Wilf and Sam were so busy about their work that they hardly had time to mope, and Billy already had his head filled with dreams of growing up as fast as he could and joining Frank in America. His sole reason for flying off to his school lessons more eagerly than of old in the afternoons, was to beg his teacher to tell him all she could about this strange big country across the sea.
The baby grew fat and contented, and Carrie counted the days until John came home. She had no idea when it would be, but it must surely be any day now. She was kept busy looking after young Henry, since Ma still refused to leave off doing the washing for her special ladies. She had no need of the work any more, but she insisted it was a way of keeping her mind off all else, and it gave her enormous pride to see the lace collars and cuffs and broderie underpinnings come up white and sparkling under her expert care.
Carrie took Henry down to the waterfront for an airing every afternoon to watch the busy little tugs moving up and down the river. The baby was propped up against a cushion in his carriage now, and starting to take an interest in it all.
‘You see that boat, lamb?’ she said to him, directing his carriage to where the ferry was working its way across from the other side. ‘That’s what your Uncle John used to do, but soon he’s going to get a fine big boat and take folk right out to sea. Maybe he’ll take you and me one day.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised at that.’
The voice she knew and loved so well spoke right behind her. Carrie spun round, staring in disbelief for one glorious instant, before she was enveloped in John’s arms. And the feel of him, and the smell of him, and the taste of him, was everything and all that she remembered. Her heart thudded loudly against him, matching his exactly. And her tears of joy were damp on his cheeks when they finally broke apart, hardly noticing that they were in a public place.
‘You’re back!’ she gasped unnecessarily.
‘I do believe I am,’ he grinned. ‘Unless I’m some figment of your imagination, my dearest. And my God, but I’ve waited too long for this moment.’
He looked away from her then, afraid to show so much love so openly.
‘And I suppose this is Henry. He’s a fine young bruiser if I ever saw one!’
It was almost impossible to think that John had never seen Henry until now. But his words reminded her of the reason John had been away, and she was quick to notice the lingering dark swellings on his face, and the scar below one eye. His time away hadn’t been all honey then, despite the way he had rarely mentioned the fights in his letters.
‘Come back to the house with me, John. Ma will be that pleased to see you. Our Frank has been and gone lately — and oh, there’s so much to tell you!’
‘Aunt Vi’s already told me some of it,’ he said. ‘I went home first, to let them know I’m safely back, but I couldn’t wait to see you. I want to pay my respects to your mother, but what I really want is to be alone with you, sweetheart. God, it’s been so long since I’ve held you in my arms properly!’
She felt the hot colour run up her cheeks, knowing exactly what he meant. And she wanted that too. She wanted him to hold her and thrill her, and love her …
‘We only have two months to wait until we’re wed, John,’ she murmured, ‘and then we’re going to be together for always. Aren’t we?’
For a moment, she allowed a doubt to come into her mind. Supposing he’d got such a taste for the performances he’d given in the ring, and the acclaim that went with it, that he couldn’t give it up after all?
‘We are, my love,’ he said softly. ‘I never want to leave you or this town again, and as for the fighting, I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime. Unless some wag wants taking down a peg or two, of course, like a certain someone’s brother I could mention.’
But he was only teasing, and Carrie relaxed, telling him it was unlikely he’d have any more trouble from Wilf now that he was such a respectable up-and-coming toymaker.
‘And Pa’s set up too,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘All our lives have changed in so short a time, John. To think that this time last year we hadn’t even met.’
‘And every day I thank God for hurling that young scamp of a brother of yours into the river. But for him, we might never have met at all.’
‘Yes we would,’ Carrie said. ‘Somehow, some time, we would have met, John. I know it.’
She felt his hand close over hers as she pushed the baby carriage back towards Jacob’s Wells Road.
‘That old destiny you believe in would have assured it, would it?’ he said with a smile.
‘Of course,’ she said positively.
* * *
But now there were plans to be made, and the most immediate one of all was to take Aunt Vi and Uncle Oswald down to Clevedon to look around for a suitable cottage. Now that John was home again, they were anxious to get everything settled, and to be moving out of the house on Bedminster Hill on the day of Carrie and John’s wedding, leaving the house to the newly-weds.
The four of them planned a whole day out in the middle of April for the jaunt, and by then John had already found out the name of a good estate agent with suitable properties on his books, and knew just where to find him.
A carriage was hired for the day by Aunt Vi and the journey was something of a holiday. Only Uncle Oswald had been to the small fishing-village before, and that was many years earlier. But he insisted that he well recalled the natural pebble and shingle coastline. Some said that the hilly outlines of the town resembled the seven hills of Rome. And since none of them had ever been to Rome, nor were ever likely to go there, it was something that couldn’t be disputed.
They alighted in the middle of the day, stiff and in need of refreshment, and very thankful that the driver could recommend an inn to serve them food and ale. But once replete, they resumed their ride around the village to look the place over, and Aunt Vi declared at once that this was where she wanted to end her days.
From the top of the hill above the cluster of dwellings that made up the small town, there was a fine view right down the Bristol Channel. An old church stood on another not-too-distant hill, inviting folk for worship. The islands in the middle of the Channel were those of Flatholm and Steepholm, of which Carrie had heard John tell, and across the water was the hazy outline of the coast of Wales.
