The Married Girls

by Diney Costeloe

  At that moment Billy himself came in and was greeted with delight by his son. Felix saw him exchange a quick smile with his wife, the warmth in their eyes apparent for all to see. Billy washed his hands and then turned to Felix.

  ‘Wing Commander Bellinger,’ he said by way of greeting.

  ‘Bit of a mouthful,’ remarked Felix easily. ‘Felix’ll do. After all, we’ve known each other since we were kids.’

  Billy shrugged. ‘Felix, then.’

  ‘Felix is home to see his mother,’ John said. ‘We’re glad he found time to come and see us, too. He was asking if we’d be hunting this year.’

  ‘I’ve been admiring your horses,’ Felix said. ‘That chestnut of yours looks good.’

  A little more warmth came into Billy’s expression. ‘Rustler? Yes, a bit headstrong still, but he’s a goer. Looking forward to riding him to hounds and maybe a bit of point-to-point, as well.’

  The conversation became general, but John Shepherd made no reference to their talk in the farm office, and Felix wondered if Billy knew about the possible deal they’d been discussing.

  Billy drank his tea down and then got to his feet. ‘Still got a bit to do before it gets dark,’ he said.

  ‘I think I’ll go home straight away, Billy,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’ve got things to do and I want to be back in the daylight.’

  ‘All right. I’ll be home as soon as I can.’ Billy reached down and kissed the top of her head. ‘Go carefully.’

  ‘I must go, too,’ Felix said. ‘There’s still lots to do at the manor, and I’m only here until tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Then I’ll walk with you,’ Charlotte said, ‘if you can just wait while I gather up all our things.’ She turned to Margaret. ‘Thanks for giving them their dinner,’ she said. ‘I really appreciate an hour or two on my own.’

  ‘I love having them,’ Margaret returned. ‘And Johnny loved his riding lesson with Gramp.’

  Ten minutes later, with Edie safely tucked up in the pram and Johnny dressed in his warm coat and wellington boots, they set off along the lane towards the village.

  ‘It was you who ran for help when my mother found Dad, wasn’t it?’ Felix asked, suddenly remembering.

  ‘I just went for the doctor,’ Charlotte said. ‘He wasn’t there, so we rang for an ambulance.’ She gave a sigh. ‘I know what it’s like to find someone you love collapsed on the floor. Several years ago I found my foster mother like that, but I was too late. She was dead.’

  ‘Your foster mother?’

  ‘I was evacuated from London during the Blitz,’ Charlotte explained. ‘Miss Everard took me in.’

  ‘Miss Everard!’ exclaimed Felix. ‘At Blackdown House? She was a weird old bird.’

  ‘She was no such thing,’ retorted Charlotte hotly. ‘She was lonely, and she was kindness itself to me.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Felix apologised hastily. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude about her, but when we were kids we were all scared stiff of her. We thought she was a witch.’

  ‘Well, she wasn’t,’ Charlotte snapped, and for a while they walked on in uneasy silence.

  ‘Whereabouts in the village do you live?’ Felix asked.

  ‘Blackdown House,’ replied Charlotte.

  ‘But...’ Felix began.

  ‘She left it to me.’

  Another awkward silence enfolded them as Charlotte manoeuvred the pram over the uneven ground. Johnny, running on ahead, was kicking up leaves and splashing through the puddles that had collected in the ruts and potholes of the drove.

  ‘He’s a bright boy, your son,’ Felix said in an attempt to heal the breach that had opened up between them.

  Charlotte, accepting the proffered olive branch, laughed. ‘He’s certainly a bundle of energy,’ she said, ‘he never stops.’

  As she spoke, Johnny slipped on a patch of mud and with a cry, landed on his bottom in a puddle. Charlotte let go of the pram and rushed forward to pick him up, cuddling him against her as she soothed him, wiping away his tears. Felix took hold of the pram and pushed it to where the pair of them were sitting on the ground.

  Johnny’s sobs gradually subsided to hiccups, but he still clung to his mother, his face buried in her neck.

  ‘Cheer up, darling,’ Charlotte was saying. ‘You’re not hurt and it’s only mud.’

  She tried to stand him on his feet, but he wouldn’t let go. ‘Come on,’ she encouraged. ‘Let’s get home so we can get you clean and dry.’

