After a moment he got up and without a word went into the bathroom. He came back a few minutes later wearing his robe and crossed the room to kneel beside her. The anger had gone from his face and he looked contrite and ashamed.
‘Oh, my God, Marie, I’m sorry,’ he whispered, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Can you ever forgive me?’ A great sob rose in her throat and burst from her in a choking cry. He reached out and gathered her to him, holding her close and rocking her to and fro. ‘I was so scared when you weren’t there,’ he said, ‘I lost someone once, you see. I couldn’t stand it if I lost you too, and I couldn’t help thinking about the other man. The one you loved before. But I shouldn’t have done what I did. It was cruel and wrong.’ He held her from him to look into her eyes. ‘My poor baby, I’ve hurt you. Forgive me — please?’
Gulping, she nodded wordlessly. Would he ever really believe in her innocence? In that moment she knew, once and for all, that she could never tell him about her babies now.
He crushed her trembling body close again, kissing her bruised mouth tenderly, and after a moment he looked at her. ‘Come on. Have a nice bath and get dressed. You’ll feel better after breakfast. I know, I’ll take you to San Marino. You’ll love it there.’ He sat beside her on the bed and put his arm around her. ‘Listen, Marie. It’s going to be good, our life together. We’re going to make a go of it, you and I. When we get back we’re going to set about building that chain of hotels. Dad will go along with it and I’ll do all the work. He won’t have to do a thing. He needn’t even move if he doesn’t want to. He can stay on at “The Marina” where he’s happy.’ He hugged her. ‘With you beside me I’m going to make a fortune, Marie. Together we can do anything — right?’
She smiled up at him tentatively. ‘Right.’
‘And you forgive me? Oh, say you do, sweetheart.’
‘I forgive you, Ralph.’
‘It won’t happen again, I promise.’
‘I know it won’t.’
They went to San Marino for the day. They saw the three towering peaks, drank the sweet local Muscato and climbed the steep, winding streets to breathe the intoxicating mountain air. By the end of the day Marie felt relaxed again and as Ralph made love to her later that night, tenderly and with his fiery passion firmly under control, the memory of that morning’s horror seemed like a half-remembered dream. Lying awake in the velvet warm darkness she thought of their future and the promises he had made. Evans Hotels — her dream could — would become a reality with Ralph to help her. The sacrifice he had asked of her was nothing really. Nothing could alter the fact that she was Irish. And no one in the world, not even Ralph, could change what she truly believed deep in her heart. Could they?
Chapter 7
Leah was bored. Pandering to the sartorial tastes of Nenebridge matrons was the most stultifying occupation she could imagine. It wasn’t that fashion didn’t interest her, just that the Ladies’ Gowns department at Clayton’s had little to do with fashion, at least not the kind Leah was interested in. Known as the town’s most exclusive store, it was popular with the well-heeled middle-aged female population. If it came from Clayton’s then it would be sure to ‘look right’. The more it cost, the more the buyer valued it. To shop at Clayton’s was the ‘done thing’ and had been for as long as most people could remember.
But Leah wasn’t just bored with her job. She was bored with Tom Clayton. The regular Wednesday afternoon liaisons were becoming a drag. As often as she could she found excuses to get out of them but it seemed that the more she made herself unavailable, the keener Tom became. Her arrangement with him was still a closely guarded secret, as was the inflated salary she was receiving. The additional cash did not come in her weekly wage packet but was usually passed surreptitiously to her by Tom himself at any convenient moment. She hated him for it. It made her feel like a tart, but she swallowed the feeling, justifying it by telling herself that the moment her accumulating bank balance had reached the target figure she would be off out of Nenebridge, leaving Tom and all the rest of them to stew in their own juice. Then and only then could her quest, and her true existence, begin. There were only two people she’d be sorry to leave — Granny Dobson and Terry.
