Don’t Cry Alone

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Don’t Cry Alone Page 30

by Don’t Cry Alone (retail) (epub)


  ‘I hope so,’ she murmured. ‘Oh, I do hope so.’ One last lingering look at the place where she had last seen him, but he was gone from sight, gone from her now. Turning away, she smiled when Cissie began softly singing, and her heart was filled with joy that at least she still had her and Richard. Strange, though, how it was Tyler and not David who was uppermost in her thoughts in that moment. But then, he was always with her. He was with her now… skipping along beside her, holding her hand, laughing and chattering, smiling at her with those winsome green eyes. In Richard, she had the very essence of his father. That was a blessing she gave thanks for every moment of every day. There were many regrets in her life, but her beloved son was not one of them. ‘Let’s go home,’ she said, returning the boy’s loving smile. ‘I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day.’

  ‘Oh! Can’t we stay and watch the ships, Mammy?’

  ‘Now, Richard, you heard what your mammy said,’ David reminded the boy quietly. ‘It’s time we all went home.’

  It was Cissie’s turn to persuade him. ‘I’ll read you a story if you like,’ she said, mischievously flicking at his cap. ‘That is… if you can catch me!’ Laughing aloud, she took to her heels, and made for the outer doors. Screaming for her to stop, the boy went after her, his short sturdy legs quickly gaining ground; but that was exactly what Cissie had planned. When she allowed him to ‘catch’ her, the two of them rolled about on a pile of hessian rope, screeching and laughing, until David reminded Cissie that she was ‘a young lady of certain years’ and that Richard should remember how he had only been allowed to come to the docks on the understanding that he be on his ‘best behaviour’. And, such was their remorse, the two of them were instantly subdued. When David led the little group out onto the street, where he quickly hailed a Hansom cab, Cissie had linked arms with Beth, and was walking tall and proud like a ‘young lady’ should. Richard was holding Beth’s other hand, but he was not so composed because everything around him was too exciting for a boy of such tender years, and so he skipped, and laughed, and sang, and teased Cissie about her ‘po-face’. And Beth walked between them, a smile in her heart, and a twinkle in her eyes.

  * * *

  From a distance, the tall dark-haired man watched with disbelief, his handsome green eyes following Beth’s every step. In that first heart-stopping moment when he realised that it really was her, his impulse had been to run to her, to grab her in his arms and smother her with kisses, to chide her for not waiting until he came back to make her his wife. He wanted to tell her he had never stopped loving her, that never a single day had passed without him thinking of her, wanting her in his arms or by his side, sharing the success which life had bestowed on him. ‘Beth… oh, Beth.’ He shook his head slowly from side to side. Reproach mingled with anger – anger that she did not wait, anger that another man should so easily have taken the woman he loved, anger that she should be heavy with another man’s child. According to Ben, she had waited for him and he had failed her; never mind that the real fault was not his, or that he had lain at death’s door, or that he had been loath to go to her as a cripple, with nothing to offer but a life of struggle. The fact remained that he had waited too long. Like a fool, he had wanted to return for Beth, carrying the world to place at her feet. Now, he had the world, but it was a lonely, loveless place without her. In the pursuit of his fortune, he had deliberately travelled many long and distant journeys, always seeking to escape from memories of Beth and their time together. He had quickly learned that it was a futile exercise, for she was with him wherever he went.

  He looked at her now, thinking that time had made her more beautiful. Even though her hitherto slim figure was heavy with child, there was a beauty about her, a certain dignity, that made him proud. Dressed in a gown of deepest blue that complemented her dark eyes and rich hair, she was the loveliest creature he had ever seen. Tearing away his gaze, he studied the children at her side. He wondered about the pretty fair-haired girl – a relative of Beth’s husband, perhaps? Certainly she was too old to be Beth’s daughter, although it was obvious that the girl had a great affection for her. The boy, though… five, six years old? A handsome little fellow and filled with mischief as boys should be; no doubt this was Beth’s son, and, taking into account the years between, no doubt begot in the early weeks of Beth’s marriage. He could see the man now, striding ahead of his family, a tall fellow in a black tail-coat, sombre trousers and high grey hat. It was impossible to see his face, but Tyler assumed the man to be Beth’s husband, Wilson Ryan, who according to Ben was a man of considerable reputation in the millinery world, not without fortune, and most certainly the ideal partner for Beth.

