by Lizzie Lane
Her a widow.
Him a widower.
The two different facets ran into each other and became one. They both needed to be free but, although Miranda was very ill, it could be years more before she died. A lonely future stretched like a desolate wasteland in front of him. In the meantime . . .
At the sound of the school bell ringing he looked up and realised it was time for the boys in his charge and his teaching staff to go home.
Time for him to go home too. He grimaced at the thought of it.
Home to the unwelcoming charms of a sick wife, who took delight in goading him with nasty words, thrown crockery, a swipe from a walking stick and the ringing of a bell that she knew set his nerves on edge.
‘You don’t have to put up with it,’ he muttered to himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Joanna was laughing and chattering with her friends Paul and Susan, running and jumping as they made their way up The Vale, over-excited at the prospect of her father coming home.
The day had been the brightest of her life. Nothing could daunt her spirits, not until Paul pointed out that a policeman was pushing open the garden gate of number 116.
‘What’s a copper doing there then?’ Paul remarked.
Joanna began to run. Paul and Susan ran after her, lingering by the garden gate as she headed for the front door and the uniformed policeman standing there with his back to her.
‘Nobody’s in,’ she explained. ‘Elspeth’s at work.’
The policeman bent his knees so he could see her better and smiled sadly into her face. ‘Is Elspeth your sister, love?’
She shook her head. ‘My stepmother. She’s at work.’
‘I see.’ He jerked his chin in a nod of understanding. ‘Is there any other adult I can speak to who might know where your stepmother works?’
A terrible apprehension coiled like a snake in Joanna’s stomach. Keen to know what news he brought, Joanna took him along to Mrs Allen’s house.
Mrs Allen came to the door wearing a wraparound flowered apron and curlers in her hair. After taking in the look on the policeman’s face, she swiped at the trickle of snuff that had come down her nose and invited him in.
‘Take a seat,’ she said. ‘You too Joanna, love.’
Feeling the coldest she’d felt all day, Joanna sat down, the colour draining from her face.
Mrs Allen offered the policeman a cup of tea, which he declined. To her mind that said it all. The news was bad. Very bad.
She settled herself in one of the battered Edwardian armchairs that had once belonged to her mother. Some of the horsehair protruded from one arm and the springs were gone. Mrs Allen could not afford replacing them.
Mrs Allen clasped her hands in front of her. ‘What is it, constable? What’s happened?’
The policeman looked at the little girl as he made up his mind whether to give the news he had come to give, or wait and give it to Mrs Ryan. It seemed only right to tell the wife first before the neighbour. There was also the child to consider.
When he asked, Mrs Allen gave him the address of the place where Elspeth worked which he wrote down with a stubby pencil in his little black book. ‘Right. I’ll go there and tell her.’
‘Can you tell me what’s happened?’ pressed Mrs Allen, her arm now fully encircling Joanna’s shoulders. The child’s face was pale and her eyes wide with fear.
‘She’ll be all right,’ Mrs Allen said when she saw him look at Joanna. ‘I’ll take care of her.’ She peered at him quizzically. ‘We already know something bad’s happened or you wouldn’t be here, so you might as well tell us what it is.’
The policeman looked from the child to the old lady before taking Mrs Allen to one side.
‘I’m afraid there’s been an accident on the railway. Private Ryan was one of those killed when a passenger train and a goods train collided in a tunnel. It was quick. He wouldn’t have felt anything.’
Elspeth was just finishing her shift when a policeman called to tell her the bad news.
She stared hard at him for a few minutes as though attempting to take it all in. He offered her a handkerchief. She shook her head.
‘No, thank you. Did any of his stuff survive? You know. His personal effects and all that.’
Discomfited by the avarice in her eyes and the total lack of tears, the policeman shrugged. ‘I couldn’t say, but I’ll make enquiries and let you know.
‘So what happens to the body?’
