by Janet Woods
* * * *
April arrived, bringing its own special symphony to nature. Bluebells rang a visual welcome through the woods. Clumps of daffodils trumpeted out of the earth. Daisies were a thousand open-mouthed choirboys singing in unison to the sky. The lilies gathered in dignified conference on the banks of the stream and unfurled their creamy throats.
As she’d promised, Janey took John to see them. The heady perfume assailed their senses as they walked towards the bog.
‘I’ve never seen flowers like this in their natural habitat. I hadn’t realized how beautiful this place is.’
‘When I was a child I used to hide behind a tree and watch the bubbles rise from the boggy patch. I thought goblins lived there and if I stayed there long enough I might catch a glimpse of one.’
John chuckled. ‘Did you see one?’
‘Only a frog.’
He gazed at her, eyes twinkling. ‘It must have been a prince in disguise.’
‘Have you ever been married, John?’
‘Yes. I lost my wife and daughter during the war. An air-raid.’
Janey could have bitten out her tongue. ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’
He gave her a surprised look. ‘Why not? Pain fades with time, and asking questions is the only way you get to know people.’
‘You didn’t ever think of marrying again?’
He shook his head. ‘I tried to enlist, but like the proverbial copper I had flat feet. So I joined the police force, and threw myself into my work.’
‘What did you do before that?’
‘Worked on my father’s barge up and down the Thames.’
Dreams colored her eyes. ‘I did a painting of Thames barges once. It must have been wonderful working on them.’
John grinned. ‘You’re taking the utopian standpoint. It was actually hard, dirty work, with very little to show for it at the end of the week.’
‘What made you abandon your police career to strike out on your own?’
‘The realization I wasn’t going to rise above detective sergeant.’ He shrugged. ‘A few years after the war ended a lot of bright young men poured out of the universities into the force. Joe Plods’ like me were shelved in the promotion stakes, and politics came into the job.’
‘Did you like being a private eye?’
He stopped walking and engaged her eyes. ‘I’ve been doing it long enough to know when someone’s leading up to something. What do you really want to ask me, Janey?’
‘I don’t know.’ She worried on her bottom lip for a second. ‘It just struck me as an odd coincidence that we lived in the same building in Hammersmith, then met again at Charles and Brenda’s wedding.’
‘You want to know who I was working for then?’ He smiled when she nodded, relieved she hadn’t guessed about his involvement with her former partner. ‘I can’t answer that. My clients are confidential.’
Color flooded her face. ‘I wasn’t prying. I just wondered if it had anything to with me. I mean ... you weren’t there to spy on me, were you? If you were working for my stepfather it wouldn’t break confidentiality now he’s dead, would it?’
‘Good God, no! Whatever gave you that idea? I just used that bed-sit to store files and things. It was cheaper than finding a bigger office to work from. Sometimes, I slept there if I had a lot on. It really was a coincidence.’
Glancing sideways at him, she grinned. ‘So you were telling lies when you told me you were a chauffeur.’
‘Not entirely.’ Half smiling, he shrugged. ‘Sometimes it’s necessary to assume another identity in my game.’
As she thought about that for a moment her the expression in her eyes changed from curiosity to laughter. ‘Sandy was right. It was cloak and dagger stuff. There’s a lot of Peter Pan in you. It’s refreshing to meet a man who’s never quite grown up.’
‘I’ve never really thought of it that way,’ he said, biting back a laugh. ‘But you could be right.’
Her laughter faded. ‘Have you heard anything more about our case since we gave our statements to the police?’
‘The photograph of Eddie was identified by the victims, so those files have now been closed.’
‘What about my father?’
‘The evidence of his innocence is in the hands of the Home Office. I must warn you, Janey, government departments are notoriously slow. It could take years.’
He could almost taste her disappointment. ‘I was hoping I could give it to him for a Christmas present. You haven’t told him?’
‘I have a great deal of respect for your father. It would be unfair to build up his hopes after what he’s been through.’
