by Jess Foley
‘I’m sure it must be. And you’re taking Davie with you?’
‘Yes, for a while. Ellen, is to come by and collect him later on, and take him home again. That’ll leave me free to help out for a bit longer.’
‘You enjoy it, don’t you? Serving the customers?’
‘Yes, I do. I like to be busy.’
Not long after the birth of Davie, at Alfred’s suggestion, they had hired a nurse for the boy – a young woman by the name of Ellen Hockin, who lived nearby and came in on a daily basis – an arrangement that had enabled Lydia to get back to helping out at the shop again. First she had spent only a limited time there, assisting on the busier days and at other necessary times, but as Davie had grown so she had gone there for longer hours, until lately she was there almost full time.
Now she added, speaking to her father, ‘It keeps me well occupied. I don’t get enough to do at home, what with Mrs Starling and Alice doing most of the work in the house and kitchen, and of course Davie has Ellen, who’s always ready to help out too. It doesn’t leave me a lot to do, and I can’t sit sewing the livelong day. Mind you, since I’ve had this little person I’m kept a deal busier than I was.’
‘I’m sure of it.’
She looked at Davie as he sat examining his toy soldier. ‘And soon Davie will have to go to school.’ She addressed her next words to the boy. ‘Isn’t that so, Davie?’
‘Yes.’ He looked up from the toy. ‘Did you know that, Grandpa? I’m starting to learn reading, and how to sum.’
‘Well done, young man.’
‘I teach him when I can,’ Lydia said, ‘but he needs tuition full time now.’
A young maid came over to their table and asked if they needed anything else. Lydia told her that they had all they wanted, and the girl went away again. Lydia said, turning to her father:
‘Father, you must come out to the house and visit us again. You’ve only been the once.’
‘Yes, well, maybe I will,’ he said.
‘You could come from work on a Saturday and have dinner with us.’
‘Ah, well, maybe . . .’
‘The garden is looking very nice at the moment. We have so many daffodils still out around the lawn, and the primroses are beautiful. We walked here today, and I see so many flowers are out. Cowslips were all over the meadow, and dandelions. Our cherry trees are all in full flower. Oh, Father, you should come and see us, at home, soon. Our garden’s a picture.’
‘Well, yes, as I said, maybe I will. You sound as if you’re fond of your garden.’
‘Oh, I am. That’s something else I do, in the summer evenings, help out Mr Clifford – that’s our gardener who comes in three or four times a week, and believe me, he’s needed in the spring and summer when everything grows apace. And the house is looking so nice now that we’ve had the painters in.’
Davie piped up at this, looking up from his chocolate. ‘My room has been newly papered, Grandpa. It’s got butterflies and birds all over it.’
‘Has it, now? Well, that sounds very nice.’ Mr Halley smiled at the boy and then turned back to Lydia. ‘You’re happy there, aren’t you?’
She hesitated for just the merest second. ‘I’ve got so much to make me happy,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a fine home, and a loving husband – and he’s a good husband too – and I have a son.’ She put up a hand and touched Davie’s cheek. ‘Haven’t I, my dear?’
‘You mean me?’ Davie said.
Lydia gave a little chuckle. ‘Of course I mean you. Who else.’
‘And you like Merinville,’ Mr Halley said.
‘Yes, I do,’ she nodded, ‘but I always did like it, right from when we used to visit it to come shopping – Mother and Ryllis and I.’
‘You don’t miss Redbury?’
‘No, I don’t miss Redbury.’
‘Nor your friends there.’
‘I didn’t have any friends there. I wasn’t there long enough to make any.’
‘What about Mr – ?’ He came to a halt, unable to think of the name that had stayed in his mind for so long. ‘I can’t remember his name,’ he said.
‘Who? Who are you talking about?’
‘I meant to tell you,’ he said. ‘I meant to tell you ages ago, but it slipped my mind with Ryllis and everything. You’ve just reminded me of it now.’
‘Of what?’
