There had been other girls, but Rose was the only one for him. The corner table had been a perfect choice as she could look around without a feeling of being on show.
They were walking home in the crisp December dark and Greg wondered anxiously if she would finally tell him where she lived. Taking a deep breath, he said, ‘Rose, I want us to be married. Please, tell me you feel the same?’
She stood still and turned to stare at him. ‘Why can’t we leave things as they are? Why d’you have to spoil things? I’m happy with things as they are.’
‘So am I, very happy and that’s why I want us to marry, spend our lives together and make a home and have children and be a happy, loving family.’
In the strange light of a street lamp Greg was startled to see that she looked frightened. He held her close and felt her trembling. ‘Rose, love, you must have expected this, we’ve been seeing each other for a while and I’ve never hidden the way I feel about you.’
‘I don’t feel ready to include others in our plans yet. I suppose I’m afraid of it falling apart once all the fuss and planning takes over. It won’t be ‘us’ any more.’
‘Our wedding can be as large or as small as you want it to be. A register office is fine by me if that’s what you want. I have the cottage and all I need to do is give the tenants notice and it will be ours. It’s that simple.’
She repeated her feelings and he listened and tried to understand. He didn’t ask her where she lived, he felt he’d done enough damage for one evening. He left her at the same house as before although he knew that was not where she lived. He was tempted to follow but knew that was a risk he dare not take and went home to another sleepless night, glad of an early morning start.
A couple of days later he was waiting outside the shop when she finished work. He led her to a café, ordered tea and Welsh cakes determined to try again. He spoke to customers coming in and going out, waved to others, many he knew from being passengers on his bus, but was convinced he was boring her.
‘How could I be bored with you, Greg? You’re so observant, you like people and always find something nice to say about them.’
‘And you’ll marry me?’
‘One day.’
‘Then will you come and meet my parents and sister, and Aunty Mabs?’
Immediately she looked uneasy and her hands trembled. With reluctance, she agreed.
They caught the bus to the hospital to meet his father the following evening. Greg hoped his mother would be there too to get the biggest hurdle over. At the door to the ward, Greg looked in and pointed to where his father lay, his mother beside the bed holding Ronald’s hand.
Ronald saw Greg and waved. ‘Look, Kay,’ he whispered ‘our Greg is here and he has a young lady with him.’
‘Come on, love, they’re looking forward to meeting you,’ Greg said, waving at his parents. He turned to usher her in but Rose had gone.
Rose ran home although it was a long way. She had to get as far from the Martin family as possible. She couldn’t do this: a marriage, the intimacy of revealing all her life’s secrets, she just couldn’t. She squeezed in through the railings of the park and sat, shivering with the cold and despair and misery for almost an hour before setting off again to the gloomy place she called home. She walked slowly now, there was never any incentive to hurry. She doubted if she would ever have a place that felt like home; that was something she’d never had and never would.
Mr Roberts was one of Zena’s favourite clients. He had seriously injured his back having fallen trying to rescue a kitten from a tree and was only able to walk by using two sticks. He employed her to help with housework, but after her first few visits, she had added shopping and the preparation his meals. The initial arrangements had been made by telephone and, when she had knocked his door, she was surprised to see a small, slim man with surprisingly powerful arms who stood with no apparent aid and who welcomed her inside. He had led her slowly and with some difficulty to a comfortable sitting room and then reached for a stick. He smiled and offered his hand, which was large, matching his muscular arm. ‘I pretend not to need this, but my vanity doesn’t last very long.’
‘Being injured doesn’t make you less of a man, Mr Roberts,’ she said, smiling back. ‘Now, shall we sit while you explain the best way I can help you?’
An hour later she was moving furniture and vacuuming the carpets, tidying clothes and newspapers. ‘But,’ she reassured him, ‘I won’t put away books or papers until you tell me I can. My father gets very frustrated when my mother tidies up and he can’t find the book or magazine he’s currently reading.’
During a few snatches of conversation between dealing with the clutter and deciding what he needed her to do, they discovered they had mutual friends and also, to Zena’s delight, Mr Roberts knew Jake and had known him since childhood.
