Flustered and shocked, Mac instantly shrank from the door. ‘Oh, David! Er, yes, I was just waiting at the door to make sure she turned the darned thing off.’ With the effects of drink still on him, he staggered drunkenly to the top of the stairs. ‘Sounds as though she might have gone to bed now, so I dare say we won’t hear any more of that tonight, eh?’
Going unsteadily down the stairs, he called back to David. ‘Goodnight, lad.’
Still shaken by what he had witnessed, David mumbled back, ‘Goodnight.’
Returning to Sammie’s room, he softly tapped on the door.
Sammie called out, ‘Who’s there?’
‘It’s me! Can I come in for a minute?’
‘What’s wrong?’ Sammie left the door open for him. ‘I thought you’d be in bed asleep by now.’
‘I don’t feel tired, sis.’ It was clear to David that she had just climbed out of bed; her robe looked like it had been thrown on, and her feet were bare.
‘Uncle Mac was at the door, complaining about the noise.’ Giggling, she threw herself onto the bed and swung her legs over the edge. ‘I told him I was sorry to have disturbed them, but that it was the radio, which was now turned off.’
David already knew all that. ‘Did you let him come in?’
‘’Course not!’ she laughed. ‘I was getting ready for bed. Anyway, he was only there for a minute and then he went away.’
David wondered if should tell Sammie of his suspicions. But then if he did, what would he say – that Uncle Mac was peeping at her through the open door?
When he thought of it like that, it sounded ridiculous. After all, the very reason Uncle Mac had come upstairs was because of the noise, which she had told him was the radio. So wasn’t it feasible that he should look in to make certain Sammie was not waiting to turn the radio back on, once his back was turned?
Besides, David wasn’t sure if what he had thought to be Uncle Mac being excited or sinister, wasn’t merely agitation at having reprimanded Sammie about the unacceptable noise.
He couldn’t even be certain if Uncle Mac had seen anything untoward. What if Sammie was already in her bed and completely covered over? What if Mac really was just checking to see if everything was all right like he said?
David had partly convinced himself. ‘Maybe I should run it by Dad?’ he muttered aloud.
‘Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,’ Sammie declared.
David looked up. ‘What are you talking about?’
Sammie groaned. ‘I just said, telling Dad first, about a possible trip to London, sounds like a good idea to me. Then he can tell Mother, and maybe persuade her that we would come to no harm if she was to let us loose for a day. Then we could decide where to go and what to do.’ While David was thinking of his suspicions about Uncle Mac, Sammie had been rattling on about the idea of going to London.
David gave a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, right! Yea … or we could maybe go fishing, what do you think?’
Sammie didn’t know what to think, ‘I reckon you should make up your mind,’ she grumbled. ‘First we’re going up in a hot-air balloon, then we’re going to somewhere else. And now, it’s fishing!’
Relieved to leave his suspicions behind and pick up on the conversation, David reminded her, ‘Mother probably wouldn’t let us go on our own anyway.’
Sammie was determined. ‘We’ll just have to insist then, won’t we?’
‘Oh, what! And start World War Three?’
‘If needs be, yes!’
Something about Sammie’s fighting attitude made David think.
If he was to raise the matter of Uncle Mac peering in at Sammie’s door, it might cause more trouble than it was worth. Or it would turn out to be something and nothing and he would end up with egg on his face.
He decided to let matters rest.
After all, he was probably overreacting. He reminded himself that Uncle Mac had obviously had too much to drink over dinner, and that he was probably fidgeting about because he was unable to remain steady on his feet.
Even though he had no particular liking for his uncle, there was no real evidence that Mac was harbouring bad thoughts towards Sammie, and why should he? They had always got on like a house on fire, even when David had tried so hard to turn Sammie against him; and that was probably out of petty jealousy. It riled him that Uncle Mac had always paid more attention to everyone else than he did to his nephew.
Yes, that was it! David told himself. It was nothing more than his own sibling jealousy, and that was the truth of it.
For the next little while, he and Sammie talked of certain things they’d like to do before getting back to normality.
