The Married Girls

by Diney Costeloe

  She asked if they knew whether Billy had made a will, but they didn’t.

  ‘I never heard him mention one,’ Margaret said with a shake of her head.

  ‘Surely he’d have discussed it with you if he had,’ John pointed out.

  ‘I don’t think he did,’ Charlotte said, ‘but it was worth asking you. The thing is, the vicar has suggested it’s something I ought to do, so I’m going to see Mr Thompson and get things sorted out.’ She went on to explain about the children’s guardianship. ‘I know you’d do your very best for them if you had to, but...’ She paused awkwardly, not quite sure how to go on now that it came to the point.

  ‘But we’re too old,’ supplied John, and he gave her an understanding smile.

  ‘But we’d cope,’ insisted Margaret. ‘They’re our grandchildren, we’d give them a home, wouldn’t we, John?’

  ‘Of course,’ John agreed, ‘but let’s hear Charlotte out. I’m sure any decision she’s made hasn’t been taken lightly.’

  Charlotte continued to explain what she intended. When she mentioned Jane she could see that her parents-in-law understood why she wasn’t suggesting she become the children’s guardian.

  ‘Of course, whoever is their guardian, you’d all be just as important in their lives as you are now, but it didn’t seem fair to ask Jane to give up her nursing and perhaps the chance of a family of her own.’

  ‘But she might never have to,’ Margaret said.

  ‘God forbid that she would,’ John put in. ‘God forbid that anyone will.’

  By the time she went home again, Charlotte felt that John at least had accepted her reasons for asking Caroline and Henry ahead of them. He walked with her to the farm gate.

  ‘Don’t worry about Margaret,’ he said. ‘She understands really, and of course we both respect your decision. It’s a provision you’re right to make, even though it’ll probably never take effect.’ He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘You’re a good mother, Charlotte. We know our grandchildren are safe with you, whatever you decide.’ With these words echoing in her head, Charlotte made her appointment with Mr Thompson.

  Mr Thompson was a man in his fifties, balding with a fringe of grey hair round the back of his head. He looked with clear grey eyes through pince-nez glasses that gripped his nose. Charlotte had always felt at ease with him, ever since she’d first met him seven years earlier. He was waiting for her as she came up the stairs and he greeted her with a handshake and a warm smile as he led her into his office, asking his secretary, Miss Duke, to bring them some tea.

  ‘Mrs Shepherd, Charlotte, if I still may call you that? I’m so sorry for your loss,’ he said when he’d settled her into a chair.

  Charlotte managed a smile. ‘Thank you, Mr Thompson.’ She was grateful he said no more, that much she could cope with.

  Mr Thompson had always had a lot of time for Charlotte. Over the years he’d been her trustee they had met on several occasions and he’d come to admire her strength and common sense. ‘An old head on young shoulders,’ he’d once said to his wife.

  He looked at her now, sitting opposite him, pale-faced but determined, and smiled. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘what can I do for you today?’

  ‘Two main things,’ Charlotte replied, happy to get onto the safe ground of business. ‘First, I need to know how my finances stand. Obviously we shan’t have Billy’s money coming in, so I need to know how much money I have to live on. The second is that I want to make a will.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Mr Thompson as he removed his pince-nez and rubbed his eyes before replacing them. ‘That’s a very sensible move.’

  Miss Duke brought in the tea tray, poured them each a cup of tea and then disappeared again. As they drank their tea Mr Thompson explained how much income she could expect from Miss Edie’s legacy.

  ‘Well, as you know,’ he said, ‘the interest from the shares and bonds Miss Everard left you have been providing you with an income. Up until now, you’ve only been taking a portion of this and the rest we’ve been reinvesting for you. You have a fair amount of cash in the bank, available to use straight away, but if the interest from these investments has become your sole source of income, and you’re relying on it for the maintenance of your family, you’ll have to keep a careful watch on your expenditure. Of course you already own your house, so there is no rent to pay, but there will be other outgoings which you’ll have to budget for.’

  They discussed the amount of money she could reasonably expect to live on and Charlotte realised that she did, indeed, need to watch her outgoings if she were not to touch her capital.

