He held out his hand in greeting. Lucy ignored it.
‘You’re the one with the nerve, Mr Alderson. What do you mean by harassing my mother?’
He looked so pleased with himself, Lucy wanted to slap him. ‘No harassment, I assure you. I merely extended an invitation to tea at the Ritz, which your mother graciously accepted.’
I’ll bet she did, Lucy thought. She could imagine how willing her mother would be to accept such an invitation. Such treats had been rare lately.
‘Lady Clarissa is a charming lady,’ Leo went on. ‘Very – forthcoming.’
‘And I’m sure you’re more than capable of winning women round!’ Lucy spat at him.
He gave her a maddening smile. ‘I don’t seem to have managed with you. Perhaps we could start again? Can I offer you a drink?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘At least sit down.’ He pulled out a chair for her. ‘Unless you want to draw attention to yourself in a public house full of journalists?’
Lucy plonked herself down reluctantly opposite him. ‘I won’t allow you to print that story,’ she said.
There it was again, that maddening smile of his. ‘I fail to see how you can stop me. Or do you plan to get your father to make it go away? I guess that’s what you usually do in times of crisis, isn’t it? Turn to Daddy. Except in this case you can’t get him to ride to your rescue because you don’t know where he is.’
It was the truth, but it still made her angry. ‘You know nothing about me or my family!’
‘Excuse me, but I think I do. As I said, your mother was most forthcoming.’
Lucy took a deep breath and launched into the speech she’d prepared. ‘Look, I don’t know what my mother told you, but she’s got it wrong,’ she said. ‘My mother is easily confused. She doesn’t understand my father’s business.’
‘She seemed to have a pretty fair grasp of the situation from what I could gather,’ Leo replied. ‘Unless you have some other information for me, Miss Lane? If you could tell me where I might find your father, for instance, I would happily not run the story and admit my mistake. Can you do that?’
She stared down at the worn wooden surface of the table. ‘No,’ she muttered.
‘I thought not. Now, are you sure I can’t get you that drink? You look as if you need one.’
As she watched him at the bar, his fair head towering above everyone else’s, Lucy wondered if she had started off on the wrong track. Leo was a man, after all. Perhaps she should have appealed to his sense of chivalry, rather than storming in and making demands?
She forced herself to smile charmingly at him when he returned with her drink.
He eyed her uneasily. ‘What’s that for?’ he asked, setting her glass of brandy down in front of her.
‘What?’
‘That smile.’ He tilted his head consideringly. ‘Oh, I get it. You’re turning on the charm, now.’ He smiled. ‘Novel though it might be to find out what you’re like when you’re trying to be nice, I have to warn you you’re not going to change my mind. I’m still running that story.’
Lucy glared at him. ‘You’re despicable.’
‘I’m just doing my job.’ He spread his hands.
‘You’re going to ruin our lives, purely so you can see your own name in print?’
‘Unless you can give me a good reason why I shouldn’t?’
Lucy gulped down her drink. The brandy burned a fiery trail down her throat but she hardly noticed. ‘If word gets out that my father is missing, we lose everything,’ she said simply.
Leo frowned. ‘I don’t understand?’
‘He borrowed heavily to fund this German deal. If the banks find he’s disappeared, they’ll foreclose. We’ll lose our home, all our money, probably the clothes we stand up in. My mother and I will be destitute.’ She looked at him. ‘I suppose my mother didn’t mention that part?’
It gave her a small sense of satisfaction to see Leo Alderson lost for words. He sank back in his seat, his blue eyes fixed on hers.
‘Are you serious?’
‘I’m hardly going to lie about it, am I?’ It was strangely liberating to tell the truth for once. Lucy felt a weight lift from her shoulders.
‘How could your father do something like that? I mean, risking his business is one thing, but gambling your home . . .’
‘I suppose he thought it would pay off.’ Lucy shrugged. ‘It always has in the past. He didn’t know the German government would step in and nationalise the factories, did he?’
