The Silver Ladies of London

by Eames, Lesley

  It was.

  For a frantic moment, she wanted to flee, but Harry had already seen her.

  He drew the Peregrine to a halt beside her.

  Face flaming, Lydia waited for him to get out, then attacked. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I saw you on Regent Street.’

  ‘You followed me?’

  ‘I wasn’t planning on it. But when I saw you head north I wondered if you were coming here.’

  ‘You’ve no right to follow me.’

  ‘You’re obviously more interested in your mother than you admit. I just want—’

  ‘It isn’t your business,’ Lydia spat. Then her eye was caught by the door opening in Somerset Mansions. A woman emerged. Celia. Of all the rotten luck…

  Lydia moved towards the Silver Lady but Harry blocked her way.

  ‘You’re upset,’ he said.

  He hadn’t seen Celia. He didn’t understand Lydia’s urgent need to get away. ‘Let me past, damn you!’

  Celia had reached the opposite pavement and noticed them. Her expression was amused, as though she thought she was witnessing a lovers’ tiff. Lydia had a horrifying vision of her talking to her friends when they next took tea. ‘The funniest thing. A young couple were arguing in the street, so I had to go over and give them a little talking-to.’

  Groaning, Lydia turned and walked away from the car, from Harry and above all from Celia before their paths could cross.

  ‘Lydia!’ Harry called loudly. He chased after her, caught her arm and swung her around. ‘This is ridiculous. You need to calm down.’ He must have noticed her eyes widen for he broke off and looked round to see Celia approaching. ‘Is that—?’ he began, but there was no need for him to finish. Obviously it was.

  Harry let go of Lydia’s arm but the time for flight had gone. Lydia was going to meet her mother for the first time in fifteen years but she wasn’t ready for it. She couldn’t think clearly. She could barely even breathe.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Celia said. ‘But I saw this young woman and when I heard you call her name I wondered…’ She looked Lydia up and down, and of all things she appeared to be even more amused.

  Amused! When Lydia had spent years in that frigid house in Ruston alone for all intents and purposes.

  ‘Good heavens, I really think you might be,’ Celia decided. ‘Frank Grey’s daughter?’

  ‘Your daughter too,’ Harry reminded her. He was frowning as though he’d expected a very different sort of woman but why? Lydia had told him what her mother must be like.

  Celia’s moue of distaste told Harry he was talking technicalities. She turned back to Lydia. ‘Since this young man knows who I am, I assume this isn’t a chance encounter. Are you here to satisfy your curiosity about me? It’s natural, I suppose, though I can’t imagine Frank’s had a good word to say about me. You have a look of him, you know. It’s the height. The thinness.’

  Lydia couldn’t speak. She couldn’t say a word.

  ‘Lydia has a look of you too,’ Harry said. He really hadn’t warmed to Celia but he should have believed Lydia instead of putting her through this awful humiliation.

  ‘Perhaps the dark hair is similar,’ Celia conceded. ‘Well, Lydia. I expect you want to know why I left, though surely you’ve seen enough of Frank to know he wasn’t much of a husband.’

  ‘That doesn’t explain why you left Lydia,’ Harry pointed out.

  ‘Lionel – he was my second husband – wasn’t fond of children. Neither is Leonard – my third – come to that.’

  ‘You chose them over your daughter?’ There was disgust in Harry’s voice.

  Celia gave him a cooler look. ‘A lot of nonsense is talked about motherhood. There are some women – like me – who aren’t suited to the noise and mess, and the sheer tedium of tending to a child. Nature made us differently. I was never happy in Ruston. Such a dreary place. No fun to be had there at all.’

  ‘So Lionel and Leonard were your ticket to a life of luxury and leisure,’ Harry guessed.

  ‘Frank certainly wasn’t. I see you don’t approve of my choices, young man. Forgive me, but if the cut of your suit is anything to go by, you’ve never known what it’s like to live with little money. Besides, Lydia was more Frank’s daughter than mine. She had no interest in clothes, dolls, or anything of a feminine nature. I used to think she should have been born a boy.’

