He'd laid a fire in the grate before he left last week, and now he put a match to it. Then he went straight to the wardrobe for the covered canvas, and the easel, which he set up by a window.
As usual, he didn't uncover the painting immediately, but held it, still wrapped, while he thought of Amy, as he had seen her last Tuesday at Tooley's.
She was looking happier these days, more confident somehow, and this complemented her gentleness. Unlike her friend Daisy, Amy was not bold and brassy, and Luke found that sweetness very appealing. He concentrated on her face as he remembered it, trying to distil that exact slight element of bright assurance she'd developed. Then he unwrapped the canvas and set it on the easel.
Yes, yes…he'd almost captured it. A little lift at the corner of her mouth, maybe…
He gazed at the portrait for several minutes until he realised he was no longer looking with critical faculties, but rather with adoration. Oh God, she was gorgeous. If only the picture were really Amy, and not merely her likeness. Mad thought, but then Tuesdays were for dreams, however farfetched, and Luke allowed himself this indulgence increasingly now that the portrait was almost finished.
He went to collect his paints and brushes from the wardrobe and set to work.
Only when he stopped to rest his painting arm did he realise that the sun was now very high. He looked at his watch: three hours had passed in total concentration without his realising. Suddenly he was thirsty and remembered he hadn't had a drink since arriving at the cabin. First he went to wring out a rag in the brook to cover the open paints. Then he went back out with the kettle.
As Luke stooped on the bank, the filled kettle in his hand, he heard a quiet rustling of undergrowth. He'd seen deer in these woods, of course, or maybe it was a rabbit, or a bird scratching for nesting material. Very slowly Luke turned, half crouched, and looked behind him from where the noise had come.
There stood a small brown deer, exquisitely pretty, with large dark eyes and a velvety nose. Luke kept absolutely still—and so did the deer. They eyed each other for a long moment, and still neither moved. As slowly as he could, Luke straightened, willing the creature not to dart away. But when he was almost upright, she flicked her pointed ears, turned quite calmly, it seemed to him, and trotted back among the trees and out of sight.
Luke laughed in delight at the deer's inquisitiveness. For a wild creature she was pretty bold. Maybe she'd visit again and he could entice her closer to the cabin. When he was a child, that had been the ambition of his school holidays—to tame a wild deer in these very woods. Well, now he'd try again. Velvet, she'd be called, and she'd feed out of his hands. He smiled at his foolishness and shrugged. Well, why not? Some dreams could come true, couldn't they?
The portrait of Amy greeted him on the easel as he reentered the cabin, and after a few minutes away from it, he saw it with fresh eyes. All at once he knew that it was finished, that adding anything more would detract from what was there already. This was the best he could do and he was pleased with it.
He stood for a long time gazing at Amy—his Amy—while the sun moved round and the light in the cabin changed, and Amy's smile met his.
A month later on a beautiful June morning, Maureen Lang- don came into the shop with the boy at her side. Now a regular customer and somewhat mellowed, she was on first- name terms with both Marie and Amy.
'Are you sure you don't mind?' she asked Amy, 'only he won't stay with anybody else and, like I told you, I really have to go on this errand.'
Amy assured her it was fine. 'Don't worry, Maureen. He can help me fill up the shelves.' Being as they had taken delivery that very morning, there was any amount of packets to be put away.
'I'll be back inside of two hours,' Maureen promised, 'and look, I can't tell you how grateful I am.'
Ushering the boy forward, she smiled at how easily he went to Amy, and how, when he slipped his hand into hers, Amy drew him close, as if to keep him safe. Knowing how frightened and unsure he was around people, Maureen had been astonished at how quickly little Johnny had taken to Amy.
After everything bad that had happened to them it was comforting to know that she and her son had found a real friend in this warm-hearted young woman. She wasn't altogether yet sure of Amy's mother, Marie, because though she was friendly and interested in them, Maureen sensed a certain wariness that put her on guard.
'Take as long as you like,' Amy told her. 'He'll be all right here with us.'
