by Nancy Carson
Outside, she walked twenty yards. She felt hot and queasy. She was breathing hard from the shock of it all. She stopped and sat on the front doorstep of a house to garner her thoughts. She was in half a mind to return to Tom’s studio to try and reason with him further, to try and make him see how ridiculous his notion was. But her inborn common sense told her it would do no good. In his present state of mind he was beyond reasoning. Never before had she known him so blinkered and so irrational. Normally, he was the absolute soul of logic and moderation – and tenderness as well. But this change in him made her so angry. His accusations were just too pathetic. Hard though it might be, the only way forward was to leave him be and allow him time to come round to seeing sense. It was up to him. She could do no more…except perhaps pray to God that He might exert some pressure on him – and soon.
Chapter 15
Clover served in the taproom that evening alongside Jake. Naturally, she was preoccupied. The strife that had so unexpectedly flared between herself and Tom had astonished her. Consequently, she avoided conversation and only smiled politely at those patrons who pleasantly passed a few kind comments to her, as some were wont to do. Ramona seemed to keep her distance too, as if she knew instinctively of her preoccupation. Nearly everybody congratulated her on her engagement and nobody seemed to notice that she wasn’t wearing her engagement ring. Leastwise, nobody mentioned it. Most probably they imagined she’d taken it off to save it getting tarnished while she worked.
Tom, she hoped, would come to his senses and call for her later, full of apologies, and the sooner the better. He would need to apologise too; such an accusation as he’d made was ludicrous and hurtful. So each time the door from the passage opened she would look up eagerly to see whether it was him arriving. She had never felt so miserable. May it endure only a short time. Let him come and say he was sorry so they could resume their lives and restore their accord to the sublimity they had enjoyed before his unfounded suspicions marred everything. Naturally, she would forgive him.
Where had he picked up this stupid notion about her and Elijah? Never before had he shown any tendency towards jealousy, for he knew he had no reason to be jealous. If he had been that way inclined, then surely any jealousy would have been directed at Ned Brisco – and long before now. And yet…And yet he had been displeased that she’d gone for a ride with him in his new motor car…Or, maybe, he was envious that Ned had got a motor car. But this ridiculous idea about her and Elijah…But of course, Tom had been let down before. That girl called Maud, from Brierley Hill…He was bound to be wary of it happening again and who could blame him? But she was not like Maud. She would rather die than make a cuckold of Tom.
The door opened again but Sol Bennett entered, a miner who lived in Cromwell Street. She sighed, a disappointed sigh, but walked over to where he sat and took his order. Again the door opened and Harry Heppenstall, one of Ramona’s admirers, stalked in. He would be disappointed tonight; Ramona had gone out again, meeting some other chap, presumably. Pity. They seemed well enough suited, she and Harry Heppenstall. Still, there was time yet…She was free…
The taproom was noisy with raucous laughter, the chink of glasses and a dozen conversations. If only some of it would rub off on her. Smoke wafted about in a pungent, blue mist and Jake opened the sash of the front window to let in some fresh air. The door opened again…Ben Jenkins and Obadiah Brookes, pigeon fanciers. Normally they drank over the road in the California. Maybe the beer there was off.
Why did Tom not come?
Somebody tapped the hatch and Clover answered it. A small boy handed her two empty whisky bottles and asked for them to be filled with bitter. She’d seen him before but did not know who he was.
‘For your dad?’
‘No, me granddad – and me mom. I ai’ got e’er a dad.’
She summoned a sympathetic smile and took the bottles from him. When she’d placed a funnel into the neck of the first she thrust it under the beer tap and pulled twice on the pump. Each pull drew a half pint. She gave an extra short pull for good measure, refitted the cork and stuck the mandatory neck label over it, then repeated the procedure with the other bottle. The boy handed her a shilling and she gave him his change.
Oh, where was Tom?
Sam Jeavons scuffled in, his face hanging dolefully beneath his greasy cap, with his walking-stick and smelly dog. As he sat down he poked the dog into lying under the settle at the side of the fire grate with his stick and ordered a pint of mild. Noah Fairfax and Urban Tranter appeared, quarrelling as usual, followed immediately by Teddy Guest, the local bobby who was off-duty tonight. The Jolly Collier was getting busy, but where, where was Tom?