  They spent the next half-hour discussing her will, which, Mr Thompson said, would not be complicated to draw up as she wanted it. He made several suggestions for her to consider and when she finally left his office and went to catch the afternoon bus back to Wynsdown, Charlotte felt that she was beginning to get a grip on things. She was dealing with the practicalities of life, and they left her little time to indulge her grief.

  Back in Wynsdown she went to collect the children from Caroline.

  ‘Hallo, you two,’ she said, ‘have you been good for Auntie Caro?’

  ‘Good as gold,’ Caroline said as she led her into the sitting room.

  Edie was sitting up on the floor, surrounded by cushions in case she forgot what she was doing, and when she saw Charlotte, she held out her arms to her. Charlotte bent down and scooped her up for a hug before settling her on her hip and turning to see what Johnny was doing. He was sitting up at the table, the soldiers he’d brought with him lined up in battle order in front of him.

  He glanced across at her. ‘The reds are the baddies today,’ he told her. ‘The blue men are winning.’

  ‘That makes a change,’ laughed Charlotte, and with Edie still in her arms she flopped down into an armchair, gratefully accepting Caroline’s offer of tea. She felt exhausted.

  ‘You look tired,’ Caroline said as she poured and handed Charlotte a cup.

  ‘I feel it,’ confessed Charlotte, sipping the hot tea.

  ‘Not sleeping?’ asked Caroline.

  ‘Not very well,’ she admitted. ‘And even when I do, I seem to wake up tired.’

  ‘Why not ask Henry to give you something to help you sleep properly?’ suggested Caroline, adding, ‘I thought he had, actually.’

  ‘He did give me some tablets,’ replied Charlotte, ‘but I haven’t been taking them. I don’t want to be woozy if I have to get up to Edie in the night.’

  ‘I thought she was sleeping through?’

  ‘She was, she is, but just occasionally she stirs and I have to get up to her.’

  ‘Well, even so, I think you should come and see Henry. Perhaps you’re anaemic or something and need a tonic. I’m sure he could give you something to perk you up... make you feel less tired.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Charlotte agreed wearily. ‘I’ll think about it. Right now I need to get these two home and ready for bed.’ She set her teacup aside and struggled to her feet. ‘Come on, Johnny, time to go home.’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ Johnny protested. ‘I want to stay here, with Auntie Caro.’

  ‘Well, you can’t,’ Charlotte said firmly. ‘It’s time to go. Let’s find your coat and boots and then we’ll go home for tea.’

  ‘We could have tea here,’ Johnny said truculently.

  ‘No, we couldn’t,’ Charlotte snapped. ‘Auntie Caro’s got things to do. You’ve had a lovely time with her, but now we’ve got to go home.’

  Johnny’s lip trembled. ‘I want Daddy,’ he said.

  Before Charlotte could collect herself to reply, Caroline said, ‘Of course you do, darling. We all miss him.’ She gathered the little boy to her and held him close for a moment and then said, ‘Tell you what, why don’t I put my coat and boots on, too, and walk home with you?’ She set him down and led him out of the room to find their outdoor clothes. Charlotte remained where she was for several moments, clinging to Edie, fighting the tears that threatened to overwhelm
her.

  When they finally reached Blackdown House, Caroline came indoors with them and stayed while the children had their tea and then helped put them to bed. She was seriously concerned about Charlotte. She knew she was stretched to breaking point; wraith-thin with a pale face and haunted eyes, it was clear she was exhausted. She waited in the kitchen, washing up the tea things until Charlotte came downstairs from reading Johnny his bedtime story. She was determined to say something.

  ‘Charlotte,’ she said when Charlotte sank onto a chair at the kitchen table, ‘what are you going to eat yourself?’

  Charlotte shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I’ll find something later on.’

  ‘That’s not good enough, Charlotte,’ Caroline said, her voice echoing the tones she’d used on recalcitrant children at Livingston Road. ‘You have to eat properly to keep your strength up. What’s going to happen to the children if you become ill?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Charlotte said. ‘Really, Caroline, you don’t have to worry about me. It’s just been a long day, that’s all. I’ll have an early night.’

