‘Why not invite him to our opening. That might give him something different to talk about for a change. Does he have any children?’
‘Oh no, he’s single, lives with his mother. He wouldn’t be interested. Heavens, I’m that scared.’ Renee sank on to a stool, clutching a bunch of matinee jackets. And excited. Aren’t you?’
‘Scared rigid. I must make sure I order enough sherry. Or should we stick to wine, do you think?’
Lissa walked briskly to the office where she had a pile of paperwork that needed attention, and several telephone calls to make. She’d had the phone installed only the other day and used it for the slightest reason. She could ring Jan or Meg from the shop now and talk to her heart’s content. It was really quite wonderful to have this little bit of independence at least.
Lissa gazed at him horror-struck. ‘I can’t. Not on Saturday.’ Silently begging him to accept her word and not question her further. It was too much to hope for.
‘I would have thought you’d be delighted to entertain the Cheyneys? Hilary has been very good to you of late. I thought we’d invite them to lunch.’
‘I’ve already made plans. It will have to be next week.’ Lissa couldn’t believe her bad luck. It simply wasn’t possible. But how to explain all of this to Philip without telling him the truth? She couldn’t lose her fight now, not when she was so close to winning.
‘Cancel them.’
‘I can’t, Philip. Really, I’m sorry.’
He started to rub the bridge of his nose, a gesture he always made when he was keeping a tight hold on his temper. He let his gaze linger over the slender lines of her youthful figure, still showing no sign of pregnancy. She was an increasing disappointment to him. What was this urgent matter she’d planned. Could she be meeting a lover?
She smiled sweetly at him. ‘I’ll ring Hilary and make other arrangements.’ Ignoring his frown she went to the phone, wondering if she had the courage to tell him about the shop now. She had to tell him sometime. She’d already spent hundreds of Jeffrey Ellis’s inheritance on new shop fittings, stock, wages for Renee, and a multitude of other expenses. Failure now was not an option. She daren’t even consider the possibility.
All she had to do was keep Philip happy. Was that so difficult? And not appear too tired, or disagree with him too much, or he might start probing into her daily routine more closely, perhaps even regret agreeing to the voluntary work. Then she would be in real trouble. Housebound again, alibi gone. The prospect terrified her. Not that she could depend upon this ruse indefinitely. Hilary might discover the truth about the shop and blab about it to Philip. She was the greatest gossip in Carreckwater. Oh dear, Renee was right. She really ought to get the matter cleared up, but not now. Not quite yet.
The opening party was a great success. All the family came from Broombank, bringing far too much food and everyone drank to the success of the new business, congratulating Lissa on how splendid everything looked. Miss Stevens was there too, of course, wishing them all well. The shop refurbishments were generally admired and customers flooded in out of curiosity, and soon the till was ringing with welcome cash. It was all even more successful than she’d hoped.
Jan had her children with her, and Lissa wished the twins could be here too, to share her success on this special day, but knew they could never keep a secret. They would go right back and chatter excitedly to Daddy all about Mummy’s party and new shop.
But she couldn’t put it off for much longer, and hated herself for her own cowardice and deceit. Why hadn’t she told him the other day? He’d given her the perfect opportunity. Probably because she needed to plan exactly what to say before she began.
Now if she’d been married to Derry, the thought came unbidden, things would have been so different. She wished suddenly that he could be here, to see her moment of glory.
She half glanced across at the door, wanting so much to see him, she almost thought for a moment that he stood in the open doorway. This man was tall, broad-shouldered, smartly dressed in a crisp grey suit and a very conventional silk tie. Handsome. Strong. Certainly not a Teddy Boy. But then Derry wouldn’t be a boy, not now. He was walking towards her, smiling the same lopsided grin.
‘Hello, Lissa.’
‘Dear Lord, it can’t be!’
Lissa stared up into his face in wonder. Could it really be him? So different and yet - the same - and so very beloved. She was half aware of Renee giggling somewhere in the background. Heart thumping like a hammer, she tried out his name. ‘Derry?’