‘That’s up to you. His remains can be transported for burial back here or it can be done closer to where the accident happened.’
Elspeth lit up a cigarette and peered into the distance. ‘How much will it cost if he’s buried at the scene of the accident.’
‘The railway will meet all costs.’
Elspeth nodded thoughtfully. ‘He does have a life policy.’
She was doing the figures in her mind. It would be cheaper to have him buried where the accident happened. However, the neighbours would be likely to point the finger if she did that. Not that she cared too much what they thought, but as a widow she did have things to sort out. Still, a bit of extra money saved on the funeral would come in handy.
‘Have him buried there,’ she said bluntly. ‘Where he gets buried don’t make that much difference when you’re dead. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get back to work. There’s a war needing to be won.’
The policeman pushed at the rim of his helmet with two fingers as he watched Mrs Ryan sashay back to her workbench. He’d seen some widows shed buckets of tears when told of their husbands’ demise. Others turned white with shock, holding back their heartbreak until they were alone with their thoughts and their memories.
Mrs Ryan’s eyes had remained dry and her face had never lost colour. She didn’t give a damn.
The burial of Tom Ryan took place later that month. The railway company laid on free tickets for the widow and the child to attend the funeral. There were no hymns, just a tired-looking vicar intoning the words of the service. There were no flowers either. There was no point. The only mourners were Joanna and her stepmother.
Mrs Allen had asked Elspeth what the arrangements were as a number of people wished to pay their last respects. She’d looked scandalised when Elspeth had told her that the railway company would only be sending two tickets.
‘Family only. Just me and his kid,’ Elspeth declared with an air of superiority before slamming the door in Mrs Allen’s face.
Mrs Allen stood there outraged. Curtains were drawn in the houses all around and black-edged condolence cards stuck on the windows. It was what people did out of a mark of respect.
‘Whatever is the world coming to?’ she muttered, shaking her head as she made her way home. As for that poor child, what would happen to her now? She had no real mother. No father now either, and her stepmother didn’t want her, using her purely for her own selfish ends.
Pure selfishness ran through Elspeth Ryan’s veins. The only person she would ever look after was herself.
Once the funeral was out of the way, Arnold Thomas became a more frequent visitor, though now and again Jack Smith also paid a visit.
Joanna kept out of the way, especially when Jack Smith was around, though she heard him ask her whereabouts.
‘Pretty little thing. And growing up fast I bet,’ she’d heard him say to her stepmother.
‘I think she’s gone out,’ she heard her stepmother say. ‘But you can go upstairs to her bedroom and check if you like.’
She’d sounded amused.
Joanna was terrified and hid under the bed.
He was halfway across her bedroom floor before she heard her stepmother calling him from downstairs.
‘Better not stay up there,’ she shouted out to him. ‘We don’t want to get into any trouble now, do we? That little madam’s likely to spin a tale to her teacher and you know what they’re like.’
Heart in her mouth, Joanna heard Jack Smith’s heavy tread doing back downstairs.
For now she was safe, but very frightened.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
May turned into June. Elspeth Ryan only tolerated Joanna living in the house she now regarded as her own as long as she continued to do most of the cooking and cleaning.
Having her stepdaughter as a drudge meant she could spend her days at work and her nights out at the pictures, dancing, down the pub or once a week with Arnold Thomas.
It was still Arnold she was aiming to snare as her next husband. Once that was done she was set up for life. She’d even convinced herself that she would change her ways, learn how to speak better and dress more soberly, as a headmaster’s wife should do.
Tom had been halfway a decent gentleman, but Arnold was a professional man with a good salary, and that appealed to her mercenary nature. Love had precious little to do with it.
The neighbours could gossip all they liked, but she was now a widow and if she cared to bring a man home for the night, she was free to do as she pleased. Mrs Thomas was in no position to find out about their liaison.
Despite doing her best to put him at ease, Arnold was still uncomfortable about coming to her house.