  ‘I am worried about you,’ Caroline said more gently. ‘I really think you may be anaemic. I wish you’d come and see Henry.’

  ‘All right.’ Charlotte was too tired to argue. ‘I’ll see if Margaret can have the children one morning and then come in to the surgery.’

  ‘Come tomorrow morning,’ suggested Caroline, anxious to strike while the iron was hot. ‘I’ll look after the children while you see Henry.’

  ‘Tomorrow morning,’ Charlotte agreed wearily, and with that Caroline gave her a hug and went back home.

  27

  It was a dull, damp Monday morning. Daphne was the post office buying and sending off her postal order when a woman she half recognised came in. Daphne knew she’d seen her before but couldn’t place her. She stood just inside the door, brushing the rain from her coat, and was greeted with a cry of delight from behind the counter by Nancy Bright.

  ‘Jane!’ she cried. ‘Jane Shepherd, is that you? Lovely to see you, my dear. Home for a few days, are you? Your poor parents! They will be pleased to see you.’

  ‘Just for a couple of days, I’m afraid,’ answered Jane when she could get a word in edgeways. ‘Have to go back to Bristol before the end of the week.’

  ‘Well, they’ll love having you even if it is for such a short time.’ Hardly pausing for breath she went on, ‘I don’t s’pose you’ve met Mrs Felix yet, have you? Just moved into the manor, she has.’

  ‘Well, not just,’ Daphne corrected her. ‘We moved in just before Christmas.’ An eternity ago, she added silently.

  ‘Well, Mrs Felix, this is Jane Shepherd, you know about her poor brother Billy, of course—’

  ‘I just wanted some stamps,’ said Jane abruptly cutting off the flow of Nancy’s gossip.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Nancy said, and pulled open the counter drawer before turning to Daphne and saying, ‘Of course it was your husband what found him, wasn’t it, Mrs Felix? Dreadful, dreadful thing it were.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Bright,’ Jane said frostily as she almost snatched the stamps before handing Nancy the money, and with that she turned on her heel and left the shop, allowing the door to slam shut behind her.

  Daphne had by now slipped the postal order into its prepared envelope and she passed it across the counter, saying ‘For the post bag, please, Miss Bright,’ before she, too, hurried out of the door. Nancy looked with interest at the address before she put the envelope in the bag. She’d seen letters going there before and wondered who Mrs Higgins was.

  Daphne found Jane standing outside, sheltering under an umbrella. ‘I’m sorry,’ Jane said, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude to you, but I can’t stand the woman and I certainly don’t want to talk to her about Billy. She’s a dreadful gossip, as I expect you’ve already discovered. Hope you haven’t got any secrets, because if Nancy Bright finds out, you may as well tell the whole village yourself!’

  ‘No, none,’ Daphne laughed and holding out her hand, said, ‘Daphne Bellinger. Pleased to meet you. Isn’t it a miserable day... again?’

  ‘It is,’ agreed Jane, and then she smiled and on impulse said, ‘I say, shall we go for a cup of tea at Sally Prynne’s?’

  Daphne had not yet been to Ye Olde Tea Shoppe. She’d seen the sign but had thought it wasn’t the sort of place where the lady of the manor should be seen. However, she liked the look of Jane Shepherd, and she thought, well, if she wants to go there, why not?

  ‘All right,’ she said and they began to cross the green, but as they did so, they saw Caroline Masters going in with Charlotte and her children, and Jane turned away. ‘Perhaps not,’ she said. ‘It’ll be noisy with the children in there.’

  ‘Come home with me then,’ suggested Daphne. ‘Felix is out somewhere, so we’ll have the place to ourselves. We can light the fire and have tea and toast in front of it.’

  ‘Sounds heavenly,’ Jane said, and with their umbrellas bobbing above them, they hurried up the lane towards the welcoming warmth of the manor.