‘You mean the application might be turned down?’ Her chin tilted and her expression became fierce. ‘If it does I’ll contact the papers and blow the lid off it. I swear, if I don’t hear anything by Christmas I’ll write to the Home Office and tell them so.’
As they strolled back towards the village, John thought it might prove judicious to contact his colleague in the Home office and inform him of her intentions. Once brought to light, an injustice such as this could cause heads to roll.
He invited her back to Coombe Cottage for coffee, but she declined. ‘I promised Susie I’d pick up Pamela’s birthday present and hide it before she gets home from work.’
To John’s surprise, she kissed him. ‘Thank you for being such a help,’ she said. ‘You’re a lovely man, and I count myself lucky that I can consider you one of my friends.’
Spring fever hit the village like an epidemic. Curtains flapped from washing lines, windows were polished to a gleaming brightness. Rugs hung limply over fences, while women with set, determined faces and robust arms, thrashed the dust from them with cane paddles.
Pamela’s birthday came and went. April became May and the weekenders’ became more evident.
Some of them joined the fete committee, which caused a bit of friction until the villagers concluded that their organizational skills were far superior to their own. It was to be a grand affair. There were rumors that Princess Margaret would come down to open it, followed by Laurence Olivier and then The Beatles.
Painting steadily in every spare moment, Janey wouldn’t have noticed it if hadn’t been for the gossip-loving Susie. ‘I’m entering a cake in the competition, but don’t you dare tell Ada. She’s entering one too, and she always takes off first prize.’
Janey was approached to donate a painting for the auction. She decided on a scene of the village pond with a pretty thatched cottage to the right of the foreground, and the church beyond. The fact that the cottage was the weekend retreat of a wealthy coach tour operator hadn’t escaped her notice.
Tim had been posted to Singapore, and much as she loved him, Janey wasn’t sorry to see him go. As a houseguest he’d been rather like a large, over-friendly and very untidy puppy.
He gave her a passionate kiss good-bye at the station, but she thought it might have been more for the benefit of the fellow officer who was travelling with him, than any declaration of undying love. Judging from the amount of phone calls from females he’d received and the late hours he’d kept, Tim was definitely not a one-woman man!
‘Tell Susie to send me a fruit cake,’ he yelled from the window as the train pulled out – a request Janey decided she’d be wise to ignore.
She was expecting Robert Pitt that last weekend in May. He’d accepted her offer of Tim’s old room for the night, and she was looking forward to his company.
When the doorbell rang on Friday evening she was in the middle of bathing the children, readying them for bed.
‘I’ll get it,’ Susie yelled.
Surely Robert hadn’t arrived a day early. ‘Ask him if he’d like a cup of tea, I’ll be down as soon as the children are in their night-clothes.’
Both Justin and Saffy were being their uncooperative bedtime selves. Justin was wriggling and a giggling Saffy egging him on. Finally, Janey managed to dry them, then took them into the bedroom and dumpe
d them both on Saffy’s bed.
‘Behave yourselves, you two. Saffy, see if you can be a clever girl and put your nightie on by yourself.’ Trying to stuff the flailing legs of the giggling Justin into his pyjama bottoms was proving impossible.
‘Need any help?’
Griff! Her eyes absorbed him in one glance. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Saffy, you’re putting your head into the sleeve!’ Justin escaped her clutches and bounced up and down on the bed. ‘Stop it, you’ll fall off!’
Trying to fight her way into her nightgown Saffy’s head was a wailing lump in the middle. Her arms flapped like a pink flowered ghost. ‘I can’t see anyfink, mummy.’
Griff ‘s grin was a mile wide. One hand grabbed Saffy’s nightie and jerked it down over her head, the other cut Justin’s legs from under him in mid-flight. ‘Pyjamas, young feller,’ he said as Justin flopped on his back.
Ten minutes later the bedtime story had been read, eyelids drooped shut, and peace reigned.
Janey feathered a kiss on each soft cheek. ‘They look like angels now. How did you manage it?’