Leo stared at her. ‘And still you defend him,’ he marvelled. ‘Even after he did this to you.’
‘He’s my father,’ Lucy said. ‘He’s given my mother and me everything we could ever want. He made a mistake, but he’s still a good man.’
‘So where is he now?’ Leo leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. ‘Why isn’t he here, taking care of you when you need him? I’m sorry, Lucy, but where I come from a good man would stay and protect his family, not put them in danger and then run off and abandon them to their fate.’
‘Shut up!’ She cut him off abruptly, her nerves strained to snapping point. ‘You don’t know what’s happened to him. None of us does. He might even be . . .’ She broke off. Even now, she couldn’t allow herself to say the word.
Leo was silent for a moment. ‘You think something might have happened to him?’ he said softly.
‘I can’t think of any other explanation.’ Lucy traced a sticky ring on the table with one finger. ‘My father would never abandon us. Truly, he’s not that kind of man.’ He was her hero, and she couldn’t allow herself to think badly of him, no matter what. ‘But he’s not used to losing either. I worry that perhaps his pride just couldn’t take it, and he – he decided to end it all instead.’
She drew in a deep, steadying breath. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry in front of Leo. That really would be too humiliating.
‘Hey, come on. You just said yourself, your father’s no quitter. He wouldn’t do something like that.’ Leo reached across and covered her hand with his. ‘He’ll show up, you’ll see.’
‘If he does, it will be too late.’ Lucy slid her hand out from under his. Leo Alderson was the last person she should be seeking comfort from.
She set her glass down on the table and stood up. ‘I should go,’ she said. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Alderson. I’m sorry I took up so much of your time. I daresay you have a story to write.’
As she started to walk away, he suddenly said, ‘I won’t run it.’
Lucy stopped. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I’m not going to write the story. I can’t see you and your mother out on the street, no matter what a scoop it might be.’
Lucy stared at him warily. She couldn’t allow herself to feel relieved or grateful. Life had dealt her too many blows lately for her to let her guard down. ‘What changed your mind?’ she asked.
His eyes met hers. ‘I reckon you deserve a break, don’t you?’ he said. ‘Just promise me one thing. When your father comes home, I want to be the first to know about it.’
Lucy smiled. ‘It’s a deal.’
Chapter Thirty
PASS. WITH MERIT.
Jess stared down at the School Certificate in her hands. People milled around her in the main hall of the Institute, jostling her this way and that. But she stayed rooted to the spot, gazing at the words.
‘Top of the class, Jess. I expected nothing less from you,’ Mr Haddaway her tutor had congratulated her warmly. ‘Now I hope you’ll use your education wisely?’
‘Oh, I will. Don’t you worry about that.’
She came out of the Institute into the bright July sunshine, still in a daze. It was her day off, and the whole day stretched in front of her to do as she pleased.
But first she had a promise to keep.
Sam was behind his dad’s bookstall as usual. He was waiting for her, Jess could tell. He chatted to the customers, but every now and then he would look up, scanning the crowded market.
Jess lifted her hand and waved to him. He waved back enthusiastically.
‘There you are.’ He grinned as she threaded her way through the crowd towards him. ‘I’ve been looking out for you. Well?’
She had been practising how she would say it all the way to Columbia Road. But now she was standing in front of Sam all she could manage was a shy, ‘I passed.’
‘I knew you could do it!’ Sam gave a whoop of delight. The next moment he’d come round to the other side of the bookstall and gathered her up in his arms.
‘Put me down, you fool!’ Jess laughed as he swung her round in the air. ‘Everyone’s looking at us.’
‘I don’t care. We’re celebrating.’ He set her down on the ground. ‘I’ve got you a present, too.’
He reached under the counter and pulled out a carefully wrapped package.
‘For me?’ Jess stared at him.
‘No, for that woman on the fish stall. Of course it’s for you, you daft ha’porth.’
Jess took it from him. ‘How did you know I was going to pass?’
