Unforgettable

by Gloria Cook

  Finn was quietly thoughtful. ‘I suppose Mrs Belle will act as hostess, with Mrs R and some other ladies. It looks like Nanviscoe is going to be my family’s home for some time, so I suppose I might as well make the effort to get to know some more people. Everyone knows our circumstances yet most people have been good to us. The nasty ones can go to hell. I’ll try to make it to the meeting.’

  ‘Well, I can keep you informed, and you can come over to The Orchards at any time.’

  ‘Oh, I will, Sam, most definitely.’

  Eight

  It was Wednesday morning and that meant a certain gathering of women at Faith’s Fare. Esther Mitchelmore and Delia Newton were on duty in the Thrift Niche, and Belle Lawry and Agnes Pentecost were in attendance at the refreshment counter. The two sections of the hut were not partitioned: the cafe customers were sat at one of the three gingham-covered tables donated by Esther from her home and could freely socialize with the bargain hunters. Banter or gossip was often exchanged in deliberately loud voices so facts and speculation and downright nastiness soon circulated round the village.

  At a table by the window (the glass scavenged from a greenhouse panel), waiting for cups of tea and home-made ginger biscuits were Dorrie, Verity and Jean Vercoe. Baby Eloise, on her first outing into the village, was cradled in her shawl in Dorrie’s arms. Jean had left her big pram, so rarely out of use, outside and had a twin son propped on her lap. The three women were cooing over Eloise. ‘She’s such a contented baby,’ Dorrie told Jean proudly.

  ‘I can see that. One or the other of these little blighters has me up most nights. Anyway, I think you’re an angel, Mrs Resterick, taking the whole family in under your roof while Merrivale is done up.’

  A snort of something akin to disdain issued from Delia’s snooty nose. She was dusting the shelves of donated ornaments, ordered to do so by Esther, who was as usual taking charge of everything in her inarguable manner.

  Verity glared at Delia. ‘You wouldn’t know she was in the house, Mrs Vercoe. It’s a joy to me to share in looking after her while Finn is busy working at Merrivale. It’s more comfortable for Mrs Templeton and she’s progressing slowly but steadily.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Jean said, jiggling her legs up and down to make the chubby twins chuckle. ‘You’ve always enjoyed having a houseful, haven’t you, Mrs Resterick? Me too, couldn’t stand it for a minute if my place was quiet.’ She too shot darts of contempt at the pursed-mouthed Delia. ‘Some round here wouldn’t put themselves out for others, and some of them pack themselves into the front pews every Sunday. Faith without good deeds isn’t faith at all. They know it; it’s time they took note of it.’

  Belle brought over the tray of refreshments. ‘Sam says Merrivale has been completely replastered, the woodwork repaired and the roof is now being re-tiled. I’ve seen for myself the outlook is altogether much lighter now the trees have been thinned out. The stream that runs through the bottom of the garden has been cleared and runs down to Shady Lane again. The gloominess seems all taken away. I’ve also seen Mr Carthewy labouring away and up to his knees and elbows in dirt. He’s given some hard-pressed men the opportunity of earning something extra, and good for him. Finn says that by and by he’ll get his mother to sit by the stream. Good idea, I told him, there’s nothing as soothing as the sound of pure running water. He also says he’s no longer daunted about the prospect of living there again.’

  Running a gleaming white dishcloth over the scrap of cafe counter, Mrs Pentecost, short, nimble, thin and bony, in her seventies with long-lashed eyes always ready to smile, chipped in. ‘Rebecca says the little one is thriving. She was pleased as punch when you suggested the family move into Sunny Corner while Merrivale is being worked on. That poor woman would never recover with all manner of bangs and thumps going on around her. She’d have had no privacy, and all that dust would have been very bad for the baby. Rebecca says Mr Greg dotes on her and it amuses Rebecca when he talks to little Eloise as if she can understand him.’

  ‘Allow me to hold Eloise while you drink your tea, Mrs Resterick,’ Belle offered. Smilingly Dorrie relinquished her charge.

  ‘Bring the child over here,’ Esther ordered. She was filling in the inventory book of things for sale in the niche. People were used to Esther’s bossiness and only a few took exception to it. ‘I haven’t had a good look at her yet.’

