Missing the Moment

  After the presents were opened, Charlotte kissed her mother.

  “Thank you for making the pies. I really was too tired to do them last night.”

  “I thought I’d take some in for Eric and the children,” her mother said. “Your father always liked my mince tarts.”

  Eating the one solitary pie that Harriet had left for her, later that morning, Charlotte had another suprise.

  “I’ve been talking to your father and I’ve decided that I’ll ask Bessie to come back and work for us.”

  “Thank goodness for that, Mam. I don’t see how we could manage for much longer without her.”

  “Well, we would have if you hadn’t got difficult and insisted on leaving the house for hours each day.”

  Charlotte swallowed a retort.

  “I’ll write to her,” Harriet added.

  “Why don’t you go and see her?” Charlotte suggested. “I might come with you to wish her and Joe a Happy Christmas.”

  They walked down on Boxing Day morning. Harriet complained at every footstep that she shouldn’t have come. That the path was a disgrace, that wallowing in mud was for people like Bessie and Bertha and not the Russells of Mill House.

  Bessie and Joe were out.

  “Gone for a drive, they have.” Bertha informed them. “Danny is out too but I’m making a cup of tea if you fancy one, and I’ve got a few mince tarts. Made with home-made mincemeat,” she coaxed. Charlotte accepted and Harriet shuddered. With a continuing air of mild disapproval, Harriet accepted a seat on the old sofa, and one of Bertha’s pastries and wished she had stayed home.

  “Will you tell Bessie that I’m willing to have her back and she can start on Thursday?”

  “She works for Kath on Thursdays,” Bertha said.

  “Then she’ll change her day, won’t she?”

  “Yes, well, there you are then, I’ll tell her and – I’ll go and make the tea,” Bertha mumbled as she left the room.

  “The cup is sure to be cracked,” she whispered to Charlotte through pursed lips. “Why did you make me come?”

  When Charlotte helped Bertha to carry the plates back to the kitchen Harriet stood to leave. Idly she picked up an envelope that had been pushed behind a book on a shelf. She held back a cry. The writing was Eric’s. Hands shaking, hoping Bertha wouldn’t see her, she pulled out the single page and read it.

  Here is the monthly payment as usual.

  I hope you are both well.

  Best wishes.

  signed E.

  So Kath’s angry words were true, Eric was responsible for the daft Lillian! She picked up her gloves and hurried from the house, tears blinding her eyes. She couldn’t stay. She mustn’t stay; if she did she would scream and shout and let Bertha know she had seen the letter. Bertha and Eric! She was sobbing when Charlotte caught up with her near the road bridge. Charlotte pleaded and begged to be told what was wrong, but Harriet remained silent.

  * * *

  Danny regretted his quarrel with Charlotte and spent Christmas alone. There was some satisfaction in knowing that for Joe too, the celebration had been spent without Charlotte.

  Much of each day was spent looking for Jack Roberts. He wanted more money. The money he had taken from Jack wasn’t enough. If he were to marry Charlotte he needed enough to set them up properly.

  Standing in the cold, damp lane near Gaynor’s house, he waited for her to go out. If her husband was with her he didnt follow but when she went out alone he set off cautiously behind her.

  It had been sheer luck that had led him to Jack Roberts the first time. The man who had cheated his poor, silly, trusting Mam, had literally bumped into him. He had stepped off the train at Bryn Melinau looking for Eric and his small step-sisters and baby step-brother, and as he walked up Main Street, Jack Roberts, or Francis Culver as he knew him, came out of Vi and Willie’s café and cannoned into him. It had been that easy.

  At first he hadn’t recognised the man but the embarrassed look, the half-smile, the hurried departure had somehow made his memory click back to the day when he had been told by his mother this man was their saviour. The years between had changed the man, but the half-smile, the small moustache, the shifty, embarrassed look in the eyes, had instantly revealed to Danny the identity of the man.