‘Of course I knew. You’re the cleverest girl I know.’ He nodded towards the package. ‘Go on, then. Open it.’
She tore off the wrapping. Inside was a book, bound in black with gold lettering.
Great Expectations.
‘It’s a brand new one, too, not that scruffy old copy,’ Sam said proudly. ‘I reckon you deserve the best.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Jess murmured, running her hand over the grainy leather cover. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever owned a brand new book before.’
‘You’ve earned it,’ Sam said. ‘Your mum would have been proud of you, Jess.’ He nodded towards the book. ‘That’s what I’ve got for you, see? Great expectations.’
Jess looked up and met his gaze. For once he wasn’t larking about. His eyes were serious, full of intent and affection.
A lump rose in her throat. ‘I dunno what to say,’ she murmured.
‘You could say you’ll go out with me? Properly, I mean, not just a cup of tea after the night class.’
For once she felt no hesitation. But just as she opened her mouth to accept, a commotion from the other end of the market made her swing round.
‘Oi! Come back here, you thieving little sod!’ one of the costermongers roared.
The next moment Jess was spun off her feet by a figure shooting past, dodging through the crowd with lightning speed.
‘Stop him!’ the coster yelled, coming panting up behind. ‘Little bugger’s nicked my takings!’
Jess heard an insolent laugh, and looked round. The boy had broken free from the crowd and was sprinting towards the main road, leaving a jingling trail of coins behind him. As he flashed past, Jess caught a tell-tale glimpse of mud brown hair under his scruffy cap.
‘Cyril!’ she yelled.
The boy stopped, distracted for a second, just as a delivery van rumbled round the corner.
Everything happened quickly after that. There was an ugly squeal of brakes, then the sound of screaming, and footsteps running.
‘Jess, don’t!’ she heard Sam’s warning voice but she was already running with them, pushing her way through the crowd to the lifeless figure lying in the road. His body looked strangely twisted, like a broken doll’s.
‘It wasn’t my fault!’ the driver of the van was saying. ‘He ran straight out in front of me – there was nothing I could do . . .’
‘Call an ambulance!’ someone shouted.
‘I reckon it’s too late for that,’ someone else said. ‘Look at all that blood.’
Jess felt Sam’s hand on her arm, trying to hold her back. But she shook herself free and moved towards her stepbrother.
The sight of all the blood stopped her in her tracks. The gutter ran red with it, so much it was impossible to see where it was coming from.
‘Jess!’ Sam’s voice implored her. But she moved forward on legs that didn’t seem to belong to her, dropping to her knees at the boy’s side.
‘Cyril?’ she whispered, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. ‘Cyril, it’s me, Jess.’
He groaned faintly in response. ‘My leg—’
‘He’s alive!’ someone in the crowd shouted. ‘Thank God. Where’s that ambulance?’
Jess steeled herself to look down. Cyril’s left trouser leg glistened crimson, soaked in blood. It pumped from a wound just above his knee.
Without thinking, she tore off her cardigan and wrapped it around his upper thigh, tying it as tight as she could. She had never done this before, and wasn’t even sure she was doing it right. Blood still pumped from the wound. She pulled the cardigan tighter, but the wool was too bulky.
‘Here, try this.’ Sam was suddenly beside her, pulling off his tie. ‘It should be better.’ He handed it to her and Jess wrapped it around her brother’s leg, pulling it tight with every last bit of strength she had.
‘The bleeding’s slowing down,’ Sam said. They looked at each other, shocked by what they’d done. ‘It’s worked, Jess!’
The jangling bell of the ambulance woke her, as if from a trance. Jess looked up, suddenly aware of the circle of faces around her, watching her. She looked down at her hands, glistening and sticky with blood. The last thing she heard was Sam’s voice calling out her name, before the world started to spin around her, and everything turned black.
A fractured thigh, torn muscles and severe concussion was the Casualty doctor’s pronouncement on Cyril.
‘But it could have been a lot worse, if he’d gone on bleeding from that wound,’ he said. ‘I reckon you saved your brother’s life with your quick thinking, young lady. Where did you learn to apply a tourniquet?’