  ‘Would you like to ride on my shoulders?’ offered Felix. ‘I could be your horse.’

  Still clinging to Charlotte, Johnny looked up at him. Then he nodded.

  ‘Come on, then, up with you.’ Felix held out his arms.

  ‘Oh please, don’t worry,’ Charlotte said. ‘He’s awfully wet and muddy.’

  ‘A bit of mud won’t hurt me,’ grinned Felix. He reached down and swung Johnny up onto his shoulders. Johnny, his tears forgotten, gave a crow of delight as he settled himself, and clutched a fistful of Felix’s hair to steady himself. Felix grasped his dangling legs and with Johnny urging him onwards, set off at a trot along the track.

  Laughing, Charlotte followed. She was used to pushing the pram over the bumpy ground, but even so she couldn’t keep up with Johnny and his mount. She found them waiting for her where the track emerged onto the lane into the village, Johnny still perched on Felix’s shoulders.

  ‘Johnny, you must get down,’ she cried. ‘Poor Mr Bellinger!’

  ‘Poor horse!’ agreed Johnny as Felix lifted him down and set him on his feet.

  ‘Thank you,’ Charlotte said, smiling at Felix. ‘That was very kind.’

  Felix smiled back at her. ‘Not a problem,’ he said and turning to Johnny said, ‘You’ll have to walk from here, old chap.’ He pointed up the manor drive. ‘This is where I live.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be fine from here,’ Charlotte assured him. She reached for Johnny’s hand. ‘Come on, Johnny, let’s get you home and dry.’

  Dusk was stealing the afternoon light as Felix watched them continue down the lane into the centre of the village. He could still feel the scrabble of Johnny’s fingers in his hair, and it made him smile. Reluctantly, he turned in through the gate. There were more discussions to be had; more decisions to be made, and none of them was going to be easy.

  17

  Harry escorted Dora and Bella to Southampton and saw them aboard the ship. Before he walked back down the gangway, Bella flung her arms around him and kissed him long and deep on the mouth and Harry found himself responding. Bella tasted and felt as good as he’d always imagined she would.

  ‘You make sure you come out to Australia and find me,’ Bella said fiercely when, breathless, they finally broke apart. ‘I’ll be waiting for you.’

  Under the steely gaze of Dora, they kissed again and for a moment Harry found himself wishing that he was going with them.

  ‘Goodbye, Harry,’ Dora said, her voice cool and impersonal. ‘Keep your wits about you... and remember what I said to you, not within a mile.’

  Harry went ashore and waited on the quay until, with Bella still waving from the deck, the ship steamed slowly out of the harbour. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders. They’d gone, and there had been no last-minute hitches. Doreen and Belinda Cartwright were on their way to join Denny in Sydney.

  Back in London, Harry went straight to the Jolly Sailor where he found Stan Busby, with two of his sidekicks, brothers Alf and Eddie Shaw, waiting for him.

  ‘Any sign of Derham?’ Harry asked as he sat down in Denny’s chair.

  ‘Nope,’ replied Stan. ‘Hasn’t shown ’is face round ’ere.’

  ‘Right,’ said Harry, ‘an’ that’s the way it’s gonna stay. You and me, Stan, are gonna do the rounds again, just to make sure everyone knows who’s looking after Denny’s interests now, right? Eddie, you stay here and mind the shop. Alf, you come with us... so’s there’s no misunderstandings.’

  There had been none and at last
Harry had time to give real thought to his search for Lisa. He had the car, and Dora had given him the last of her petrol coupons. There were also several cans of petrol stashed in a lock-up half a mile away. He had the means, he had the opportunity. It was time he went to find this Wynsdown place, to find his Lisa.

  *

  In Wynsdown, Charlotte and Johnny were in the kitchen, making biscuits together. As Charlotte slid the tray into the oven, Johnny got down from the chair he was standing on and went to the back door.

  ‘When can we go to the bomb-fire?’ he demanded. ‘I want to go to the bomb-fire and see the fireworks.’

  ‘And so you shall,’ Charlotte said, ‘but it’s not time yet. They don’t light the bonfire until it’s dark, so it won’t be until Daddy and Gr’ma come home.’