‘It was just after you married. I was at home one day when a young man called. It must have been a weekend. He was looking for you. He said he was a friend of yours – from Redbury. A tall young man, in his mid twenties, I’d say. Dark haired. Handsome fellow.’
And Lydia knew at once who he meant. He could only have been talking of one person. Her breath caught in her throat for a split second, and then she said, ‘He gave you his name?’
‘Yes, he did, but I’ve forgotten it. Maybe it’ll come to me. I would have told you sooner, but like I said, I forgot.’ He gave a little shrug. ‘I told him that you were no longer living at home, and that you were married and living in Merinville.’
‘Did he – say anything to that?’
‘Not that I recall. I think he just thanked me and went on his way. Ah, yes!’ He touched the side of his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘That’s it. Anderson his name was. It just came to me.’
Lydia nodded, keeping silent. Her father looked a little more closely at her.
‘Are you all right?’ he said.
‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘Are you sure? Have I said something that’s upset you?’
‘What? No. No, not at all.’ She turned to her son. ‘That’s a wonderful soldier you’ve got there, isn’t it?’
Davie nodded happily, and moved the soldier across the table again.
‘Did I have the name right?’ Mr Halley said. ‘It’s been well over four years.’ He took a sip of his tea then added, ‘Mr Anderson – do you remember him?’
‘Oh, yes. Yes, I do.’
Could she ever forget him? It was an impossibility. He was in her mind every day. There was no day that passed that some memory of him did not return. How could she forget him? She had only to look at her son, and there was his father. She needed only to look into the face of her boy, look at his eyes with the thick lashes, and Guy was there, looking out at her. She could see him in the curve of Davie’s lip, in the cut of his square shoulder. Sometimes the awareness shocked her. She would be totally unprepared for the strike of memory, when Davie would turn in a particular way, or smile in a particular way, or look back at her in a particular way, and there Guy would be, and she could see him again, and it would take her breath away. Once again it would all come back. She would think of him in a hundred visions, in the garden beside the square in Redbury where they had first met; seeing him in the carriage as they drove to Barford; facing her across the table while the man sang; sitting on the bank of the lake where they had made love. There was no escaping from her memories.
‘I do remember him,’ she added. ‘Yes, he was – a friend.’
‘Perhaps I should have told him more,’ he said. ‘Like where he could find you – but I didn’t.’
‘It’s all right.’
‘Mammy, watch!’
Lydia’s attention was taken again by Davie who once more demonstrated how his soldier could move and bang his drum, and she smiled and said, ‘Ah, it’s excellent, darling. I’m sure you’re very pleased.’
‘Are you going to celebrate your birthday?’ Mr Halley said, turning to his grandson.
‘I’m having a party,’ Davie said, grinning happily, ‘but tomorrow, when there’s more time. Tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Three little children who live nearby,’ Lydia said. ‘They’re coming round for jelly and cakes.’
‘Well, that sounds as if it’s going to be exciting,’ Mr Halley said.
‘It will be,’ said Davie, ‘and we shan’t only have jelly and cakes. We shall have sandwiches too, and a birthday cake as well, with candles on it. Isn’t that right, Mammy?
A birthday cake with four candles?’
‘Yes, dear.’
‘And we shall play games. We shall play Hunt the Thimble and Blind Man’s Buff and there might even be a lucky dip. Oh, it’s going to be splendid. It’s going to be lots of fun.’
Lydia only half heard her son’s happy prattle. She could not get out of her mind what her father had told her. Guy had called at the house in Capinfell, asking for her. So he had not forgotten. All these years she had had to keep in her head the belief that she had gone completely out of his awareness, but it was not true. He had not forgotten her.
Lydia still thought of her father’s words as they walked through the town in the direction of the market square. She had said goodbye to her father, and Davie had kissed his cheek, and then, while Mr Halley had made for the coach that would take him back to Capinfell, she and Davie had set off for the shop. As they went, Davie walked at her side holding her hand, his other mittened hand grasping his tin soldier.
