Freda had been kept busy once she’d arrived at the church. Maisie had informed her she had a headache coming on and would appreciate some help with her brood, and she knew Freda was the ideal person to keep them under control. Although proud that her child-herding skills were being called upon, Freda was a little resentful that she wasn’t able to chat with people she hadn’t seen in a while. She’d also wanted to have a quiet word with Alan, as Lemuel, when she’d seen him as she hurried past the workshop on her way to the church, had told her there’d been another demand from Frank Unthank in the morning post. He’d assured her the workshop was in good hands while the family were at the wedding, and had even turned down George’s invitation to attend the reception later. Deep in thought, Freda found herself almost tripping over a small headstone. Someone grabbed her elbow before she fell.
‘Watch it, kid, or you’ll lose your hat,’ a familiar voice exclaimed.
‘Alan! The very person I wanted to see.’
‘Where else would I be but at my mother’s wedding?’ he smiled.
‘It’s been a lovely day, and your mum looks smashing. So does George, come to that. You don’t look as good, though,’ she added, knowing that she could get away with such a comment, having known Alan for many a year.
‘I managed to get a haircut after you pestered me to do so,’ he grinned, running his hand over the short back and sides he’d managed to have only minutes before the barber shop closed.
‘You look as though you’ve not slept in an age,’ Freda pointed out. She didn’t like to see Alan, who was like a brother to her, looking like this. ‘You need to take better care of yourself, or you’ll be looking older than your new stepfather.’
‘I could say the same of you. You’ve been perkier. I hope it has nothing to do with all this business with Unthank?’
She decided not to tell Alan what Lemuel had told her. It could wait until tomorrow. There was no point in worrying him more. ‘A bit, but I’ve got me mates to look out for me,’ she smiled back, straightening his tie a little. ‘I’ll have you know someone told me I was beautiful,’ she joked with just a little embarrassment showing, as her cheeks turned pink.
‘You are beautiful,’ Alan said, giving his favourite friend a gentle kiss on the cheek before whispering in her ear, ‘Just tell him, whoever he is, that if he messes with you, kid, he’ll have me to answer to.’
Freda looked up into his eyes, knowing she loved him as much as she loved her own brother. ‘Don’t you worry about me. Why not go and find that glamorous wife of yours and tell her how beautiful she looks? Look, here she comes now.’
Alan’s eyes clouded for a moment as he moved away from Freda, the guilt of his money problems weighing heavy on his mind. He could hardly look his wife in the eye, let alone speak to her. In turn Sarah seemed to have turned cold towards him, as if she sensed he had let the family down in some way. ‘I have to go and speak to my mother. She’s worried about getting to the reception on time,’ he said, walking away from Freda and his wife.
‘Hello, Sarah – I was just saying to Alan how lovely you look. Have you taken many photographs yet? It does seem funny, your dad not being the one with the camera today.’
Sarah simply nodded and did her best not to speak in anger, or to let Freda see how her hands were shaking as she held the camera – the camera that had just recorded Freda and Alan standing close together. They’d looked so intimate. She’d wanted to run away when she’d rounded the corner of the building and overheard her husband tell Freda she was beautiful. When was the last time he’d spoken to her like that? No wonder he’d hurried away after seeing her approach. And he hadn’t even looked at her, let alone noticed her new outfit. ‘I must press on,’ she said, doing her utmost to smile at the person who was ruining her life, the person who she’d thought was one of her best friends and who was now standing there like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. If she was braver she would say something, but then it could spoil the happy occasion.
How Sarah managed to cope as she took photograph after photograph of her dad’s happy day, she never knew. Even when slipping into the dark vestry to place a new film in the camera, she didn’t take the opportunity to cry. She was determined that whatever her husband did with . . . with someone she’d once loved like a sister, she would not act like a victim. She would need to make plans, and show the world she could cope and do what was best for her and the children.