The more brother and sister chatted, the more David became convinced that Uncle Mac was guilty of nothing worse than downing too many glasses of Bordeaux.
Even so, when he left, he made Sammie promise to lock the door.
His sister grinned. ‘Why? Do you think Count Dracula is coming to snatch me away and suck my blood?’
‘You’ve got a shockingly vivid imagination, do you know that?’
‘And you’re getting paranoid. Just like Mother!’
As he walked back to this room, David thought of what Sammie had said. ‘God, I hope I’m not getting like Mother,’ he muttered. ‘When she sets her mind to it, she can be the most unreasonable, troublesome creature on God’s earth. Sometimes I really pity Dad, having to put up with it.’
That settled the matter once and for all. ‘Sammie is absolutely right! I’m getting paranoid and imagining things.’
After all, when it came right down to it, all he had seen was his uncle a bit worse for drink, impatient and irritated, because the noise had disturbed the adults downstairs.
He decided to put the whole matter behind him.
Mac though, found it far more difficult to forget the incident.
Restless into the early hours, he could not get the image of Sammie out of his mind. Until he looked inside the room and saw her just now, arms stretched up as she slid her nightie on, he had not fully appreciated how his delightful little niece was beginning to blossom into womanhood.
He had never considered Sammie to be beautiful, in the traditional way. Pretty, yes, and maybe with the promise of beauty, but not yet open to full bloom.
Lurking in him now was a carnal realisation of how deeply desirable she was. Seeing her like that had been truly disturbing. In a way that both shocked him and aroused his worst fears.
Chapter Twelve
HARRY LOOKED AT his young son, and his heart soared with pride. ‘Tom Blake! I can’t believe how grown-up you look in your school uniform,’ he said, admiring the short dark trousers and knee-length socks, white shirt with blue tie, and the dark, peaked cap perched lopsided on Tom’s head. When Kathleen had brought his son through to the kitchen just now, Harry had been close to tears.
Uppermost in his mind was Sara. ‘Your mother would have been so proud of you, Tom.’
The boy’s face lit up. ‘Can Mammy see me?’
Holding back the emotion, Tom nodded. ‘I like to think so,’ he murmured, adding brightly, ‘Don’t you look smart!’
Tom nodded. ‘Kathleen and me were out a long time and I tried all the other things on, but they were too big, and so she took me to another shop and we got this one,’ he blurted out, then taking a long, invigorating breath, he stroked his blazer. ‘I like this bit of my uniform best of all,’ he announced decidedly.
Harry laughed. ‘So do I,’ he said.
‘And so do I!’ Kathleen had stayed back while father and son discussed the all-important subject of Tom’s first day at school. Now though, she came forward and gave the boy a hug. ‘How d’you feel then, Tom?’ she asked stoutly.
Tom considered that for a moment, before stating boldly, ‘I’m a bit nervous, bejaysus.’
He could not understand why both Harry and Kathleen burst out laughing. ‘Oh dear me!’ Kathleen protested, wiping her eyes. ‘Sure, ye mustn’t blaspheme like that.’
‘What’s blaspeem?’
‘Blaspheme,’ Kathleen corrected, ‘is when you say a special person’s name for no good reason.’
‘Whose name did I say?’
Kathleen wished now that she had just let it go, but she explained anyway. ‘The name of Jaysus,’ she answered reverently. ‘You must not say “Bejaysus”.’
‘You say it,’ he reminded her, innocently repeating her words that very morning. ‘You said it to Daddy. You said “Bejaysus, will you look and see how grown up the boy is” – that’s what you said.’
Suppressing the laughter, Kathleen put her hands on the boy’s shoulders, and in a very serious voice she informed him, ‘Well, I’m very sorry, because I should not have done that.’ She gave Harry a sideways wink. ‘I can see I’ll have to watch me tongue from now on.’
Harry agreed, though he could hardly hide the quiver in his voice as he mocked Kathleen. ‘Oh sure, you will that,’ he reprimanded, ‘naughty article that you are.’