A sharp, biting wind sliced through the square as they turned into it, and Lydia pressed Davie’s hand and held it to her skirts. ‘It’ll be good to get in the warm again,’ she said. Up above, the sky was a yellowish grey. There was snow there, she thought. Then at last the shop front was before them, and they hurried towards it, pushed open the door, and went in.
The shop was busy, with Alfred and his assistants dealing with customers, while one or two others waited to be served. Lydia went straight through, getting a smiling nod from Alfred, and took Davie into the room at the back.
‘Now,’ she said to the boy, ‘I’ve got to help out in the shop for a while, for Mr Federo has to go out into the town, and Papa and Miss Angel won’t be able to manage on their own. D’you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘There’s a good boy. You’ll have to stay in here and amuse yourself, can you do that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. I’ll pop in now and again to see if you’re all right.’
He was already taking his soldier out of its brown paper wrapping, in preparation to having him walk about the stained table top. ‘What does Mr Federo have to go out for?’ he asked.
‘He’s got a toothache, poor man. He’s going to the barber’s to have his tooth pulled.’
Davie frowned. ‘Will that hurt?’
‘Just a little perhaps – but it’s nothing to the pain he’s in with his tooth aching so.’ She stepped to him and bent before him. ‘Now let me take off your coat and cap – otherwise you’ll miss them when you go out.’
The boy stood still as Lydia took off his cap and overcoat and scarf and mittens. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘I should think you’ll be warm enough.’ There was a fire burning in the stove and she put out her hand towards it. ‘Here, dear, sit by the stove if you start to get cold.’
‘All right.’
‘That’s my good boy.’ She looked into his face. ‘I should think you might be tired pretty soon, so I think it would be a good idea if you have a little nap, don’t you, until Ellen gets here?’
He said in surprise, ‘I’m not tired,’ as if it were the furthest possibility, but she said, ‘Still, you might become so.’ There was a woollen rug hanging over the back of the sofa, and she took it down and laid it on the cushions. ‘If you get tired will you lie down here, darling?’
‘All right, but I shan’t be tired.’
‘Well, we’ll see.’
As she took off her hat and cape Alfred came in. At once he saw the soldier that Davie was holding. ‘Oh, well, look there,’ he said. ‘That’s something I haven’t seen before. Did you get that today?’
‘Yes, I did,’ Davie said. ‘I got it from Grandpa.’
‘Well, that’s very nice of Grandpa to do that. I hope you thanked him properly, did you?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Well done.’ He turned to Lydia who was just hanging up her cape on the hook beside the door. ‘I’m glad you got here,’ he said. ‘Peter’s ready to go now. Poor man is in such discomfort. The sooner he gets it done the better. We seem to be very busy this afternoon.’ He turned to Davie. ‘Will you be all right in here for a while, son?’
‘Yes, Pappy.’
‘Good boy.’ He turned and started out and Lydia, after gently touching her son’s head with her hand, followed after him.
Young Mr Federo was serving an elderly man at that moment, but as soon as the transaction was complete he got the nod from Alfred and, thankfully smiling, went through into the back room to get his coat and hat. A minute later he came out wearing them and pulling on his gloves.
‘Right,’ Alfred said to him, ‘you go on, m’boy, and I’ll see you on Monday. I hope you don’t suffer too much.’
The young man thanked him, wished him a good day and a good weekend, and then said the same to Lydia. In moments he was out of the shop and had disappeared from their sight.
The time passed swiftly. It was always the same on a Saturday. As on a Thursday, the general market day, many people came in from out of town to do their shopping, and they were very busy. Frequently, between customers, Lydia went into the back room to see how Davie was getting on. On the second occasion, she found that he had put his soldier aside and was lying sound asleep on the sofa. The rug was only partly over him, and gently she adjusted it so that he was covered. He kept on sleeping.