Sarah’s resolve did not weaken as the day progressed, and by the time Betty arrived with Douglas and their two eldest daughters she was feeling determined to make the day a success for her father and stepmother. Several glasses of sherry during the afternoon had helped considerably. The camera had been passed back to her dad, who was planning to take it with him on his honeymoon. Sarah was chatting to him and Maureen about their plans when Betty joined them.
‘I hear the wedding went very well,’ Betty said, giving Maureen a hug and grinning at George, who was loosening his tie and opening the button of his starched collar.
‘It was lovely,’ Sarah said. ‘The children managed not to misbehave too much, and the best man didn’t lose the ring.’
‘The men didn’t even overdo the boozing at the stag night. I had full expectations of them having been in a fight and turning up at the altar with black eyes,’ Maureen said as she linked her arm through her new husband’s. ‘All in all, it’s been a wonderful day, and come ten o’clock we are heading off on our honeymoon. I can’t wait . . . I mean, I can’t wait to get to Ramsgate and the guesthouse,’ she said, looking slightly flustered.
Betty chose to ignore Maureen’s embarrassment. ‘I’ve never been to Ramsgate. I hear it is very nice. Are you driving there tonight? It’s rather a long way.’
‘We are staying at the Wheatley Hotel tonight, and then setting off in the morning. My boss at Vickers has supplied the petrol, so we are able to use the car,’ George explained. ‘Nothing but the best for my wife.’
Betty looked at Sarah and sighed with delight. It was wonderful to see these two finding love in the autumn of their lives. ‘We will miss you at Woolworths while you’re away, Maureen.’
‘Oh, that reminds me. If you look in the cupboard under the sink, you’ll find a tin of biscuits. I knocked up a batch and put them away so you could have one with your tea each day,’ Maureen said to her boss. ‘Make sure you get to them before my stand-in finds them, or you’ll not see a crumb,’ she added sternly.
‘I was hoping to cut back, but as you’ve made them specially for me, I’ll do my best to enjoy them,’ Betty laughed before patting her stomach. ‘I had a problem doing up this skirt. I blame your good cooking, Maureen.’
Sarah glanced at Betty’s pretty skirt. Its fine dusky blue pleats fell to her calves and rustled around her legs as she moved. Betty was wearing a short-sleeved white fitted blouse and a blue brooch, looking casual yet quite chic. She had filled out a little, Sarah thought, and wondered about the reason. Perhaps it was more than Maureen’s baking that was to blame? She’d have to have a chat when they were alone.
‘You must show me the wedding photographs when they’ve been developed,’ Betty said to George, who promised that Maureen would drop them into the office at Woolworths to show Betty after the honeymoon. He then led his new bride away to chat with the band, who were just setting up on a small stage at one end of the hall behind the public house.
‘Now we are alone, I can ask you about Alan. Have there been any developments?’ Betty asked. ‘Did you speak to him about your fears?’
Sarah looked around before answering. The last thing she wanted was for someone to overhear, especially as Vera Munro was one of the guests and the biggest gossip in Erith. Vera would love nothing more than to spread the news that there was trouble afoot in the Gilbert family. ‘Alan came home late last night after Dad’s stag do. I pretended to be asleep,’ she said, looking ashamed. ‘I’d been round Nan’s until Bob came back, and then I decided to go home for the night. For one foolis
h moment I decided to have it all out with him – I even left the kiddies at Nan’s, so they’d not hear. Then I chickened out. Was that bad of me?’
‘No doubt I’d have done the same under the circumstances,’ Betty said. ‘It’s best to leave things well alone until after the wedding. You don’t need the attention.’ She nodded politely to Vera as the woman passed by.
‘But then something happened at the church,’ Sarah whispered, and quickly explained how she’d seen Freda and Alan’s intimate moment. ‘I took a photograph of them together.’
‘Oh my,’ Betty said, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘That could be embarrassing if the wrong person saw the photograph. Would your dad not show them to Maureen when he’s had them developed? He might even show them to others without realizing the implications of Freda and Alan being together.’
‘Gosh, I’d not given that a thought,’ Sarah said, looking worried. ‘What should I do?’
