Roy didn’t say any more, but he was subdued and a film of sweat covered his face as he said goodbye and he didn’t go to the door as he usually did, to wave her off.
She wondered if he’d had a frightening experience there: where there was water there was always a possibility of danger. She soon forgot about his anxiety and made plans for the games they would play on their picnic.
The biggest changes to Bobbie and Georgie through their adventures in the woods and around the lake were their confidence and increasing knowledge, and their clothes. They had soon found there was more fun to be had with less glamorous dresses and shoes, and wore wellingtons, trousers and easily washed jackets.
Beside preparing a fire ready for them to light in a carefully chosen place surrounded by gravel and far away from any foliage, Sam had left crisps and boiled eggs and a few small potatoes to cook in the ashes. These were always happy occasions and it wasn’t until they were gathering their belongings ready to leave that day, Zena thought again of Roy’s dislike of the place.
‘What happens to the fish that die in there?’ Georgie wondered. Her sister answered before her mother could give a thoughtful answer.
‘They get eaten up by bigger fish!’ which started Georgie crying. A not uncommon end to an exciting and tiring day. Zena thought about things dying and sinking down to the bottom and thought perhaps that had been what Roy had meant when he talked about the awful stuff beneath the surface.
Taking over the office supplies business was easier than either Lottie or Zena had expected. The place was rented to them by Mr Lucas. Having allowed the business to shrink, there was little stock and very reduced good will involved. The shop closed for one week only and during that week, Zena and Lottie concentrated on contacting previous customers and finding new ones. They also visited a local printer to arrange for them to print posters and cards and menus for orders they undertook to supply, explaining to everyone about the change of ownership. Greg went around the town delivering them and Susie Crane willingly helped.
Susie, a twenty-two year old with a happy outlook on life, made friends with everyone she met. She walked with a bouncing rhythm, her long dark hair flopping and sliding out its loose bunch at her neck, which Greg likened to Aunty Mabs’s in its refusal to behave. Susie had begun her first day on her own without supervision, on Greg’s bus and they at once felt comfortable with each other, there had been no attempt at flirting and the casual, easy friendship was a pleasant experience for Greg, used as he had been to Rose and her complicated problems and forbidden subjects.
With Sam helping with the decoration of the shop and making extra shelves, the place was ready for business redolent with the smell of new paint and shining windows, inviting customers to call.
On the Sunday before the reopening Zena and Lottie fell in to bed exhausted, but on Monday morning they awoke early and in great excitement. Long before the opening time of nine o’clock, they were in the newly arranged premises, trying not to look anxious while they waited for the phone to ring and for their first customers to call.
They tidied things that didn’t need tidying, wrote lists of things to do, looking up with a prepared smile every time someone approached the door.
Fortunately, beside the publicity organized by Zena, Greg and Susie, Mabs had talked with several business people and by ten o’clock they were busy. At one o’clock they were laughing with excitement as they closed the door for lunch.
‘It won’t always be like this,’ Lottie warned. ‘Many of our customers were just there out of curiosity.’ Surprisingly, she was wrong.
Many local people remarked on the relief of having the service available once more and news spread about Zena’s ability to type efficiently and fast. She was so busy during the first few weeks and determined not to keep people waiting, she often stayed after the shop closed to complete orders. To her surprise, Jake passed the window one evening and he waved and walked past. Although that was what she wanted, it was still upsetting for him to walk past without at least saying hello. Then he was back. He’d bought fish and chips and knocked on the door smiling and offering the steaming package.
It had been a shock to see him, and she became aware of how little she had thought of him during the last few days. Her emotions went from joy at the sight of his smiling, familiar face, to embarrassment, to anger and back to regret. She opened the door and said at once. ‘Thank you, Jake, but I have to finish these letters. I’ve promised them for tomorrow morning.’
