The Homecoming
Page 16
Before the ambulance doors closed behind Molly’s stricken face, Tomos had no time to say more than, ‘Molly, love, Melanie is leaving me. It’s going to be all right.’ He wasn’t sure she had heard.
He helped Mrs Frank back up to her bedroom, where she had been sitting in an armchair reading, and made her a fresh pot of tea. She was trying so hard to be brave but Tomos could see she was trying tensely to hold back tears. He went to the door of her room and said, ‘Just down the stairs I’ll be. You only have to call and I’m there.’ He went down the stairs whistling cheerfully and made a few noises so she wouldn’t think he was down there listening. He hoped that a few tears would release the tension for her.
He waited for half an hour popping up at intervals to make sure Mrs Frank was all right, then, after ringing the hospital and being told Mr Frank was being examined by a surgeon, he returned to Mrs Frank’s room.
‘No news, yet,’ he said. ‘The hospital said to ring in an hour, but I expect Molly will ring you before then.’
‘Thank you.’ Mrs Frank spoke calmly and Tomos hesitated. She looked so controlled, the skin on her pale face paper-thin, her eyes heavy with the after effect of tears. Should he stay or leave her on her own?
‘I’m perfectly all right if you’d rather go down and watch television or something,’ she said.
Hearing in the formal words the underlying plea for him to stay, he grinned and said, ‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind, I’d rather stay here with you. Lonely it is down by there.’
‘Then you can bring another cup of tea and sit here with me to drink it.’
‘A pleasure,’ he said but inwardly he chuckled. Always a formidable woman, age hadn’t changed her that much. Molly had often told him how Mrs Frank ordered her about in a style that went out of fashion fifty years before, and how she accepted it with good humour knowing the kindness that hid behind the brisk formality.
Taking the tea tray and even adding an embroidered cloth which he found on a side table, he returned to Mrs Frank, quirked an eyebrow questioningly and lifted the teapot. On her regal nod, he poured tea into the eggshell-thin cups.
This was, he thought with a sense of affection for the old lady, rather like Mrs Havisham and Pip in Great Expectations, only without cobwebs and dust. The old lady and her house were spotless enough even for his Mam to approve. But the atmosphere and the mannerly behaviour created a time-warp in which he had returned to the gentility of life before the last war. He used the small silver tongs and added one lump of sugar to her tea and handed it to her, thinking the experience was far from unpleasant.
‘What are you going to do about Molly?’ Mrs Frank demanded, almost making him spill his tea. ‘Isn’t it about time you made up your mind?’ She stared at him with shrewd and piercing eyes, which were as blue as the pattern on the cup, and hostile.
‘I – well, yes.’ he spluttered. Then he told her about the shock of having Melanie telling him about her affair before he could explain about his own. To his relief she laughed and the slight tension between them eased.
‘I think Molly hoped you and Mr Frank didn’t know,’ he said. ‘She loves you very much and didn’t want to cause you worry.’
‘We love her too and loving her doesn’t mean making her so much our servant she doesn’t have a life of her own. If we live to be a hundred – and we’ll certainly try – we don’t want her to be left without anyone who cares.’
‘I care, but it’s been difficult, I haven’t wanted to hurt Melanie any more than she’s been hurt already. Now it’s different, and our future, mine and Molly’s, depends at least partly on you. She won’t have you distressed in any way and she won’t leave you, whatever we decide. You do believe that, don’t you?’
‘Of course.’
A phone call from the hospital assured them that no bones had been broken but they were keeping Mr Frank in for a few days for rest and to be sure he was over the shock of the fall. Molly stayed all night at the hospital and Tomos stayed with Mrs Frank.
* * *
Lydia and Matthew continued to spend a lot of time together, mainly thanks to the assistance of Stella.
‘Sometimes I feel I don’t live at home any more,’ Stella said, laughing as Lydia prepared to leave her mother in Stella’s capable care and meet Matthew. ‘The days I’m home I help you in the shop, and my evenings are spent here, looking after Annie and getting a bit of supper for your dad.’