Betty thought for a few seconds. ‘You must offer to take the film to be developed so that they are ready when the happy couple return home. Perhaps you could put them in an album. We have some for sale in the store.’
Sarah frowned. ‘Surely that photograph would still be seen.’
Betty couldn’t believe her ears. ‘For goodness’ sake, Sarah. You have to remove the incriminating photograph. In fact, you can give it to me, and I’ll keep it safe.’
‘That sounds like a plan. If I take the film to the chemist, I can collect it during my break and it need never go home with me.’
They both sighed with relief as a deep voice said from behind them. ‘The way you two have your heads together, anyone would think you were plotting something.’
Both women jumped and turned to face Mike Jackson, who had been George’s best man.
‘You must excuse me – I need to powder my nose,’ Sarah said, hurrying away so he didn’t spot her guilty expression.
The band had started to tune up as Sarah crossed the busy hall, stopping to say hello to guests on the way. She had just put her hand on the door to the ladies’ when the announcement was made for the bride and groom to take to the floor for the first dance of the evening. Looking back, she saw her dad take Maureen into his arms as the bandleader sang the first words of ‘I’ll See You in My Dreams’. Sarah fled into the ladies’ room, blinded by tears as the emotion of the day overcame her, and memories flooded back of her own wedding and others. Dreams might start in the hall of this pub, but they could also be dashed to the ground and lost forever, she thought as she reached for her handkerchief.
‘Sarah! Are you all right?’ a familiar voice asked, making her freeze on the spot. It was Freda.
Feeling as though Freda were her enemy, the woman who could ruin her marriage and deny her children the chance to live with both parents under one roof, she did her utmost to pull herself together. She’d made a promise not to cause a scene during the wedding, and she’d not go back on her word. ‘I’m fine. It’s just the occasion getting to me a little. I’ll be as right as rain in a minute.’
Freda leant into the mirror a little to check her make-up, and reached into her handbag for a comb. ‘I can understand that. When you think of what happened to Maisie’s brother out there during Ruby’s wedding, it reminds us that horrid things can happen at weddings as well as good things. I must say your outfit looked smashing. I hardly recognized you in the church,’ she said, determined not to let Sarah’s earlier coldness affect their friendship.
‘Thank you,’ was all Sarah could think to say before going to the sink and running cold water over her wrists to cool herself down. She was hoping that if she stood here long enough, Freda would leave, and then she could take a few minutes to pull herself together.
‘Oh, by the way,’ Freda smiled, unaware of Sarah’s inner thoughts, ‘Betty wants to enter me for the New Bond cover girl competition. She said to ask you if you would take my photograph while you have George’s camera. I told her I’m not pretty enough to be on the cover of the Woolworths magazine, but she insisted it had to be someone from the branch and I was the one. What do you think?’
Sarah was only half listening as Freda spoke. Instead she was trying to work out why it was that Alan had decided to choose Freda over his own wife and to put his marriage in jeopardy.
‘Sarah . . .?’
‘Oh yes, I agree,’ Sarah muttered distractedly.
Freda looked puzzled. ‘You agree I’m not pretty enough for the cover of The New Bond?’
‘No . . . I mean yes . . . I mean, of course I’ll take your photograph. I’ll fetch the camera and we can go outside and take it now, if you wish?’ Sarah said, knowing she couldn’t refuse.
Freda flung her arms around her friend and gave her a hug. ‘Thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d said no. I’d die of embarrassment going to the photographer up the road from Woolies for a formal sitting.’
Sarah flinched, thinking that Freda had most likely been this close to Alan.
‘I’ll go find my cardigan and see you outside in ten minutes, if that gives you enough time. We’d best do it now before we start dancing, or my hair will be back to my usual mess.’
‘Freda . . .’ Sarah called as Freda reached the door. ‘Freda . . . what do you think of my Alan?’ she asked, not knowing if Freda would lie or tell the truth.
Freda cocked her head to one side and grinned. ‘I love him to bits. In fact, if you weren’t around, I’d marry him in a flash,’ she laughed before hurrying out.