  Piqued over the reproving remarks Jean had aimed at her, Delia uttered under her breath, ‘You can bet Guy Carthewy isn’t lashing out all his time and money for nothing. It’s wicked.’ Then she stiffly turned her back and set her feather duster vigorously over a block paperweight. She hummed a tune in an indistinguishable drone to ensure she stayed excluded from the clucky gathering. Delia had three grown-up sons all ‘doing well in the city’ and all ‘far too busy to travel down so far to see Mr Newton and I.’ Thrice a year for a week, in turn, the Newtons visited their sons, and Nanviscoe bathed in the respite.

  ‘Mmmm, she is a pretty baby.’ Esther nodded approvingly. ‘Such deeply coloured eyes. I would have so loved to have had children, but it wasn’t to be.’

  Honoria Sanders breezed in, clouding the air with a heavy tropical perfume and swinging her fox furs. The gold and diamonds on her fingers created prisms and stabs of sparkling light. Pearls circled her neck. ‘I’m delighted I never had any little sprogs, some of us aren’t cut out to be mothers, eh, Esther? But this child is very sweet, bless her heart. Is her mother here? I can see the answer is no. I hope she’s still recovering. Ah, Mrs R, I take it you’re in charge of the tiny mite. Must give you some silver for her. Here’s half a crown.’

  ‘Thank you for your generosity, Mrs Sanders,’ Dorrie said, grinning, for one couldn’t fail to delight in Honoria’s scintillating company.

  Honoria chattered on. ‘Hello, Mrs Newton, I see you’re hiding away in there. Is that because the meeting about the hall didn’t go your and the Rev. Lytton’s way? We all know the vicar’s reason; he’s a lazy so-and-so who doesn’t even want a new church hall built because he wants only to spend time writing his memoirs. He never was much cop at vicaring, hardly knew how to offer a crumb of comfort to the bereaved before or during the war, nor since. But why you, eh? I didn’t attend the meeting but I’ve heard all about your objections – encourage loitering and rowdiness, a poor excuse indeed! There’s no one in Nanviscoe with the slightest interest in doing that; people are too intent on simply surviving.’ Honoria was in full flow and dramatizing her themes with flaunting circles of her silk gloved hands. ‘It’s time someone brought up the real reason and time you faced your pettiness, woman. Your resentment lies from long ago over Mrs Vercoe’s eldest sister Anita being chosen as school May Queen instead of you. I wasn’t residing at Sawle House then, of course, but I’ve heard the tale many a time. Your mother hinted to the former headmaster that she would make a generous donation for a new lavatory block for the school, while she had a dress made up for you. The vicar approved the appointment. But the headmaster wasn’t to be bribed, and his vote along with the vote of Mrs Mitchelmore’s late husband was cast for the prettiest and most honest eligible girl, Anita. And ever since then you have seethed and resented the fact that Anita’s reign was considered one of the best in Nanviscoe, haven’t you, shallow woman that you are? A village hall will be built, and sooner rather than later, for I have decided to give one hundred pounds towards the building costs so time and effort doesn’t have to be wasted on raising funds. With similar generosity pledged by my good sister here and Mr Jack Newton, Nanviscoe will have a hall fit to entertain the King and Queen in.’

  A clamour of grateful and excited voices broke out but they were brutally interrupted. Delia threw down the paperweight and it thumped, denting the wooden floorboard, and clattered and spun noisily. ‘So I am to be mocked, am I? Held in the poorest regard in public and then no doubt to be scorned later in every household? No one has ever liked me. I’ve always been an object of ridicule and my work and ideas for the village always pushed as
ide in favour of anyone else’s, even the tramp and the gypsies that pass through Nanviscoe. Two weeks ago, that criminal’s son now living in our midst cut off my speech at the meeting under the oh-so-saintly Lawrys’ roof. The Templeton boy raised his hand and all attention was turned to him. What right did he have to be there? Come on, tell me that. He’s not one of us. Why did he dare to show his face when he and his mother chose at first to shun us? His words were, “May I say in view of all the kindness and acceptance my mother and I and my new sister have received I think a hall would be a brilliant thing. It’s the very thing where people can meet and enjoy mutual interests.” How dare he speak up when his own father is in jail for fraud while serving as a public servant! It’s too much that the boy’s opinion is sought and mine, a woman whose husband was born and bred in Nanviscoe, counts for nothing.