It was Monday afternoon and the dress department was quiet. Most of their regular customers were on their summer holidays. They had bought their collection of summer dresses, their evening skirts and tops and their beach wear several weeks ago, chatting animatedly about their plans to holiday in the Greek Islands, the Bahamas or the Caribbean, and now it was what Terry called ‘The Silly Season’, when very little happened and interesting stories were thin on the ground. Next month what Leah called ‘The Sick-making Season’ would begin; when the regular customers would be back for their autumn outfits, a size larger after their over-indulgence on holiday. They’d all be sporting leathery tans that gave them the appearance of crocodile handbags and trying to outdo each other with their name-dropping, boasting with studied nonchalance about the famous people they had met at their up-market holiday resorts.
Leah was in Designer Suits where Miss Jeffries, the manageress, had sent her, armed with a clothes brush to valet the batch of autumn outfits that had arrived that morning.
‘Most trainee buyers are quite happy to learn everything from the bottom up, Miss Dobson,’ she’d remarked spitefully.
As she brushed imaginary lint from well-padded shoulders Leah amused herself by wondering what the vinegar-faced spinster would say if she knew that she, Leah, was getting the same salary as she was herself. Not that I don’t earn every penny, she told herself grimly. And if Angela Clayton ever found out about her husband’s Wednesday afternoons she’d probably have him gelded, which was no more than he deserved.
Bored with her task, Leah’s thoughts wandered back to the charity barbecue that Hilary had put on a few Sundays ago. Everyone who was anyone had been there, just as Hilary had planned. Leah had watched them all arrive from her bedroom window in their expensive frumpy summer frocks and hats. The men looked self-consciously casual in blazers and open-necked shirts. Some of the more adventurous among them had even squeezed their spreading haunches into jeans, their bellies cascading unattractively over the waistbands.
She had waited till they were all assembled then selected her own outfit and changed into it — a microscopic scarlet mini-skirt and almost non-existent white suntop. Tom Clayton almost dropped his G and T when he caught sight of her and Jack had given her a thunderous glare which she chose to ignore.
Granny Dobson had arrived in style with Terry who was covering the occasion for the Clarion. He’d spotted her as she was getting off the bus and offered her a lift to Acacia Grove in his 2CV. She sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat beside him, wearing her Sunday dress, a navy blue crepe with white lace collar. Her steel grey hair was crowned by an amazing hat with a predatory-looking bird wobbling precariously on the brim. Hearing the sound of the familiar ‘sewing machine’ engine, Leah went out into the drive to meet them, helping Kate out of the car whilst Terry extracted his camera and gear from the back seat.
‘Gran, it’s lovely to see you. You look great. Do come and let me get you a drink.’
Kate cast a critical eye over the front of the house. ‘Well, well. Done a lot to the place since I was here last, haven’t they? Those look like replacement windows. And that porch wasn’t there last time. No wonder they don’t ask me over very often. Tuppence to speak to ’em now, I shouldn’t wonder.’
Leah winked at Terry and took Kate’s arm, steering her round to the back lawn where a perspiring Mrs Lamb was serving the drinks at a ‘bar’ set up behind the garage. She got Kate a very large port and lemon, then looked around for somewhere for her to sit. A group of chairs had been arranged in the shade at the end of the garden, but on the way across the lawn Kate caught sight of her son who was chatting to a group of County Councillors under the cedar tree. She waved her arm vigorously and called to him: �
�Oi — Jackie! When you’ve done maggin’ you can come and say ’ello to your old mum.’
Leah smothered a giggle. ‘Gran! One of those gentlemen is the chairman of the County Council. Dad’s hoping to get elected to the County next time.’
Kate grunted. ‘Don’t give a damn if it’s King Dick ’imself he’s chewin’ the fat with. If he’s too grand to talk to his own mother he’s not fit to be in office at all.’
Jack joined them a moment later, looking daggers at Leah. He took his mother’s other arm, escorting her rather hurriedly to the chairs in the shade. ‘I had no idea you were coming, Mother,’ he said between clenched teeth. ‘Who invited you? Was it Hilary? She didn’t say a word to me.’
Kate lowered herself into a garden chair with a grunt. ‘Ah, that’s better. Now — when you’re serving the grub I’ll have a nice steak. You can cut it up for me though. My teeth don’t fit as well as they used to.’ She opened her handbag and took out a set of pink and white dentures, which she popped deftly into her mouth with a resounding clop. ‘There, that’s better,’ she said, gleaming up at them. ‘Ready for anything now.’