Tom flung his arms round Kathleen’s neck. ‘I still love you,’ he said. ‘And now I’m ready to go to school.’
‘Right then.’ Kathleen took him by the hand and walked with him to the car, where Harry bundled him inside. ‘Now you be a good boy,’ she said. ‘You tell the teacher from me that she’s got a little prince in her class, so she has.’
Tom’s eyes opened like saucers. ‘A little prince?’ He drew in a huge breath. ‘Oooh, Kathleen! Will I meet him?’
Kathleen gave him another hug. ‘Aw, me darlin’ boy, sure you’ve only to look in the mirror, so ye have.’
He pondered on that as his daddy got into the car and closed the door. Then he pondered on it as they pulled away, and when he waved cheerio to Kathleen, he was still pondering on her words. For the life of him though, he did not understand. How was he going to meet the prince if he looked in the mirror?
‘All right, are you, son?’ Harry thought him too quiet.
‘Mmm.’ The boy pondered a moment longer, then gave up and voiced a more important matter. ‘Daddy?’
‘Yes?’
‘I wish Mammy was here.’
‘I know you do, son.’ Harry felt the boy’s sadness. ‘Sometimes, Tom, we want things we can never have. So, we just thank our lucky stars for the things we do have and we turn our minds to making other things happen in our lives. That way, we don’t feel so bad any more.’
For a while, the boy was quiet. Then he leaned forward and touched Harry on the shoulder. ‘Daddy?’
‘Yes, son?’
‘I’m glad I’ve got you, Daddy.’
Choked by a whole mingling of emotions, Harry pulled the car over to the kerb.
‘Why have we stopped?’ Tom wanted to know. ‘Are we there already?’
‘No, not yet.’ Getting out of the car, Harry climbed into the back seat, where he took the boy into his arms and held him tight against him, his heart sore at the boy’s childish innocence. ‘I just wanted to hold you, and make sure that you know how very much you mean to me.’
Looking down into that small child’s face, he felt oddly insignificant. ‘You are the whole world to me, son,’ he told the boy. ‘You need never worry, because I’ll always look after you. Just like Mammy wanted.’
‘I’ll look after you too, Daddy.’
‘Not yet though, eh? Let’s deal with one thing at a time. I’ll get you to school and when school ends, Kathleen will be here to collect you. As I explained earlier, I’ve taken time off to bring you to school on your first day, and so I will have to work later tonight to make up for it.’
He brushed a stray lock of hair away from the boy’s eyes. ‘Like I say though, Kathleen will be here to take you home. Is that all right with you?’
Tom looked worried. ‘Is Kathleen going to heaven like Mammy?’
Harry was shocked. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘She’s going to the doctor. That’s what Mammy did, and then she went away. I don’t want Kathleen to go away.’ His lips trembled.
‘Ah, I see now.’ Harry understood the boy’s concern. ‘When she told you she had to go to the doctor before she picks you up, she meant she was going to collect her tablets, that’s all.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she has to watch her blood pressure.’
‘Why?’
‘Because when you get older, sometimes your body starts being a bit of a nuisance, and you need to take tablets to put it right. That’s all it is, Tom. Nothing to worry about.’
The boy seemed relieved. ‘I love Kathleen.’
‘I know you do, son, and I love her too.’
‘So, will you and Kathleen get married, and then she’ll be my new mammy?’
Smiling, Harry had to look away. ‘I don’t think so, son.’
‘Why not?’
‘One day, you’ll know why not.’ Harry never failed to be touched by the boy’s innocence, and the way children have of taking huge life-changes in their stride. ‘Right now though, I’d best get you to school. We don’t want you being late on your first day, do we, eh?’
Tom shook his head.
On arriving at the school, Harry took his son straight to the office. ‘Oh, yes.’ The secretary located Tom’s name in her ledger. ‘Tom Blake, first day.’ Leaning over the desk, she smiled at him. ‘Hello, young man. I’m called Miss Janet.’
