This Lovely City

by Louise Hare

  ‘What is it?’ Lawrie took the paper.

  ‘Take a look.’

  Rathbone shot him a cruel smile, then walked back the way he’d come, leaving Lawrie staring down at the folded piece of paper in confusion.

  He waited outside Vernon & Sons for Evie to leave work. She was laughing at something Delia had said as they walked out together, her grin widening as she saw him. His chest hurt, like she had his heart in her hand and was squeezing, that grip growing tighter the longer he watched her. She walked up and kissed him on the lips, bold as brass for once, and he let her because there was still a chance that he’d got it wrong. That there was a perfectly good explanation and that she hadn’t been lying to his face the entire time.

  ‘I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to talk about.’ Delia squeezed Evie’s arm as she left them. There was something odd in the look she gave him as she walked away, as if she knew something he didn’t. Did Delia know already? Did everyone know but him?

  Evie had been so shy when he first met her, barely said a word to him until the day he’d run into her at the Astoria on a Saturday afternoon. Delia had ditched her for some fool of a man who Lawrie could tell right away was no good; while she only had eyes for him, he was looking over her shoulder at some other girl. Lawrie had asked Evie if she wanted to sit with them, telling Sam to shift up so there was a seat for her. He’d been surprised when he felt the back of her hand accidentally brush against his. It sent a shock up his left arm, a pleasant bolt of fizzing joy that he’d never experienced before. The lights came down, hiding his shock, and he was sure that she didn’t know what she’d done. He’d thought her young then, even for sixteen, and felt wary of her innocence. Maybe he’d been wrong all along.

  They caught the bus, Evie talking about her day, not noticing that he hadn’t said a word. She looked up in surprise when Lawrie stood and rang the bell for Forthbridge Road, only halfway home.

  ‘Let’s go for walk,’ was all he said.

  ‘It’s lovely that you came to meet me,’ she said as they crossed the road on to Clapham Common, ‘but what’s the occasion?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in a minute.’ He couldn’t even look at her.

  He let her link arms with his and to any casual observer they would have looked like a normal courting couple, out for a stroll on a beautiful spring evening. There was a light breeze rustling the fresh green leaves in the trees. Fading sunlight dappled the path before them, blinking through the plane tree canopy that sheltered them.

  ‘Rathbone came to see me this morning.’

  He thought he felt a tremor in her arm, her grip tightening.

  ‘Really? What did he want?’ She looked up at him, her brow creased.

  ‘He wanted to give me something, something that I think might belong to you.’

  They had reached the bandstand. He steered her towards a wooden bench and removed his arm from hers, reaching into his pocket. Evie sat down, holding her hands in her lap and looking very young all of a sudden. He stood in front of her and passed down the sheet of paper.

  ‘You know what this is?’

  She gasped as she unfolded it, the paper shaking as she recognised the birth certificate. She nodded, her eyes fixed to evidence against her. ‘He told you then.’

  ‘I worked it out. Even I can do that. Even a foolish man like me can put two and two together. I know that Agnes never had a child last year. This is why you left, isn’t it? To have a baby?’

  She nodded again, wouldn’t look at him.

  ‘And I know that I’m not the father, though I’m trying to think who could be.’ He shook his head and bit back a moan. This was so much harder even than he had imagined, even after practising the words in his head all afternoon. He took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what to say, Evie. I just wanted us to be perfect. A proper married couple. Do everything the right way and damn what everyone round here thinks of us! That’s all I wanted, Evie. I thought—’ He paused to clear his throat. ‘I thought you wanted the same.’

  ‘I do.’ It was barely a whisper, slipping away on the breeze. ‘Lawrie, I never meant to lie to you. I’m so sorry, I wanted to tell you only Ma said—’

  ‘Ma said? You blaming this on Agnes now? Seems to me you can stand up to her when you feel like it. So why not trust me? You lied to me for a year now almost and you’d’ve kept on lying if Rathbone hadn’t come crawling round.’

