The Surplus Girls

by Polly Heron

  They all sat, the Mrs Sloans looking self-conscious in the best seats. Oh dear. Should she have let them give up their places? Too late now.

  ‘Pardon us for interrupting your Sunday afternoon,’ said Prudence, ‘but we’re here about Miss Layton and Mr Linkworth.’ Trust her to get right to the point.

  ‘Oh aye?’ said Mrs Sloan the elder, deference dissolving. ‘She’s wasted no time spreading the word, then.’

  ‘And why should she?’ Prudence replied at once. ‘It isn’t every day a girl gets engaged.’

  ‘Engaged!’ cried the younger Mrs Sloan.

  ‘She never told us that,’ said the elder.

  ‘Oh my goodness.’ Patience’s heart thumped. What a blunder.

  But Prudence appeared unruffled. ‘I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you. It sounds as if you were hard enough on her simply for looking at another man.’

  ‘Prudence!’ Patience exclaimed.

  ‘You’re the one who wanted to help the course of true love. How did you propose to do it without a bit of plain speaking? Mrs Sloan and Mrs Sloan, please consider this. You’ve already lost your son and grandson. Do you intend to lose your honorary daughter- and granddaughter-in-law as well? She has mourned her lost love for several years, but now she has met someone else. You can accept it or fall out over it. Which is it to be?’

  ‘You can’t come here telling us what to do,’ blurted the elder Mrs Sloan.

  ‘Please don’t take offence,’ said Patience.

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ came the swift retort, ‘a pair of old maids like you.’

  Dots of anguish flashed before Patience’s eyes. ‘Have you any idea what a cruel thing that is to say? Some women are destined to go through life alone. Is that really what you want for Miss Layton? Ladies, please, I know how much you care about her. The fact that she lives with you testifies to it. You’re frightened, aren’t you, of losing her? And not just because of the precious link to Ben. You love her in her own right. I know how affectionately she speaks of you and I’m sure the feeling is mutual.’

  The two women glanced at one another.

  ‘Well, of course we care about her,’ said Mrs Sloan the younger, ‘but there’s nowt to be frightened of. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You’ve lost so much already,’ said Patience. ‘Please don’t lose Miss Layton as well. Surely you know her well enough to know she wants to share her happiness with you and keep you as her dear mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law.’

  ‘Steady on,’ murmured Prudence. ‘You’re not in a position to make declarations on Miss Layton’s behalf.’

  ‘Aren’t I? I think I know her well enough to rely on her generous nature.’

  ‘I think we know her better’n you do, miss,’ said Mrs Sloan the elder.

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ Patience agreed, ‘so I appeal to you. Is she the sort to turn her back on you because she has got engaged to Mr Linkworth? Or will she be true to her long-standing relationship with you?’

  As Belinda entered the shop first thing Monday morning, Gabriel came out of the office and they walked into one another’s arms. This was where she wanted to be, now and always.

  ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you,’ said Gabriel. ‘Did the Mrs Sloans make things difficult for you again after you got home yesterday afternoon?’

  Putting her hands on his chest, she pushed herself a little away, but not so far that he had to let go. ‘Not at all.’ She could still hardly believe it. ‘Their attitude has changed completely. They’ve accepted our relationship.’

  ‘What a turnaround. What prompted that?’

  ‘They said they’d had time to think and they don’t want to lose me. And listen: they want to be mother- and grandmother-in-law to you once we’re married.’

  Gabriel laughed. ‘I’m marrying into a bigger family than I thought.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Why would I? I promised you yesterday that I’ll do my best for your family, and that includes the Mrs Sloans.’ He stepped away from her with obvious reluctance. ‘We must get to work.’

  He disappeared upstairs to finish packing the books stored there while Belinda settled at the typewriter to continue the inventory. The bell jingled and the postman came in. He handed her a letter and a packet.

  She called up the stairs, ‘Post’s come. Do you want to open it or should I?’

  ‘You do it. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  She opened the letter first, an enquiry about a history book. She found the book on the shelf and set it aside, then turned to the packet. It proved tricky to open, then suddenly it slit straight across and the contents spilled out over the table. It was a collection of envelopes – no, opened letters. Her heart forgot to beat. The letters were addressed to Miss Naomi Colby.