As she was putting on her coat to leave one day, the back door opened and a voice called, ‘You there, Popeye?’
‘In here, young Kevin.’
‘Hi, Pops, I’m going into town, is there anything you need?’ Zena was introduced to a smiling, attractive young man, slim, taller by a head than Mr Roberts. He was dressed in denim clothes and heavy boots and wore a donkey jacket over a thick home knitted jumper. With a brief discussion and a wave, Kevin left. They heard the sound of a motor bike starting and heading down the road.
‘Always willing to help is Kevin. And his mother, Doris. Lucky with friends I am.’
‘Do you get help with anything? Getting up and going to bed must be difficult?’
‘A couple of ladies came every morning for a while, but I tried to be up and dressed before they arrived, so they gave up on me. I’m not in my dotage and I hate having young girls doing things I can do for myself. Young Kevin is a good neighbour. He was in the Navy, but he’s home now and working in an engineering factory. He or his mam, Doris, calls every evening to make sure I’m in bed and there’s nothing else I need. I’ve been blessed with good neighbours. Doris often pops in during the day, too. I’m so lucky.’
‘I thought you must be a relation; didn’t Kevin call you Pop or Popeye?’
Mr Roberts laughed. ‘He teases me about my strong arms and skinny body and says I look like Popeye, so that’s what he calls me.’
Zena had left the house that first time content with her oldest client, certain they would become friends. Sometimes on future visits, she made him a pan of stew or a cake, which she brought for him from home.
The second call was very different.
Janey Day, a pleasant if slightly eccentric lady, spent a lot of her time on charity work. She had two children, a couple of cats and an elderly dog, and was obviously very wealthy. The house was beautifully furnished but in serious need of attention. Furniture and silver needed polishing and once Mrs Day told her she would leave it to her to decide what had to be done, Zena set about bringing some shine to the place. She spent most of the first two hours tackling the sitting room and dining room, making a mental note of what she would do on future visits. Mrs Day was out so she stayed a while longer, and tidied bedrooms before starting on the kitchen. Another hour passed and, as she was leaving, Mrs Day returned, with her mother, whom she introduced as Trish. This was immediately corrected by the superior and suspicious Trish. ‘The name is Mrs Francis. And before you leave here, Miss – er—?’
‘My name is Zena Martin.’ She offered her hand which was ignored.
‘I would like to see what you’ve achieved, Miss Martin. I don’t see much improvement here for your two hours. Look at the dust on the banisters. My daughter won’t pay for this standard of work.’
Just then there came a shriek from the kitchen and Mrs Day came in shouting in excitement. ‘Mammy! You should see the kitchen! And the sitting room looks as though everything is brand new!’
Zena left them to their opposing views and cycled home. Mrs Day would be all right, but she hoped there wouldn’t be much contact with her mother. Mrs Francis would be a difficult
person to please. When Trish Francis asked her to do a few hours for her, she politely declined.
Nelda Grey, the third of her clients, worked in a gift shop which was a part of Ilex House, a large property, the house and gardens of which were open to the public. Nelda had two children and was divorced. When they had met in a café to discuss her needs, Nelda insisted on delaying her starting for a day or so, as she insisted that she had to tidy up a bit before she allowed Zena in!
She was a charming young woman and was grateful for everything Zena achieved in the hours she spent sorting out the cheerful but chaotic household. The new way of earning a wage was, so far, very enjoyable and, apart from the disapproving and suspicious Trish Francis, she could see no reason to try anything else for a while – unless she made up her mind to move to London to join Jake.
Greg made another attempt to persuade Rose to meet his family. ‘It’s likely you know them, at least by sight,’ he coaxed. ‘Living in Cold Brook Vale no one is a complete stranger. Come to the hospital and meet them en masse, get it over in one visit.’
He talked persuasively but she didn’t appear to be listening, playing with the clasp of her handbag, opening and snapping it shut, time and again. Then to his surprise and delight, she agreed.
The usual rule applied regarding visitors to a bed and they went in as Lottie was about to leave. Then, with the nurse out of sight, Lottie darted back and at once held Ronald’s hand and they grinned like conspirators.