  Tyler Blacklock had little interest in the millinery world, for he hardly ever wore a hat and so did not move in such circles; neither had he made enquiries with regard to Beth or her husband. As he had told Ben:, ‘I’m glad she’s happy.’ And he was. He never sought to discuss her. It would have been too painful. He wondered in passing what Mr Ryan might be doing so far North; perhaps seeking to expand his chain of hat shops? After all, wasn’t that the very reason why Tyler himself was here… to expand his own business by bidding for a valuable piece of land which was shortly being offered here in Liverpool?

  His curiosity was short-lived, for he could think only of Beth. If only… if only. No! Beth was content with her family. Nowadays, she probably never even gave him a second thought. Yet he could not forget her. God only knew how he had tried to replace her in his thoughts and in his heart – striking relationships with one woman after another, lurching from one crisis to the next, building his business with her in mind… driving himself like a man demented and amassing a fortune, yet knowing all the time that he was striving for the impossible. However many women he took to himself, they were not Beth. Not his true love. And yet, he could not accept that he would never again hold her in his arms. But he must accept it! He must! But then if he did, what was there worth living for? Without Beth, there was no purpose.

  And so he went from day to day, from one business deal to the next, pouring his heart and soul into his land agency business, trying to forget, always trying to forget, but being made to remember all the more. And now here she was, and he was all at odds, wanting to go to her, knowing he could not. Like a phantom she moved in his sight, lovely and compelling, her dark beauty drawing him against his will, his thoughts calling out to her.

  In that moment Beth turned and looked into his face. It was like a hammer to his heart, seeing her dark eyes widen with surprise, her hand spread across her mouth as though to stifle a cry. He stepped forward, but then his companion returned, smiling up at him, taking his arm possessively and wanting to leave. Afraid and thrown in turmoil he allowed himself to be drawn away, but he could not push that lovely face from his thoughts. In his shocked heart, Beth went with him, her dark eyes burning into his, astonished at first, then intensely accusing. Over and over he told himself: ‘You failed her, and she hates you for it. Now, there is no place in her life for you.’

  * * *

  ‘What’s the matter, Beth?’ Cissie had been stripping the excess leaves from the stems of a bunch of slender white tulips, which she then lovingly arranged one by one in an earthenware vase. For some minutes now she had been disturbed by the way Beth was pacing to and fro in front of the great fireplace, a deeply thoughtful expression on her face, and her whole manner one of extreme agitation. ‘Is it the babby?’ Cissie asked now. ‘Is the little tyke up to its tricks again?’ She knew Beth had suffered many sleepless nights of late, because she herself had been kept awake into the small hours, thinking of Matthew and wondering how he was faring.

  ‘No. The child is quiet,’ Beth told her.

  ‘Then is it Matthew?’ Cissie wanted to know. ‘You’ve been restless since that day at the docks, when we saw him off.’

  Beth shook her head. ‘No, it isn’t Matthew, although I pray he made the right decision.’ All the same, Cissie was right in one assumption: Beth�
�s peace of mind had been shattered on that particular day. All these years, she had carried Tyler’s image in her heart, and suddenly there he was, looking at her, startling her, his gaze finding its way into that secret part of her that she had always kept hidden. If she had entertained any doubts before, they had gone forever. She still loved him. In spite of the fact that he had let her down badly and – most devastating of all, even though he now had a new love – Beth still pined for him. Since that day she had not been able to sleep, or to think straight. Of all the people in the world she least wanted to see, yet most wanted to see, Tyler had walked back into her life to turn it upside down. Their eyes had met for only the briefest moment, but it had seemed like a lifetime. She wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t. She wanted to go to him, but she couldn’t.