  Naomi.

  With them was a letter; high-quality paper, folded in half. She picked it up, holding it still folded. Was it her imagination or was there the faintest scent of roses? She shouldn’t read it. It was for Gabriel’s eyes.

  She read it. Of course.

  Mrs Naomi Reed, Naomi Colby-as-was, Naomi Linkworth as she had expected to be, had returned Gabriel’s letters. Letters: that was what she called them. Love letters was what she meant.

  Had she chosen to return them? Had her husband stood over her as she penned the letter and made up the packet?

  Gabriel’s love letters to the woman he would have married after the war, if he hadn’t lost his memory. Oh, heck.

  His memory had come back now, which must include his memories of Naomi, beautiful, elegant and poised, with her well-bred loveliness and cultured voice and her subtle, enticing floral perfume – roses.

  I love roses. I adore their scent.

  ‘The tea’s brewing. What have you got there?’

  She pushed the envelopes to the edge of the table. It took him a moment to realise.

  ‘Oh,’ he said.

  He picked up Naomi’s letter, releasing the tiniest waft of sweet fragrance. Either he read it more than once or he was giving himself time to think. Or maybe he was overwhelmed by memories of that happy, hopeful time in his life. Perhaps he was drowning in the scent of roses.

  Belinda sat frozen in misery. She wanted him to say something, though she didn’t know what. She wanted Naomi not to matter – but what would it say about Gabriel if he could discount his old love so easily? Hadn’t she promised to carry Ben in a special place in her heart? She expected Gabriel to understand and respect that. Would he now require the same understanding and respect on her part?

  But this was different. No, it wasn’t. Yes, it was. Naomi was still alive. What had it cost her to appear in the magistrate’s room to speak on Gabriel’s behalf? She had conducted herself with such gravity and poise. The perfect lady.

  Aye, a lady; not a working-class lass, trying to better herself.

  Gabriel hadn’t been able to remember her that day, but he could remember her now. I love roses. I adore their scent. And the fact that Naomi Reed was married and unattainable needn’t make any difference to that.

  ‘These are old letters I sent to Naomi – Mrs Reed. You know she and I were once engaged.’

  Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She had herself once been engaged. She had no business being thrown into turmoil by Gabriel’s former engagement.

  ‘She’s kept them all this time,’ he said.

  After he was supposedly dead – well, that was fair enough. Belinda cherished the letters she had received from Ben. But Naomi had hung onto Gabriel’s letters after she had married Mr Reed. Would Mr Reed call it fair enough? Did he even know of the letters? Were they the deepest secret of Naomi’s heart?

  If only her letter had said, These mean nothing to me now. I love my husband. If only she had fed them into the fire.

  Did she still love Gabriel? Had she returned his letters to reignite his old love? Tormented lovers, doomed to live their lives apart, yet joined for ever in spirit.

 
; She pushed back her chair. ‘That tea will be stewed by now.’

  ‘Wait.’

  His hand was on her arm, but she didn’t turn round. Then she thought better of it and faced him.

  ‘It’s a shock for me to receive them,’ he said softly, ‘and it’s upset you too.’

  ‘I’m fine, honestly. I’ve been engaged before as well, remember. I’m fine.’

  Her heart counted the moments while he looked at her. He nodded. ‘If you say so.’

  She did say so. She didn’t believe it, but she did say so.

  She headed upstairs. Halfway up, she swung round and came down again. Gabriel looked up from the letters.

  ‘Auntie Enid and Grandma Beattie tried to make me say you’re second-best. Oh, they’ve accepted that we’re a couple and our future lies with one another, and they said all sorts of kind things, but they tried to make me say you’re second-best to Ben and he was my real love. They weren’t as blunt as that, but I could tell. They wanted Ben to be more important than you and they wanted to hear me say it, but I wouldn’t. Even though I love them both to bits and I’m grateful for everything they’ve done for me, I wouldn’t say it. Even though it would have given them something unspeakably precious to cling to, I still wouldn’t say it – because it’s not true.’