‘They need a father.’ His eyes were dark on hers, enigmatic, giving nothing away – but his glance strangely disturbing to the orderly rhythms of her heart.
Yes, she thought, turning away. I do love you, Griff, but you deserve someone better.
Chapter Nineteen
Although he worked long hours, Griff became a regular visitor. Sometimes Phil came with him. He’d silently eye her garden, sigh or shake his head, then pick up a fork or spade.
He planted shrubs along the bare fence lines, lilac and rhododendrons. A couple of young apple trees appeared in the lawn at the far end, a hawthorn in the hedge for May perfume. A slender ash sapling was set in place at the front. The spreading branches would eventually shade the house from the summer sun, and flame into glory in autumn.
His work-rough hands were tender on the young plants, almost loving as he set their roots into the crumbly brown soil. When he knew Pamela was home he’d bring her flowers. They’d sit together in the garden on the low stone retaining wall, self-consciously apart, but exchanging glances now and again.
‘I think he’s courting her,’ Griff remarked one day.
Janey had reached the same conclusion. ‘That would be wonderful. Phil’s such a lovely man, and Pamela deserves some happiness after all she’s been through.’
‘And what about you, Janey.’ His smile was as mellow and rare as old brandy. ‘Don’t you deserve the same?’
There was heartache ahead if she wasn’t careful, and for both of them. She must guard herself against what she saw in his eyes, or thought she saw. She’d never be able to read Griff, and loving him was too easy.
‘I am happy, Griff. I have everything I could ever need. Saffy, Justin, my career, and good friends.’ Mischief came into her eyes as she glanced out to where Phil and Pamela sat. ‘Who knows? If things work out, I might have the best of them for a brother.’
A pulse beat in his jaw as his eyes collided with hers, and the chair made a horrible scraping sound as he abruptly stood up. ‘Don’t count on it, Janey.’
Startled, she gazed up at him.’
His finger traced a gentle path down her cheek, making her want to curl her face into his palm. The intensity of the moment shook her.
‘I’ll always be your friend, and who knows, one day I might even be your lover. But a brother?’ He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t even contemplate the thought.’
She closed her eyes. ‘It’s impossible, Griff ... I can’t be ... ‘
A finger was pressed firmly over her lips. ‘You keep denying what you know, what you’ve always known. And I’m sick of talking round it. ‘I love you, Janey. I’ve always loved you. Let go of the past, and, for God’s sake let go of Drifter. It’s over. It’s all over. Get on with your life before it passes you by.’
Tears filled to her eyes when he strode away. Drifter? What the hell did he have to do with anything? Dashing her tears away, and flaming with anger she rushed out to the gate, shouting up the road after him. ‘You’re wrong. I haven’t thought about Drifter in months.’
He kept going without turning round.
Picking up a small pebble she hurled it at him, scoring a bulls eye in the middle of his back. ‘Don’t you dare ignore me, Griff Tyler. I refuse to be ignored by you?’
He was laughing when he turned to face her. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight and we’ll go out dancing.’
‘Go to hell! You know I can’t dance.’
‘I’ll wear my safety boots then.’ He blew her a mocking kiss, then ducked as her second missile flew past his ear.
‘Bloody men!’ she snorted, turning her back on him and stomping into the house. ‘If you think I’m going dancing you can think again.’
She was ready at eight at the dot. And she discovered, when they joined the crowd stomping and swaying on the dance floor in what seemed to be some weird tribal ritual that she could dance, after all.
When Griff kissed her goodnight, his lips a teasing, tender exploration of hers, everything she’d starved herself of became suddenly apparent.
There was a silent scream of panic inside her, as though something was dying bit by painful bit. Then all her self-doubt flooded back.
Sensing her withdrawal Griff touched her mouth with his fingertip. ‘It’s all right, Janey. I can wait.’
Would it always be like this? She thought a few moments later, as she stood inside the darkened hall. Would she never be able to love Griff as he should be loved?
I seemed as though the whole village had turned out to watch the Saffy Jane depart.