  ‘Lawrie, please, I’m so sorry. I tried to tell you last night. That’s why we left early. I wanted to sit down and tell you myself only…’

  She grabbed hold of his hands and he threw her off. She started crying, huge sobs that wracked her entire body, and he felt ripped in two. He wanted to put his arms around her and comfort her. He wanted to run away from her, as fast as he could. What a fool he’d been! Aston had been right about her the whole time. Somehow he’d known what Lawrie hadn’t been able to see.

  ‘It wasn’t Aston?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Please, Evie, tell me it wasn’t him.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head violently, trying to catch her breath. ‘It was Sam. At that party.’

  That damned party. He groaned and threw his head back, staring up at the perfect blue sky, only now beginning to darken slightly as late afternoon merged into early evening. It made total sense, much more so than the story Sam had fed him about her leaving once she knew the coast was clear. Lawrie’s bed had been stripped when he finally got home from the hospital the next day, still concussed, and Sam had claimed to have drunk too much and been sick. The truth was that he’d slept with Evie. They’d done it there, right on his own bed, teaching him a lesson.

  ‘I thought the baby died, Lawrie.’ The words stuttered out and he flinched at the pain in her voice. ‘Stillborn, they call it. But Rathbone did some digging and found out that she – the baby – she’s still alive. Ma had her adopted behind my back, that’s why it’s her name on the birth certificate.’ She blew her nose.

  ‘She took your baby? And now Rathbone thinks she’s Ophelia?’

  ‘No!’ The shock on her face was a relief. All he had left was to hope that this was as bad as it got, that there was no further horrifying revelation left in store. ‘When did he say that? Why does he still think that? I went to Cedars Road on Monday. I checked. She was adopted, that’s what they told me.’

  ‘Do you even hear what you’re saying?’ he cried out. ‘You were running around behind my back trying to find a child that you hid from me! Were you ever going to tell me the truth?’

  ‘I thought you’d leave me, call off the wedding. I know I did the wrong thing but it was only because I love you!’

  He’d heard enough. ‘I think it’s for the best if we don’t see each other for a few days. A week or so maybe.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away, blinking as he did so. ‘I just – I need…’ The lump in his throat was choking him. ‘I need time to think.’

  ‘A week?’ She stood and he took a step backwards, moving away from her outstretched arms. ‘Lawrie, please! I’ll do anything. Go and speak to Ma, she’ll tell you it’s the truth. I was just scared, can’t you understand?’

  ‘How can I trust you now when you lied to me for so long? Can you honestly tell me that you’d have come clean if you hadn’t been caught out?’

  She looked down at the ground, just for a split second, but it answered his question. He walked away quickly before she could see that he too was crying. Rathbone had meant to poison him against her but he couldn’t blame the detective for how wretched he felt. That was Evie’s fault. She’d lied to him, continually, and so the question became: could Lawrie marry a woman who couldn’t tell the truth?

  22

  ‘It’ll all work itself out.’ Delia broke the silence, the darkness amplifying her whisper.

  Evie didn’t reply. How would Delia know anyway? Everything was going swimmingly with Sid and it wasn’t as though Delia had ever had an illegitimate child and then lied about it. Delia had never had a mothe
r who hated her enough to give away her own granddaughter.

  ‘Evie?’

  She thought about feigning sleep but Delia had practice in such deception. She’d shared this bedroom with her sister Kathy for sixteen years before she’d gone off and got married. The room might be pitch black, the curtains at the window dating back to the age of blackouts, but Evie was no match for a woman who knew what genuine sleep sounded like.

  ‘Will it?’ she said, turning onto her back. ‘You didn’t see him. He was so angry. So disappointed in me.’

  ‘But he didn’t break it off. He just asked for time. That’s a good sign, surely.’

  Was it? Or was it just dragging out the inevitable, making Evie suffer while she held onto hope? It was the not knowing that she was struggling with the most.

  ‘Maybe you could go and talk to him for me?’ Evie suggested. ‘Just so that I know one way or the other.’

  In the dark, Evie heard Delia weighing up her choices. When she spoke her voice was resigned.