Then he was kissing her cheek, very properly of course, but it felt delicious. Her heart was melting and her mind had become quite empty of all sound and sensation except the fact that he was here, holding her hands, smiling into her eyes.
‘So, I was right.’ The voice from the door rang out across the shop and voices instantly hushed, faces turned. ‘No wonder you couldn’t spare any time to spend with me today. Derry Colwith is back in town, and you can’t keep your hands off him.’
Customers had quietly vanished, the door locked, and very gently Lissa began her explanation, aware as she did so of Meg ushering the rest of the family into the stock room beyond.
‘This isn’t how it looks. I didn’t know Derry was home.’ Even to say his name out loud was a delight.
‘That’s true,’ Derry put in. ‘I didn’t know I was coming myself until a day or two ago when Renee invited me.’
Philip silenced him with a few clipped words. ‘This is between myself and my wife.’
‘Yes, but I don’t want her blamed for my coming today, just to support her.’
Lissa put out a hand. ‘It’s all right. I wanted to tell you, Philip, about the shop - but I couldn’t find the words.’
‘Shop? What are you talking about?’
Lissa drew in a deep breath. ‘Miss Stevens has agreed to lease it to me.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘This is our launch party, my first day of business. I would have told you before, as I said, but either you never wanted to listen or I was too afraid. Isn’t that silly?’ She was gabbling now, reaching for a bottle of champagne. ‘Would you care for a glass?’ She thought for a moment he might knock the bottle from her hands as he had once swept the pie dish from the table. Instead he look her arm in a punishing grip and thrust her towards the door.
‘We agreed, that there would be no business. No career for you.’
‘You did express that wish, yes,’ Lissa said, in her most reasonable voice. ‘But I didn’t agree.’
‘You didn’t what?’
‘There’s no need for you to worry, Philip. You won’t be neglected in any way. I dare say you’ll never notice the difference.’
‘Lot’s of women work these days,’ Derry tried, and was frozen with a glance.
‘We’ll discuss this later. The car is at the door. Get in.’
Lissa glanced anxiously behind her. ‘I can’t leave my guests.’
‘Get in!’
Meg appeared, and, walking up to Philip, kissed him on the cheek, as if he were not trying to frogmarch her daughter off her own shop premises.
‘Philip,’ she said, in her sweetest tones, ‘how glad I am that you could come. Isn’t she a clever girl? You must be so proud of her. I certainly am.’ Meg swept a hand to indicate the displays: the rows of tiny knitted garments, pretty frocks and romper suits, neat little page boy suits with bow ties. ‘She’s done all this herself, you know.’
‘I had some assistance,’ Lissa said, rather breathless and bemused but grateful for Meg’s intervention.
‘Of course you did, sweetheart, but the idea was all yours.’ Meg beamed up at Philip.
‘She’ll go far, this girl. Oh dear, she hasn’t even got you any champagne. Come along, before Tam and Nick drink it all.’ And taking her son-in-law’s arm she led him back into the bosom of her family. ‘Chicken vol-au-vent or a sausage roll?’ she offered with a smile. ‘Why not have both.’ And Philip accepted a plate and a gla
ss with the best grace he could manage.
The month was April, the lake water as clear as crystal. Chips of grey slate and shale shimmered beneath the surface like pale jewels. As Lissa walked along the lakeshore to Nab Cottage she watched with delight as the mute swans upended, their long necks diving deep as they sought some tasty morsel. The Lakeland air was pure and fresh, sharp with the promise of spring, and the circle of mountains seemed to lift up their faces to the smiling sun, as Lissa did. It felt good to be alive.
It had been a whole month since their launch day when Philip had discovered her secret. For Lissa, it had been the worst month of her life.
To begin with he’d hardly spoken to her for days. Then he called Hilary Cheyney and put an end to her charity work. That didn’t particularly worry her but his final thrust did. He spoke to Miss Stevens and made the poor woman agree to refuse Lissa the lease.
‘I’m sorry, Lissa. But I really can’t become involved in marital, or legal, disputes. And Mr Brandon has all my affairs in his office. It’s rather difficult. Best, I think, if you find other premises.’