  ‘You didn’t even write to her!’

  ‘My, aren’t we the knight in shining armour?’ Celia mocked. ‘Actually, I did think of writing. I even started a letter once but found I was writing about my first cocktail party. Even you must admit that wouldn’t have interested her. I intended to try again another time, but weeks and months passed, and I decided it was better to let her adjust to life without me. I thought Frank might marry again and give her a more suitable mother.’

  ‘He didn’t,’ Harry said, though Lydia had never specifically told him so.

  ‘I must say you’ve improved, Lydia.’ Celia gave her another assessing look. ‘That costume is unusual but smart’

  ‘It’s her uniform’ Harry said. ‘Lydia’s a driver. She drives in races too.’

  ‘Good Lord. Wouldn’t she be better with a husband? Or aren’t you coming up to scratch?’

  Lydia cringed, but Harry stood even taller. ‘I’d marry your daughter this minute if she’d have me. I love her.’

  What? Lydia’s heart thudded. Her gaze flew wildly to Harry’s face, Celia’s presence forgotten in the shock of the moment. Harry loved her? He wanted to marry her?

  Harry looked back, his dark eyes cool but intense.

  Yes, he loved her. And Lydia realised that she loved him. It wasn’t a hearts and flowers style of love like Jenny and Johnnie’s. It was about sparks and spirit; teasing and challenge. About accepting the person within regardless of class or money or other people’s expectations because they counted for nothing compared to a taste for adventure. But it was love all the same.

  Yet Harry must never know what she felt for him. Flustered and upset, Lydia looked away.

  ‘She won’t have you?’ Celia guessed. ‘She’s her father’s daughter, after all. No idea of how to love and live.’

  A car rounded a corner, horn tooting.

  ‘There’s my lift,’ Celia said, her face brightening at the thought of whatever pleasures lay ahead of her. ‘If you want to talk, we could take tea some time.’ She rummaged in her bag for a visiting card which she offered to Lydia. ‘There’s my telephone number, but be discreet. There’s no need to involve my Leonard in matters from the past.’

  Harry snatched the card from Celia’s fingers. ‘Don’t hold your breath waiting for a telephone call that might never come.’

  Celia shrugged. ‘Just as you like.’

  She waved to her friends and went to join them without a backward glance.

  Harry held the card out to Lydia. ‘Do you want—?’

  She shook her head. What would be the point of meeting Celia again when she’d made it plain that she had no affection for her daughter? All these years Lydia had known that her mother couldn’t love her, but it seemed her heart had been hoping she was wrong because why else would Lydia be here? Curiosity had been no more than an excuse. What a fool she was.

  ‘You were right about her,’ Harry said. ‘I was wrong to interfere.’

  Lydia knew he was sincere, but she couldn’t talk to him just now. She couldn’t talk to anyone. Stepping around him, she walked to the Silver Lady and got in the driver’s seat.

  Harry followed and caught hold of her door. ‘Lydia, you’re better than her. She’s nothing and you’re everything. You have to believe it.’

  Lydia wouldn’t – absolutely wouldn’t – break down in front of him. For Harry to have witnessed her humiliation made it so much worse. Unbearable, in fact.

  ‘Let me drive,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back for my car later.’

  Lydia summoned her last reserves of strength. ‘Let me go, Harry.’ She pulled the doo
r shut and drove off, her emotions reeling.

  The child was walking with his nurse when he suddenly ran across the road towards a dog on the opposite pavement. Someone screamed, but Lydia was already hauling on the steering wheel and braking fast. She caught a glimpse of the child’s white face, then the Silver Lady slammed into a tree, bouncing Lydia forward before throwing her back. She’d hit her head on the steering wheel, but she didn’t care about that. Had she hit the child?

  Harry tugged her door open desperately. ‘Lydia, are you all right?’ His voice was frantic.