‘I must have read about it somewhere.’ Jess kept her gaze fixed on the floor of the waiting room. She was too embarrassed to admit she’d read it in a medical textbook. Once she’d finished reading Sister Sutton’s anatomy book, she’d taken to borrowing other medical books from the Institute library.
‘Well, it’s a lucky thing you did. This young man owes you a great debt. Wouldn’t you say so?’ He turned to Gladys, who sat with her mouth pursed, clutching her handbag on her lap. Even now, her stepmother couldn’t bring herself to say a kind word to Jess.
But as they left the Casualty department together after Cyril had been transferred to the Children’s ward, Gladys muttered through tight lips,
‘The doctor’s right. I suppose I should thank you.’ Then, just as Jess thought she was witnessing a miracle, she added, ‘although from what I hear, it was you who nearly got him killed in the first place,’ she added.
Jess stared at her. ‘How do you work that out?’
‘If you hadn’t shouted out to him, he wouldn’t have stopped in the middle of the road, would he? And he wouldn’t be in trouble with the police neither.’
‘If he hadn’t nicked the takings off that stall, he wouldn’t have had to run away in the first place,’ Jess shot back.
But there was no point in arguing with her stepmother. Gladys would never see the good in her, whatever Jess did.
‘I want you to go and visit Cyril,’ Gladys said. ‘Make sure you keep an eye on him for me.’
‘What, in case he starts pinching off the other patients?’
‘I’m worried about him.’ Gladys’ scarlet-painted mouth trembled. ‘He’s my son, ain’t he? I’m not allowed to visit him often, but I bet you could sneak in?’
Jess looked at her. She was surprised to find that underneath that hard, painted mask, Gladys had some kind of maternal feelings. It was a shame Jess had never seen them before.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she promised.
She left Gladys at the gate and went back to the nurses’ home. All she wanted to do was sink into a hot bath. She had managed to clean herself up in the Casualty department, but the hem of her dress was still spattered with blood, and her whole body ached.
But at least it was lunchtime, which meant she would have the place to herself, apart from the f
ew students who were sent off duty from one until five. With any luck they would stay in their rooms studying, and Jess could have some peace and quiet.
Or so she thought. As she made her way down the passageway towards her room, she heard the creak of footsteps on the stairs above her and Anna Padgett’s voice rang out.
‘I say. You there!’
Jess stopped. ‘It’s my day off,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘If you want anything done, it’ll have to wait till tomorrow.’
‘I don’t care what day it is. I want to talk to you.’ Anna reached the bottom stair. ‘Where is it?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘You know very well what. My perfume.’
Jess turned slowly to face her. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘My mother bought me a bottle of perfume for my birthday. Midnight In Paris. I kept it in my drawer, but now it’s gone.’ Anna took a step towards her. ‘I want to know what you’ve done with it.’
‘I haven’t seen it.’
‘Don’t lie to me! You’re always snooping about in our rooms, going through our things. You must have taken it.’
‘Are you calling me a thief?’ Jess looked up into the other girl’s plain, pugnacious face, and fought the urge to slap it.
Anna Padgett must have read the anger in her eyes, because she stepped back. ‘I can’t think who else would have taken it,’ she said.
‘Me neither,’ Jess snapped. ‘I can’t imagine why anyone would want a cheap bottle of scent that smells like old tom cat! But I certainly ain’t taken it, I can tell you that!’
She left Anna standing open-mouthed and let herself into her room, slamming the door in the other girl’s face.
Jess sank down on her bed and fought to calm herself. Take no notice of her, she told herself. You’re not a thief, you know you’re not.
And to think that the day had started out with so much hope and promise. It seemed so long ago that she had been in the market with Sam, being caught up in his arms, her School Cert in her hand . . .
Her School Cert! She’d forgotten all about it in the chaos of Cyril’s accident. She must have left it lying in the road, with the book Sam had given her.
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