The hands of the huge railway clock on the opposite wall to the beer pumps registered half past ten. Tom would not come now. But still she looked up expectantly whenever the door opened. Eleven o’clock…half past…midnight. Most of the customers had drifted away, including Harry Heppenstall.
‘I’m going to bed now, Pop, if that’s all right. Do you mind?’
‘Carry on, flower,’ Jake said. ‘There’s just a few glasses to wash and dry. I can manage the rest.’
Clover took an oil lamp from the scullery and went upstairs to bed, bitterly disappointed that Tom had not shown. With anger and sadness dwelling symbiotically inside her she undressed herself, realising this problem was more serious than she had at first thought. She was certain he would come to his senses and seek her out; but she’d hoped it would be tonight. She did not believe he would allow things to fester for more than a day, for he would be suffering the same pangs as she. So there was always tomorrow. When he’d slept on it he would realise how ridiculous a notion it was that he was harbouring. If he was so serious about it he must have been tormenting himself. Why did he have to put himself through it so unnecessarily? Why did he have to put them both through so much emotional strife over nothing? Damn Maud and her infidelity that was clouding his judgement, making him believe she was capable of the same.
By Saturday Tom Doubleday had still not come to make his apologies. Clover passed his studio every day going to and from work but she was not feeling inclined yet to make any move towards reconciliation. He had created the problem, let him be first to make an approach. That Saturday morning it broke her heart to walk past his studio and she wondered whether he was watching her, hiding behind the velvet curtain of his lobby. She did not dare look. If he was watching, she wanted to appear as nonchalant, as unfazed as possible. Why should she allow him the satisfaction of believing she was grieving mightily, even though it was true? Fortunately, it was not possible to see that her heart was beating faster, that she was aching for him to appear. It was not possible to see by her outward demeanour how much she needed him to fold her in his arms and beg her forgiveness for being so mindlessly stupid.
Maybe today he would come and seek her while she was working. He seldom worked on a Saturday after one o’clock, unless he had to take photos at a wedding. Dinner-time was most likely. If he arrived, her expression must not betray her joy and relief. As the time approached she cast her eyes frequently towards the main entrance of the store. Lucy noticed and asked if she was expecting Tom, but she smiled wistfully and said, ‘I wish.’
The clock on the sales floor showed one o’clock and Clover went into the staff room and put on her hat and coat. She picked up her basket and went outside. She waited, scanning heads for sight of Tom, among the hundreds of folk who were walking High Street. For five minutes she waited. There was no sign. She was fooling herself if she thought he was about to appear today when he’d had nearly all week. Besides, she felt conspicuous in front of all her workmates who would be able to see her. So she set off to walk the town, hoping she might meet him accidentally. She crossed to the other side of the street, for that was the side he generally used. A flotilla of trams moving in both directions clanked their bells and cleaved their way through the hoards of shoppers that crowded the town’s streets every Saturday. If Clover did happen to
catch sight of Tom it would be a miracle with all those folk about.
She had not walked more than twenty yards when she felt a tap on her shoulder and her heart leapt.
‘Clover. Fancy seeing you.’
‘Elijah!’ She tried not to show her disappointment that it was not Tom, so forced a bright smile. ‘What brings you up here?’
‘I’ve just been to get me hair cut.’ He stroked the top of his head to confirm the fact and her eyes were naturally drawn to his hair that was shiny with fresh brilliantine. ‘I was just on me way to the Little Barrel for a drink afore I go to meet Dorcas. Care to join me?’
She looked around just to make sure Tom had not shown up after all. ‘If you like. I was just idling my time, window shopping.’
She turned around and shuffled alongside him on the crowded pavement. The Little Barrel stood directly opposite Cook’s and in no time they were walking across the threshold where the buzz of conversation, the customary smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke greeted them. The Little Barrel was a busy town pub, noisy, small and cosy, with the barrels of beer lined up on a stillage behind the bar.