'If I didn't think that,' Maureen answered, 'I wouldn't be leaving him with you.'
Amy had come to love the little boy, yet she had never been asked to take care of him before, and now she was really looking forward to it.
'Would you mind if I took him to the park?' she asked. 'I've kept back a loaf of stale bread so we can feed the ducks.'
'All right then, but mind you keep him well away from the water!' Opening her arms to him, she asked with a smile, 'Well, are you gonna give your mammy a cuddle or not?'
Running to her, Johnny was swung up high and held tight, before a moment later he was given back to Amy. 'Take good care of him, won't you?' Maureen said meaningfully. 'He's all I've got right now.'
Knowing how lonely she was, Amy took a pace forward. 'You've got me, and my mother,' she said. 'We'll be here whenever you need us.'
Maureen nodded. 'You're good people. I'm lucky to have you as friends.' Enjoying any kind of friendship was a new experience for her.
'You look very special today, if you don't mind me saying.' Amy observed how Maureen's short red hair shone. Her lips were painted soft pink and her high cheekbones touched with rouge.
Though slightly ill-fitting, the pretty green cotton dress was in stark contrast to the well-used clothes she usually wore. 'The dress really suits you,' Amy remarked. 'You should wear green more often.'
Blushing pink at Amy's kind comments, Maureen confessed in a whisper, 'It cost me tuppence from the rag-and- bone shop. They had a little jacket to go with it, but that was another tuppence and I couldn't quite stretch to it.'
Amy was quick to offer. I'd like to help you with that.'
'No, thank you!' Maureen Langdon was a proud woman. 'If I can't afford it, I won't have it.'
'Our Amy's right.' Entering from the back in time to hear the last conversation, Marie agreed with her daughter. 'You really should wear green more often.'
A moment or two later, and feeling like a million dollars, Maureen bade them goodbye. 'Two hours,' she said. 'Then I'll take him off your hands.'
'Take all the time you want,' Amy told her. The and little Johnny are going to have a good time, aren't we, Johnny?' Bending to tweak his nose, she laughed out loud when he reached up and did the same to her.
When Maureen was gone and Johnny was busy refilling the shelves, Marie quietly voiced her concern. 'Aren't you getting a bit too fond of the lad?'
'How can you say that?' Amy was taken aback. 'I thought you liked him?'
'Well, of course I like him!' came the sharp rebuke. 'It's just that we still don't know anything about the lad and his mammy—where they came from, or why they turned up out of the blue like that. What happens if they leave the same way?'
'Out with it, Mam,' Amy urged. 'What are you getting at?'
'You think about it, lass. Here you are, getting more and more fond of the lad—and don't deny it because I've seen you, nose pressed to the window when you think they might show their faces. So, what if one afternoon he's here, and the next minute, without warning, they're gone as quickly as they arrived?'
'But they won't. Not now.' Amy had thought about it often of late, and somehow had managed to convince herself how Maureen Langdon and the boy would be around for a long time to come. 'They're settled here now,' she argued. 'Maureen says herself how much she likes living in Derwent Street.'
A little flurry of concern made her turn to watch Johnny busying himself. 'But if, for any reason, they were to leave now, I know Maureen would keep in touch.'
Marie sighed.
'I don't want you hurt, lass. That's all.'
'Amy! Amy!' Excited, the boy came running to tell Amy how he'd finished the work she'd set him. 'No more boxes. Come look!'
Discreetly sending him before her, Amy quietly assured her mother, 'You've no need to worry. They won't be leaving. You've only got to see how well Johnny's come on since they came to Derwent Street. Maureen too. You saw how she was when they first arrived—defensive; afraid even. They won't leave. They're settled here now.'
'I hope you're right,' Marie announced. 'For your sake.'
In a troubled voice she gave a kindly warning. 'Maureen Langdon was right about you,' she said. 'You are a good 'un. Warm-hearted and kind. But don't let the lad creep too far into your affections. Remember, lass…the deeper you love, the deeper can be the hurt.'