  He had done nothing that day, but over several visits to the town, had found out what name he was using, and all about his social activities, then he had demanded money. When Jack blustered and refused, he had beaten him up, pushing and punching him along the dark path until they reached the gates of Bessie’s and Bertha’s cottages near the river. His muscles tensed with remembered pleasure.

  He had intended to stop once the value of his mother’s house had been paid back, planning to give it to his siblings, but somehow, perhaps because the man was so easily frightened, he had gone on demanding more.

  Once he found him again he would demand money just once more. He’d promise Jack it would be the last time and he would keep his promise. He just needed a little more to enable himself to get a place of his own and start a new life with Charlotte. He had to do better than a flat over a shop.

  Following Gaynor still seemed his best chance of finding Jack. He’d write to Charlotte, tell her how miserable he’d been and how he regretted their quarrel. He’d assure her that if she didn’t want to buy a pub, then he’d get them a house and work with her at the factory. Danny wanted stability in his life. He would steer clear of trouble with Charlotte at his side. He wanted to go and talk to her but decided it was best to stay away from Mill House and let Eric’s rage cool.

  * * *

  Eric’s rage when he learned that Gloria’s son had been blackmailing Jack Roberts and was a thug to boot, was nothing compared with the rage Harriet felt at what she had learnt at Bertha Evans’s cottage. She wanted to burst through the hall door and scream at him but she held back. This was not something for others to hear. It was nothing short of a miracle that it hadn’t been general knowledge before now. Angry and humiliated she might be, but she wouldn’t risk the secret being disclosed after eighteen years.

  Her opportunity came later on Boxing day when Charlotte had gone for a walk on the hill, Rhoda had gone looking for Ned, and Miranda had taken the children to a pantomime in town. Eric was alone with baby Matthew.

  “You can leave my house tomorrow and don’t pretend not to know why!” Harriet had pushed open the door and confronted Eric the moment Miranda and the others had stepped into the taxi.

  “Harriet, what’s wrong? Is it the children? Surely they haven’t upset you. They think so much of you.”

  “Stop it! Stop it, stop it!” she shouted. “I know! After all the years you kept your filthy, sordid little secret, I know!”

  “What do you know, my dear?” Eric asked mildly.

  “Don’t you dare ‘my dear’ me! How could you? As if this Gloria affair wasn’t enough for me to face. With Bertha of all people. That skinny, grubby little woman. How could you?”

  “How could I what?” But light was dawning and Eric lowered his gaze. “Sit down, Harriet. There is something you should know… Lillian isn’t my daughter, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  For a moment she was taken aback but she rallied and repeated her list of epithets. “Filthy little slut. A skinny, unwashed, uneducated peasant! That’s what Bertha Evans is!”

  “Lillian was the child of a man who left Bertha to cope alone. I helped. I’ve been paying a monthly sum which I intended to stop when Lillian reached fourteen and could leave school.” He still spoke quietly and Harriet stared, still unconvinced. “She was so slow, poor love, that there wasn’t a chance of her earning a living, so I have continued these small payments.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I hope you will, because it’s true.”

  “Why?”

  “I love children, Harriet. At least you must believe that.”

  “So do I – my own. Why should you help that Bertha woman, taking m
oney from our daughters to do so?”

  “They had sufficient. Every child is entitled to a happy childhood. So many miss out on that very ordinary expectation. Without my help there’s a strong possibility that Bertha would have put Lillian in a home. I didn’t want that. I can’t help every child in the world but I could help one. So I did.”

  “And that’s it? You paid for someone else’s mistake for eighteen years?”

  He shrugged.

  “I never knew.”

  “I wish you hadn’t found out. Will you promise me not to tell anyone, please, Harriet?”

  Bemused, ashamed of her outburst and ridiculously proud of him, Harriet could only nod. How little she knew of this extraordinary man to whom she had once been married.

  * * *

  Rhoda was tired of her mother’s constant refusals to go out with her to wander around the shops as they used to.