  Johnny was beside himself with excitement. He had watched the bonfire growing bigger every day when they’d walked into the village. People were continually adding bits and pieces to the pile and now it stood nearly ten feet high.

  ‘When will they light it?’ he’d demanded. ‘Can we watch?’

  ‘They’ll light it on Saturday,’ Billy said, ‘that’s Firework Night.’

  ‘What’s fireworks?’

  Billy explained and Johnny’s excitement increased. ‘But Edie won’t go,’ he said with great firmness. ‘She’s too little. She won’t like fireworks.’

  ‘No, but that’s all right, Gr’ma is coming to sit with her, so that we can go and she can stay at home. You’ll be staying up very late, young man, so you’d better behave yourself!’

  Harry arrived in Wynsdown that same Saturday afternoon. He’d found the village on a road map, and using the last of Dora’s petrol coupons had driven down to Somerset. He parked the car outside the Magpie and walked into the pub. The landlord, Jack Barrett, had just called time and the regulars were downing the last of their pints before moving out of the warm fug of the bar and heading home for their dinners.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ Jack said, as Harry approached the bar. ‘Afraid I just called time.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Harry said. ‘I was looking for a bed for the night. You do rooms, do you?’

  ‘Yes, we got rooms,’ replied Jack, and glancing back over his shoulder, called through a door at the back of the bar, ‘Mabel!’ Then he turned back to Harry. ‘Just for the one night, was it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Harry said, ‘just the one.’

  A buxom woman with a mass of red hair exploding round her head came through to the bar and greeted Harry with a smile.

  ‘Can I help you Mr...?’

  ‘Merritt,’ supplied Harry, his Australian accent loud and clear. ‘Victor Merritt. I’m from Sydney in Australia.’ Best to establish his Australian identity, he’d decided, until he saw how things were in this village.

  ‘You’re a long way from home, Mr Merritt,’ replied the landlady. ‘What brings you to our part of the world?’

  ‘Just a few days away from London,’ Harry replied airily, glad he’d mentioned Australia. Clearly, strangers coming to stay were few and far between and he’d a shrewd idea his arrival at the Magpie would be round the village in no time.

  He was shown upstairs to a room with a tired-looking iron bedstead, a washbasin and an armchair. He went across to the window and peered out into the street below. Some boys were walking round the car, stroking its paintwork and peering in through its windows. One, a little braver than the others, put his hand on the driver’s door handle, about to open it.

  Harry flung open the window and roared at him. The little group scattered. Behind him he heard Mabel laugh.

  ‘That your motor, is it, Mr Merritt? We don’t get many flash cars up here, I can tell you. It won’t only be the local lads wanting to have a look, it’ll be their dads, as well. Now, then, does the room suit?’

  Harry dumped his grip on the bed and said, ‘Yes, it’s fine. As I said to your husband, I’m only passing through.’

  ‘It’s a good night to be here,’ replied Mabel. ‘Bonfire Night. The whole village’ll be out on the green for the fireworks when it gets dark.’

  ‘Fireworks?’

  ‘Yes, love you, it’s Guy Fawkes tonight, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Harry said. ‘I’d forgotten.’

  ‘There’ll be sausages and baked potatoes at the bonfire,’ Mabel told him, ‘but I’ll do you some dinner in here after, all right?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  Harry nodded absently, and Mabel said, ‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ and left the room. Downstairs, she found Jack finishing the clearing up and said, ‘That Mr Merritt’s a rum’un. Says he’s just passing through. Who passes through Wynsdown, I’d like to know? It ain’t on the road to anywhere.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘None of our business, Mabel. We’ve let the man a room, that’s all.’

  ‘I know that,’ replied Mabel. ‘I just think it’s odd, that’s all. I was just wondering what ’e’s up to.’

  ‘Well, stop wondering, woman, and help me get the tables set out on the green for this evening.’ Mabel did as she was asked, but she couldn’t help wondering why the strange Australian had come to Wynsdown.

  Upstairs, Harry was sitting in the armchair and considering what Mabel had told him. He wasn’t sure what Bonfire Night was about, but whatever it was, Mabel had said the whole village would be there. So, Lisa might be there, too.