‘I’ll get you a plate of food, Gran. Shan’t be long.’ Leah made a dash for freedom in the direction of the smoking barbecue but Jack caught her up. He was clearly furious.
‘Did you invite your grandmother here this morning?’
‘I might have mentioned it to her, yes,’ she said lightly. ‘You never have her round for a meal. She never goes out at all. I thought she might enjoy it.’
‘I don’t doubt that she will,’ Jack muttered under his breath. He looked Leah up and down. ‘Couldn’t you have chosen something a little more suitable to wear in front of my friends?’
She looked surprised. ‘Look what some of them are wearing. Anyway, it’s boiling hot. I thought this was suitable.’
‘You know perfectly well what I mean. You’re practically naked,’ he growled.
‘No one would turn a hair if this was a beach.’
‘But this isn’t a beach. So go and change into a dress at once.’ He made off and Leah grimaced behind his back, gleefully ignoring his request. When she returned to Kate’s side with a loaded plate she found Terry sitting next to her. The bird on her hat was wobbling animatedly as she regaled him with tales of old Nenebridge, pointing out various people she had known as children.
‘Look at that stuck up Elizabeth Frampton. Councillor Mrs Frampton indeed! She grew up plain Lizzy Wiggins in Smallfield, you know. She puts it round that her father was a farmer but I know different. He was a railway porter who worked a market garden as a sideline. She and her brother used to come round the doors with a little handcart made out of an old orange box, selling vegetables.’ Kate cackled as she looked across the lawn to where the elegantly dressed woman was holding court.
‘Right little scruff, she was — always had a dirty face and a candle coming down her nose. Nits, too, I shouldn’t wonder. A very indifferent mother, Ada Wiggins was.’ She munched her steak with relish. ‘To look at Lizzie now you’d think she’d been born with a silver spoon in her gob.’
Leah and Terry exchanged grins and Leah noticed that Terry was surreptitiously taking notes. Presently he put away his notebook.
‘Can I come and see you some day soon, Mrs Dobson?’ he asked. ‘I’ve been thinking of doing an article on old Nenebridge and I’m sure you could help me a lot with the research.’
Kate beamed. ‘Come whenever you’ve a mind to, young man. Kettle’s always on.’
‘I’ll remember that.’ Terry got to his feet. ‘Well, better not outstay my welcome,’ he said. ‘I can see Councillor Dobson giving me meaningful looks. I’ve noted everyone’s name and taken all the shots I can.’ He stood up and looked at Leah. ‘Come out for a drink later?’
She nodded eagerly. ‘Love to. I’ll come round to your place about seven, shall I?’
When he had gone Kate nudged her. ‘Nice young feller, that. You could do a lot worse.’
Leah shook her head. ‘He’s just a friend.’
‘He’s a good lad, I can tell.’ Kate leaned closer. ‘That Tom Clayton now. He’s a case. You want to watch him.’
Leah’s eyes widened. ‘Why? In what way?’
‘Got a rovin’ eye if you ask me. He’s had his eye on you all mornin’. That Hilary’s been watching ’im too.’
‘Has she?’ Leah looked across to where Hilary was chatting to friends. She wore a shocking pink sun dress which showed off her tan and complemented her brunette colouring. As she watched, Leah could see what Kate meant. Hilary’s eyes kept straying towards Tom Clayton. They followed him hungrily now as he moved among the guests.
‘Hilary’s the perfect hostess,’ she said lightly, taking Kate’s empty plate. ‘She watches everyone to make sure they’ve got something to eat and drink. Besides, she’s fifty.’
‘What’s fifty these days?’ Kate gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Most of the women here are mutton dressed as lamb. There’s no fool like an old fool, lass, believe me. And he wouldn’t need much encouragement either with a wife like he’s got.’ She nodded towards Angela who had eschewed the summery clothes the other women wore in favour of jeans and a tee-shirt which emphasised her board-flat chest. ‘Plain as a pudd’n and bony with it,’ Kate said. ‘Coldblooded too or I’m a Dutchman.’ She chuckled. ‘I bet it’s like getting into bed with a bundle of bean-sticks. Yes, any woman who gave Tom the glad eye had better watch her britches.’