  “You never have time to keep me company any more,” she complained that Boxing Day tea time.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Rhoda, I have children to mind, meals to see to.”

  “Who comes first, your own daughter or my fathers illegitimate offspring?” She burst into sobs.

  “You’d be better off working instead of hanging around being looked after by me. A grown woman you are, Rhoda, though no one would ever think so. See what young Miranda does in a day and compare it with what you achieve.”

  “Mam!” Sobbing loudly, Rhoda ran into the hall, heading for the stairs and her room and a good long sulk, but her father, entering at the same time. stopped her.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, pausing with his hand on his door. “What’s happened?”

  “You Dadda. That’s what’s happened, if you must know.”

  “What have I done?” He smiled. “Recently I mean.”

  “You bringing your – those children here. Making Mam work all hours and having no time for the rest of us.”

  “You mean, no time to go out with you. Charlotte never did have much of her time.”

  “All right. I’m grieving for my Brian and she expects me to spend hours on my own.”

  “Get a job. You aren’t stupid, you’ll find something interesting, I’m sure. You can’t waste the precious years of your youth idling away the hours. Best you use them. Go and look for a job.”

  Sobbing louder than ever, Rhoda ran up to her room and slammed her door. Before Eric disappeared through the dividing door, Harriet came out and asked. “What did you say to Rhoda?” Her eyes sparkled with incipient anger. How dare he upset the girl?

  “I told her to get a job.” he said quietly.

  “Oh, now there’s a thing. So did I!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Harriet told no one about Eric’s contribution to Lillian’s welfare. It was extremely difficult for her not to boast about his secret generosity. Eric was a very special man. She felt the glow of pride and began to see why it was important not to tell of kindnesses. Such an honourable man was Eric. She had almost forgotten how he had abandoned her in her joy at his noble act.

  It was good sharing his secret. It gave them something in common, an excuse for a shared glance now and then when something bordering on the subject came up. Oh, if only he would show some sign of real affection! She must have impressed him with the way she had dealt with his return with those children of his. Soon Harriet felt sure, he would talk to her and beg to return to his rightful place as her husband.

  * * *

  When Danny was not in Bryn Melinau he was usually in Barry. He lived on an old boat from which all the paint had gone, bleached by the weather to a pale, bare wood. The old craft was fairly sound, apart from a few small holes and one large gash in the hull where the rudder had once been. An examination proved it to be weatherproof, and it was strongly partitioned, so that it was possible to choose his accommodation. He had created a warm and cosy place, safe from cold winds, rain and snow. With a few added comforts he now called it home.

  He had money and could have afforded to rent a reasonable room somewhere but until he had that final payment from Jack Roberts he didn’t want to spend a penny more than he needed to.

  He was quite comfortable and, considering it was the depths of winter, surprisingly warm. There had been a rusted up pot-bellied stove which, once cleaned up, had lit with minimum fuss and, when it had been going for several hours, glowed fiercely and looked fit to burst. His bed was a shelf that at first had smelled strongly of rotting fish but repeated scrubbing had reduced this to acceptable levels. He bathed regularly in the public baths in the town and hoped the smell did not linger.

  He worked in a small public house, doing the menial jobs like cleaning the cellar, organising the empty barrels for collection, restocking the shelves and rearranging the stock when necessary. So far, he hadn’t been allowed to serve in the bar but the work he was allowed to do was already giving him some idea of what running a public house of his own would entail.

  Enthusiasm for this occupation had rapidly dwindled, as did his life with Charlotte. Coral, a pretty, red-haired divorcée who worked in the bar, had eliminated all thoughts of marriage to the girl he once thought would make the perfect wife. Coral made him feel strong, capable of anything.

  He still planned to find Jack and demand a final payment for his silence. Then he could show Coral what a catch he really was!