  ‘Well, build your damned village hall, let criminals and rogues infiltrate and corrupt you, but I’ll never, ever forgive you, any of you, for the contempt you’ve shown me, and you’ll all be sorry. I’ll make you sorry in a way you’ll never forget!’

  Nine

  For the first time in weeks Fiona scrambled out of bed with some energy and feeling hopeful and excited. She glanced at the little square-faced clock on the bedside cabinet. It was seven thirty. Guy was motoring up to Dartmoor Prison today after receiving a pass to visit Aidan. Guy was taking with him at his own expense cigarettes and toiletries for Aidan. Aidan, a man of movie heartthrob looks, hated not to be well groomed. Guy was also taking long loving letters from Fiona containing glowing details of the lovely, spacious house she and Finn were guests in, and how beautiful Aidan’s new baby daughter was. Fiona had added that Eloise had not been christened yet and he could change her name or add others to it, as he liked. Guy had also taken photos of Eloise. Worried about her still haggard looks, Fiona was sending a snap of herself taken soon after she had met Aidan, as a vivacious teen besotted and adoring of him. Finn had adamantly refused to have his photo taken.

  ‘Please, Finn, do it for me. Your father will be proud to see the muscles you’ve developed while working on Merrivale. I’ve written to him all about the renovations and changes under way, and how good the locals have been to us, that most of them have welcomed us against all the odds. It will make him feel like it’s his home to come out to. When he finishes reading all my letters he will feel he knows Dorrie, Greg and Verity.’

  Finn had just arrived back at Sunny Corner after eight hours’ work with Greg, sanding and varnishing floors. He was dusty and dirty and smelled strongly of the clear varnish they had used. He’d reported that Hector Evans had been digging over some of the back garden and Denny Vercoe had sawn the felled branches into logs.

  Fiona had tried to be patient with Finn, for she could see he was weary and his limbs were aching and he only wanted to clean up and spend some time with Eloise. Later he would stroll down to The Orchards and spend an hour or so with his new friend Sam Lawry. Fiona was heartened at how quickly Finn had made a friend of his own age and had fitted into Nanviscoe life. He had even attended a meeting about some proposed new building.

  ‘I’ve told you a hundred times I don’t want anything to do with him ever again. He’s no good. He’ll certainly be interested in Miss Verity,’ Finn had bit back. ‘He’s always made a beeline for attractive young women.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Fiona had wailed, slipping into the depression that was always a ready companion to her.

  ‘Wake up, Mum, what do you think it means? He’s shunned us completely since he was sent down. He didn’t respond to the news of Eloise’s birth, he doesn’t care about her. He’s probably only agreed to see Guy to tell him to tell you to get it into your head that he’s finished with his family.’

  Fiona had put her hands over her ears. ‘Don’t say that! You don’t really know how Aidan’s feeling. I think he’s ashamed of everything and can’t bear to face us. He probably thinks we’d be better off without him.’

  ‘That last part is true. Without him around coming up with scams and schemes – and face it, Mum, get-rich schemes are all he ever talked about – we’ll have the chance of making a life for ourselves in the cottage. Can’t you see how lucky we are, having Guy and Mrs R and the others putting themselves out for us? How many people left in the lurch get that sort of help? I’ll get a proper job, I’ll find something, I’ll work like a navvy to support us and pay rent to Guy, and then we can work on repaying all these people’s kindness. My father doesn’t want the responsibility of his new baby but Eloise is your responsibility, Mum. You’ve got to stop thinking about yourself and what you’ve lost and get well and start taking care of your baby. The three of us have been given a fresh start and you’re the one who needs to pull her weight to give us the best chance for it to work.’

  ‘You’re wrong about your father, Finn, you’ll see,’ Fiona had confronted him angrily, and then purposefully put on a wan expression begging for understanding. ‘I’m sorry things have been so hard for you. I am grateful to you and to everyone else. I’m sure when Aidan sees what everyone has done for us he will be grateful too and it will give him the impetus to change his ways and settle down quietly with us. I’m not totally blind to his faults. I know about his other women, but he’s a very handsome man and floozies always throw themselves at successful men. I believe prison will change him for the better. He’s been too ambitious in the past but after suffering all the deprivations of prison life he’ll come out with the right frame of mind to make a fresh start with us. I wish you would write to him, Finn. Any man would hate to know his son is against him.’