‘Yes, I do understand,’ swallowing her bitter disappointment. ‘But the season is only just beginning, all the shops are taken and we have hundreds of pounds worth of stock. Will you give me some time at least, to find an alternative?’
‘What of your husband? I’m sure he meant you to close down altogether. He won’t be pleased by such an arrangement.’ Miss Stevens had poured tea from a pretty little porcelain teapot in her pretty little conservatory. A safe, well-ordered life, and Lissa had felt again that nudge of envy. She had neither security nor freedom.
To make matters worse she was haunted by the thought of Derry being back in town. Why did he have to come now? Of all the times to choose, he came when she was at her most vulnerable.
Lissa had not seen him since that dreadful day, nor did she wish to. Yet the knowledge that he might appear around a corner, that she might see him by the lake when she was out with her children, or hear his voice when she lifted the phone, left her jumpy and sleepless. She had lost him years ago. Now she was trapped in a loveless marriage with a husband determined to destroy every part of her life which did not include him.
A few evenings later Lissa sat on a hard chair in Carreckwater Town Hall, listening to the speaker express his concern over the latest plans for acquiring water from Lakeland, aware that yet again she was risking Philip’s displeasure. Yet somehow she felt more resolved than ever to do so.
‘I’ll not have my wife wandering about town in the evening,’ he would sternly inform her whenever she expressed an interest in going out.
On this occasion, fearing another argument, she hadn’t even asked. When Renee had asked her to go to the meeting with them, Lissa had readily agreed. certain she needed to be there. She was a part of this community and had every right to know what was going on. She’d broken the chain that had kept her fastened to the kitchen sink and had no intention of putting it on again.
Jimmy was loudly agreeing with everything the speaker said. ‘Hush,’ Renee warned him, grasping hold of her husband’s jacket as he bounced up and down, his bristly brown hair seeming to stand on end. ‘Sit still, Jimmy lad, I can’t hear for your noise.’
‘Sorry.’ He gave her an abstracted kiss and Renee rolled her eyes at Lissa. ‘He gets so worked up.’
Lissa felt heady with the relief of being out of the house, away from Philip’s increasing coldness. She was determined to enjoy herself, feeling young and reckless at her daring.
‘They’re trying to get water on the cheap,’ the speaker told them. ‘So they can sell it to industry at a vast profit.’
Lissa thought this sounded like economic sense but didn’t say as much as there were general murmurs of agreement all round.
‘Winster is one of the finest, most beautiful valleys in Lakeland. It would be appalling if it were flooded. A national outrage.’
Lissa leaned over to whisper in Renee’s ear. ‘Is this threat true?’
‘It looks like more than a rumour this time.’
‘But Winster is beautiful, close to Windermere and in the National Park.’
‘Sh!’ Jimmy hissed fiercely at them both, and Lissa apologised to concentrate on what the speaker had to say.
A feeling of outrage grew inside her as the speaker described Manchester’s needs and how they meant to satisfy them. She thought of the beautiful landscape which she loved: the wild life, the flowers and hedgerows and butterflies, pretty woodlands and character cottages, all to be swamped by water for the needs of faceless industry?
‘We’re aware that the country needs more water.’ Another man was having his say now. ‘But why should our finest countryside be ruined, raped, in order to get it? They talk of digging tunnels under Longsleddale. Scarring virginal land for all time. Sacrilege! They talk of damming scenically beautiful valleys as if it were of no account. Outrageous!’
Loud cries of agreement.
The speaker went on, ‘The threat to this area is very real but there is also a view held by some that Winster is no more than a stalking horse. We should take care. Manchester Water Board are not fools. They will guess public reaction if they choose to put their reservoir in such a pretty spot. This may be a blind. While we’re all protesting against Winster, they may come up with somewhere else, outside the National Park, which we’ll gladly accept as an alternative.’
There was silence in the hall as this new fear was digested. Lissa glanced about at the troubled faces and worried with them. You couldn’t trust anyone in this world. She’d learned that much herself, hadn’t she?