'Oh, Mam!' Throwing her arms round that dear soul, Amy held her for a long, reassuring moment. 'All right, Mam. I'll bear in mind what you said,' she promised.
A moment later, she and the boy were laughing at the way he had mixed all the buttons together; large, small and multicoloured all in the same drawer.
From a discreet distance, Marie watched them, and the way that darling little boy was looking up at Amy with adoration only served to fuel her fears.
In spite of Amy's promise, it was all too clear that these two were already deep in each other's affections.
Having travelled some distance, Maureen joined the other passengers and clambered from the tram.
Going at a fast pace down the street she turned the corner and there right before her the building blocked the way, its grim high walls sending a shard of apprehension through her insides.
Approaching the tall iron gates, she was aware of other women all heading in the same direction. 'I hate this bloody journey!' The small weary-eyed woman was about Maureen's age. 'Every week for the past four years,' she groaned, 'and no end in sight. Knowing him and his troublemaking ways, I expect it'll be the same for another four years.' Pushing on, she added angrily, 'It's not just his life he's wasting. It's mine too…mine and the kids'. In the end it's always us who pays the price!'
Maureen nodded. She knew what it was like.
Now, as she neared the gates, she prepared herself for the ordeal ahead.
'Here they come!' Straight-faced, legs astride and arms folded, the two prison officers waited. 'The sooner this is over the better,' exclaimed the taller of the two.
'Poor devils,' replied the other. 'It can't be easy for them.'
'Listen to yourself, man! Not getting soft, are you?'
'Nope. Just getting older, I guess.'
While one prison officer opened the gate, his colleague kept an eye on the long line of visitors as they filed by him.
When the last was inside, the two of them followed behind. 'Straight ahead if you please.' A swift but careful search of belongings and one by one the visitors were allowed through. 'No canoodling, and no devious whispering.'
Spying the familiar cap of fair hair, Maureen hurried to be with her husband.
'Arnold…'
'Oh, Maureen, you don't know how good it is to see you!' The man's broad shoulders were slightly stooped, his blue eyes sad, and now, when he spoke, his voice trembled with a deep-down regret. 'It's like I've been in this place for a hundred years,' he said. 'You can't imagine how I count the minutes till you're here.'
Under the watchful eye of the officer, they exchanged a brief kiss, but it was a kiss that spanned the emptiness between them; a kiss that said, 'In spite of everything, I love you still.'
'SIT DOWN!' The officer's voice rang out, and everyone who had been standing quickly sat down, including Maureen and her husband.
Glancing warily at the officer, he wrapped his long fingers round Maureen's. 'Are you well?'
'Well enough, I expect.' There was a certain bitterness in her tone, but he either did not detect it, or chose to ignore it.
'And the boy…is he well?'
Maureen's quick smile warmed his heart. 'Johnny's doing fine,' she answered. 'You'll be amazed at how confident he's grown.' All thanks to Amy, she thought proudly.
The man's eyes lit up at her news. 'Aw, Maureen, that's wonderful news!' His gaze went instinctively to the door. 'Where've you left him?'
'He's with Amy, the young woman from the corner shop. Remember I told you about her? You should see them together. It's a joy to watch.'
He dwelled on her words for a moment. 'How in God's name did she get through to him, when nobody else could?' He knew how painfully shy Johnny had always been. 'Anyway, what's she like, this Amy?'
'I already told you. She's about twenty-five, I reckon…not what you might call a natural beauty, but pretty enough, with her thick mop of brown hair and those twinkling eyes. Lovely nature, though…'
'Are you sure you can trust her with the boy?' he asked warily.
'Absolutely. Or I wouldn't leave him, you know that.'
'You haven't told her about me, have you?'
'No.'
'You mustn't tell anyone.'
'I won't.'
'When the boy eventually gets to school, his life won't be worth living if word gets round that his daddy's a gaolbird.'
'You don't need to tell me that, Arnold,' she replied.
Momentarily silent, he bowed his head. When he looked up there were tears in his eyes. 'I didn't do it,' he said. 'You do believe that, don't you?'