  For all her life, Beth would cherish the time they had had together, and she would always regret their parting, and yet, and yet, he was a scoundrel of the worst kind. Time and again she told herself she was fortunate to see the back of him, so often she reminded herself of the despicable way he had behaved. It didn’t matter. Oh, she knew well enough that if he were to walk through that door now, she would not entertain him; her pride would not let her. But secretly she would go on loving him. She could never change her deeper feelings because he was still a part of her growing up, part of her life, her first awakening of passion. Nothing could take that from her, and so she clung to the memories. Fate had parted them forever, but she would never know any other man in the way she had known Tyler. He was her first love. And he would be her last.

  ‘If it ain’t the babby, and it ain’t Matthew, what else is troubling you?’ Cissie laid the flowers on the rug and came to stand before Beth, her pretty face frowning. ‘Something’s bothering you, I know,’ she said quietly. ‘Won’t you tell me, Beth? Won’t you let me help?’ When she saw the pain in the dark eyes, she went on, ‘Please, I ain’t a child no more.’

  ‘Oh, Cissie… Cissie, what a comfort you are to me.’ Reaching out her arms, Beth enfolded the girl to her, resting her face against Cissie’s fair hair and saying in a softer voice, ‘Do you remember years ago when you asked about my family?’

  ‘Yes, I remember… when I said you never talked about your parents, and you told me that one day you would tell me all about them. Only you never did.’ She was astonished to see the tears flowing down Beth’s face. ‘Oh, it’s your family, ain’t it?’ she cried. ‘Some’at’s happened to make you feel bad.’

  Choking back the tears, Beth forced a small laugh. ‘No, it isn’t my family, bless you,’ she said, adding thoughtfully, ‘although… in a way, I suppose, it is.’ She took a deep breath, her mind assailed with doubts. She wanted so much to confide in Cissie, to share her secret, and after all Cissie was right in saying she was no longer a child. She was turned fifteen now, and had a wise old head on her shoulders; in many ways, the girl reminded Beth of Maisie; like two peas from the same pod they were. Beth did not fool herself that it would be an easy thing to talk about what she had kept hidden all these years, but somehow she felt it would be a natural thing for her to confide in Cissie.

  ‘Come and sit here with me.’ Beth moved towards the settee, the girl followed. When the two of them were seated, Beth told her, ‘You’re so special to me, Cissie. You’re very perceptive, because there are things playing on my mind, and yes… it would help me so much if I could talk them over with someone. I’ve never been one for making friends, you know that. I was always a solitary child, and my making friends was frowned upon.’ She smiled. ‘It’s hard to escape from the teachings of your childhood.’

  ‘Were you not happy as a child, Beth?’ Cissie thought of her own happy childhood. She had come to forget the horror of a certain night, and all her memories were pleasant now.

  ‘No, Cissie, I was never happy as a child.’

  ‘Will you tell me about it?’

  Again Beth hesitated, thinking it wrong that she should use this lovely girl in order to lessen her own burden. Suddenly the decision was taken out of her hands when the door was flung open and there was David, grey-faced and tired, his sleeves rolled up and his hair dishevelled. Whenever he buried himself in the ledgers and account books, he lost all sense of time. Often he would go hours without food, keeping the study door locked against all intruders, and invariably emerging dog-weary and irritable. Today was Monday and, as always on a Monday evening, he was kept busy balancing the books from the rent collection on Friday; already, he had spent most of the day closeted in the study with his stepfather. Looking at him now, Beth could tell that something was wrong. ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ he replied tersely. ‘Is there any reason why it shouldn’t be?’

  ‘Well, no.’ The private moment between herself and Cissie was lost. ‘I made a fish pie. Enough for you and your stepfather,’ she told him. Beth still saw it as her duty to provide for the old man, though he rarely ate anything she prepared. ‘I’ll arrange a tray,’ she said, rising from the settee. When David had gone into consultation with the old man earlier, she had been instructed not to disturb them. She had learned from experience that it was unwise to argue.

  ‘No food,’ he told her, ‘just a pot of tea. And a jug of cider for my stepfather.’ He glanced at Cissie. ‘No doubt you’ll bring it in,’ he said. ‘Beth should stay off her feet wherever possible.’ His gaze roved round the room. ‘The boy?’