  ‘Felix!’ Daphne called as they came into the hall and shed their raincoats. But there was no reply. She’d been pretty sure he was out somewhere on the farm, but wanted to be certain before they settled down in front of the fire. It was ready laid and Daphne put a match to it before going out into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Jane followed her, eager to see the inside of the house. She had been there before, to a meeting with her mother, but only into the drawing room; she’d never penetrated the nether regions. As they waited for the kettle to boil, she looked round the kitchen, taking in the dresser fuller of crockery, the large scrubbed table, the shining copper pans hanging along a shelf and the range on which the kettle was beginning to whistle. There were a few breakfast dishes stacked up on the draining board of a deep Belfast sink, obviously awaiting attention.

  Daphne caught her eyeing them and said, ‘I’ll do those later. I’m certainly not going to waste time with them now.’ She opened a bread crock and pulled out a loaf. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘I’m hopeless at cutting bread, you do it. Cut us a couple of slices each, we’ll toast them by the fire.’

  As Jane did as she was asked, Daphne found the butter and some jam. She made the tea and then they put everything on a tray and carried it through to the drawing room, where the fire had taken hold nicely and was snapping and crackling, its flames leaping up the chimney. Daphne set the tray down on a table and picked up the toasting fork that stood at the fireside.

  ‘Here,’ she said, ‘you start toasting while I pour the tea.’

  They sat companionably by the fire, drinking their tea and taking it in turns with the toasting fork.

  ‘I’m very sorry about your brother,’ Daphne ventured. ‘I saw you at the funeral, of course, but didn’t like to introduce myself there.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jane said. ‘It was awful.’

  ‘Very difficult for your sister-in-law, being left with two small kids.’

  ‘Yes, but she’s not the only one. People seem to think of her and forget about my poor parents... and me.’

  Jane was not quite sure why she’d opened up to Daphne, she’d only known her for half an hour, but somehow she wanted her to know. Felt that she could trust her.

  ‘Poor you,’ Daphne sympathised. For a moment companionable silence fell round them, each comfortable in the company of the other.

  ‘Are you quite settled in here?’ asked Jane as she spread her piece of toast with butter and jam.

  ‘Sort of,’ replied Daphne, ‘but I do miss living in London. Apart from during the war when I was posted to all different RAF bases, I’ve always lived there and I find the country too quiet by half... specially in this dreadful weather.’

  Jane laughed. ‘This is only rain, Daphne. Wait till you’ve been here when it’s snowed! The whole village gets cut off!’

  Daphne pulled a face. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t snow then,’ she said, ‘or I’ll go mad, cut off from civilisation!
’

  ‘Well, you can always come and visit me,’ Jane suggested. ‘I could show you round Bristol, what’s left of it after the air raids.’

  ‘Was it badly bombed?’ asked Daphne, with interest.

  ‘Some of it was,’ Jane says. ‘I work at the BRI, and some of it was very close.’

  ‘BRI? What’s that?’

  ‘Bristol Royal Infirmary.’

  ‘Bristol Royal Infirmary,’ echoed Daphne. ‘Wasn’t that where they took...’ She hesitated, realising that she was on delicate ground.

  ‘Billy,’ supplied Jane. ‘Yes, they brought him in and that’s where he died. Only,’ she added bitterly, ‘my sister-in-law didn’t bother to let me know he was there, in the hospital where I work, until it was too late.’

  ‘But that’s dreadful!’ sympathised Daphne.

  ‘Typical of her,’ shrugged Jane. ‘Thinks she’s the only one who loved him. Still,’ she said, changing the subject back to her earlier idea, ‘why don’t you come and visit me in Bristol one day when I’m off duty? I could show you round and we could do a bit of shopping.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ enthused Daphne. Anything to get out of this godforsaken village... though she didn’t put that particular thought into words; after all it was where Jane had been brought up, and Daphne was learning to think before she spoke. And anyway, she did like the idea of going to Bristol and having a look round the shops. Nothing like London, she thought, but there must be some worth visiting. ‘I’ll get the car and drive in one day. Felix won’t mind.’ She didn’t actually care if Felix minded or not, but she still liked to maintain the appearance of being a good wife.

  It was about ten days later when Jane rang and said she’d got a day off the next day. ‘I know it’s short notice,’ she said to Daphne, ‘but if you’ve nothing else planned, we could go out for lunch somewhere... have a look round the shops?’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Daphne said, and the next morning saw her setting off in the Standard.