by Nancy Revell
Lily barked a laugh. ‘He’ll have the engine running to keep himself warm. It’s bleedin’ freezing out there. And if that wind gets up any more, George’s beloved motor car won’t need any petrol because it’ll be flying us to the church.’
At the front door, both Rosie and Lily looked behind them as if it was the last time they would see the place. As if to mark the occasion, Lily stopped and rummaged around in her handbag.
‘I’ll just have a quick puff before we go,’ she said.
Rosie noticed Lily’s hands were shaking as she lit her Gauloise.
‘Kate meeting us there?’ she asked, while Lily stood and smoked, and looked around the grand hallway with its twelve-branch chandelier and polished parquet flooring.
Lily nodded as she exhaled smoke. ‘Yes, she went to the Maison Nouvelle early doors, then she’s walking down to the church from there.’
She took another deep drag. ‘Vivian’s gone shopping in town – not that I think she really wanted to – not in this bloody awful weather anyway. She won’t admit it, but I know she doesn’t want to be here on her own in case the Old Bill come knocking.’
‘And Maisie?’ Rosie asked. ‘Has she gone?’
Lily took another drag.
‘Yes, she left just before you arrived …’ Lily looked unusually thoughtful. ‘You know what? I think this is probably the first time ever that the house has been left empty.’
Lily was now sounding maudlin.
‘For heaven’s sake, Lily,’ Rosie chastised her, ‘cheer up, we’re going to a christening – not a funeral, you know. Now finish that cigarette and let’s go.’
But as they shut the door, Rosie couldn’t stop herself having one last look. It surprised her just how much she had grown to love this house, and her life here, and – more so – the people in it.
Making his way into town and towards the east end, Vinnie could feel his anger building up inside of him. He knew it had to come out and, by God, it would – either way. Whether the baby was his or not. There was no two ways about it, Gloria was going to get it big time. She’d had no right at all to keep his baby from him. If indeed it was his baby. She’d been bang out of order. He should have simply knocked down the front door from the off and seen the baby for himself, regardless of any repeat visits from the man in the balaclava who’d given him a right hiding. Nothing nor no one was going to stop him. If anyone tried to get in his way, they would rue the day.
It was about time everyone knew who was in control. And it was him. Not Gloria.
Vinnie looked at his watch. It was just after nine thirty. He should easily make it in time. In the next half an hour he was not only going to see this bloody baby – but he was also going to find out if it really was his.
And if it wasn’t – then there would be murders.
‘Bloody bitch!’ Vinnie clenched his fists at the thought that his wife – his wife of twenty years – might have slept with another man. How dare she? He would skin her alive. Give her the biggest thrashing she had ever had in her entire life. And she would deserve every single blow.
His anger was now bubbling, ready to explode.
Gloria having it off with another man … Having another man’s baby … All while still married to him!
Making a mockery of him!
As he stomped down the road he deliberately knocked into a couple walking in the opposite direction.
‘Hey, mate, watch where you’re going!’ the man shouted out.
But when Vinnie turned on the couple and snarled, ‘What yer ganna dee about it then, mate?’ the man immediately backed off, grabbed his girlfriend’s hand and hurried off.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Vera’s Café, High Street East, Sunderland
‘Good morning, Vera. How yer doing?’ Arthur smiled at the old woman, who responded with her usual scowl.
‘Two bacon baps and a cup of tea?’ she barked the question.
Arthur let out a hoot of laughter. ‘Aye, Vera, yer still sharp as a button.’
Vera managed to maintain her scowl while pointing her bony finger over to a table by the window.
‘As is the tongue, Arthur Watts,’ she batted back quick as a flash. ‘Now you and Jack go and sit down over there, and keep out my way.’
Arthur and Jack did as they were told.
‘How did she know we wanted bacon baps?’ Jack asked.
Arthur chuckled. ‘It was what we always ordered. Without fail. Every time we came in, Vera wouldn’t even ask what we wanted. She’d just take our money and then point over to where she wanted us to sit.’