He waved away her protest. ‘I won’t interrupt your work. It’s just that I saw you there and guessed you’d be hungry. But,’ he added, staring at her with hope shining in his eyes, ‘if you want to meet, I’m staying at the usual lodgings until Sunday evening.’ As she shook her head, he added, ‘Just an hour? This job I have, I’d love to tell you about it. I really am a salesman now and I’m good at it.’ She shook her head and he went on, ‘Come on, love, we’re friends, aren’t we? You’ve been a part of my life since we were six years old, so how can we pretend to be strangers?’
‘I’m glad about the job.’ She looked pointedly at the door and, putting the package on the desk, he blew a kiss and left.
She watched as he walked down the street and disappeared into the local public house, then she packed up and went home. It would mean starting very early in the morning but his visit had unsettled her and she couldn’t finish her work. She collected the fish and chips with a smile; she would warm them in the oven. Their smell reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime.
Zena and Lottie worked long hours and the business grew. By July, to Lottie’s relief, an encouraging amount of the debt had been paid and for Zena, it was as though she had found her niche in life. Jake hadn’t called again and although she occasionally thought of him and wondered how he was, they were passing thoughts. It was as though Jake was someone she had once known – a very long time ago.
The office supplies shop filled her life, although she still called on Roy Roberts and on Nelda to help with their cleaning. Nelda was more a friend and she enjoyed helping to keep order in the chaotic household, and sometimes looking after the two girls. In a way, Roy Roberts was a friend too. She was pleased to call on him and help keep his house clean and tidy and usually stayed to share gossip about the neighbourhood both present and past. He had said nothing more about the lake.
It was from Mr Roberts that she heard news of Rose.
‘She’s still in London? But why does she keep running away? What has Greg done to make her behave so oddly? She can’t be frightened of him. He would never do anything to hurt her.’
‘It isn’t Greg, not really. It’s anyone who gets too close. A sad childhood that she won’t admit to. It took away any confidence she might have developed. Maybe she’s afraid of becoming dependent on a man, convinced no one could really love her. Or maybe she doesn’t like the thought of being married, being so close to someone.’ He coughed to hide his embarrassment, ‘You know, getting close. Loving someone and – you know – all that?’
‘She’ll have to trust someone one day. Loving someone, then having to run away will make a very lonely life.’
Rose was enjoying her new position in the large shoe store, with several franchises within it selling only the very best quality. She still met Madeleine to go to the theatre or for a meal, and from Madeleine she heard of Jake’s progress. Jake also heard of hers. Inevitably, with Madeleine enjoying herself, involved in the lives of others, they met. Madeleine had invited them both for a meal and neither knew the other would be there. She watched with amusement as they faced each other and showed their unease.
‘Come on, you two,’ she said with a peal of laughter. ‘Just sit and enjoy the meal I’ve prepared and stop looking like two cats squaring up for a fight.’ She left them to it and went into the small kitchen, from where she could hear the hesitant conversation begin, with ‘How are you?’ ‘I’m fine how are you?’ When she walked in with the casserole and vegetables on a t
ray, they were deep in conversation, laughing as they caught up with each other’s life.
Jake told them both about Zena’s new career, boasting about her as though he was in regular contact and was told every new development. In fact, he learned all he knew of her activities from the lady where he stayed on his visits home and although he had been home a few times since he had seen Zena at the shop and had bought her fish and chips, he hadn’t tried to see her.
He spread out the little he knew, giving the impression that he was regularly informed. Perhaps that’s why I’m such a successful salesman, he mused. Telling lies and expanding what I know to give the impression of knowing a lot more. Lying makes me good at the job, but lies were how I lost Zena and my future as part of the Martin family.
Thinking about her and the bleak future he faced without her, he announced one Friday when he went to Madeleine’s office to hand in his sales forms and order details for the week, that he was going home to try one more time to talk to Zena. ‘I’ve tried to forget her but I can’t. I’m going to Cold Brook Vale to persuade her to try again to get back to how we were; happy, in love and planning our life together. I’ll start looking for a job nearer home. I’ll ask my landlady to send some newspapers and I’ll start applying for jobs.
‘Oh, Jake! What a shame,’ Madeleine said, pouting in disappointment. ‘I’ve bought three tickets for that play you wanted to see. Good seats too. Now I’ll have to find someone else to come with Rose and me, and that is never as enjoyable as sharing the evening with friends you know well.’