  Early in March he left his simple home, and caught the train once more to visit Bryn Melinau. A letter to Bertha told her to expect him and he set off carrying a few gifts for Bertha and Lillian. What good fortune that he hadn’t told Charlotte he no longer went to sea: it saved complicated explanations of what he was doing when he wasn’t in the town.

  One Saturday afternoon after he had been at Bertha’s cottage for a few days, he set off along the muddy path. Like a rather poor farce, Danny was following Gaynor and he in turn, was being followed by Lillian. The day was dull, a mist covered the mountain and was draped like a sad veil over the town.

  Lillian was soaking wet. She had seen Danny set out and without a thought of keeping dry had walked out after him without changing from her slippers or collecting a coat. He had hurried along the path to Main Street and there had stopped and looked around at the scurrying shoppers. He was in luck; Gaynor was among them.

  Lillian was puzzled to see him in pursuit of Gaynor. What could he want with her, and, with his long legs, why didn’t he simply catch her up? Her slow mind grappled with the problem and she realised that he didn’t want to be seen. She giggled, eyes as bright as the raindrops sparkling on her hair.

  Gaynor, unaware of the two people in her wake, led them through the school grounds and on, past the railway line to a quiet part of town not far from the river.

  Jack Roberts came out of a house in the middle of a small terrace and walked quickly towards Gaynor. Lillian saw Danny’s rapid approach. An argument ensued which she didn’t hear, but which frightened her. It was that Jack Roberts from the factory, she realised with a pout of anger. She’d got a job there cleaning once and he’d sacked her, said she was slow.

  Danny left the man and walked back towards where she stood.

  “You don’t like him, do you?” she said suddenly, startling Danny.

  “Lillian, you startled me!” he said, recovering quickly. “What are you doing so far from home – and look at you! You’re soaked!”

  “I don’t like that Jack Roberts either. Stopped me sweeping up in Russell’s, he did.”

  “Come on, borrow my coat. We’d better get you home before you catch cold.”

  Danny walked with her back the way they had come.

  “Found her right down past the station.” he told Bertha, who was talking to Harriet. “Going for a walk, she was, would you believe! I gave her my coat and brought her home.”

  “Who took you down there?” Bertha demanded, ignoring Danny and shoving the girl’s shoulder. “What have I told you about wandering off? Who did you go with?”

  “Not me, I promis
e you that,” Danny laughed. “I’d have made sure she had a mac and wellies! No, there wasn’t anyone with her. She was on her own.”

  “We don’t like him, do we Danny?” Lillian said. Danny shrugged and smiled sympathetically at Bertha. “Poor dab,” Bertha said sadly, as Lillian left them and set off home down the lane. “Will you be all right without a coat, Danny?”

  “I’m so wet it doesn’t matter. Charlotte in?” he asked Harriet. “I think I’ll go and see if she’s free of work for once.” He looked at Harriet, sheltering under a dripping umbrella. “What say we have a taxi? You can’t walk all the way back up that hill.” Taking her packages, he ushered her to the taxi rank. “Come on then. If I get any wetter they’ll make me sit on the roof!” Harriet laughed.

  “Don’t get tea for me, Mrs Evans. I’m hoping to persuade this charming lady and her daughter to come out with me,” Danny called back.

  For once Charlotte agreed to leave her work. The elegant surroundings of the restaurant was a thrill. Charlotte, Danny reflected, was far from beautiful but her manner and dress sense clearly signalled money and good breeding. He envied Harriet’s confidence, her dealings with the waiters. He must get used to such places. He was going up in the world. thanks to that two-faced Jack Roberts.

  When it was time to pay, he took out a large roll of notes and smiled at the surprised look in the waiters eyes. If he lacked breeding and manners, money was a good sustitute. He left a generous tip. There would be more money soon; he could afford the fun of throwing it about once in a while and it had certainly impressed Harriet.

  It was still raining when they left the railway station and began to look for a taxi to take them up to Mill House.

  “We can walk,” Charlotte said. “Don’t spend any more money tonight, it will do us good to walk off that wonderful meal.”