Jack felt frustrated that he couldn’t remember any of this, but it was a frustration he was getting used to.
‘Can you tell me more about Gloria?’ Jack decided the best way forward was just to come out and say it.
Arthur clasped his hands together as if in prayer and put them on the table. Just then Vera arrived with two small round plates, each one containing a big white buttered bun with two large rashers of bacon stuffed in the middle. She returned seconds later with two big mugs of steaming tea.
Both men said their thanks and Arthur took a big bite of his bap, followed by a slurp of tea. Jack hadn’t had any breakfast but just didn’t have an appetite. His mind was on other things.
‘Gloria,’ Arthur mumbled through a mouth full of bread and bacon. ‘Well –’ He swallowed hard, then went on. ‘My Flo always said you two made a good couple. We always thought the two of you would get married.’
Jack was staring at Arthur, shocked. So, they really had been a couple. A serious couple.
‘Really? What went wrong?’ Jack asked, desperate to know more.
‘Actually,’ Arthur said, ‘we thought you were going to get engaged, but then you had some kind of a fall-out – “lovers’ tiff” is what Flo called it – and …’ Arthur paused. ‘That’s when yer started to step out with Miriam. If my memory serves me right, I do remember Flo saying that ya had got back with Gloria, but then all of a sudden yer were with Miriam again. And then,’ Arthur continued, his mind now back at that time, remembering how puzzled Flo had been about the turn of events. ‘Before you knew it, you and Miriam were married.’
Jack took a swig of his tea. His mouth felt dry. This was nothing like the story Miriam had told him.
‘Sounds to me that Miriam and I got married quickly. Had to get married?’ Jack asked.
Arthur nodded. ‘Aye, yer right in what yer thinking. There was talk … Yer know, that yer had to do the right thing and all of that.’
‘My daughter, Helen?’ Jack asked, but as soon as he said the words he knew that couldn’t have been the case as Helen hadn’t come along until they had been married a couple of years.
‘I dinnit know about that,’ Arthur said, ‘you’d have to ask Miriam.’
Jack knew Arthur was not letting on as much as he knew.
Arthur took another big bite out of his sandwich as if to fortify himself for what he had to say next. What he had really come here to tell Jack. He just hoped he was doing the right thing. It felt wrong to meddle. But this didn’t really feel like meddling. Jack had been like family to him and Flo. He had a right to know the truth. The truth about his present life, rather than his distant past.
Jack looked at Arthur and noticed the old man’s face had clouded over.
‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ Arthur said gravely, ‘something that I think you have to know.’
Jack was sitting, barely moving, his eyes clapped on Arthur. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Vera suddenly appeared at the table. ‘Either of you two in need of a top-up?’
‘No thanks, we’re just fine, Vera,’ Arthur smiled up at the café proprietor who was staring down at Jack’s untouched bacon butty. Jack saw the look and took a bite out of his bun, which seemed to do the trick as Vera waddled back off to the counter where she now had a line of customers.
‘What?’ Jack swallowed hard and put the bap back down on the plate. ‘What do I
have to know?’
Arthur looked around him to make sure there were no nebby noses earwigging in on their conversation. He dropped his voice and began.
‘Before you went off to America,’ he said in a near whisper, ‘you and Gloria started to meet up again.’
There was a pause.
‘Meet up?’ Jack asked.
‘Aye,’ Arthur said. He was totally out of his depth, but he knew he just had to keep wading on. ‘By the time yer left the country, Gloria had become very important in yer life once again.’
Jack sat back.
Arthur didn’t need to say any more.
There was a pause as Arthur’s words hung in the air. Then all of a sudden he looked around him. ‘What time is it?’
Jack glanced at the clock on the wall just above the big shiny copper urn on the counter. ‘Ten to ten,’ he told him.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Arthur stood up.
‘There’s a christening I’ve got to go to at St Ignatius’s.’
‘What? The parish church in Hendon?’ Jack asked.
‘Aye, that’s the one,’ Arthur said, taking another quick glug of his tea.