‘Do you mind?’ Lydia asked as she was about to put on her coat. ‘We could stay in tonight if you want to go home?’
‘No I don’t mind, love. It’s time you had a bit of fun and,’ she glanced at Lydia, frowning slightly and added, ‘it won’t be for much longer, will it? Christmas will soon be upon us and after that, well, what are Matthew’s plans? Has he said?’
‘No, and I haven’t asked. Just enjoy it while I can. that’s what Molly advises.’
‘Different for her now though, isn’t it?’
‘Is it? I haven’t seen her for a few days. Not travelling to work together every day like we used to, we lose touch.’
Stella told her the previous day’s events, about the surprise of Melanie leaving Tomos, and Mr Frank’s fall and about Mrs Frank accepting Tomos and Molly’s relationship. ‘So, things are working out for Molly and I expect she’ll recommend something different from “live for today” now.’ She touched her niece’s shoulder affectionately. ‘Don’t depend on things working out so well for you and Matthew, love. I don’t think he’s the type to offer you a firm commitment, not like Tomos who’s a home-bird at heart. They both are; Tomos and Glyn.’
‘This mysterious “Cath” is supposed to be coming here this week, so we’ll all be able to have a look at her at last.’ Lydia spoke light-heartedly but the ache of Glyn leaving her hadn’t lessened. Even when she was with Matthew she felt only part of her was involved.
‘Been invited to meet her, have you, then?’ Stella queried.
‘I’ve never needed an invitation to go to the Howes’. Why should anything be different now?’
‘It is different though, isn’t it?’ Stella said. ‘You still feel something for Glyn.’
‘Matthew is much more romantic and generous and fun. No, I don’t feel anything for Glyn, except as a childhood friend.’
‘I loved someone else as you know, before I married your uncle Sam.’
‘Yes, you told me. But you loved Uncle Sam best, didn’t you?’
‘I never stopped loving the first one and I always regret putting pride before common sense and refusing him after a… Well, he let me down, went out with someone else. I should have forgiven him. My life would have been completely different if I’d been sensible then.’
‘But it isn’t like that with Glyn and me. He found someone he loved more.’
‘And if he changed his mind, would you forgive him? I didn’t, and I’ve regretted it.’
‘I can’t see that situation arising, can you? Cath is coming to meet his family and they’ll probably discuss wedding plans and—’ Her face broke up with misery as she mumbled almost inaudibly ‘Oh, Auntie Stella, I want to run away.’ She turned to her aunt to be hugged.
‘I know, my lovely girl. But don’t show him how you feel. Pride definitely helps at moments like these, when you want to be brave.’
News that Cath had arrived and that she had brought someone with her, reached Lydia via Molly.
‘It was Tomos who met them at the station and brought them out,’ she told Lydia the following evening. ‘Won’t say a word, mind, irritating man that he is. He says Glyn wants you to meet her without any preconceived ideas, whatever that might mean!’ Molly was taking the opportunity of a brief visit to see Lydia’s new shop while Mrs Frank was being taken by Tomos to visit Mr Frank in hospital.
She didn’t stay long and left Lydia puzzling over Glyn’s girlfriend, Cath, and the prospect of being introduced. ‘I can’t promise to be civil, mind!’ she called after a laughing Molly.
Christmas was fast approaching and the small shop was becoming very busy. Small gifts wrapped in glittery paper or cellophane to add to their appeal were piled into the small bow window and every evening the displays were replenished and changed as items sold out and new ones arrived.
With only two weeks to go, Lydia took out the contents and did a very special display. Covering boxes and adding tinsel to the edges, crepe paper folded and stretched, and lengths of silver tinsel made the window a spectacle to attract the eyes of every passer-by. News spread about the display and the contents, and the shop was busier still. Every evening Lydia and Stella sighed and collapsed into a chair when the door finally closed.
‘If this goes on we’ll be making a fortune!’ Lydia gasped.
‘But it won’t, love,’ Stella warned. ‘Once Christmas is over, things will settle down to a quiet, steady pace. Not too quiet I hope,’ she added. ‘I’d miss all this now. I’ve enjoyed it more than I’d imagined, haven’t you?’