After some hesitant small talk, the nurse came and Lottie reluctantly went out. Ronald was laughing, a small sound in his weakened body, and said. ‘Always one to bend the rules, is Kay.’
Rose reacted sharply. ‘Kay? Who’s Kay?’
‘My nickname for my wife,’ Ronald explained breathlessly.
To their alarm, Rose ran from the ward, pushed her way through the few people waiting for a turn to visit a patient and, with tears flowing, hurried across the carpark and on to the street. She made no decision about where she was going, she just had to put as much distance as possible between herself and Greg. At midnight she was again sitting in the park. Anger glistened in her eyes and showed in the tightly clenched jaw. She opened her handbag and took out a photograph of Greg which she tore into many pieces and threw into a waste bin, then set off to a place she need no longer call home. She had made a decision, made easier by the visit to Greg’s family.
In London, Jake left the office and threaded his way through the drab area of London where abandoned buildings stood gaunt and dark, with broken windows like eyes watching his progress with disapproval. Cars stood in corners and the street lights showed their battered and rusty cannibalized frames. Sad reminders of someone’s once proud possessions. When he reached the street where he lived, he walked to the shabby house at the far end in which he rented a room. Very cheap and, with only a short bus ride to get to the office, very convenient. That was all that it had in its favour and Jake would have been horrified if Zena saw the place he temporarily called home.
It suited him until Zena joined him, then they could find somewhere decent to live. Until she came, economy was the priority. He didn’t want to waste money on comfort. His room was clean despite the state of the property. Cleanliness was always possible, wherever you lived. Eating was easy with plenty of cafés and snack bars to satisfy his hunger. He pushed at the door which scraped along the uneven tiled floor and, pushing aside piles of neglected post, stopped to look at the filthy, rubbish-strewn hall and wished Zena would make up her mind and join him. It wasn’t pleasant living like this. Money was the only persuasion.
He went into his room on the second floor, knocking on the door next to his own to check that Vera, his elderly neighbour, was all right, then, in his own room, he unwrapped the pies he had bought and began to eat. He had just finished when there was a knock at the door. He was startled. No one knew where he lived and he hadn’t had a visitor since he’d moved in. Post went to the office and any other contacts were via Zena in Cold Brook Vale.
To his alarm he recognized his visitor and, for a brief moment, wanted to slam the door. ‘Greg? What are you doing here? How did you find me?’
‘Can I come in?’ Greg asked, stepping into the room.
Jake closed the door and was about to apologize but instead said, ‘Does Zena know where I’m living?’
‘She believes you share a flat with a friend. I came to London with some friends. I went to the office to see you and as I reached the door and saw the office was closed, I saw you and followed to surprise you. I’m no great detective, I was just lucky.’ He looked around the sparsely furnished but surprisingly clean room and asked, ‘What are you doing here? What happened to the decent flat you were sharing?’
‘That was only for as long as it took to find this place. My friend takes messages for me and keeps up the pretence that I still live there when Zena phones, but I couldn’t afford anything decent. I’m saving for when Zena comes to join me.’
‘And you expect her to live here?’
‘No! Of course not! We’ll get married, a quiet affair mind, as most of the money will be for a place to live, somewhere much better than this. This is all I can afford at the moment, I want to go on saving, see, and I don’t mind. It’s only until she comes. It isn’t too bad, I manage quite well, really. I wish I could get home more often though, for a bath as well as seeing your darling sister,’ he said with a rueful smile, ‘but that too is down to expense. When extra work is offered at weekends I grab it as it means more money in the pot and less time spent in this miserable place.’
‘I phoned the house and told Mam I was going to see you, so what shall I tell them?’
‘Tell them lies. I don’t want Zena to know about this.’ He gestured with his arms and shuddered theatrically. ‘She’d be horrified.’
‘She’d be shocked, but she would want—’
‘She would want me to move and live somewhere more comfortable. Can’t you see that with the high cost of living in London, I need to have some money to begin our life together? Living here, feeding on take-away food is all I can do to give me any chance of putting aside some money each month.’