‘Come with me,’ Arthur said, turning to wave his goodbyes to Vera. They were out the café door before Arthur added, ‘Gloria’s going to be there. She can tell you everything. Much more than I can.’
‘Come on then,’ Jack said. There was no hesitation. He needed to see Gloria. Talk to her. Find out more. ‘We’ve not got much time.’ As a huge gust of wind almost knocked Arthur off his feet, Jack grabbed him. ‘And in this weather, it’ll take us even longer.’
Both men buttoned their coats up and started walking as fast as they could against the strength of the brewing storm.
Nothing, though, was going to stop Jack from getting to the church.
Not even a force ten gale.
Chapter Sixty-Five
St Ignatius Church, Bramwell Road, Sunderland
‘Oh, isn’t she gorgeous?’ Angie leant into the pram and cooed at Hope as she wiggled about, her little thumb stuck in her tiny mouth.
‘I don’t think she likes her christening gown, she keeps shuffling around and won’t settle,’ Gloria said, concerned that Hope might get grouchy and end up screaming the church down.
‘Well, she’ll have to stay in it until after she’s been baptised. My goddaughter is going to have to learn that sometimes looking good does not go hand in hand with feeling comfortable,’ Dorothy said in all seriousness, as she gently brushed Hope’s dark brown hair to one side.
Angie chuckled and Gloria rolled her eyes. They were already at the church. Due to the windstorm outside and the beginnings of a downpour, they had come to the church early and were waiting inside. They kept their voices low as there was another christening taking place, not that they really needed to keep quiet as the building itself was huge and the baby presently having holy water sprinkled on to its head was demonstrating just how good the acoustics were.
‘So, I’m guessing you got the cake sorted, then?’ Gloria asked with a mischievous smile. She didn’t dare tell Dorothy that her sugar cravings were finally abating and that all she seemed to want to eat now was meat and veg.
‘Oh, yes, Ange and I took it round to Agnes’s just before we came here. I think you’re going to love it,’ Dorothy said, clearly proud as punch at keeping her side of the bargain.
‘Yeah, and it’s massive!’ Angie added, excitedly.
‘Where did you end up getting it from?’ Gloria asked, genuinely curious.
Dorothy put her finger to her nose and tapped it, wanting to keep the unveiling of their prize cake as much a mystery as possible until after the christening when she could present the cake to Gloria personally. Only then would she tell her that she and Angie had gone together to see the sour-faced woman who ran the bakery on Dundas Street – the one Angie got her penny bag of broken-up pastries and bread from every Sunday. They had actually seen the semblance of a smile appear on the woman’s face when they said how much they could afford to pay her if she could bake them a super-large cake. The woman had stood for a few moments with both her hands on the counter, her shoulders hunched up, deep in thought. Then she had suddenly clapped her hands together and said, ‘I have an idea!’
And what a great idea it was. She was to make three cakes in the largest cake tin she possessed, then put them on top of each other so that the cake would be almost as thick as it was wide.
This morning, the woman’s husband had even been persuaded to transport the freshly baked triple-layered cake to Tatham Street. When Agnes had answered her front door, she’d let out a loud whoop, which had pleased Dorothy and Angie no end. They had achieved their aim and procured probably the biggest Victoria sponge the town had known since the outbreak of war.
‘All will be revealed after the christening,’ Dorothy said to Gloria, with an air of mystery.
‘What is to be “revealed”?’ It was Hannah, who had arrived along with Martha and Olly.
‘Blimey, Hannah, you gave me a shock,’ Dorothy looked up at Martha and then down at Olly. ‘All right, you two?’ They both nodded.
Angie did a double take. Martha was wearing a thick tweed skirt and polo neck jumper. ‘Sorry, Martha,’ she said, realising she had been staring, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing you in anything but an overall.’
Martha chortled. ‘Me neither.’
Just then the heavy oak door opened and let in a swirl of cold air and a few leaves. It was Agnes and Polly.
‘Where’s Bel and Joe and little Lucille?’ Gloria asked. Bel had played such a big part in her daughter’s life, Gloria would be gutted if for some reason she was not able to make the ceremony.