‘It’s succeeded in taking my mind off Cath!’
‘You haven’t seen her yet?’
‘No. And I won’t let Dad or Molly talk about her either. The sooner Glyn takes her back to London the better.’
‘I’ve met her,’ Stella said.
‘Lucky old you! Don’t tell me she’s pleasant, or pretty or clever or – whatever. I don’t want to know. Right?’
‘Right.’
Refusing to talk about Cath didn’t really help. She was so stubborn, she refused to ask even a basic question about her, but Lydia did nevertheless wonder what the woman who had usurped her in Glyn’s affection looked like, and hoped they would meet before the woman left again for London, ‘Even if only to settle my curiosity and have a face to dislike,’ she told Stella.
‘Why don’t you come with me tonight and meet her?’ Molly said later that evening when she and Tomos called with Gimlet. ‘We’re having a bit of a family conference and if you come it will take some of the limelight off me!’ she admitted. ‘Gimlet is all right about me and Tomos getting together but Mary, well, you know what a traditionalist she is, she thinks Tomos should be trying to get Melanie back, not making plans with me.’
‘Sorry, Molly, I can’t.’
‘Going out with Matthew Hiatt? Bring him as well, the more the better I’d be pleased.’
‘No it isn’t that. I couldn’t walk through that door and wait to be introduced to Glyn’s new girlfriend, you can understand that can’t you?’
‘Not so much of the girl, mind,’ Molly whispered. ‘Older than him she looks to me.’
‘I don’t want to know!’ Lydia was adamant. A few days later she had no choice but to be introduced to Catherine Wesson.
Walking down the lane towards the wool shop, she was carrying bread and a few items for their evening meal when a taxi pulled up and Glyn stepped out. He called her but she pretended to misunderstand and waved casually and quickly entered the shop. She didn’t want to talk to him and have to refuse an invitation to meet this Cath who was older than him but whom he had chosen instead of her! A few minutes later he followed her in.
Stella came out expecting to see a customer and when she saw Glyn and the woman with him she greeted them politely then backed out and called Lydia.
Lydia walked into the shop with her smile in place, ready to serve a customer and the smile stiffened but didn’t quite fade when she saw Glyn. Her gaze fluttered between him and the woman standing beside him; a tall, rather plump woman, dressed against the damp, cold weather. Her hair was hidden by a tightly fastened head-scarf, emphasising the heavy-jowled face. But brown eyes greeted her warmly with a generous smile. Glyn began to speak but the woman interupted him.
‘Hello,’ she said stepping forward and offering a hand. ‘I’m Catherine Wesson, and you are – Lydia? What a lovely name,’ she said as she took Lydia’s hand in both of hers in a way that made Lydia warm towards her. The smile relaxed and Lydia said, ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been down to see you, Tomos and Molly said you’d like me to, but the shop, garments to finish, and with Christmas coming and—’
‘Dont worry, but I do want us to talk. Perhaps you’ll come soon and we can get to know a little about each other? What about tonight?’
There seemed no way of refusing without being ungracious and somehow, now she had met Catherine Wesson, that wasn’t appropriate.
Setting off that evening to meet Cath, Lydia congratulated herself in the grown-up way she was handling herself. But she admitted, it was more to do with the warmth and gentleness of Cath than her own maturity. There was no way I could be rude to her, she thought to herself. I find it impossible to dislike her.
She was nervous though and, as a sort of safety net, had arranged for Matthew to call for her an hour after the time she planned to arrive.
Cath stood up to greet her and after a few moments of polite talk, called out, ‘Come on in, my lovely, come and meet Lydia.’ Lydia looked expectantly towards the kitchen door wondering who could be there, but who ever she expected it was not this. A small child, about four or five years old, hugging a doll, a rather anxious look in her dark eyes, stepped towards her and said formally, ‘How d’you do, Lydia? I’m Cath two. Spelt TWO,’ she added with a smile reminiscent of the older Catherine.
‘Your daughter?’ Lydia asked and wondered, with a sickening jolt, whether the child was Glyn’s.