  ‘I put him to bed half an hour ago,’ Beth explained.

  He nodded, his expression still serious. ‘The tea, Cissie,’ he reminded the girl. ‘And a jug of cider… now, if you please.’ Without another word, he departed the room and returned to the study where Luther was waiting for him.

  ‘Hmh! What’s the matter with him?’ Cissie asked, staring at Beth with a puzzled look. ‘He’s got a face like a fish on a slab.’

  ‘That’ll do, Cissie,’ Beth gently chastised. ‘Do as you’re asked, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘Then we can talk?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Beth was oddly relieved that she had not confided in Cissie; not that she didn’t trust the girl, but because she had never spoken to anyone about her family, or her reason for leaving them all those years ago. Before she and David were married, Beth had secured his promise that he would never probe into her past, and would not pester her with regard to young Richard’s father. He had kept his word – although she knew there had been times when he was sorely tempted to ask her the questions that must have played on his mind. To discuss these things now, with Cissie, seemed in Beth’s view to be wrong. She was not proud to have been the cause of splitting her family up; nor could she forget how her father’s love had turned to disgust; and how could she easily reveal the shame which she had brought down on the Wards? How could she possibly expect a girl of Cissie’s years to understand how a woman could love so deeply that there seemed no shame in it at all? Maisie had asked her to ‘look after the childer’, and that must be her main concern. Her own sordid story could only be a bad influence on such a young and impressionable mind. Beth knew how Maisie had believed her to be a widow. That impression was passed on to the children, and then to David. Beth never denied it. She thought it best to let well alone. David was a man of high principles, and if he suspected the truth, that she had conceived her son out of wedlock, well… it didn’t bear thinking about. ‘When you’ve taken the tray, Cissie, I think you had better finish your flower-arranging, then get yourself ready for bed.’

  ‘But it’s only eight o’clock!’ Cissie was pouring the cider from the larger jug into the smaller one. As she turned, surprised and disappointed at Beth’s instructions, the cider spilled over. With a moan, she replaced the jug and mopped up the mess.

  ‘You know how long it takes you to wash and get yourself into bed,’ Beth reminded her. ‘And don’t forget you have a busy time ahead of you tomorrow. Isn’t it Preston market-day?’

  Beth held the door open while Cissie manoeuvr
ed her way through it with the wooden tray. She was not surprised when the girl turned to her with the dark remark, ‘I wish he hadn’t come in just then.’ Beth remained silent. Contrary to Cissie s opinion, she herself was glad that David had stopped her from opening her heart to this impressionable young girl.

  ‘You’re a good friend,’ Beth murmured.

  ‘And do you promise that if you need a shoulder to cry on, you’ll come to me first?’

  Laughing softly, Beth gave her a gentle push. ‘Promise, she said, adding with more urgency, ‘Get that tray along to the study, or there’ll be murder to pay.’

  * * *

  ‘I’m no thief, damn you!’

  The voice echoed through the house, waking everyone from their slumbers, and shocking Beth to her roots. In the six years and more that she had been David’s wife, not once had she heard his voice raised in such dark anger.

  ‘Mammy! Mammy!’ The boy’s frantic call spurred her on. Clambering out of bed, she grabbed her robe, wrapping it round her swollen form as she went in haste along the landing towards her son’s room, calling to him, ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. Mammy’s here.’

  In a matter of minutes, she had gathered the frightened child in her arms, soothing him, lulling him back to sleep. But then the uproar began again, this time the voice of the old man. ‘You’re a liar! A bloody liar. What kind of man are you, to steal from the hand that fed you all these years?’

  The boy was past sleep now, his trembling form clinging to Beth and his green eyes wide with fear. When Cissie appeared at the door, Beth held out her arms and the girl fell into them, and there the three of them remained huddled while the unholy row raged below.

  * * *

  David’s face was drained white. He had never before been accused of stealing and it did not sit well with him. His brown eyes dark with anger, he stared the old man out.

 

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