Missing the Moment

  He took her hands in his and smiled at her but there was sadness behind the smile. “Charlotte, my dear, you’ve had plenty of shocks over the past months, and I’m so very proud of the way you’ve coped with it all. Please will you help me over this next one? Your mother will be devastated at my leaving. I know she hoped that we’d get back together. That isn’t possible, you must understand that.”

  “Couldn’t you try?” Charlotte pleaded. She saw her last, tiny chance of a life to call her own fading, like the final autumn leaf falling from a tree, fluttering, twisting, now rising, now flying, trying to defy gravity but dropping inexorably onto the earth.

  “My dear, I have an obligation to my children and it’s a far greater one than my debt to your mother, large as that debt undoubtedly is.”

  “Will Miranda still help at the factory?”

  “I’ll help too, when I can. I’ll start by giving you a day each week to help get things on a firm footing. Will that help?”

  “Will you teach me to deal with repairs and restoration? You and Uncle Peter used to do wonderful work. Remember how I loved to watch and admire?”

  “Better than that. I’ve been making enquiries. There’s a man I know, retired now, but willing to come in to do any such work that you are offered.”

  “That’s wonderful! I’d love to rebuild that side of the business.”

  “Don’t thank me. I owe you that and much more.”

  When all had been discussed. it was Charlotte’s turn.

  “I have a shock for you, Dadda. I believe that Danny is the father of poor Lillian’s child.”

  “I suspected as much.” He frowned. “Charlotte my dear, I have to do something for the girl. If she could come here, be a companion to your mother, it would help them both.”

  Charlotte smiled but thought the windmills on the hill would start turning again first!

  * * *

  “Mam.” Charlotte said a few days later. “I have to work. Either at the factory where I can rebuild our business, or in an office or shop. We need some money coming in. The other thing is, you need someone to help with the house and keep you company. I have someone in mind but first there’s something else. Danny has been lying to me, he isn’t scrupuously honest and, he’s been seeing other women.”

  “What? And that man came into my house, sat in my chairs, drank from my best china cups? Heaven alone knows what we might have caught from him. Oh, Charlotte, how could you have encouraged him?”

  Charlotte rushed her mother on to the problem of housework; she didn’t want to discuss Danny. “You need some help here and I want you to consider Lillian.” she suggested softly. “She needs work and someone understanding. Bertha needs a break from her and Lillian could come here daily, while I’m at the factory.” She didn’t wait for her mother to reply, but walked out of the room, leaving her considering the preposterous suggestion, hoping she had touched a chord.

  “Lillian here to help with the housework?” Harriet shouted after her. “Lillian? I couldn’t stand the girl around me all day. Sorry for her I am, poor dab, but really, Charlotte, you do have some odd ideas.”

  “Can I at least ask her to come and talk about it. You see, I have to work and I don’t like to think of you alone here all day.”

  “No!”

  “Sorry Mam but she’s on her way. In fact, I think she’s at the door now.” Not giving her mother a chance to argue further, Charlotte showed Lillian in and Harriet had to listen when Charlotte offered the girl the job.

  “Me, work here with you? Lovely it is, Mrs Russell.” Open-mouthed, the girl stared around her in wonder. “Lovely things. You wouldn’t shout and tell me I’m slow, would you? I know I’m slow, but I do things well. Mam says that.”

  To Charlotte’s complete surprise, her mother agreed.

  “Just for a week to see how we get on,” Harriet added.

  “Oh no,” Lillian said anxiously. “I can’t come for a week. I have to go into hospital next week. Mam says I’m going into hospital.”

  “What for?” Harriet was all concern. “Are you ill?”

  “No, not ill. I’m going to have a baby, as well as bantams and a beautiful cockerel.”

  “What is the girl talking about?” Harriet asked irritably.

  “She won’t be able to start for a few weeks, not until after her baby is born,” Charlotte replied.

  “A baby? Lillian’s going to have a – oh, good heavens, yes! It’s as plain as plain. Why didn’t I see for myself? Then what are we talking about? How can she work?”

  “Bertha will look after the child, until she finds out who the father is.”