‘Hello, Miss Janet. I’m called Tom, and I’m five and a bit.’ Tom liked her straight off, with her round smiley face, bright lipstick and a ponytail of thick brown hair that swung when she turned her head.
‘You can leave him with me now,’ she told Harry. ‘He’ll be fine.’
So Harry said cheerio, and Tom frowned, but then Miss Janet took him by the hand and he went merrily away, though he did glance back once, as they went through the double doors to the assembly hall.
Harry waved, Tom smiled. The doors closed and he was gone.
Harry quickened his step along the corridors and down towards the outer doors. ‘There you go, Sara.’ Coming out into the fresh air he glanced up at the clear skies. ‘Your little boy has started school. It’s a great day for him, and we miss you so much.’ He gave a sigh. ‘He’s growing so quickly, I expect it won’t be too long before he’ll be needing a new uniform.’
When the nostalgia began to creep in, he quickened his step, got into the car and was soon on his way to Jacobs’ Emporium.
‘Please don’t be late collecting him, Kathleen,’ Harry whispered as he slowed for the traffic-lights. ‘He’s bound to feel nervous after his first day.’
He felt confident that Kathleen would not be late though. Truth was, she had come to love young Tom as she might love her own child.
With that thought came another – so painful that he had to shut it out of his mind.
Judy was worried.
Having waved Phil off to work, she had bathed, shampooed, dried and brushed her hair and for the first time in ages, she had taken time to manicure her nails and pamper herself; not because she felt good, or because she wanted to make the most of herself but because a few days ago, her friend Pauline had wrenched a promise out of her.
Even now, with her two best dresses spread out across the bed, Judy continued to pace the floor in bare feet, agitated. Not sure what to do.
Throwing herself onto the dressing-table stool, she observed herself in the large oval mirror. Pauline was right. With the tip of her finger she traced the shadows underneath her eyes. She did look a mess! She noted the high cheekbones jutting out, and the sallow skin beneath, and she felt ashamed. ‘You look old, and haggard. Who else but Phil would ever want you?’ she murmured to herself.
Always in her mind and heart was the memory of her first love. ‘Harry.’ Murmuring his name brought a sensation of pleasure; though there was also guilt and penance for what she had done to him – to them all.
‘Where are you now, Harry?’ she whispered. ‘I wonder if you think of me now and then? Or have you managed to put me out of your mind for go
od and all? For your own sake, I hope you have.’
She heard herself saying it, but she didn’t mean it, not for one second.
For a while longer she stared at herself in the mirror, before getting off the stool and pacing the floor again. ‘No!’ She punched her fists together. ‘I don’t want you to forget me! I need you to remember how it was between us. I need you to hold me in your heart till you draw your last breath! I want you to think of me, every time you feel down, and when you see a girl in the street who looks just a bit like me … think of me, Harry, like I think of you. What we had together was so special, you must never forget.’
A great longing came over her. She wished she had never been born. She wished with all her heart that she had not lied to Harry back then, when she was too young and too afraid of losing him. She so desperately wished that she had asked for his help instead.
So many times since that day, she had prayed for all the bad things to go away, but they never did. They never would, not for as long as she lived.
A kind of blinding rage coursed through her, towards life, and Phil, and even Harry, who she longed for every waking minute of every day. But he was gone. Here she was, lonely and desperate, and Harry was happy somewhere, with a new love and never a thought for her. The pain of it all was unbearable, and the rage all-consuming. ‘Can you hear me?’ Her voice rose to the rafters. ‘Don’t you dare forget me, Harry Blake! Don’t you ever forget me!’
Grabbing the hairbrush, she threw it across the room. When it hit the wall with a resounding thud, she made no move to pick it up.
Inevitably, the tears began to fall. ‘Love me, Harry,’ she wept. ‘Love me, because you loved me once … before you ever loved anyone else. You and me, Harry, we were meant to be. I loved you like I have never ever loved anyone in all my life. Oh, and love me, because like the fool I am, I threw it all away.’ Sinking to the floor, she remained hunched against the wall. ‘I’m so sorry. I was too young, and so afraid. Don’t hate me for that.’
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