‘Sorry. I’d have told you sooner but I’ve only just made up my mind.’
‘Does it have to be this weekend? If you haven’t arranged anything …’ she coaxed.
‘I don’t suppose a week will make any difference. I’ll write to my landlady and arrange to go next week. Thanks for booking for us. You’ll tell Rose, will you? I don’t know her newest address. When will that girl settle down, d’you think?’
‘When she faces her demons I suppose.’
‘There’s something she can’t risk others finding out, but I can’t imagine what secret she has that’s so terrible, can you? I can’t see her as a villain.’ He laughed. ‘Rosie the ex-convict? That’s crazy.’
‘She’s a frightened goose. It must be something from her childhood, although what it can be that makes her fear marriage I cannot imagine.’
‘I try to reassure her that she’s safe with me; she knows I only want to be her friend. I want to marry Zena: there will never be anyone else.’
Madeleine raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘You’re sure of that, are you, Jake?’
A few days later, Madeleine answered a knock at her door and was surprised to see Greg there. ‘Greg? What are you doing in London?’
‘I’m with a coach party booked to do a sight-seeing tour and a theatre. Is Rose here by any chance?’
‘No, of course she isn’t. She doesn’t live here!’
‘I don’t suppose you have her address?’
‘I do,’ she replied pompously, ‘but I’ve promised not to give it to anyone.’
‘Why? What does she think I’m going to do? I only want her to explain why she left.’
She went to the small desk and took out a piece of paper. ‘Rose needs me as a trusted friend, so not a word about how you found it. Promise?’
‘I’ll think of some story to explain how I found her. After this I won’t bother her again. I just want to know. I accept it’s over between us, in fact, I’ve been seeing someone else, someone uncomplicated and happy. Tell her that if I don’t manage to see her, will you?’
She gave him the piece of paper. ‘She won’t be in tonight, at least not until nine o’clock.’
‘Thanks, Madeleine.’ He left, clutching the piece of paper and at once began to plan his opening words.
On their way to meet Madeleine at the theatre, Rose was talking to Jake about Greg. Jake tried several ways to persuade her to explain why she was avoiding Greg, but she refused. Thinking of him, of what she had lost, was producing more anger than sorrow. Thinking of Lottie’s success angered her more. She had never been punished for what she did. Everything worked out well for that evil woman called Kay!
They strolled through the busy streets, where people were filling the pavements with chatter and laughter. Heady perfumes were vying with the fumes from the buses, cars and taxis, and the smells from the restaurants already preparing for the evening rush. Gone were the formal office clothes and the casual dress of shoppers and mothers with children: the extravagant dresses, the smart evening suits as well as the loud, confident voices were indications that these were people bent on a lively few hours of fun. Fuming with resentment, Rose noticed nothing.
Rose and Jake stood in the foyer and Jake said, ‘I want to marry Zena: there will never be anyone else. It’s partly the dream of belonging to a family, to really belong,’
‘What do you mean? You must have a family of your own.’
‘I didn’t know my parents.’ He was alarmed at Rose’s reaction to the casually said words. She turned and stared at him, her face losing its colour.
‘You’re an orphan? You were abandoned?’
‘Not really. I knew who my parents were, but they left me and went to live in South Africa. My father had dreams of digging for gold. But the last I heard of him he was working in a factory earning a pittance and my mother had left him.’ He looked at her; she was obviously distressed by his words. He hesitated, then, with an arm on her shoulders, asked softly, ‘Is that what’s worrying you? Are you an adopted child?’
‘Of course not!’ she snapped. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, I’m Rosemary Conelly and I lived with my parents.’
Jake wasn’t convinced, but he changed the subject, bought a programme and coaxed her to look at the portraits of famous actors and actresses displayed on the walls. She looked but she seemed too distressed to take in the faces in their ornate frames or his words as he talked about them. She seemed relieved when Madeleine appeared and she at once began discussing some of the customers she had served that day.