‘They may take good farmland, for instance,’ the speaker pointed out. ‘How would we feel about that? We all know what a precious commodity good farmland is in this area.’
The case was put for the Morecambe Barrage scheme, where water could be held in the estuary. Yet another wanted to drill bore holes and another talked at length of how new pumps could be installed at strategic points along the pipe lines to speed up and increase the flow. There were suggestions for flooding disused mines, of piping water from other areas such as the Pennines or Scotland. On one thing only was there complete agreement. It should not be the beautiful Winster valley, or any other valley in the district. Storage reservoirs were out.
Then it was the dubious privilege of the Water Board representative to face the meeting with calming words and promises to listen to every argument. A small man in a grey suit who kept pushing his spectacles up his nose.
‘Is this your lodger?’ Lissa whispered and Renee nodded.
‘Pompous twit!’
To be fair he was listened to, if disagreed with. He explained how they needed an average of 25 million gallons extra a day from Ullswater and about 20 million from Windermere to meet future demand. This was greeted with roars of disapproval. He talked of sympathetic treatment, more meetings, even public enquiries, finally pointing out that no matter what decision they reached, it could take years before it was acted upon.
Jimmy suddenly stood up and waved a fist at him. ‘Don’t matter how long you take, we won’t have you spoiling our dales, nor our meres, not now nor in the future. Lakeland is precious.’
‘We’ll bloody make sure you don’t!’ A voice cried from a rowdy group sitting behind.
Cries of ‘hear hear’, and ‘you tell them, Bill’, as the group grew noisier by the minute. Lissa glanced worriedly over her shoulder, troubled by the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Bill shouted, ‘Take it from the lake, that’s what I say. At least until they get the national grid going.’
This suggestion was met with shouts of disapproval from the boating lobby, Jimmy amongst them, arguing that if they concreted the shoreline it would make it too high and dangerous for swimmers and boaters.
The arguments grew every more raucous as the fishermen too got involved. The water consultant tried to draw the proceedings to a close, saying it had been a ‘useful meeting’, that nothing woul
d be done without Ministerial approval ...
‘What about our approval?’ shouted the man from behind Jimmy’s chair. ‘Do we have no say then?’
`You’ll be given your chance at the Public Enquiry.’
‘And when will that be?’
‘I really couldn’t say.’
`Well, you’d better bloody listen, or you can watch for me one dark night. To hell with the boats and the fish. Leave the dales alone. Use the bloody lake!’
‘Sit down and shut up,’ Jimmy shouted. ‘Swearing does no good.’
‘And who’ll make me? You and whose army?’ A fist came out, connected with Jimmy’s jaw, and sent him flying backwards, right into the next row of chairs.
Renee jumped to her feet in terror. ‘ You bastards,’ and turned on his assailant with flying fists and sharp nails.
Pandemonium broke out. Feet and fists and chairs flew everywhere. If Lissa hoped to escape she was soon disillusioned. A whole wave of people swept them forward in their rush to get out of the hall, treading underfoot those not quick enough to keep up.
‘Renee!’ Lissa cried, seeing the top of her friend’s red head swallowed up in the crowd.
‘I’m OK. See to yourself.’
‘We’ll have a sit-down protest,’ someone yelled. ‘That’ll show them.’
Pinned in by a crush of bodies, Lissa couldn’t have resisted if she’d wanted to. She found herself thrust down on to the pavement with the rest of the crowd, bumping her shin and elbow in the process, bringing tears to her eyes and blinding her for a moment. Then there were whistles, and more screams and shouting.
A hand gripped her collar. ‘You can come with me,’ said a grim voice.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘How could you disgrace me in this way?’
After an uncomfortable hour in the police station Lissa, Renee and Jimmy, along with a large group of protesters, had been bailed to appear before the magistrates the following morning where they would be bound over to keep the peace. Lissa had rung home and given the bare details to Nanny Sue. Now she was sitting in Philip’s office, the green blind drawn down over the glass so that Miss Henshaw might not peer in and witness his wrath or her misery.
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