Catherine laughed. ‘No, I’m neither married nor a Mum. I’m her aunt.’ She hugged the little girl affectionately. ‘Her lovely Mum died, you see, and her Dad is starting a new business to make a home for her, isn’t he Cath Two? Until he gets a house, I’m bringing her up. We’re learning how to do it together, aren’t we my lovely?’
Any unease was dissipated by the entrance of the child. She was a real chatterbox and at once sat on Lydia’s lap and began telling her the names of all her dolls of which she seemed to have a great number called Sue. Big Sue, Seaside Sue, Little Sue, Pink Sue, Baby Sue. The list seemed endless.
‘Don’t you think a different name might make life easier?’ Lydia said laughing.
The little girl thought about this solemnly for a while then said, ‘No. Sue is my favourite name and when I can’t think of another Sue I’ll call the next one Susan. Then Susanna.’ Another list threatened and they all laughed. The little girl was obviously happy in the Howes’ home and felt easy with them all.
An hour had passed with surprising speed and Lydia listened for the doorbell to herald the arrival of Matthew. Aware that Matthew might not want to come inside, she put on her coat so she would be ready when he called.
‘Are you talking about Matthew Hiatt?’ Cath asked, when she explained. ‘Glyn told me he was back in the village. I wonder what he wants?’
Lydia glanced at Glyn who, guessing her thoughts said. ‘I didn’t see any point in telling her. She knew Rosie, you see.’
‘What happened to Rosie? And why is Matthew back?’ Cath asked, looking from one face to another.
‘You know him?’ Lydia asked in surprise. ‘I thought you lived in London?’
‘I do, but I was born here. I moved away when my father was transferred to Tottenham, years ago. I remember Matthew very well. Who wouldn’t? A right tearaway he was. And I lived next door to his sister, Rosie,’ she went on. ‘Disappeared didn’t she? Off with some man in search of a better life and who’s to blame her?’
‘Go into the kitchen and fetch me some more cakes will you my lovely?’ Mary asked the little girl. When she was out of the room, Glyn told Cath about the body being found.
‘Buried up at the castle! But what on earth happened? How did she die?’
They answered her questions as well as they were able. But it was clearly a great shock to her.
‘Reading about a possible murder in the papers, and seeing it on television is one thing. When it’s someone you know, it, well, it makes it much more frightening. Murder doesn’t touch many lives in spite of all the numbers of deaths that occur. I can’t believe it. Was it one
of her clients, d’you think?’
Glyn thought of his father and Billy Jones being involved with the young woman and muttered uneasily that it seemed the most likely possibility.
‘I remember the day she left very well,’ Cath said. ‘There was always plenty of gossip about the Hiatts. Rosie had a room with Mrs Harry, didn’t she? After you and Mary had taken her in for a while.’
‘Poor Matthew. He was very upset coming home a few weeks ago to try and find out where she’d gone, and then being told she was dead,’ Lydia said.
‘Matthew wasn’t that worried about her at the time. He had too many worries of his own,’ Cath said quietly. ‘Into every illegal way of making money that boy was, and he cleared out just ahead of the police, who suspected him of a series of burglaries. Lots of things disappeared at that time, including my father’s shotgun. Remember, Glyn?’
‘Whatever he was like then, he was horrified at learning that his sister was dead and possibly murdered.’ Lydia spoke sharply. ‘How could you not understand the horror of being told that?’
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so heartless. Of course it must have been a shock. Thinking back, I forgot for a moment. It’s a shock for me too. I was talking to her only hours before she was reported missing. Not that the police took her disappearance seriously. They thought, like most of us, that she’d gone off with some manfriend and would turn up again when he – or she – got bored.’
Lydia was right in thinking Matthew didn’t want to come in and she was thankful he didn’t. Cath’s reminiscences might have distressed him. But her mind was filled with doubts. Everyone said Matthew had been a problem, but a gun? She remembered that the police had found an oilskin near Rosie’s body which they said had been used to wrap a gun. Could he have been involved in more than the wildness of youth?