  “Get her out of here! Charlotte, everyone seems to think Mill House is a place for waifs and strays! Get her out!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rhoda was in a bad mood. Her parents and her sister had pointed out with unnecessary sternness that she had to find something to do. More than that, she needed to earn some money. It was so unfair. She’d never worked. How could Brian have left her in this mess? Why couldn’t her family see how impossible it was for her? She still grieved for Bri and needed time to adjust before making any decisions about her future. How could she consider work? The word was such an ugly one, with connotations of poorly dressed, grubby-handed people. A career, now that was better.

  She thought about it while hand-washing her precious nylons and drying them on a soft towel. As she re-polished her nails, she still hadn’t come up with an idea. If something didn’t happen soon she might have to marry Ned Hardy!

  On cue, the doorbell sounded and there he was, P.C. Hardy, honest face looking as if it were scrubbed twice a day: a pleasant, sincere, unexciting young man, but, he was there!

  “Ned. How lovely. Make a cup of tea while my varnish is drying, will you? Mam’s out with the children and I’ve so much to do. My hands will be ruined with all the washing.” She touched her brow with a beautifully manicured hand.

  Ned took her hand and kissed it reverently. “Hands like these should never have any work to do,” he said shyly. Silently, she agreed with him.

  “Come for anything special, have you?” she asked.

  “I’m wondering if you’d help with the scouts picnic this year.”

  “I’d love to, Ned, dear, but when is it? So many calls on my time, things get so booked up, don’t they?”

  “Yes. I remember how disappointed you were when you weren’t able to come to the Jumble Sale.” he said, not seeing the grimace of distaste appearing briefly on her lovely face. “Still, this is on a Saturday. Two weeks’ time.”

  She frowned prettily and pursed her lips. “I’ll have to check with Mam of course, I’m sometimes needed to help with the children while Miranda and Dadda do the shopping.” She smiled, and touched his smooth cheek. “I want to help you, Ned, dear and I’ll come with you if I can, I promise.”

  “Thanks.”

  When he was about to leave she shuddered in a ladylike manner and asked herself if she could manage to survive a lifetime of being Mrs Ned Hardy, with the limited social life that this would offer. No eating out, no dances, apart from those run for pimply members of the youth club. Then there were scout meetings, jumble sales, choir practices and fund-raising committees. The alternative was work, so she decided she could.

  His kisses were always brief. Almost formal. More like an uncle kissing a baby. Today, she would add a bit of “zing” to them. If she couldn’t wake him out of his respectful torpor today, she’d go and look for a job.

  He gave the usual light touch of his lips on hers but this time her arms went around his neck. She felt his shoulders go rigid with shock but held him close, her fingers ruffling his hair, and refused to separate her trembling lips from his. When she finally allowed him to break away, his eyes looked down at her like those of a startled owl. She looked at him, closed her eyes and waited for a repeat. It was a long time coming and she almost dispaired but he kissed her again and this time there was less of the uncle and a little more o
f the impatient lover about him. She sighed contentedly.

  * * *

  Charlotte saw very little of Joe. The engagement, or understanding, she had had with Danny had been over on her part as soon as it had begun, but as she had waffled and wavered and been unable to tell him she didn’t love him, she was now having to suffer the consequences. Joe must certainly think she had loved Danny and was unhappy at his leaving. How could she expect him to believe otherwise? Why hadn’t she spoken out, explained to both Danny and Joe how she felt? Now it was too late.

  She went along Main Street one Saturday morning and bumped into Joe coming out of Vi and Willie’s café.

  “Hello my pretty. Are you in a hurry, or can you stop and have a cup of tea? I’ve bought some buns, look.” Lowering his voice in mock imitation of his Auntie Bessie he said, “Now there’s a thing. I must have known I’d bump into you.”

  “Put the kettle on, will you, while I serve? You’ll see I’ve put everything ready.”

  There was no cubbyhole of an office in the new premises, but there was a small, neat kitchen behind the shop. A table and two chairs, a shelf for china, a shining new kettle and a new cooker made it easy for her to find everything and when Joe came in the kettle was just starting to steam.