  She looked up to ask about the boy and something dripped into her eyes. She dashed it away with her hand and saw it was blood. But all that mattered was the child.

  ‘The boy’s fine,’ Harry said, pressing a handkerchief to her forehead. ‘It’s you who’s hurt.’

  Lydia needed to see the boy for herself.

  ‘Sit there for a moment,’ Harry urged, but she groped her way out of the car. ‘Careful,’ Harry said, supporting her as she swayed.

  Steadying herself, she stepped away from Harry, then looked round and was relieved to see the boy, staring back guiltily from behind his nurse’s skirt.

  ‘You could have killed him!’ the nurse accused.

  ‘You let your charge run across the road,’ the dog’s elderly owner shot back. ‘It’s only thanks to this young lady’s skilful driving that the boy isn’t lying dead.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ Harry said.

  ‘Well, really…’ the nurse protested, before transferring her anger to the boy. ‘How many times do I have to tell you to stay close?’

  ‘That’s a nasty-looking cut,’ the elderly man told Lydia. ‘You should see a doctor.’

  ‘She should,’ Harry agreed. ‘I’ll take her.’

  But what Lydia needed most was to get away before the tears came. She wanted to say she was fine but couldn’t move words past the tightness in her throat. Turning to leave, she noticed the dent in the Silver Lady’s front mudguard.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Harry insisted.

  She couldn’t have stopped the boy from running across the road, but if she hadn’t been so stupidly emotional she might have reacted faster and saved the car as well as the child. Oh, hell. Two tears rolled down her cheeks.

  ‘Lydia.’ Harry’s voice was soft.

  He reached up as though to wipe her tears away, but she dashed them away and dashed Harry’s hand away too. She walked back to the car.

  ‘You really shouldn’t drive,’ Harry said, but whether it was the right thing to do or not she had to get away.

  She got back into the driver’s seat, closed the door and reversed away from the tree. The engine was sound, thank goodness.

  Harry banged on the window. ‘Let me drive you,’ he said, but Lydia accelerated away.

  He was bound to chase after her. Desperate to be alone, Lydia turned at the first opportunity and kept turning randomly until she was sure she must have given him the slip. She pulled into the kerb and stopped the car. Sitting back, she couldn’t hold in the sobs. Harry loved her. She was astounded by it. Grateful and ecstatic. But she’d already caused him pain and she’d only cause him more grief in the future. How could she avoid it when she had the bad blood of Frank Grey and Celia Sutton running through her veins? One parent cold and unfeeling? The other utterly selfish? They hadn’t a decent heart between them.

  No wonder Lydia made a mess of everything. Even her friendship with Grace, Jenny and Ruth owed everything to their tolerance and goodness and nothing at all to Lydia’s personal qualities. Now she’d even damaged the car which was the source of all their livelihoods.

  Harry deserved better than a girl like her. The best – the loving – thing to do was to set him free.

  She sobbed herself into exhaustion, but the others would be wondering where she was. She looked at herself in the car mirror and sighed wearily. She was a fright, her face tear-stained and bloody. Lydia always carried water in case the radiator overheated. Dampening a clean corner of Harry’s handkerchief, she wiped her face. She still looked dreadful, but it was the best she could do.

  Head pounding, she drove back to Silver Ladies.

  Jenny burst through the office door as Lydia got stiffly out of the Silver Lady. ‘Harry phoned. Are you all right? We’ve been worried sick.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Something about a boy running into the road. He said you avoided hitting the boy but got hurt yourself. I can see you did.’

  ‘A bump on the head. It’s nothing. I’m more worried about the car.’

  ‘I’m more worried about you.’

  Harry hadn’t mentioned Celia and for that Lydia was thankful.

  ‘Trouble?’ someone asked. Owen Tedris. He saw the damage and rubbed a professional hand over it. ‘I’ll be happy to fix this free of charge after what Bryn did with the paint. I can start straight away, so it’ll be quicker than going through the insurers and you won’t have to cancel many bookings.’