‘Gran!’ Leah smothered a giggle. ‘What would they say if they could hear you?’
‘I don’t care tuppence,’ Kate said truculently. ‘When you get to my age you can say what you like and to ’ell with the lot of them. Anyway, I know all there is to know about this lot, and most of ’em knows it too. There’s not one of ’em here who’s what they’d have you think, which is why they all crack on they don’t know me.’ She handed Leah her empty glass. ‘Here, get me another o’ them port and lemons, will you, my old sugar? After that I think I’ll be off.’
Leah had taken Kate home in Hilary’s car. When she returned the guests were beginning to dwindle away. Reluctant to join them again she went into the kitchen to get a drink of lemonade. She was in the pantry when she heard someone come into the kitchen and close the door. Standing still she heard Hilary’s voice say quietly: ‘Wednesday would be a good day. I could drive over to Huntingdon and meet you somewhere.’
‘I can’t make Wednesday. I’m sorry, Hilary.’ It was Tom’s voice that replied. He sounded edgy. Leah clasped a hand over her mouth and held her breath. She was trapped. If they found her in here …
‘Please, Tom. I have to see you.’
Through the crack in the half-open door Leah saw Hilary stand on tiptoe and wind her arms round Tom’s neck. ‘Make it Thursday then. That’s half closing day. You must be free then.’
‘The shop might close but the office is still open. I don’t know …’
‘Oh, Tom, please don’t be mean to me. I can’t tell you what agony it is to see you and pretend to be indifferent.’
Tom reached up and removed her arms from his neck. ‘Hilary, not here. Someone could come in at any moment.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘But you must care. They’d be hell to pay if Angela found out.’
‘You told me she wouldn’t care. What are you doing on Wednesday anyway?’ Hilary’s voice was petulant. ‘Last Wednesday I was shopping and I saw you going off somewhere in the car.’
‘I had to meet someone on — on business. Look, Hilary, I can’t make any promises at the moment. I’ll have to give you a ring.’
At that moment there was movement and voices could be heard in the hall. They left the kitchen separately, Tom first and then Hilary. When she was sure they’d both gone, Leah let out her breath in a sigh of relief. So Gran was right. There was something going on between Hilary and Tom. And by the sound of it he was worried. Maybe at last Tom would let her go.
‘Have you finished this rai
l, Miss Dobson?’ Miss Jeffries’ stiletto-sharp voice pierced Leah’s reverie. ‘I’m sure you’ve taken long enough to have the autumn collection quite immaculate. There are two customers waiting in the showroom. I think they’d appreciate some attention.’
*
‘Tom, I really think we should stop meeting,’ Leah said. It was Wednesday and they were having lunch at their usual restaurant. She had racked her brain to think of a way of telling him it was over but in the end had decided that telling him straight out was the best.
‘If you’re worried about being found out, I’ve got the answer,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’ve thought of a way we can be together quite legitimately.’
She looked up at him in alarm. ‘Legitimately? What do you mean?’
‘It’s easy.’ He smiled. ‘Next year, as you know, I’ll be Deputy. Angela has already announced that she won’t support me and I’ll have to look around for a consort.’
‘So?’
‘Well — isn’t it obvious?’
Leah shook her head in disbelief. ‘You don’t — you can’t mean me?’
‘Why not?’
Leah cast around for a watertight reason. ‘Well, I’m too young for a start. Consorts are usually middle-aged, aren’t they?’
‘There’s no rule that says they have to be. I think you’d be a definite asset.’
‘What about my parents?’
‘Not a problem. I’ll ask their permission first, of course, but I’m sure they’ll give it.’
‘But there’s my job. It would cause bad feeling if I had to have all that time off. And it would look like favouritism, wouldn’t it?’
‘Hand in your notice then.’
She stared at him. There was nothing for it. She would have to give it to him straight. ‘Suppose I don’t want to?’
He assumed that she was talking about the job. ‘You can have it back again afterwards, of course. That’s not a problem.’
‘I meant, suppose I don’t want to be your consort?’ Leah frowned. ‘Do you realise that by the time you’d been Deputy and Mayor, two whole years would have gone by?’
The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family Page 11