Who's Sorry Now (2008)

by Lightfoot, Freda

  Carmina sat on a bench and opened the paper. Papa had told her not to come in to the ice cream parlour today, not until Momma had spoken to her. What he meant by that Carmina had no idea. Nothing her mother said now could make the slightest difference. The Fabrianis, and Luc, had accepted the inevitable.

  Even Gina realised there could be no other solution.

  Maybe she should start looking at flats, Carmina thought, glancing at the small ads. They’d need somewhere to live. She spotted Amy George across the market, looking plump and ripe as a fat plum, ready to give birth very soon by the look of her. Should she go over and talk to her, ask for some advice?

  Carmina chuckled to herself at the very idea, deciding that would perhaps be a touch premature since the whole thing was a figment of her imagination. There was no baby, no pregnancy. How could there be when he’d never really touched her? The idea had come to her on the spur of the moment. She’d wanted to say something, anything, to spoil the sickening happiness of that pair of twittering love-birds.

  Oh, but it had all worked out far better than she could have hoped for. She was feeling mighty pleased with herself as she wandered over to the hat stall to see Patsy. ‘You might be needing to make a hat for Momma soon,’ she said, a mischievous glint in her velvet brown eyes.

  Patsy glanced up from sewing a veil on to a kingfisher blue felt. ‘Oh, is she going somewhere special?’

  ‘She might be going to a wedding. In fact, I’m certain she will be. I can say no more at present. I’m sure you’ll hear the whole story soon enough. That’s pretty, do you make bridal veils and stuff too?’

  ‘A Juliet cap you mean? I could, if someone wanted one,’ Patsy said, a crease forming on her brow as she tried to detect exactly what it was Carmina was hinting at.

  ‘Interesting, well, must dash. Momma is waiting for me back at the house.’

  ‘Not working today, then?’

  Carmina gave a little smile that twisted one corner of her full mouth. ‘Not today, there are family matters to attend to. Which is why they wouldn’t concern you.’

  Patsy smiled. ‘Like it or not, Carmina, I will be family soon.’

  A customer appeared at that moment and Patsy was distracted, putting down her sewing to attend to the woman. Irritated by this response, Carmina moved quickly away and, as she passed a display, spotted a silk scarf draped beside a flowery hat in a pretty shade of blue, her favourite colour. Maybe she would buy it for herself? She deserved a treat after the strain of these last weeks. Glancing over her shoulder she saw that Patsy was busy helping the customer to try on hats.

  She felt that familiar wave of jealousy towards her future sister-in-law. Marc was rarely around now to give Carmina the support she’d always been able to rely upon before that girl had appeared on the scene. More often than not he was with Patsy, deep in private conversation or gazing lovingly into her blue eyes.

  Carmina recalled how the other girl was always on at her, criticising her over something or other. She’d warned her against speaking to Luc at the church, even accused her of flirting with Alec Hall. Which was the very reason she’d taken herself off for that walk and, as luck would have it, Alec had followed her. So Patsy was as much to blame as Gina for what had happened that day on the site of the old Roman fort. Interfering busybody!

  Carmina slipped the scarf from its stand and tucked it quickly into her pocket. Yes indeed, she deserved a little treat. And why should she pay for it? If Patsy wanted to be a member of the family so badly, why should she need to?

  Not that she’d know who had taken the scarf, if Carmina somehow forgot to mention it.

  ‘Bye, Patsy,’ she called, as she strolled away.

  A boy careered past on a Vespa scooter; a young mum with two children in tow, each one carrying a placard around their necks which said: Think of the children. No more bombs! People jostled between the stalls, paying the protesters no attention.

  Carmina thought, if she had a bomb, she’d blow her stupid sister out of existence. War! That’s exactly what this was.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Patsy noticed that a scarf had gone missing some time in the late afternoon but did not associate its disappearance with Carmina. She’d dismissed the girl’s visit from her mind along with the mysterious hints of some wedding or other. Then Marc arrived at closing time and told her the whole sorry tale, which instantly banished any lingering concern about the scarf. Dealing with shop-lifting was, after all, a familiar problem in retailing, and insignificant by comparison to losing the man you loved.