  He decided to stretch his legs and take a quick walk around the village. When he stepped out onto the green, he saw the huge bonfire, waiting for the torch to set it aflame. People were busying about, clearly getting things ready for the evening. Two men were roping off a wide area around the bonfire, and two more roping another area, where posts had been set into the ground. Several of them glanced at Harry with interest and he saw one or two eyeing him up and then speaking to Jack Barrett as they helped him heave out the old metal trough they used as a brazier; Jack glanced across at him as he answered. Harry wasn’t near enough to hear the exchange, but he guessed it was about Victor Merritt, a stranger, who was in their midst.

  As darkness fell and the festivities started, Harry wandered out of the Magpie and joined the throng on the green. He saw her at once, standing in the crowd who were watching the fireworks. Her face, so familiar, was half in shadow, lit only by the flickering flames of the bonfire, but he’d have known her anywhere. Her long, dark hair, swept upward, was tucked into the woollen hat pulled down over her ears and she wore a black coat against the November cold, over slacks tucked into wellington boots. She was just as he remembered... only different. He watched her for some time, trying to discover what that difference was, and at last it came to him. She’d grown up, of course she had, but that wasn’t it, or not the whole; now she stood, an adult young woman, with the maturity and confidence that had come with marriage and motherhood. Gone was the diffidence that had marked her out, unsure of herself and of her place in the world. Now, she was comfortable, comfortable as herself. Beside her stood a tall man with a small boy perched on his shoulders. Harry recognised the man, too. Billy Someone, who’d got in the way and stolen his Lisa. He knew from Naomi Federman that Lisa was married, had children, and he’d realised her husband must be Billy. He’d been there to pick up the pieces when Harry had disappeared off to Australia without being able to tell Lisa he was going or explain why. He watched, now, as they oohed and aahed at the cascades of golden rain, the spinning Catherine wheels, and craned their necks to watch the rockets exploding into the sky. He felt a sharp stab of jealousy as he watched Billy lift his son down and light a sparkler for him to hold. The boy cried out in delight as he waved the sparkler, drawing circles in the air as it fizzed and spat.

  Lisa turned and laughed at something that Billy said, before bending down to speak to the child. Then she nodded and leaving them watching the fireworks, walked over to the makeshift brazier where Mabel Barrett was cooking sausages. The fireworks continued to fizz, whizz and bang behind her as she stood chatting with Mabel, waiting
for the sausages.

  Harry watched her for a few moments and then, after a quick glance to see Lisa’s husband and son still enthralled in the firework display, he strolled over to join her.

  ‘Hallo, Lisa.’

  Charlotte froze. She knew that voice so well.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say hallo, then?’

  Slowly she turned round, and there he was, Harry.

  ‘Harry?’ she breathed. ‘Harry?’

  ‘Good to see you, Lisa.’

  For a moment everything receded and all she could see was Harry – older and broader, but with the same eyes, dark and fierce, the same thick, dark hair, cut short to his head – looking at her with the half-smile she remembered so well. Last time she’d seen him he’d been angry; not with her, but there’d been no smile, his face had been dark with anger, his eyes narrowed in rage. He’d stormed out of the house and never come back. And now, suddenly, here he was: Harry, who’d waltzed in and out of her life throughout the war, so that she never knew where he was or whether she’d see him again.

  Harry’s face split into a grin. ‘Your face!’ he exclaimed. ‘Aren’t you pleased to see me?’

  ‘That’ll be sixpence, Charlotte.’ Mabel’s voice seemed to come from miles away and brought Charlotte back to the present with a jolt. She felt in the pocket of her coat and pulling out a coin, handed it to Mabel and took the sausages, wrapped in bread, that she was holding out.

  ‘Of course,’ she managed to say as she moved away from Mabel’s enquiring eyes. ‘You surprised me, that’s all.’ She looked over her shoulder and saw Billy was still watching the fireworks with Johnny. ‘Just a minute.’ She darted across to where they stood and handed Johnny the sausages and said something to Billy, who nodded.

  Harry had followed her away from the brazier and stood waiting at the edge of the green, in the shadow of the church hall. Charlotte came back to join him and this time she held out her hands to him. He took them and pulling her towards him, hugged her close.

  ‘It’s so good to see you, Lisa,’ he murmured. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’

  She pulled free, laughing a little self-consciously. ‘Of course I have,’ she said. ‘Two babies make you a different shape!’