‘Don’t worry. They’ll be here before ten. They’ve gone to see Pearl and Maisie off at the station.’
Everyone turned to look at Polly for an explanation.
‘They’re going to London for a week or so … a sort of mother–daughter bonding trip, I think.’
Gloria looked at Agnes. ‘Bet you’ll be pleased to have a little peace and quiet?’
Agnes sighed. ‘Well, there has been rather a lot going on lately, that’s for sure.’ She looked towards the front of the church and at the tall grey-haired vicar who was now making the sign of the cross over the baby that had expended all its vocal energy and now looked half asleep in its mother’s arms.
‘Oh!’ Agnes suddenly remembered. ‘Arthur’s on his way. With this friend of his. Someone from his past, I think. I hope you’re all right about him bringing a guest? He asked Polly to check you didn’t mind …’
Gloria waved her hand. ‘Of course not, the more the merrier. Besides, by the sounds of this cake, there’s going to be more than enough to go around.’
Chapter Sixty-Six
The Railway Station, Athenaeum Street, Sunderland
‘Have a good time!’ Bel shouted out to Pearl and Maisie as the train let out a huge puff of steam and the piercing sound of the conductor’s whistle screeched through the smoggy air.
‘And if you can’t be good – be careful!’ Joe added, letting out a loud laugh.
Lucille was balanced on his shoulders, loving the view from such giddy heights, giggling along, happily waving both her little hands at her nana and aunty Maisie, who were squashed together, leaning out of their carriage window.
‘The same goes to you too!’ Maisie hollered back, adding cheekily, ‘Enjoy the Grand!’
Bel looked at Joe and blushed a little.
‘We will,’ she shouted back. ‘… And thank you!’
Everyone, Bel thought, looked like they had been dragged through a hedge backwards due to the stormy weather that had hit the north-east coast overnight. Still, it certainly hadn’t bothered any of them, and especially not Maisie, who had seemed particularly happy, and also more than a little relieved as she’d boarded the London-bound train to King’s Cross.
As Bel waved back at Pearl and Maisie, she thought how
happy her ma looked. The pair of them looked so at ease with each other – as if they had known each other all of their lives, and it was she, Bel, who was the newcomer – the one who had just popped up out of nowhere.
Looking at Maisie now, with her mass of chestnut brown curls and her coffee-coloured skin, Bel knew that they were poles apart, like night and day, not only in looks – but in personality as well. They’d probably never become bosom buddies – but, all the same, they were now a part of each other’s lives whether they liked it or not.
‘Bye, Isabelle!’ Bel was jolted out of her thoughts by her ma’s loud, gravelly voice.
‘Bye, Ma!’ she shouted back.
‘Bye bye, LuLu …’ Pearl waved her skinny arm up at her excited granddaughter.
‘… And Joe,’ she said shifting her gaze down, ‘make sure you look after that little granddaughter of mine …’
Pearl’s final words were lost as the train started to chuff slowly out of the station.
As Bel stood waving and watching the train pull away, she wondered what the future would hold for them all – for her ma, her sister, and her little girl. Three generations of women, all bound by blood, yet all so very, very different.
As Pearl and Maisie settled down in the carriage that they had to themselves until at least the next stop, they sighed in unison.
‘Back to the Big Smoke then, eh?’ Pearl said. There was a slight hint of nervous excitement in her voice. The last time she had made this trip, from this very station, in a carriage not unlike the one they were in now, her daughter was in her belly. Now, twenty-eight years later, her daughter was, unbelievably, here with her, sitting opposite her, making that exact same journey with her.
‘Aye,’ Maisie said, cheekily mimicking the north-east accent. ‘To the city where the streets are paved in gold,’ she added, tongue-in-cheek.
Pearl felt herself freeze. They were the same words her brother had used when she had told her family that she was travelling down to London for a temporary job in a posh hotel. For the briefest of moments Pearl was transported back to her fourteen-year-old self on her way to a place called Ivy House.