  ‘Oh, no, poor Gina. How has she taken it?’

  ‘How do you think? She and Luc had been seeing each other secretly for months apparently, since January. But then Carmina stuck her nose in, told some lies and upset the entire apple-cart. I don’t have all the details, but for some reason Luc believed Gina had dumped him and the damn fool couldn’t resist Carmina’s charms.’

  Patsy said, ‘She’d make sure of that, the little minx.’

  Marc frowned. ‘It’s not quite fair to put the blame entirely on Carmina. It takes two to tango.’

  ‘Yes, but what poor bloke could resist if Carmina offered herself on a plate? He’d need a will of iron and the sexual urge of a gnat.’

  Marc smiled, put his arms about Patsy and hugged her. ‘My own sexual appetite is stirring again. Have you changed your mind yet about when we marry? I’m not sure I can wait until August, let alone the autumn. Give a chap a break, love,’ he said, nuzzling into her neck.

  Patsy chuckled softly. ‘Down boy, down. There’s a great deal to be attended to besides that lovely wedding dress Carlotta is making. ‘Finding somewhere to live for a start.’

  ‘Let’s go and look at flats tomorrow. They’re building some new ones out Salford way.’

  Patsy screwed up her nose. ‘That’s a bit too far from the market.’

  ‘It’s an easy walk over Princes Bridge, or we could take the bus.’

  ‘Tomorrow’s no good anyway. I’m off to Preston to see a new supplier. The scarves have been a great success so I’m keen to expand into other accessories: gloves, stockings, little evening bags perhaps. Seems the right way to go and Clara’s just letting me get on with it, not interfering in the slightest. At first I felt shy about making decisions and changing things, but I’m really getting the bit between my teeth now, trying out new lines, determined to make something of this business.’

  Marc groaned. ‘Why does the hat stall always have to take precedent over anything to do with us?’

  ‘Because it’s how I earn my living. Stop grumbling and give me a kiss. You can eat at our place tonight, Clara is making macaroni cheese.’

  ‘They’re lovely those two. Real ladies. And I’m aware that they’ve been good to you, but I can’t wait for us to have a place of our own. It would be wonderful with just the two of us for supper,’ he said, running kisses behind her ear and making her giggle.

  ‘That’s because you’ve never tasted my cooking.’

  ‘It’s what comes after supper that’s important. Once we’re married,’ he murmured, pulling her tight against him so he could move his hands over her back and through her hair. ‘Then I could have my wicked way with you every single night. You wouldn’t fancy letting me have a little taster in advance, I don’t suppose?’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, mate. Anyway, I would think one shot-gun wedding in the family is quite enough. Come on, all this talk of food is making me hungry.’

  It was Saturday afternoon and Thomas was listening to the Sports Report on the wireless. He was sitting with his eyes closed, his feet, encased in thick woollen socks caked with dried mud and grass, were propped on a stool before the fire. At first sight it might be imagined that he was asleep, but there was no sound of snoring and he didn’t miss a single result from the droning voice of the announcer.

  Mavis, putting on her hat preparatory to visiting a friend for their usual Saturday afternoon tea and trip to the pictures, thought this an appropr
iate moment to announce her own news.

  ‘I’ve had a word with that friend of yours about the house next to the pawn shop and told him Chris won’t be wanting it after all.’

  Doncaster - three, Manchester City – two.

  Thomas opened his eyes and stared at his wife. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I see no reason for him to move out just now, not with the baby coming. How on earth would they manage?’ Mavis slid a long hat pin into her felt hat, anchoring it firmly to the tight marcel waves.

  Thomas felt anger curl hot and sour through his veins. ‘What have you done now, you stupid woman? It’s got nowt to do with you.’

  ‘It’s got everything to do with me. I’m his mother.’

  ‘If you haven’t noticed, he’s a married man. He has a wife now. When did we ever ask my mother, or yours for that matter, in our younger days, afore we did owt?’

  ‘That is quite different.’

  ‘Oh, and why would that be?’