  “Still four sugars for you?” he asked with a grin.

  “Joe. You know I don’t take any,” She smiled.

  They began to eat the buns and drink their tea. Charlotte served someone with a torch and another with a replacement wind-screen wiper, a third with a new headlamp.

  “Thanks,” he said when the rush was over. “We always did work well, didn’t we?”

  “I’ve missed you,” she said quietly. “There’s so much to deal with and no one to discuss it with.”

  “Talk away, I’m always here to listen.” He searched under a curtain hiding a set of shelves. “Damn notice, where’s it gone?”

  “You don’t still have your ‘Back in ten minutes’ notice!”

  “It’s here somewhere.” He grinned at her. “What say we put it up and have another cup of tea? Go to the café if you like?”

  She shook her head. “No, you’ll miss some customers. If you let them down once they might not come back.”

  “There’s a businesswoman talking,” he said. “How is business at Russell’s Bookbinders and Restorers?”

  “Dad is coming in once a week and he’s found someone to do any restoration or repair work, not that we’ve been offered any yet.”

  “That’s great! Once people know Eric Russell is there you’ll soon see an increase in that side of the business.” He touched her hand. “How are you, my pretty? Not too much for you, all this, is it? Danny leaving you and all?”

  There was the chance to say, I never loved him, it was all a mistake, but the words wouldn’t come. “I love working at the factory, but Rhoda doesn’t do much and—” She stopped, wary of criticising her sister in case she and Joe were still seeing each other. “I mean, I could do with some help at home.”

  “Don’t rely on Rhoda. Advertise for someone. My Auntie Bessie can’t oblige as she’s promised to help your Dad and young Miranda with the children when they move out of Mill House.”

  “She wouldn’t come back anyway,” Charlotte smiled. “She’s been a saint putting up with Mam all these years, but she won’t come back.”

  “Housework is getting a bit too much for her, bless her heart,” Joe said. “The children will be hard but at least it’ll be a change.”

  “Here we are, sitting talking like two old women!” Charlotte said, rising and putting the cups in the shining white sink.

  “Come again,” Joe said. “I miss you.”

  There it was again, the chance to start putting things right betwen them but still she couldn’t say the words. Afraid of being hurt, of hearing him say it was no longer her he wanted, that he found Rhoda more exciting, more fun, she swallowed any attempt to explain about Danny.

  “Goodbye, Joe.” She left the shop and hurried up the street without glancing back.

  * * *

  Lillian walked up the hill to Mill House several times in the weeks that followed. She would arrive weary and breathless at the door and ask for Danny.

  Charlotte spoke kindly to her, invited her in and, on one occasion, when the girl refused to believe Danny wasn’t there, allowed her to walk through the big house, examining every room. Lillian lumbered through the rooms, fascinated by the attractive home, gasping at its size, the comfort of carpets and the big upholstered chairs and highly polished tables. She was particularly interested in the electric cooker and the fridge, neither of which she had seen before.

  Harriet was more abrupt when she spoke to the girl, telling her to go home and stop pestering them. She would close the door the moment she had said her piece.

  It was on one such occasion that Harriet realised Lillian was unwell. As she was about to shut the door, she saw that Lillian had been crying.

  “What’s the matter, girl? What are you thinking of walking all this way and you in that condition!”

  “Got a belly-ache that hurts right through to my back,” was Lillian’s explanation. “I want to go home.”

  “You shouldn’t have come, silly girl,” Harriet remonstrated. “Hasn’t your mother told you to stay near your house? You’d better come in and wait. I’ll get a taxi to take you home.”

  “A taxi?” The idea appealed to Lillian. She smiled through her tears and sat obediently while Harriet telephoned and put on her coat. Between the pains she looked around the sunlit room and saw a thin layer of dust on the dark oak table which held a vase of flowers. Surreptitiously she lifted her skirt and used it to polish the surface with a look of pleasure on her podgy, red face.