  ‘All right, but not too soon. If you’ve heard nothing by Thursday then I’ll go round. You don’t want him to make a quick decision, Evie, not about something so important.’

  ‘Thank you.’ It was surprising to find the saying true; she was already feeling better just sharing her worries. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.’

  Delia gave a low chuckle. ‘That’s what friends are for.’

  ‘Maybe one day I’ll be able to repay the favour,’ Evie said. ‘Though you’re so sensible, I can’t imagine you getting into trouble.’

  The silence stretched out between them, the air growing thick with tension until finally Delia sighed. ‘I suppose I should tell you now, else it’s not fair.’

  ‘Tell me what?’ Evie turned onto her side now, although she couldn’t hope to see Delia’s face in the darkness.

  ‘That I’m not a virgin either. I mean,’ she went on in a rush, ‘I never got pregnant or anything, but I’m not perfect by any stretch. And I haven’t told Sid. You’d think I’d have learned something from watching what you’re going through but, well, it’s not that easy. I understand that now.’

  Evie breathed out, only just aware that she’d been holding it in. ‘Not Lennie?’

  ‘God, no!’ Delia’s voice rose too loudly and they both giggled, the tension bursting like a balloon at a children’s party. ‘Though maybe he had something to do with it. It was after I found out about that trollop he’d been with.’

  Evie tried to think but Sid was the only other man she could remember seeing Delia with.

  ‘Who was it then?’

  ‘Promise you won’t be mad? It was one of Lawrie’s friends.’

  ‘Not Aston?’ Please don’t let it be Aston.

  She heard Delia take an intake of breath. ‘It was Moses.’

  ‘Moses!?’ Of all the people it could have been, Moses was the last person she’d imagined. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘’Course I’m bloody sure,’ Delia hissed. ‘We met at that party. The same one where, you know… I couldn’t find you. I heard that there’d been a bit of a kerfuffle and I thought you’d left. I got talking to Moses and we arranged to go to the pictures together. He was being so nice, the complete opposite of Lennie, so I said yes when he asked me.’

  ‘You were stepping out with Moses?’ And Evie had never known, had been too wrapped up in her own worries. ‘Nobody said anything.’

  ‘Nobody knew. I didn’t tell anyone. I suppose I felt a bit embarrassed about it, if I’m honest. People were starting to say things, about the girls who went out with… well, you know, and I went round to the house the next day to call it off, only it turned out that he didn’t live there.’

  ‘He lives further down the street,’ Evie murmured.

  ‘I know that now. The chap who answered the door directed me. And then by the time I found Moses, it seemed a bit cold to just turn him down like that. He was so easy to talk to as well. We had a few drinks and his roommate was out. I suppose I wanted to get back at Lennie, show him that he wasn’t the only man who liked me. Daft, really, but there we are.’

  ‘Moses, though!’ Evie was full of wonder. ‘Why keep it a secret? From me, I mean?’

  ‘Like you didn’t have enough problems! And I was too ashamed to tell you why I’d gone round there in the first place. I felt so stupid. I really did like Moses but it would have been pointless. I couldn’t marry Moses. Imagine what my dad would say!’

  Evie knew that Delia was waiting for her to agree, to tell her that she’d made the right decision, but her tongue couldn’t form the words. She knew that the corrosive sensation in the pit of her stomach was disappointment. For all these years Delia had been telling her to stand up to Mildred and those other girls who had judged Evie, to ignore them and to think of herself as being as good as anyone else. But Delia herself had never believed this.

  ‘Thank you for telling me.’

  It was all she could think of to say.

  She shuffled down into the bedclothes and turned to face the wall, relieved that Delia too fell silent.

  She awoke early to a Saturday with no work and no Lawrie to occupy her time. Delia was still asleep but she could hear Mrs Marson in the kitchen downstairs, the low rumble of Delia’s brother Chris talking to his mother. She dressed quietly and went downstairs.