  ‘Because houses were easy come-by in those days. And I was extremely capable, from a good family, with standards to be proud of. Besides, your mother and father moved out of here and you moved me in, behind the bakery, promising at the time, I seem to remember, that one day you’d buy me a better house away from the business. I’m still waiting.’

  ‘And because I’ve let you down, in your eyes, you’ll punish my son, is that the way of it?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Mavis put on dark red lipstick with angry little stabs. ‘It’s quite impracticable for Chris and Amy to move out. How that girl would manage to run a house on her own, I don’t care to think. She can’t do anything unless I explain to her, in words of one syllable, how to carry out the simplest domestic chore. She’s certainly not capable of looking after a husband single-handed, let alone a baby.’

  Thomas glowered at his wife. ‘I reckon that’s for Chris to decide, not you. You can’t go interfering in his business like this, it’s not your place.’

  Twin spots of colour showed high on her cheeks as Mavis headed for the door, her voice as sharp as a razor blade. ‘Well, it’s done now. Your friend, the landlord, told me he had another prospective tenant lined up, and a good thing too.’ She flounced off but then bethought herself and was back in a flash for one last parting shot.

  ‘And I’ll thank you to remove those mucky socks.’ Whereupon she left the house, closing the door very carefully behind her so that she didn’t chip the paintwork.

  Thomas missed the end of the football results as he comprehensively listed every swear word he could think of. He’d never been in the army, being too young for the first war and too old for the second, but there were some suitable words in his vocabulary nonetheless, of which Mavis was not aware. He used every one of them now.

  Drat the woman! Why did she always have to poke her nose in and interfere?

  Mavis spotted her daughter-in-law out in the street and took great pleasure in informing her too that the landlord had changed his mind and let the house to someone else.

  ‘What?’ Amy was shocked and deeply upset by this unexpected news. Her dream of a happy life with her darling Chris shredded in an instant as she contemplated months, years perhaps, of further intimidation at Mavis’s hand. ‘When did you learn this? And why didn’t anyone tell me?’

  ‘I’m telling you now,’ Mavis tartly informed her. ‘It’s for the best, Amy, so please don’t make a fuss.’ And turning on her heel, she beat a hasty retreat before further questions could be asked.

  Amy was distraught. It had taken months to find this house, miserable though it might be. What hope could they possibly have of finding another before the baby was born? And the thought of living in that cramped little bedroom with a small baby filled her with dismay. She could see it all quite clearly. Mavis would complain if it kept her awake by crying; she would object to nappies filling her clothes line; to having baby equipment litter her lovely sitting room. Nothing would be quite right. And Amy and Chris would have not one scrap of privacy in which to enjoy their child.

  Chris was equally upset, and later that evening, having packed a distressed Amy off to bed, railed at his mother, demanding to know if she’d had a hand in the man’s decision.

  Mavis robustly denied this, offering a lengthy explanation about how she’d run into their prospective landlord quite by chance, and he’d passed on the unwelcome message.

  ‘It was all a mistake. Your father got it wrong, as usual. The man had forgotten that he’d already agreed to let the house to someone else. Never mind, you’re perfectly comfortable here, and quite right too that you should stay in your own home with the baby due in just a few weeks.’

  Chris was unconvinced by his mother’s explanation. He always knew when she wasn’t telling him the complete truth. She could never quite look him in the eye. His father sat tight-lipped throughout her long-winded tale, a look on his face which revealed he could say more, had he a mind to.

  ‘If you’ve influenced this man in any way, Mother, I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

  Mavis gave a trilling little laugh. ‘Dear me, how very dramatic. You should be grateful you have such a loving home, unlike some people I could mention.’

  ‘If that’s a dig at Amy, then you’re quite wrong. Big Molly absolutely adores her, for all she was as much against our marriage as you were at the start. The Poulsons have a very happy home, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Utterly chaotic!’ Mavis said, with a curl to her lip.

  ‘Chaotic or not, I’m sure she’d welcome her daughter home in time for the birth of her first grandchild, if asked.’