This information immediately reminded Carrie of her friend Elsie, whom she hadn’t seen for weeks now, and she wondered briefly how her association with the lusty Dewi was progressing.
‘Well, it’s all just perfect, and I’ve no hesitation in saying I want to live here, and I know I don’t need to ask Oswald for his approval,’ Aunt Vi declared. ‘So the sooner we see the estate agent and find out what properties are available, the better.’
The estate agent’s offices weren’t far away from the Beach Road, and he was only too happy to show them the details of various cottages. It was a welcome surprise to the old couple to see that the prices were far more modest than those of city dwellings, and it was an added incentive for them to retire to the seaside.
‘May we see these properties?’ John said, when the couple had selected two or three cosy-looking places, and couldn’t decide between them.
‘Of course,’ the man said at once. ‘I shall escort you there myself, though I think I would advise against the Zig-Zag property in view of the accessibility,’ he said delicately. ‘The views are magnificent, of course, but the narrow lane leading to the cottage is very steep and winding, and in bad weather can cause quite a hazard.’
‘Then we had best decide against that one,’ Aunt Vi said at once. ‘There’s no use being tied to a place we can’t leave for fear of breaking our legs.’
That left two cottages along the Beach Road. Either would do admirably, Carrie thought, and each had a view of the Channel and the Welsh coastline. It was a lovely setting, and the estate agent informed them that the sunsets on the water in this particular area were glorious. Hearing his eloquent, persuasive manner, and seeing this q
uaint little village in all its pristine spring glory, Carrie thought she could easily move down here too.
But John needed the river for his summer trippers and would never want to move out of the city. He’d made that clear already. Besides that, Carrie’s family was in Bristol, and her brief moment of envy vanished. Clevedon was an ideal place for the older Travises, and she and John could always visit.
They finally settled on April Cottage, on the Beach Road, which was appropriate to the month in which they were buying it. It had two bedrooms upstairs, a large parlour and reasonable size scullery downstairs, and the privy outside the back door in the narrow strip of garden.
‘You’ve made a very wise choice, sir and madam, if I may say so,’ the estate agent said gushingly. ‘Now, if you would care to come back to the office and sign some papers, I will set things in motion for you. The cottage has only been empty for a while, and would surely have been snapped up very soon.’
‘It’s a good thing we happened to view it then,’ Uncle Oswald said dryly, recognising the sales spiel.
‘When were you thinking of taking possession?’
‘On the twenty-eighth of June,’ Oswald and John said together, and they both laughed at the womenfolk.
‘So definite!’ said the estate agent. ‘Most folk have no more than a vague idea until we discuss it with them.’
‘Well, we have a very definite idea,’ John assured him. ‘Of course, if the dealings can’t be done by then —’
‘My dear sir, there’s no question of that! Everything will be in order as soon as we go through the formalities.’
Above his bent head, Carrie and John smiled at one another. The formalities were signing the deed of sale and for Uncle Oswald and Aunt Vi to hand over the money orders they had collected from the bank. Not for them the hazards of long repayments. This was cash, and as such, commanded respect from this pompous gent.
The formalities also included the date when the cottage would belong to the old couple, and the house on Bedminster Hill would belong to Carrie and John, with all its implications. The twenty-eighth of June was her birthday, and it promised to be the happiest birthday ever. She would attain the magical age of eighteen years, and she would acquire a husband.
She shivered in the cloying warmth of the office. Not just a husband, the thought ran around her head, but her own, beloved, beautiful John, whom she would promise to love and honour and obey for the rest of her life …
She realised he was still looking at her, and that Uncle Oswald was clearing his throat. She blushed, looking down at her gloved hands, and praying that the love and longing in her eyes hadn’t been too plain for all to see. It wasn’t seemly … at least, not until they were married, and in the privacy of their own dear little home …
* * *
They had decided to stay overnight in Clevedon, to save journeying on the bumpy road back to Bristol, and they applied for lodgings at a hotel perched on a rocky outcrop at the end of Beach Road. The two ladies would share one room, and the gentlemen another. Aunt Vi had previously called on Carrie’s mother and assured her that all would be above-board.
‘I never doubted it,’ Ma had said, a mite tartly. ‘The girl’s been brought up to respect herself, and I’d hope that your nephew had too.’
‘Have no fear of that, Mrs Stuckey,’ Aunt Vi soothed. ‘Now, I wonder, while I’m here, if I’m to be permitted to take a small peep at this lovely wedding-gown Carrie’s been telling me about? You’re so nimble with your fingers, I hear, and I do envy you that skill.’
‘Just a peep, then,’ May said, unable to resist such blatant flattery. ‘And if you don’t mind keeping an eye on Henry while I bring it down.’
‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ Vi said, knowing there was no way she’d be invited upstairs. There were limits to how far visitors were allowed into the intimacy of other folks’ lives, and she and May Stuckey weren’t family yet.