Jake didn’t become involved in the play, his mind was at the house called Llyn Hir, and Zena. He left as soon as he politely could, after finding a taxi and seeing Rose and Madeleine on their way. He wrote to his landlady when he reached home asking for the local paper listing job vacancies and went out to post it. Impatient now he had made up his mind, he tried to guess how soon he might expect a reply.
‘Why don’t you stay the night, Rose?’ Madeleine offered, as the taxi approached her flat. ‘Quickly, make up your mind before the taxi changes direction.’ Rose agreed thankfully. The house where she now lived was noisy, with tenants coming in at all hours of the night, and the sound of footsteps, clattering on the stairs covered with noisy linoleum, was a nightmare. It was even worse when a late-night reveller tried to be quiet. Slow, hesitant footsteps were always accompanied by stifled giggles and cries as someone stumbled. A quiet sleep in Madeleine’s flat was too good to refuse.
A bed was made up and Madeleine thought of Greg sitting on Rose’s doorstep waiting for her. She smiled as she wondered how long he would wait.
Jake’s landlady responded quickly to Jake’s request for copies of the local paper and by good fortune it was the post boy himself who gave them to him as he passed through the busy room. He sat down at once to apply for jobs. He had four ready to post, when Madeleine offered to type them for him. ‘They look much more impressive when they are professionally typed,’ she told him.
At the end of the day she handed him carbon copies of the letters and assured him the top copies were already on their way. She smiled as she glanced at the waste bin where she had hidden the letters after tearing them up.
Greg went home after sitting until very late on the step of the address Madeleine had given him. He assumed she had returned and, seeing him there had gone away or entered by a back entrance. Either way it was clear that she didn’t want to see him. He had to get
a train; the coach with his friends on board had long gone.
When he stepped off the train, on which he had slept for three hours, he was wide awake. Glancing at his watch, he knew that the night café would still be open. Putting on a determined smile he opened the door to see Mabs beginning to pack up. Cups and plates were piled ready for washing up, the food cabinet was almost empty, and he went straight away to help, waving to the few remaining customers.
‘Greg? Where did you spring from?’
‘I went to London with the annual outing from the social club, but I missed the coach back so I caught a train. Any chance of a cup of tea and a sandwich?’
He talked about the show he hadn’t seen as she made him a plate of food. Arthur, Sid and the newcomers Will, Albert and Ted stayed on, glad of an extra few minutes of warmth. Sid was still the last to leave. Having taken on responsibility for Mabs’s safety, he always stood watching until she stepped on to the early bus and waved to him. Greg saw him now, gesturing for the others to go but they grinned at him and drank their last cup of tea with irritating slowness.
‘The stationers is doing well, isn’t it, Greg? Your mam and Zena work hard and they’re building a successful business. Who’d have believed it, eh?’
‘I think they’re amazing.’ He lowered his voice. ‘If the takings continue as they are, they’ll be millionaires in a twelvemonth’, he joked.
‘Your mother knew the trade and Zena had the skills and the necessary experience so they couldn’t fail. You’ve been clever, going around gathering new and old customers. Come on, shift yourselves,’ Mabs called as the last cup was put away. ‘It’s time I was in my bed. See you soon,’ she added, as they trooped out.
Zena still did her cleaning jobs, unwilling to let Nelda or Mr Roberts down. She used the money to help her through the week, refusing to take more than a token amount from the business as wages, although business was slowly increasing and their weekly bank deposits were encouraging.
One lunchtime, a burly figure approached the shop, tried the door then walked to the corner, coming to the shop again at the back of the building. The flat above the shop was occupied and the tenant used the back entrance. Lottie only bothered to lock that door at night so the door gave easily to the gloved hand. The till was opened, the money taken and the figure was about to leave when he stopped and went onto the small store room. He pulled the files from the shelves, opened them and mixed the contents with a large boot, kicking them about angrily. The contents of the kettle was spilled onto the store of envelopes and typing paper added to the mess on the floor. Then the figure hidden in hooded duffle coat and heavy boots, left.
The End of a Journey Page 17