Sarah stood still, looking into the mirror on the wall. She could hear a tap dripping and outside a round of applause, no doubt for her dad and Maureen as they finished the first dance. The woman who looked back at her through the cracked glass was a stranger to her. A white-faced ghost who could see into the future; a future without a husband she loved very much. There was sure to be a fight – but would she win, or would she walk away alone?
Maureen had been coaxed by friends to sing the final song of the evening. Amongst cheers and shouts of good wishes, she had a quick word with the leader of the small band then grabbed hold of her new husband, pulling him onto the stage to stand beside her. Fuelled by a few pints of best bitter, he beamed at the guests and slipped his arm around his new bride as she broke into the popular song, ‘Goodnight Sweetheart’. As Sarah watched, thinking back to when the same song had been sung by Alan, it was as if the clock had stopped before going back in time. Alan appeared beside his mum and took over the song as the happy couple stepped down to the dance floor and joined the crowd.
‘You should be up there as well,’ Freda said as she appeared at Sarah’s elbow, followed by Betty and Maisie.
Sarah shook her head and did her utmost to ignore Freda by linking her arms through those of her two other friends. She swayed to the song, trying hard not to show her feelings.
‘Would one of you charming ladies like to dance?’ said Mike Jackson as he held out his arms. ‘My wife has abandoned me to dance with Myfi, and I’m all alone,’ he grinned.
‘Mike Jackson, you old smoothie. What would you do if we all said yes?’ Maisie guffawed.
‘I’d deem it an honour,’ he laughed as David Carlisle arrived at his side along with Douglas Billington. Both men pulled him to one side to whisper in his ear as best they could with so much noise around them.
Sarah could see Mike frown before looking towards Alan, who was still on the stage.
‘Has something happened?’ she asked, raising her voice so she could be heard.
‘There’s been some kind of altercation up at Alan’s workshop. Whoever it was burst in and tried to set fire to the building. Someone’s been injured.’
Freda, who had been listening, cried out in horror and leapt towards the stage, pulling Alan down towards her. Hand in hand, they hurried from the hall, followed by the other men.
Maisie grabbed Sarah’s arm. ‘I think we should go too,’ she said. ‘Come on, Betty – Sarah needs our support right now. Whatever happened
up the road, it seems our Freda and Alan are in the thick of it.’
‘What’s going on, love?’ Ruby asked, coming over to her granddaughter’s side. Sarah dragged her attention away from her departing husband and Freda and turned to her grandmother.
‘I don’t know, Nan, but I’m going to find out. Can you keep an eye on the kids for us? I don’t think they should be up at the workshop to see whatever has happened, as we don’t know what’s going on yet.’
‘You hurry along,’ Maureen said, joining the women. ‘Your dad’s going up the road as well to see what can be done. The children – all of them – will be as right as ninepence with us,’ she added, looking to Sarah’s friends, who were urging her to hurry. ‘You get along there – and make sure that my son doesn’t put himself in danger.’
8
The women rushed from the Prince of Wales pub and hurried the short distance up Crayford Road to where Alan’s workshop stood. Mike Jackson, although off duty, was already questioning two of his colleagues, who were keeping a small crowd of inquisitive neighbours back while firemen unrolled a hosepipe. He was shouting instructions as he pulled off his jacket and tie.
‘Where’s Lemuel?’ Alan cried above the noise.
‘He went back in,’ a woman screamed, pointing to the open doors.
‘Sadie?’ Freda said in surprise, as she saw the distressed woman being comforted by a neighbour.
Sarah pushed past Freda and faced Sadie. ‘What the hell is going on? And why are you here in my husband’s workshop?’ she demanded as they heard a loud crash from inside the building.
‘Stay back, Alan,’ Mike called out as he grabbed Alan by the arm to stop him going into the building.
‘I can’t let Lemuel die in there,’ Alan cried in anguish. ‘Let go of me!’ He pulled free and headed for the doorway, from where smoke was billowing.
Wedding Bells for Woolworths Page 12