But she gave whole-hearted admiration to the gown May had fashioned out of the bolt of silk fabric Frank had bought. She thanked God he hadn’t stinted on the amount, for it had taken a great deal to make Carrie a gown fit for a princess. And that was what May was determined her girl would have.
‘It’s really beautiful, Mrs Stuckey,’ Vi said sincerely. ‘And Carrie will look beautiful in it.’
* * *
But respectability aside, Vi wasn’t beyond seeing the romanticism of the occasion when the two young lovebirds were together and away from home, and on the brink of marriage. And when she and Oswald were more than ready to retire for the night, she told Carrie that if she and John wanted to take an evening stroll in that glorious sunset she’d been told about, she wouldn’t disturb her when she came to bed.
‘I was going to suggest the very same,’ John said, even though it was long past sunset now. They had watched it through the windows of the inn though, and Carrie had thought she had never seen anything more beautiful than the sun’s dying rays spreading across the water in all their brilliant shades of crimson and orange and gold.
Carrie fetched her shawl from her room and the two of them slipped out of the inn, to stroll with arms entwined along the short undulating stretch of Beach Road. By now, a huge yellow moon had risen in the sky, its golden sheen across the rippling water replacing the blood-red of sunset, and only serving to enhance the romance of the balmy evening.
They paused by a rickety fence to gaze outwards, to where the dim, hazy shape of Wales could no longer be seen. They seemed to be bathed in the moon’s golden glow, and they might have been the only two people alive in the world. As John pulled Carrie into his arms, he held her close enough for her to imagine that their hearts had ceased their individual beating, and had merged into one, and his kiss was sweetly sensual on her lips.
‘I want you to know how much I love you, my Carrie,’ he said softly against her mouth, ‘and nothing is ever going to separate us again.’
He held her even closer, and she wound her arms around him tightly, as if she would never let him go. Her shawl slipped away from her slightly, and a small breeze prickled on her skin for a brief moment and made her shiver. She told herself it meant nothing. And for once she wouldn’t let herself believe in omens.
Chapter 22
By the beginning of June, they were planning for the wedding the end of the month, and Ma’s fingers were constantly pricked from long hours of sewing the wedding-gown. But it was a labour of love, and as such, she disregarded the discomfort of the nicks.
But as well as arranging with Mr Pritchard to perform the ceremony, there were other things taking shape as well. John requested that Carrie accompanied him to the yard of one of the prominent boat-builders in the city.
‘So what do you think of her?’ John said, with as much pride as if he displayed a new-born babe to the world.
Carrie looked, and felt a stab of disappointment. John hadn’t said much about the new boat that was being prepared for him, except that it was due to be completed by the first day of July, just in time for the main summer tripping trade. It couldn’t be finished before, because not all the funds were available yet, and he would still owe some on account when he took delivery. He skimmed over that particular fact, not wanting to alarm Carrie too much, or get her worried as to whether he’d be tempted to go into the ring again.
But she had expected to see something more than this. Sitting securely in its cradle, the boat was certainly a recognisable shape, but the paddle-wheels were stacked forlornly at the side, there was no paint on it, and nor did anyone seem to be working on it on that particular day. John saw her face, and squeezed her waist.
‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, it will all be done in time. I just wanted you to see that the work has begun, that’s all. If you’ll come into the gaffer’s office, he’ll let you see the blueprint, so you can see just how it will look when it goes into the water.’
She wasn’t too impressed. She had seen boats before, and although this one was obviously going to be much larger t
han John’s old one, and fulfil his dream, she felt as far removed from it as ever. But she followed him dutifully into the gaffer’s dusty little office, and allowed John to introduce her.
‘I know your father’s work, miss,’ he commented. ‘And I hear he’s doing well these days.’
Carrie nodded stiffly. He might have done even better, she thought sourly, if one of these boat-building gaffers had given Pa and her brothers work when it was so sorely needed. But to be fair, she knew that hard times had hit them all once the Great Britain’s teams of carpenters had been made redundant.
‘May we see the blueprint for my new boat, please, Mr Cummings?’
The man took down several rolled-up plans and spread them out on his hotch-potch of a desk. They were no more than sketchy outlines, with a mass of figures and measurements that meant nothing to Carrie. The man started to explain the finer points of balance and draught and water-displacement, all of which went above her head, while she tried hard to look interested. After all, this was her future too …
And then he pulled out the final drawing from beneath all the others and spread it out in front of them. And Carrie stared, bemused and enchanted at the sleek, beautiful lines of the boat, with the paddle-wheels so symmetrical and graceful at either side. And proudly emblazoned along the side of the boat, prominent for everyone to see, was the name Caroline.
She caught her breath, and turned sharply to John with shimmering, luminous eyes.
‘It’s my wedding gift to you, sweetheart,’ he said softly. ‘Wherever I am, at home or on the river, my Caroline will always be with me.’
He drew her towards him and pressed a light kiss on her mouth. She responded with fervour, too full of love to speak. The boatyard owner cleared his throat noisily at this unlikely exhibition of affection in a boatyard office. John smiled, unperturbed as ever.
‘You’ll forgive this little display, sir. The lady had no idea of my choice of name, and as you can see, it has delighted her.’
Hidden Currents Page 37