‘Do you often use this pub?’ she queried.
‘I know the landlord. He keeps a decent pint. I generally come in here of a Saturday. Sometimes with Dorcas of a night. Shall we go in the smoke room? We shan’t get a seat in the bar.’
‘Lead the way,’ she said.
The smoke room was less crowded with seats available. There were women in there too, so Clover didn’t feel quite so conspicuous.
‘What d’you fancy to drink, Clover?’
‘Oh, just a half of shandy, please, Elijah.’
‘Not a pint?’ he said with a gleam in his eye.
‘You wouldn’t care if I was all bloated and running off to the privy all afternoon, would you?’ she said, laughing.
While she sat down at a small cast-iron table with a wooden top he stood at the bar and appropriated their drinks. He returned, put hers on the table and sat facing her.
‘Thanks,’ she said and sipped it.
‘Cheers!’ He took a goodly slurp from his pint glass and smacked his lips. ‘I like this India pale ale, you know, Clover. By God, we used to shift some of this stuff when we was over there. ’Course, it was that hot we used to sweat it all out right away. Never got drunk, you know.’
‘Never?’ she asked knowingly.
He grinned and looked into her eyes. ‘Well, sometimes…Not on this stuff, though, generally on gin mixed with Indian tonic. I got quite a taste for that when I was in India.’
‘What sort of food do they eat in India, Elijah? I understand it’s very spicy.’
‘It’s bloody hot. Hot and spicy. To mask the off-flavours of the meat, some say. It’s hard to keep meat fresh for long out there, it’s so hot, you see.’
‘Ugh!’
‘No…Don’t knock it, Clover. I tell you, I got quite addicted to curries when I was in India. Pity we can’t get your mother to cook us some. I bet you could get most of the spices to do it.’
Clover laughed. ‘Can you imagine my mother? She’d be pulling her jib all ways if she’d got to cook something like that. Why don’t you get Dorcas to cook them for you?’
‘I intend to. When we’m married…’
‘Oh? Is there likely to be a wedding soon then?’ She picked up her glass and took another drink.
‘Well, it’s time I made an honest woman of her, Clover. We’ve been engaged now since Adam was a lad and she reckons it’s high time. She’s getting a bit broody. Wants to start a family.’
‘So, how soon is this going to take place? I’ll need a new outfit.’
‘Next month.’
‘Next month?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘Nobody’s mentioned it.’
‘Nobody knows, Clover. You’re the first I’ve told.’
‘How come?’
‘I’ve only just decided. In the last week. I want it done quick now I’ve made me mind up. So I’ve been this morning to see about a licence – before I got me hair cut.’
Clover smiled with pleasure for him. ‘Can I be the first to congratulate you? I’m sure you’ll be very happy. I think Dorcas is a very lucky lady…’
‘Thank you.’ He slurped his beer and lit a cigarette.
‘So where are you going to live?’
‘Oh, it’s all fixed. I’m buying Jake’s old house.’
‘Oh, it’s you, is it? And Dorcas doesn’t mind?’
‘Dorcas loves the place. She spends enough time there already.’ He gave her a wink and Clover knew exactly what he meant. ‘Oh, there’s things she wants done, but any woman would be the same, I reckon. Women like to put their own stamp on a place, don’t they?’
She nodded. ‘It’s only natural. So when are you going to announce it?’
‘I’m biding my time, Clover. I want to spring it on ’em at the right moment. So can you keep it to yourself for a bit?’
She laughed. ‘’Course I can, but it’s a tall order. You’ll have to let me know what you’d like as a wedding present.’
‘Nothing expensive. You save your money for your own wedding. So what about you and Tom, eh? When are you getting spliced?’
She shrugged and a sad look clouded her eyes. ‘It was to have been next May – a year from now…Now I don’t know…Maybe never, the way things are going…’
‘You and Tom?’ he scoffed. ‘Pull the other one. I’ve never seen a couple more suited than you pair. And you tell me maybe never? Pah!’