  In the front room Mr Marson was in his armchair as usual, pipe in mouth and his slippered feet raised up as he fiddled with the wireless. Evie had never felt the need for a father, and she had barely spoken to Mr Marson, even after living in his house for two weeks, but she saw now how a family could be. Delia and her mum had a right giggle together; Evie had never exchanged gossip with Ma.

  No watching what you said in case it was the wrong thing. Running home from the pictures to peel potatoes before her mother decided it was time to put the tea on. No being made to feel guilty whenever Ma was in a bad mood and decided to treat Evie like a human whetstone, her tongue kept sharp by grinding down Evie’s resolve to stand up for herself.

  ‘Any plans for today, Evie?’ Mrs Marson asked, pushing the teapot within reach as Evie sat at the table.

  ‘Not really. I thought I might go for a walk since it’s so nice out.’

  ‘That sounds nice. Clear the old head.’

  Evie ate a slice of toast quickly and pulled on her coat, heading out with a list of items Mrs Marson needed from the shops. She was paying rent money but she knew that she was hovering on the edge of imposition and the more errands she could run, the less awkward she felt. The air was sweet from the hyacinths in next door’s garden, their pink and purple flowers swaying in the breeze. The Marsons lived on the other side of the railway station, almost in Stockwell but only a few minutes’ walk from the shops. It was almost a shame they were so close but she didn’t want to walk too far. She didn’t want to risk running into Lawrie.

  In the window of Bon Marché was a lovely dark navy dress. It would have been perfect for the honeymoon, for strolling along the seafront at Brighton or Bournemouth. Mrs Ryan had let slip that Lawrie had been saving up but she couldn’t remember exactly which destination he’d been planning on.

  She turned away and crossed the road, heading into the market, glad for once of the hustle and bustle of the crowds. As she stopped for vegetables she could see Ursula Sands a few stalls down, talking to another Jamaican woman, both of them wrapped up tight with scarves and gloves on even though Evie could feel the promise of spring in the air. Every week she saw new arrivals. She could imagine that one day people would stop staring; that in a few years it would be expected to see people with dark skin walking the streets. That the children she hoped to have – would have – with Lawrie would just be like anybody else. They wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb at school or be treated like they were thick. Ursula saw her and waved, Evie smiling back as she raised her own hand in greeting.

  ‘Here you go, love,’ the greengrocer said, handing over the brown paper bags, and Evie had
to rummage for her purse, Ursula having vanished into the crowds when she next looked up.

  She’d bought most of the items on Mrs Marson’s list when she had the fright of her life, turning the corner and almost running straight into Aston.

  Evie shrieked in shock and took a step backwards, her free hand flying up to her chest.

  ‘The hell’s wrong with you, girl?’ Aston looked put out.

  ‘You scared me.’ It felt like her heart was trying to punch its way out through her ribcage. ‘Why are you sneaking around like that?’

  ‘I’m not sneaking. I was conducting business with Derek,’ he informed her.

  ‘Business? You?’ She laughed a little, more out of habit than genuine mirth.

  ‘You don’t get to look at me like that no more,’ he told her. ‘All superior. I know what you are, Miss Coleridge.’

  ‘You don’t know me,’ she spat back. ‘Besides, why should I care what you think?’

  ‘Because I’m Lawrie’s friend. You went and broke that poor boy’s heart and I don’t like that one bit.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ she retorted. ‘And I bet you’ve not told him that you knew all this time and didn’t say a word.’

  ‘I knew nothing,’ he claimed, though his eyes seemed less sure. ‘Maybe you didn’t know everything but you knew something.

  You hinted at it enough times.’

  It felt good to finally call him out on his behaviour, acting so supercilious all this time when he was no better than she was. After all, what did she have to lose now? For it had been Aston who cleared up the mess. Sam had thrown open the bedroom door, ready to abandon her, but Aston had been waiting. He’d pushed in, shoving Sam against the bedroom wall and looking down at Evie with a strange look on his face. Disgust, she’d thought. She’d heard him and Sam argue, her vision hazy and unreliable. The memory was vague but the one thing she was sure of was that Aston knew what had happened. She’d never understood why he hadn’t told Lawrie straight away.