  While they waited for the taxi to arrive, Harriet didn’t sit with Lillian. She busied herself putting away the dishes they had used at lunchtime and setting the table for the evening meal, jobs she usually left to Charlotte, but which she preferred to the task of amusing poor Lillian.

  Lillian cried on and off. When she went to see what was the matter, Lillian shook her head and said it was nothing, she just wanted her Mam.

  While Harriet clattered about ineffectually in the kitchen the girl began to wail, yelling occasionally, then returning to a wailing, sobbing moan. Harriet decided it was simply for attention and ignored her. Then a loud shriek startled her and she went in to see the girl lying on the floor, curled up and panting. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

  “Make it go away!” she cried. “It’s hurting me. Where’s Mam? Aaahhh!”

  “The baby!” Harriet’s shriek was almost as loud as Lillian’s. Harriet put a cushion under the girl’s head when she had calmed between contractions and ran once more to the telephone. The number of the factory was engaged. “Where’s Charlotte?” she asked the world at large. “Where is the girl! How can I be expected to deal with this?” The taxi arrived at the same time as the ambulance and close behind them was Miranda with the children she had met from school.

  It was too late for Lillian to be taken to hospital for the birth.

  “How long has it been hurting?” the ambulance man asked.

  “Long time. Mam give me ginger for the belly-ache,” Lillian sobbed. “Bad belly-ache this time.”

  When Lillian eventually held her daughter, and was taken in the ambulance to the hospital, Harriet went with her.

  “Are you sure?” Miranda asked. Charlotte had told her how Harriet hated hospitals.

  “I can’t let her go on her own, she’s so frightened and doesn’t really know what’s happened.”

  “Then shall I go?”

  Harriet shook her head. She knew Eric would be pleased if she did this and pleasing Eric was important to her. “Best I go, Miranda, dear. She knows me and there’s no time to go for her mother. Ring Charlotte will you? The number was engaged when I tried. Tell her to go down, now, this minute, and tell Bertha where her daughter is.” Harriet sat in the ambulance holding Lillian’s fat ha
nd and looking down at the tiny mite in the girl’s arms.

  “My baby,” Lillian said, bemused. “Will Mam still let me have the bantams?”

  “I’m sure she will.” Harriet said softly. “What are you going to call your baby?”

  “Danny.”

  “That’s a boy’s name. You have a baby girl.”

  “I’ll ask Mam, then.”

  “What about Danielle? That’s a pretty name for a girl.” Harriet suggested.

  “Will she be pretty? She won’t be slow, will she?”

  “She’ll be quick and clever and so beautiful you’d never believe,” Harriet said softly.

  * * *

  News of the birth of Lillian’s baby spread with the town’s usual efficiency. The headline news was that it had been Harriet who had assisted at the birth, on the floor of Mill House. The name Danielle, which Bertha dismissed as too fancy, but on which Lillian was determined, added to the speculation of who the father was. Miranda held her head high and insisted that the name Danielle had nothing to do with her brother. Harriet was pleased to have her suggestion accepted. Eric said nothing.

  To everyone’s surprise, Harriet was enchanted by the baby. She visited Lillian in hospital each day and when she was home, continued to call at the cottage near the river with gifts and advice.

  “It’s all right.” Bessie grumbled one day in Bertha’s cottage, when Harriet was showing Lillian how to “burp” the baby after feeding. “We all know how to get a baby’s wind up for heaven’s sake. And who d’you think fed and winded and looked after yours if it wasn’t me!”

  “I’ve asked Eric to get the pram down out of the loft,” Harriet said to Lillian, patting the baby and ignoring Bessie. “Tomorrow I’ll bring it down and we can take the baby for a bit of fresh air.” She gave the baby one final kiss, handed the sweet-scented bundle back to her mother, and left.

  Rhoda and Ned announced to the world that they were courting. She appeared at the youth club and sat watching with barely disguised boredom while he showed his prowess at table tennis and snooker. She refused to dance to records, insisting that it was much more fun to watch. At the pub she even sat through a game of darts, clapping when someone shouted double top, even though she knew little about what that meant and cared even less. She was quietly confident that, within a few months of their marrying, she would persuade Ned that the time was better spent with her.