she’d saved what Harry sent her from his wages, but she must keep it for emergencies, because she couldn’t know what her daughter might need in the future.
When Betty settled, Lizzie went through the flat with a broom and duster, then made herself a cup of Bovril and drank it with some of the bread she’d bought on the way home. She picked up her sketchbook and flicked through some of the drawings, but didn’t feel like working.
Lizzie was close to tears because she felt so alone. Yes, she had good friends, but they couldn’t help her now.
Going into her bedroom, she searched for the letter that Sebastian had sent her and the bundle of notes. She took the envelope back to the sitting room and read the postscript at the end of the letter.
Arthur is a friend of mine. If you need help setting up your own business, go and see him, Lizzie. This is his address…
He’d enclosed a business card for a Mr Arthur Stockton, maker of fine hats, which made Lizzie smile, because it was so old-fashioned and yet it would stick in the mind.
Sebastian had thought she might need help, because he’d known things weren’t right with her marriage. Starting her own business would be a huge step to take, but Lizzie knew it was what she wanted – what she’d always wanted.
She counted the money that Sebastian had sent her and caught her breath. There was nearly three hundred pounds in the envelope – enough to secure her the lease of a small shop and workshop behind, and enough materials to get started.
She would go and talk to Arthur Stockton, the man Sebastian had mentioned in his postscript. It would mean leaving Betty with Mrs Court, but she would go first thing in the morning, because this was the future for her and her child…
*
Lizzie caught the bus which would take her to the premises she was seeking. It was in an area close to where Beth’s family lived and only a few blocks from the East India Docks. She could even see some of the cranes working against the skyline as her bus halted. It couldn’t go any further because there was a crater in the road, left by a bomb a couple of days previously. Her stomach was tying itself in knots as she got out and walked down the street. After all, why should Mr Stockton help a woman he didn’t even know; he might even think of her as a rival…but she didn’t really have a choice. Lizzie had only herself to rely on now and she had to take care of Betty and her own future. She had to at least ask for his help…
When Lizzie approached the building, she was disappointed to see the shutters were down on the window and a little closed notice was tucked into one corner. She almost turned away, but then the thought struck her that perhaps someone was on the premises. She would ring the bell and enquire because it was worth a t
ry. It had to work out, because otherwise she didn’t have a clue where to start.
She rang twice and was about to leave when the sound of a key gave her hope. A small wiry man opened the door a crack and looked at her over his gold-rimmed glasses.
‘We’re closed for business, ma’am.’
‘When will you be open? Sebastian Winters sent me…’
‘Sebastian?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Well, that’s different. The business is closing down. I can’t keep going without my best workers and my daughter wants me to pack up and go and live in the country with her…’
‘I’m Lizzie Larch. I design hats and was hoping you might make some basic shapes up for me…’
‘Lizzie Larch, yes, Sebastian did tell me about you – I think he intended to launch your work at one time…’ he smiled sadly as he offered his hand.
‘Yes, but it didn’t happen. I was working for someone else at the time but that has fallen through. I can’t contact Sebastian and I need help. I want to open my own shop and I need suppliers – I wondered if you could help me…’
‘Starting up in times like these? I’m not sure that’s a good idea, young woman. A lot of little workshops won’t make it through,; I’m afraid one of them is mine,’ He sighed, then,. ‘I’m Arthur and ‘I’ve been here on this site since I was a boy. My father made gentlemen’s hats and my grandfather before him. I started the ladies’ department. I shall be sorry to leave it…’ He gestured to her to come in. ‘I cleared most of my basic hats yesterday – a large department store came and took most of what I had – but you’re welcome to look…’
Lizzie followed him into his workroom, feeling sad because it was almost empty and it seemed a shame that after years of family businesses here, there was almost nothing left. She saw about twelve basic felt hats and picked one up to examine it; the quality was good and she could make it look individual in a few minutes if she had the right trimmings.
‘I’d like to take these if they’re not too expensive please. I would have liked more, but these will help me to build up a basic stock for a start.’