She nodded. Of course Arnold had done nothing on purpose. But that wasn't really the point. She felt she had to say something. 'Well, I don't think you meant to do anything, Arnie. But you have been known to lose your temper—get carried away. But I'll always be waiting for you when you come out, you know that.'
He held her hand. 'What would I do without you, eh?'
She chuckled. 'Fall apart at the seams, I dare say.'
In a serious voice he told her, 'I do love you.'
'Only because I'm fool enough to stand by you.'
He shook his head. 'No. It's because whatever I've done and however many women I've bedded, there's never been anybody like you.'
'Does that mean I'm stupid and gullible?'
'Not gullible, no. Loyal and long-suffering, and true to your marriage vows. Not like me, and not like the flippant women who take me to their beds behind their husbands' backs.'
'Tell me the truth,' she asked quietly, 'have you ever loved any of them?'
'Never!'
'Not even Sylvia Hammond?'
'Especially not her.'
'Did she love you?'
'Good God, Maureen. A woman like that! She doesn't know the meaning of the word "love".'
'You sound disappointed.' Something in his voice, some regret or anger, made her curious.
He dismissed her implication with a vague answer. 'Women like her are two a penny,' he said. 'She was no different from any of the others. Just another woman looking for a bit of excitement.'
Maureen had seen the pictures in the paper and had her own opinion. 'She's very stylish, and beautiful…not like me.'
He touched her hand gently. 'You're right,' he murmured, 'she's nothing like you. Stylish and beautiful maybe, but there's nothing worthwhile on the inside. She's just a greedy, selfish woman, never satisfied with the grand life she leads, and with never a thought for the good man who works his guts out to provide it all. And look at you! You're left on your own, caring for Johnny and the pair of you struggling to make ends meet. And it's all thanks to me and my bloody wandering!'
Maureen couldn't argue with that. 'I hope after this you'll mend your ways when you get out?'
He took a deep angry breath. 'I'll be an old man with whiskers before you see me on the outside!'
Maureen changed the subject slightly. 'It's tragic what happened to her, all the same. They say her mind is gone, and there's nothing they can do about it.' She had often wondered, 'What made her say it was you that did it?'
'I've no idea.' He sounded puzzled as well. 'All I know is, I was well fitted up.'
'I can't "let it go"!' This time he banged the table. 'When I find the bastard who put me in the frame, I swear to God, I'll swing for him.'
'Ssh!' Pressing her finger to her lips, she warned, 'The officer's watching you.'
In a moment the officer was at the table. 'All right, Stratton, on your feet. NOW!'
Watching him being taken away, Maureen despaired. 'Dear God! What'll become of us?'
With a heavy heart she followed the wives outside.
'They all claim to be innocent, that they've been fitted up, or that somebody had it in for them, or they couldn't help themselves.' Walking back to the tram-stop, the same woman who had walked alongside her on the way in fell into step with her now. 'They're all guilty as buggery, yet they'll deny the responsibility time and again, right up to when the rope tightens round their lying necks!'
'No, that's not true!' Realising everyone must have heard Arnold's outburst, Maureen protested vehemently, 'My Arnie really was "fitted up",' she said.
'Oh, really? So why is he inside then?'
Ashamed, Maureen hesitated. 'He was guilty of having an affair with her, but he swears it wasn't serious. He says he was about to finish it any day, and that she was growing agitated…didn't want it to end, y'see? Later, when she was attacked, she pointed him out as the culprit. He said he wasn't even with her that particular night. He was out playing cards in a mate's house, but his mate didn't want to get mixed up in it, so he denied that Arnie was ever there.'
The woman was not convinced. 'All I can say is, if your fella really did beat that woman senseless, he deserves to be where he is. They say she can be mad as a crazed dog—has these frightening fits and doesn't know what she's doing.'
'I've heard the same, but who knows what truth there is in it?' Maureen had retorted. 'Happen she's not ill at all. Happen she's seeking attention, like kids do when they can't have their own way.'
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