  This was by no means a part of Mavis’s plan. She’d assumed her son would bend to her wishes, as he had always done when he was younger. Nothing had been quite the same though, ever since he’d taken up with this Poulson girl.

  ‘I really don’t think that would be wise,’ Mavis began. ‘That house isn’t even clean, not at all a fit place to bring a child into.’

  Thomas gave a low growl at the back of his throat. ‘That’s enough Mavis. You go too far. Whatever vendetta we might personally have against the Poulson family, or the fact they are untidy, noisy, messy people, you have to admit that Big Molly’s kitchen is as bright as a new pin. She must clean it half a dozen times a day at least. She made pies in it all through the war, and for years after, without managing to kill off a single soul with food poisoning.’

  ‘By a miracle.’

  ‘In any case we’re not talking about the Poulson’s here, we’re talking about our Chris, and it’s time he set up on his own.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Mavis said with a sweet smile. ‘He’s stopping at home.’

  Days later Thomas came to his son. ‘Don’t worry, lad, I’ve had another word with my friend Jim, your future landlord. There was a bit of a mix-up about letting the house but I’ve sorted it all out, and paid a month’s rent in advance. We can set about cleaning it up first thing in t’morning if you’ve a mind.’

  ‘Well, really,’ said Mavis, cheeks flushing bright pink. ‘When did all this happen? And why didn’t you tell me you’d spoken to the landlord?’

  ‘I’m telling you now,’ Thomas said, his face dead-pan. ‘Aren’t you pleased? It’s good news for our Chris, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ Chris said, pumping his father’s hand in heartfelt relief and gratitude. ‘Amy will be pleased as punch.’

  ‘Of course she will, poor dear,’ Mavis agreed, through gritted teeth.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘He’s here again, Gina. He comes every day, and it’s you he wants to see.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to see him.’

  Carlotta put her hands to her mouth to smother a little sob. How could life play such cruel tricks? She’d changed from being fervently opposed to Luc Fabriani to finding herself almost pitying the boy. You could argue that the problem was of his own making, so why did she let his evident misery trouble her?

  Because of Gi
na. It was her daughter’s plight which broke her heart.

  This wasn’t what she’d planned for either of her eldest daughters. Her hopes for Gina had admittedly faded years ago when she’d been struck down with the polio, as so many other children had been in the early fifties. Carlotta had decided that the poor girl must be protected and kept at home, for her own good. Now she wondered if perhaps she might have made a mistake. If she hadn’t kept her home from that silly dance, then this might never have happened.

  Carlotta wrung her hands together in utter despair. What was a mother to do? How could you tell what was best for your child? Oh, but she’d fully expected Carmina to find herself a man of stature and importance in the community. Her beauty alone surely merited that.

  Not that Carmina had ever been an easy child, forever creating problems both at home and with her teachers. The girl was far too arrogant for her own good. Carmina had hated school and refused to pay proper attention to her lessons, being far more interested in chatting up the boys. Unlike Gina who had railed at the fact she was missing so much school-work through ill heath, and Antonia who always had her head in a book, Carmina wasn’t the least bit interested in learning, or even in cookery and needlework. It had taken her two whole years to make a cookery apron.

  She would often be late home, having been kept in on detention. Eventually the teacher would come knocking at their door to complain about their daughter’s rudeness, or wild behaviour. She’d ask why none of the letters she’d sent home requesting they call in to discuss Carmina’s problems, had received a response.

  Carlotta would shrug, pretending not to understand when really she guessed that Carmina had probably thrown them all away.

  The girl had not passed her eleven plus and had left school at the earliest opportunity, the moment she turned fifteen. This had upset Papa as he believed education to be important,

  Their last remaining hope for Carmina’s salvation had been for her to make a good marriage. And now look what had happened. Perhaps Papa had been somewhat prejudiced against the Fabrianis, as they were being entirely supportive over this, but in her heart Carlotta knew that this marriage was wrong. She knew her own daughter too well, that the poor boy hadn’t stood a chance against her feminine whiles and scheming ways. Carmina had filled his head with lies over her sister, and, with the lust of youth, he’d been putty in her clever little hands.