The retired couple that had bought a cottage opposite – once the district nurse’s abode – made a pretence of watering the garden. They looked like a couple of chickens, their necks craning this way and that.
The villagers were more open in their curiosity. They stood in small groups, the women in aprons, the men puffing on cigarettes, or waving pipes in the air as they talked and offered gratuitous advice.
‘I aint seen the like of that before in the village, have you George?’
‘Have you gone blind or something Bert? That there boat has been growing in the backyard for nigh on the last year.’
And Bert cackling. ‘Fancy that, and here’s me thinking it was a bloody giant mushroom all this time.’
As the crane swung the boat over the wall into the cradle on the back of a truck, Jack ran a satisfied eye over her hull.
Once the engine was fitted he’d just have to put the finishing touches to the fittings, then she’d be ready to launch. September at the latest, he’d calculated. It had taken longer than he’d estimated to build her. He’d used a young man’s reckoning, but no longer had a young man’s energy, he thought, grimacing as the wasted years came into his mind.
‘The garden looks empty without her.’
He laughed as he slid his arm around Janey’s shoulder. ‘She’s not a garden gnome, she’s a working boat and needs to be in the water.’
‘It was nice of the boatyard to allow you to finish her off there.’
‘And easier. I’ll be able to launch her from the slipway. I’m thinking of taking her on a pilgrimage to Dunkirk in May or June of next year. John Smith said he wouldn’t mind making the trip with me.’
‘You get on well with him, don’t you?’
Her father looked surprised. ‘I suppose I do. He’s the sort of man who grows on you, and he plays a damned good game of chess.’
A cheer went up at the truck moved off. ‘A pint of bitter says he don’t get round the bend without touching that, there oak tree.’
‘You’re on George Higgins.’
‘Daft old bugger,’ Mrs. Higgins muttered as the truck missed it by a mile. ‘He wouldn’t see a train coming unless it ran over him.’
Excitement over, they drifted away, the men towards the pub, the women towards the cottages.
Jack exchanged a smile with his daughte
r. ‘Are you staying for lunch? I might be able to rustle up a sandwich.’
‘I promised my house a good clean. Come up for dinner on Sunday.’ A sunny smile and she was gone, tooting her horn as she rounded the bend.
Hiding his disappointment Jack made his way indoors and slumped into an armchair. He was so tired these days. Perhaps it was time he got a checkup.
After the boat’s completed he promised himself. I haven’t got time, now.
* * * *
A sleek black Daimler was parked in the drive when Janey got home. With a strange sense of foreboding she left her car outside the gate, gathered the children together and hurried towards it.
The driver respectfully touched his grey peaked cap when she peered in the window. ‘Mrs. Pitt has gone inside, ma’am.’
His face was beaded with perspiration and Janey was willing to bet he’d driven all the way from London. It was too bad of Linda to leave him hanging around outside.
‘Thank you.’ Linda could wait! ‘You look hot. If you’d like to follow me inside I’ll find you something to drink.’
‘That’s very kind of you, ma’am.’
She left the chauffeur in the kitchen with a generous slice of Susie’s sponge cake and a mug of tea, gave the children a glass of milk and hurried through to the lounge. Justin was drooping with tiredness, but she couldn’t put him to bed if Linda had come all this way to see him.
Linda was in the process of reading a bank statement Janey had left on the coffee table.
‘That’s private.’
Unabashed, Linda allowed it flutter from her hand. Her glance flitted over her wrap-around shirt and tee shirt. Her smile was derisive.
Janey let her annoyance show. ‘Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?’
‘I didn’t think I’d need to make an appointment to see my own son. I take it that’s him?’
‘You should know.’
‘Don’t try and be smart, Janey.’ Smiling a little, Linda examined her perfectly manicured scarlet fingernails. ‘Actually, I was thinking of taking him back.’
Heart squeezing like a concertina Janey picked Justin up and cuddled him tight. ‘You can’t. Robert Pitt’s his guardian.’