‘I have a professional reputation to maintain. I’m a married schoolteacher. Headmaster of the boys’ school and I cannot be seen . . .’
Elspeth placed her finger on his mouth, shushing him to silence.
‘I’m a respectable widow,’ she said, although that was in fact stretching the truth a fraction. ‘And your wife is at death’s door.’ She paused, her eyes big and round, full of pleading. ‘Isn’t she?’
He found her hard to resist, but although he did accept her invitation to come in for a late-night drink, he refused to be seen with her in broad daylight. And he had started staying over less often, and his mood had changed. Where once he was ardent, matching her desire with his own, he had become of late more cautious, and their relationship in the bedroom had suffered. It was all to do with Miranda. She was getting worse, refusing to take her medicine and getting more and more violent.
‘She’s my wife. In sickness and in health. I have to do what I can,’ he told her as he got dressed. He could not seem to look her in the eye.
‘Oh, Arnold! I want you so.’
No matter what beguiling tactics she used, her hand against his member, her fingers undoing the buttons of his flies, his overnight stays became infrequent.
Elspeth was exasperated, but vowed the day would come when he would move in permanently and lie with her upstairs. After all, his wife was sick. She convinced herself that it was only a matter of time before he was free. In the meantime, seeing he was unwilling to commit, she indulged herself when he wasn’t around.
Joanna sat with her arms around Harry’s neck, her face buried in his silky ruff. Her tears had wetted his coat on many occasions since the death of her father.
Attentive to the sound of her sobs and the sight of her salty tears, Harry eyed her with his brown soulful eyes, his paw resting on her knee, his wet tongue licking the salt from her cheeks. It was as though he was trying to tell her that he understood.
When she went on too long with her crying, he prodded her tear-stained cheek with his cold wet nose. This was followed by another series of warm wet licks. For the most part Joanna kept her head buried in his neck. Harry was her only consolation. Without him her whole world would turn black.
‘No good you sitting there crying all day long,’ said Seb on one particularly fine sunny day. ‘Your dad’s gone and nothing is going to bring him back. But Harry needs you. That dog is in need of going for a walk. He likes his walk. All dogs like going for a walk.’
Persistent nagging finally dried her tears and he did manage to get her out of the door. Harry walked beside her, though not bouncing as he usually did when the opportunity to go out arose.
They clambered along the embankment, Joanna’s legs aching on account of the slope. Once she was sure he wouldn’t run away, Joanna let Harry off the lead. In the distance she saw Seb bent over his allotment, digging in a large amount of compost with each thrust of his spade.
Harry ran off in front of her before circling behind her, never straying that far.
Joanna sat down on a grassy tump, her sore face and red eyes turned in the direction of the railway line.
A train driver waved from his cab as he went by. Usually Joanna waved back but today she just didn’t see him. Her heart was heavy, her mind absorbed with wishing she could bring her father back. Was there anything she could have done to prevent what had happened? If she had told the truth about Harry, about stealing food from the kitchen to feed him, would that have made a difference? She couldn’t see that it would have.
Back at the shed Seb offered her a sandwich plus a cup of tea from his Thermos, but she declined.
‘Oh well then,’ said Seb, his shrewd eyes missing nothing. ‘P’raps young Harry here will help me out. He does like a bit of cheese.’
Joanna fingered the edge of the workbench which was now crowded with young seedlings ready for transplanting.
‘You might as well snap out of it,’ said Seb. ‘Being glum is not going to bring your dad back.’
Under the circumstances, Seb’s outburst seemed almost cruel. The memory of her kind father would be with her for ever. She wouldn’t forget him and was sure she would never feel happy again.
Joanna pouted. ‘I don’t want to be happy. I’ll never be happy again.’
‘Is that so, young lady? Well, might I remind you that dog of yours is only a youngster and needs looking after. That’s your job. I’m only the man whose shed he lives in. But you found him. He’s your responsibility and you’re his very best friend. Just think of that. And think on this, you’re both orphans now.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Miranda Thomas died at the end of September.