  ‘Belinda—’

  ‘When I was young, when I met Ben, at that time in my life, he was all the world to me. If he’d lived, we’d have spent our lives together; but he didn’t. He’s gone and I’m still here. Now, at this time in my life, I have you and you are my world; and no matter how much I loved Ben, you are not second-best.’

  A frown clouded his hazel eyes. ‘I never imagined I was.’

  ‘I don’t want to be second-best either. I know I’ve got no business getting in a frap about your old engagement, but I have, and there it is. My old engagement is over and done with, because Ben died, but yours…’

  ‘Naomi is married to another man. That’s just as over and done with, in its own way.’

  She caught her breath. It was the worst thing he could have said. Her hand went to the base of her throat, where a pulse beat wildly.

  ‘You still love her. You’ve remembered your feelings for her.’

  ‘What? No. Why would you think that?’

  Panic stilled, replaced by a horrible calm. ‘Ben died and I was heartbroken, but I learned to live with it and in the end, I recovered. I lived through all that – but you haven’t lived through it. You didn’t even remember she existed before that day in the magistrate’s room.’

  ‘It was the weirdest thing, meeting her and having no memory of her. Seeing her didn’t stir up old feelings.’

  ‘But you must remember those feelings now.’

  ‘Yes, I do. I was deeply in love with her, but it’s just a memory, the way your love for Ben is a memory.’

  How could she make him understand? ‘My memories are from all that time ago and they’ve been part of me ever since. Your memories have suddenly been dumped on you; they’re vivid and brand new.’

  ‘Yes, they are – don’t turn away.’ He seized her hands. ‘Remembering everything – and I mean, everything, not just Naomi – is extraordinary. Dr Jennings told me that if my memory returned, it could be an overwhelming experience, but do you know what has stopped its being overwhelming? You have; you and this shop. You and my inheritance made me feel I have a place in the world. You made it possible for me to see a future for myself, even though I didn’t have a past.’

  He raised one of her hands to his lips, his eyes on hers as he brushed a kiss against her knuckles.

  ‘And that was before I knew you cared for me. Now that I know how you feel, I have everything I need, even though I’m about to lose this shop.’

  ‘What about Naomi?’

  ‘If you’re asking, are you second-best, the answer is no, a thousand times no. My feelings for Naomi are remembered feelings, not emotions I’m experiencing now. More than anything, they sadden me, because of what she must have gone through. I ask myself if she loves her husband, but even if she doesn’t, even if she had never married him and came to me now as the fiancée I left behind, I wouldn’t be able to marry her, because the only girl in the whole world I want to marry is standing here in front of me right now.’

  ‘Do you mean that?’ she whispered.

  ‘With all my heart.’

  Letting go of her hands, he delved in his pocket and brought out a ring box. Her thoughts scattered, then rushed back and focused on this precious moment.

  ‘Cousin Irene gave me this at the end of the court day. It was my mother’s engagement ring.’ He opened the box to reveal a gold ring set with a row of five dainty pearls. ‘My mother loved pearls. If you’d prefer to have a brand-new ring, I’ll understand, but it would mean a lot to me if you would wear this. Will you? Would you mind?’

  ‘I’d be honoured.’

  He took the ring, slipping the box into his pocket. He didn’t need to reach for her hand, because she gave it to him so quickly. He held the ring at the tip of her wedding finger.

  ‘You may not be my first love, Belinda Layton, but I promise you that you will be my lasting love.’

  Her heart swelled with love and confidence as he slid his mother’s ring, now her ring, along her finger.

  Acknowledgements

  I should like to express my thanks to:

  My agent, Laura Longrigg, who loved the idea of a story about surplus girls.

  The team at Corvus for making me welcome, especially my editors, Susannah Hamilton and Poppy Mostyn-Owen.

  Maddie Please and Jane Ayres, for generously taking more photos than you can shake a stick at, when I needed a new author photo.

  Jen Gilroy, who is always there when I need it; and Kev, my tech elf, who is always there when my computer needs it.

  The LLs, for making the world of writing a better place: Maddie and Jane, Kirsten Hesketh, Karen Coles, Christina Banach, Catherine Boardman, Chris Manby and Vanessa Rigg.