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t share your optimism, Mum. Let’s see what happens when Guy talks to him.’

  So sure was Fiona of her belief in Aidan that she rallied her hopes. She was actually singing while she trotted along to the bathroom. She liked everything about Sunny Corner, its light and fresh location, the house’s gentle countrified style, the sheltered peaceful garden. The plumbing worked perfectly, which had not been the case in her former more modern home, and the porcelain bath with its big brass taps was comfort and luxury. After she had run a few inches of warm soothing water she threw in a handful of rose-scented crystals from a packet Verity had given her. She had spoken little to her hosts’ modish, sometimes sad, but more often confident niece and resolved to get to know Verity better. She was quite a few years younger than Fiona and something of a ‘princess’ type, but Verity was on the same footing, being without her man, and she would be a good friend to have. She heard Eloise begin to whimper in the next room, Finn’s room, and a layer of deadened skin was peeled back from Fiona’s heart as she felt a tug of need to go to her baby, yet she couldn’t manage to make her feet work to do so. Her little girl was waking up and in need of a nappy change, a feed and to be dressed for the day. She whispered very softly, ‘Eloise, don’t cry . . .’

  Then she heard Dorrie’s familiar light tread mounting the stairs and going in to see Eloise. ‘Hello, darling,’ Dorrie cooed. ‘Ready to come downstairs with me and Corky?’

  As Fiona heard Dorrie carrying her baby downstairs away from her she felt a stinging surge of jealousy. People, especially those in this lovely house, were so kind and only God knew how she would have coped without them, but they were behaving as if she had no place in her baby’s life. But of course, that was her own doing, something she couldn’t help, and these same kind people understood and were arranging things to give her lots of peace and quiet to help her to recover from the last traumatic months.

  Every now and then Dorrie or Nurse Rumford would encourage her to hold Eloise when she was beautifully wrapped in a shawl and sleeping soundly, and Fiona’s only reaction was to touch Eloise’s tiny face or delicate fingers. Yet, just now, she had felt the urge to go to her baby. That was a good sign. She was moving forward at last. Yesterday, while reclining in Sunny Corner’s garden, she had accepted that her old life was gone and she was thankful for it. Without the same conditions and situations to
come back to Aidan would not fall back into his old ways, always plotting how to make fast money. He had brought himself down and Fiona was glad about that too; he would no longer be able to swagger about, always wanting to be seen as the best, the top dog. The hardships of prison life might make him see how futile his old ways were, and how much he’d once had and lost. Surely he wouldn’t want to risk all that again. This dreadful downfall might be the best thing to have happened. Aidan would be proud of Finn’s sterling efforts and hard work.

  Looking into a mirror on the bathroom wall Fiona winced at her grey wasted reflection. ‘The state of me!’ she gasped, horrified, seeing the reality of how her months of hopelessness had rendered her. ‘Aidan wouldn’t be proud of me looking like this. I’ve let him down.’ Her husband had fallen in love with her for her classical beauty and flair, showing his pride in how she had run his house and her hostess skills by flourishing expensive gifts. She was an excellent cook, something she had enjoyed even when struggling with the rationing.

  She couldn’t go on moping and letting her looks keep sliding downhill; she must change for Aidan’s sake. He was a man who required a lot of love-making and he had made much of her feminine curves, but he couldn’t be expected to desire her if she looked like a skinny drab. Aidan had eyes for beautiful women, and Fiona had overlooked his affairs. All she asked was that he always came back to her. By the description she had heard of the local women Fiona had little to worry about in regard to Aidan’s wandering ways, except for Verity, but it was unlikely she would still be here at the time of Aidan’s release. However, there was the naturally gorgeous Belle Lawry to think about. When the neighbour’s wife called here it was easy to see that Finn was infatuated with her. Fiona mustn’t allow any woman to outmatch her. She wouldn’t aim for her chic image of old but would work to acquire the healthy vivacious country kind of beauty.