The whole school turned out for the funeral as well as relatives and neighbours. It was some weeks before Arnold Thomas was entirely alone and ready to recommence his life.
Aware of his loss, Elspeth, keen to take advantage of his newfound freedom, was there for him, snatching odd moments, though never long enough for her.
She’d also toned down her hair colour and her clothes. No longer was she the good-time floozy, but had adopted a more classic style.
Something seemed to be preying on her lover’s mind and she wasn’t sure what it was. Arnold finally told her that the car was his but not the house.
‘Only half of it is mine. The other half belongs to my wife’s brother. He’s a solicitor and has told me he would prefer it to be sold. I have agreed to do so. In fact, I’m thinking of moving on anyway. An old friend has offered me a position in Scotland at a private school. I like the sound of it. I thought perhaps you and I . . .’
‘When?’
‘As soon as they confirm a starting date. In the meantime we have to live apart. My brother-in-law would not allow another woman living in his sister’s house.’
Elspeth’s dreams were shattered. Normally she would have blown a gasket, but she’d always held her tongue with Arnold, aware he wouldn’t respond well to a raised voice and the ripe gutter language she was well capable of.
‘We could live at my house,’ she said timidly. ‘Just the two of us. Until you know for sure that you’ve got the job in Scotland.’
Despite the fact that his relationship with his wife had been far from ideal, he’d worn a frown since her death, as though he was guilty about how he had treated his wife while she was alive.
At her suggestion the frown lifted slightly and a hint of a smile stretched his lips. ‘Just the two of us.’ He nodded. ‘That would be nice.’
She linked his arm with hers. ‘Everything will be quite straightforward and quite wonderful.’
She did not reveal that Joanna was still living there, having told him that as Joanna was her husband’s daughter she had gone to live with relatives.
The solution was very simple. The girl had to be sent away for as long as p
ossible, and when she came home Elspeth and her new husband would be living in Scotland. She would not be leaving a forwarding address.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
‘You’re to be evacuated. There’s nothing else for it. The train leaves tomorrow. I’m taking the morning off work to take you to the station. A whole trainload of kids is being evacuated and you’ll be just one of many.’
‘No!’
Alarmed Joanna stood rooted to the spot. She knew of other kids who’d been evacuated, but this had come entirely out of the blue.
Her stepmother glanced at her reflection in the mirror and patted her hair. ‘Your dad’s dead and you’re not my kid. We both need a break. I know I certainly do. Once the war’s ended we’ll take another look at things. Anyway, you’ll love it in the country.’
‘But what about school?’
‘You’ll still go to school, just a different school. In the country.’
‘But I’ll miss my friends,’ Joanna said pleadingly, her eyes filling with tears.
‘You’ll make new ones.’
Joanna felt as though her whole body had been dunked into an ice-covered lake. In her heart of hearts Harry loomed larger than any of her school friends. What would happen to him?
‘But I don’t want to go,’ she said, her voice breaking to the verge of tears. ‘I won’t go!’
Elspeth’s face turned angry, her eyes blazing. ‘You will do as you are told, young lady! Now get up those stairs and pack whatever toys or books you want to take. I’ve done most of your clothes. Now!’
A clip at the back of Joanna’s head sent her stumbling in the direction of the hallway and the stairs leading up to her bedroom. Seeing all the signs of further anger and perhaps being locked in the coalhouse, Joanna ran up the stairs.
Eyes brimming with tears, she looked at the shabby suitcase lying open on the bed. There were no books or toys she particularly wished to take with her. She’d grown out of her tatty little collection some time ago. All she wanted was Harry.
It was too difficult to concentrate on anything else but her little dog. She was going away to goodness knows where, to live in the countryside with strangers. The countryside was that huge area where all the evacuated children went to live because it would be safe there when the bombing began.