She stood there looking down at him, taking in the flush on his rounded cheek, the pink curve of his upper lip, the colour of his light blond hair. He was all that she could have wished for. She thought back to the time of his birth. There must have been a certain amount of gossip surrounding the circumstance, she was sure; a baby born eight months after marriage would always be bound to set tongues wagging, but she didn’t care, and neither did Alfred, she knew.
She touched a light kiss to his smooth forehead and moved out of the room again, back into the shop proper, leaving the door ajar, and found that more customers had arrived: a woman with her three young daughters, wanting to see silk fabrics, particular designs of lace, and grosgrain ribbons. Lydia set to work at once to serve them, and with herself busy, as well as Alfred and Miss Angel, the room was filled with conversation. Another half-hour passed with the time fleeting as the assistants dealt with the customers who came in.
Freed momentarily as a customer left the shop with her packages under her arm, Lydia looked up at the clock on the wall. Nearly five. Not long to go now, then Ellen would be there to take Davie home, leaving Lydia to continue working alongside Alfred for another two or three hours. Later she and Alfred would return home, at which time she could see Davie in the nursery, and tuck him in if he was still awake.
Now she stood for a moment in her own silence while the work went on around her, and a little buzz of voices hovered in the air. She looked from one to the other in the room. Miss Angel, a grey-haired maiden lady in her fifties, and Alfred’s longest-serving employee, was serving a customer with a length of blue holland, while Alfred, in spite of his gout, was up on a short ladder, checking some items of stock on the upper shelves. Taking advantage of the momentary quiet, Lydia turned from the counter and went again into the back room where she found Davie sitting up on the sofa, rubbing his eyes.
‘Did you have a good sleep, darling?’
He nodded, still drowsy.
‘You’ll be going home in a little while, then you can have your tea. Ellen will be here for you soon.’
‘Can’t I stay here with you and Pappy?’
‘Now, you know you can’t, darling. You’ll be better off at home, and you’ve got a big day tomorrow with your party, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Will you be all right here for a while still? Till Ellen comes?’
‘Can I come out in the shop with you and Pappy? I won’t make a noise or be a nuisance.’
She hesitated, then said, ‘I’m sure you won’t. All right, then. Come out when you’re ready.’
She left him then, and went back into the shop. Alfred, she found,
had gone into the stockroom. She turned to the low shelf behind the counter and bent to tidy up some lengths of ribbon that she had earlier been unwrapping. As she did so she heard the sound of the bell over the door, announcing that another customer was coming in. She put the ribbons down, stood up straight, and found herself face to face with Guy.
Chapter Nineteen
She stood there looking at him, while the business of the shop went on to her right as Miss Angel and her customer murmured over their business. For all Lydia’s outer stillness her heart was thumping in her chest. A part of her mind protested that it could not be true, that Guy’s presence there must be some strange manifestation of her thought; her father had been speaking of him just a short time ago, that very afternoon, and here Guy was, standing before her, wearing a chesterfield coat with an astrakhan collar, his bowler hat briefly lifted in one hand, his briefcase and a paper-wrapped package in the other. He was standing just feet away from her on the other side of the counter. If she stretched out her hand she could touch him.
They stood in silence facing one another. It had been four years and nine months since they had last met, and she could see the passage of the years in his face. There was a maturity about him; she could detect faint lines about his mouth, about the corners of his eyes and marking his forehead. Little lines of care. Other than that he looked the same.
At last he spoke, frowning a little at the wonder of the unexpected meeting, but his mouth lifting slightly.
‘Well,’ he said, and then, giving a nod, ‘Well,’ again, and then, ‘Good afternoon.’
A moment of silence and ‘Good afternoon,’ Lydia replied. She could hear her voice sounding foolish and overbright in her ears. Then she added, ‘This is a – surprise.’ She wanted to smile at him, but her mouth would not obey, and she stood with lips compressed, her hands on the counter before her.
Swiftly taking off his gloves, he reached out and took Lydia’s hand in his. As he briefly shook it he murmured her name: ‘Lydia.’ He barely breathed the word. ‘I can hardly believe it. Is it you? Is it really you?’