‘Can I take you out for a meal? At least let me do that.’
‘Half an hour ago I’d have been pleased, Greg, but I’ve just filled up on hot pies from the chip shop. But thanks, and I am pleased to see you. With the unpleasant smells emanating from other rooms and the occasional unexplained noises and the general air of gloominess, I spend a lot of time here wishing I was somewhere else. Call again, will you?’
‘Come on, Jake, at least I can buy you a drink.’
They walked to a public house some distance from the house and Jake at once asked about Greg’s life. ‘There’s a girlfriend somewhere, isn’t there? But you haven’t brought her to meet the family.’
‘You ask me to lie for you? All right, I want to listen, but don’t repeat anything I tell you.’
‘Agreed.’
They sipped their drinks and Greg began to tell Jake about Rose and her reticence to meet the family. ‘It sounds ridiculous to say we’re secretly engaged but she’s agreed to marry me – sort of agreed – but she’s still unhappy about being introduced to Zena and our parents. I got her as far as the hospital to meet them but she panicked and ran away. And this is also very odd; when I went to where she lived, a house to which I’ve taken her many times but have never been invited in, they hadn’t heard of her. I’ve given her plenty of chances to explain and, well, she won’t.’ Jake waited silently for him to continue.
‘This should have been a happy time, Jake, telling people and accepting their congratulations and the inevitable teasing, but Rose’s attitude is making me feel guilty, but of what don’t know. Instead of joy and excitement it’s become a dark corner affair. I don’t even feel able to tell the people I work with and there’s certainly no air of excitement within the family. While Rose remains a stranger to them how can they be otherwise?’
Jake was
careful not to offer advice, he simply said that if it were him and loving Zena as he did, he would wait and hope she would soon feel confident enough to tell him what was troubling her.
Two days after his visit to Jake, Greg was preparing to leave at five a.m. for the early works bus, when he saw a note had been pushed through the letterbox. He read and re-read it. It said simply: ‘I can’t see you again. I’m sorry.’ It was signed Rose. No love, no kisses. He frowned. What on earth had happened for her to react like this? Jake was right, he would have to wait until she explained. Was she ashamed of him? Or perhaps her own parents weren’t very sociable? Or criminals? Or dangerous? Or drunkards? Frowning at his foolish thoughts he decided to be there at 5.30 when the shop closed and insist on an explanation. Then he concentrated on finishing his breakfast and preparing for his journey.
Toward the end of his shift the route took him past the shoe shop where Rose worked and he glanced in as he passed and saw a notice in the window stating that there was a vacancy for an assistant. He wondered which of the other two assistants had left and when he called there later, was shocked to be told that it was Rose who had left.
When Zena called on Nelda to do an extra two hours, Nelda was at home. All of the rooms were untidy but surprisingly, even on this winter morning, the garden was immaculate. The greenhouse was clean with seed boxes piled up ready for the spring. Nelda was clearly a woman who loved her garden and to whom housework came a poor second.
‘Can you come twice a week for a few more weeks, Zena? It will give us a chance to get things under control.’ She said ‘us’ but Zena guessed it would be down to her. That was fine. If these people could cope they wouldn’t need me, she reasoned. As with Janey Day, she worked extra time at first, intending to stay with her paid hours once the work became easier. Nelda making it official meant she would be paid for the extra time she had been giving. More money in the savings for her and Jake’s wedding, just as soon as he tired of London.
There were two living rooms in Nelda’s house, but the ‘living’ took place in the breakfast room adjoining the kitchen. The other rooms were filled with the necessities for the craft work with which Nelda earned her living. Cupboards and shelves overflowed with material: wool, card, ribbons and hundreds of beads. A shelf in the kitchen had been taken over with small pieces of wood, buckets of fir cones and dried flowers. She knew it was risky tidying up a work room such as this one as, although everything was such an apparent muddle, she guessed Nelda would find everything she needed with ease. But her first plan was to rescue the kitchen from the over-flow which threatened to cover the table, soon to force the family to eat in the yard!
The End of a Journey Page 5