She sighed profoundly and he knew by the look in her eyes that it was no exaggeration. ‘It’s true, Elijah. Since we got engaged I’ve seen him once. And that was to have a row…’
‘Row over what, for God’s sake?’
She shrugged. ‘A misunderstanding.’
‘His or yours?’
‘Oh, his.’ Tears began to flood her eyes and she tried to shove them back. ‘I have my own standpoint. I just wish he could see it.’
Elijah puffed on his cigarette and wafted the smoke away with his hand. ‘Well, if it’s a misunderstanding I’m sure you’ll soon get it all back on track. Why don’t you make the first move?’
‘But it’s not up to me to make the first move, Elijah. If you knew what he’d accused me of, you’d know it was all up to him.’
‘So what’s he accused you of? Infidelity, I suppose.’
She nodded. ‘Can you believe it? Me?’
‘And who’s he accused you of being unfaithful with?’
She was twisting her glass round and round, her eyes transfixed to the amber liquid within. ‘I’d rather not say.’
Elijah moved his stool closer to Clover and leaned towards her. ‘If he can’t see that you’m the girl least likely to go off with anybody, of all the women he knows, then he must have shit in his eyes,’ he said, his voice low. ‘And, to be honest, if he thinks no more of you than that, then he don’t deserve you. Think on that, Clover.’
She sighed. ‘Thanks. But it doesn’t help much right now. I’m in love with him and I suppose I always shall be. I just wish he’d come to his senses.’ Her voice was ragged with hurt feelings and a tear rolled down her cheek. She pulled a handkerchief from inside her sleeve and wiped it away.
‘He was engaged before, you know. A girl called Maud. She was having it off with his best friend unbeknowns and got pregnant…’
‘I understand him, Clover. Once bitten, twice shy.’
‘But I’m not like that. Surely he can see that?’
‘Do you want me to have a word with him?’ he asked softly, kindly.
‘God, no,’ she replied with alarm, dabbing her eyes. ‘I reckon that would make matters worse – anybody seen as interfering…’
He nodded. ‘It was just a thought. If I can help you I will. You know that.’ He reached out and put his hand briefly on hers in a gesture of sympathy. ‘I don’t like to see anybody put in the wrong, specially when I’m fond of that person meself. If there’s anything I can do to he
lp, just be sure to let me know…I mean it, you know.’
She forced a smile. ‘Thanks, Elijah.’ She tucked her handkerchief back up her sleeve. ‘I appreciate your offer, but we have to sort this out ourselves, Tom and me.’
He flicked his cigarette ash into the ashtray on the table. ‘I thought I hadn’t seen Tom about for a few days. Dorcas was talking about having him to take some wedding pictures for us. I expect you’ll be back together by then…’
‘I hope and pray…’ She nodded and smiled into his eyes, revealing the dejection that was brimming in her own.
‘Well, if not, he wants his bloody head looking.’
Tom Doubleday had agonised as much as Clover over his accusations. Since Tuesday he had thought of little else. Ramona’s insinuations had plagued him and continued to plague him. But over these last four days or so he’d had the opportunity, alone at night, to ponder on Clover’s positive attributes. There is an old saying that first impressions are always right and Tom recalled his first impressions of Clover. Those attributes that were immediately evident induced him to fall head over heels in love with her before they’d even exchanged a word. Gentleness, honesty, candour, forthrightness, were all qualities that applied to her. The question now was, which view of her was correct? She could not be honest and candid if she were enjoying a secret affair with Elijah Tandy; she could hardly be considered forthright if she had lied. He had to rely on his own judgement. In her favour, she always appeared guileless and truthful. But his judgement was known to be impaired. Maud too had seemed guileless and truthful – and look at the heartache she had wrought.
Tom knew of course the times when Clover was due to pass his studio on her way to and from work. Every time he watched out for her, concealed behind the thick velvet curtain that adorned the window of his lobby. Every time he saw her, and this Saturday morning had been no exception. She had walked past on the other side of Hall Street and had not even deigned to look in his direction. Perhaps she was untouched by it all, indifferent, which was understandable if there was a liaison with Elijah.