  ‘That’s kind,’ Jenny said.

  Lydia was grateful too and hugely relieved that the car wouldn’t be out of service for long.

  ‘I haven’t seen Miss Lavenham recently,’ Owen said then.

  ‘She went home to Ruston,’ Jenny told him.

  ‘I know she—’ He broke off, shocked. Dismayed even. ‘Permanently?’

  Lydia had long known that he liked Grace, but now she realised it was more than mere liking just as what Lydia felt for Harry went beyond mere liking.

  They all turned as another car raced into the mews. It was Harry, with Hux beside him. They skidded to a halt and leapt out. Lydia’s gaze shied away from Harry but it was Hux who approached her.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘The only serious damage is to the car.’

  Hux looked at the Silver Lady. ‘We can get the guys at Fairfax Park to work on it if—’ He broke off, suddenly noticing Jenny as she talked to Owen Tedris. Hux hadn’t seen her before, but now he was staring at her as though Cupid had fired an arrow straight into his heart.

  Lydia didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Here was Hux, the nicest of people, struck dumb with attraction to Jenny who was already engaged Johnnie. Here was Owen, attracted to Grace who’d moved a hundred miles away. And here was Harry who’d declared his love to a girl who didn’t deserve it. How stupid romance was. If sensible, decent people like Hux and Owen couldn’t get it right, then someone like Lydia really should avoid it at all costs.

  ‘Thanks,’ she told Hux, ‘but Mr Tedris’s workshop is closer.’

  ‘Hmm? Oh, sure.’ He gave his head a small shake as though to wake himself. ‘Let me know if you change your mind.’

  His attention turned back to Jenny and Harry moved forward, stepping between Lydia and everyone else and using his tall frame to block her from their view. ‘You should let me take you to a doctor,’ he said, but then he lowered his voice so only she could hear. ‘Lydia, will you just—’

  ‘Don’t, Harry.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You need to leave me alone.’

  He looked like he was going to argue, but then a sad sort of acceptance settled over him. ‘You’re not going to change your mind about me, are you?’

  Lydia willed herself to be strong. ‘No.’

  ‘Even though I love you and want to marry you?’

  ‘Even so.’

  ‘Then I shan’t trouble you again.’

  A crack seemed to open in Lydia’s heart when she saw the hurt in his eyes. As far as Harry was concerned, she was rejecting him. As far as Lydia was concerned, she was building barriers to protect his long-term happiness, even if they caused him pain now.

  He stepped towards Hux and muttered something in his ear.

  ‘If we’re not needed here, we’ll be on our way,’ Hux announced.

  He and Harry sent goodbye nods around the group, then got in Harry’s car and drove away. Lydia went inside, not trusting her ability to hold back tears.

&n
bsp; Forty-seven

  With two minutes to spare before she needed to leave for work, Grace sat beside Gran’s bed and opened Ruth’s letter.

  ‘Johnnie’s getting better every day, she says. Lydia is— Oh, dear. She’s had an accident too. Not a serious one, but the car was damaged.’

  ‘Can it be fixed?’ Gran asked.

  Grace read on and blushed. ‘Actually, a neighbour repaired it free of charge. It meant the car was out of service hardly any time which was good as the business is doing so well.’

  ‘You should be with your friends instead of reading about them,’ Gran said.

  She’d been saying the same thing ever since Grace’s return, but sometimes it was right to surrender your own happiness to ease the life of someone you loved.

  Grace slipped into her coat. ‘Will you be all right?’

  ‘’Course I will. Mattie will look in on me soon.’

  They’d be lost without Mattie.

  Grace kissed Gran’s cheek and left, pausing outside as she heard Gran cough.

  Grace was certain now that Gran’s chest was getting worse. It was hardly surprising considering the dank chill of the place. Looking up, Grace saw another slate had slipped from the roof.

  ‘It’s only fit for the demolition ball,’ Mattie said, coming towards her. ‘But it does no good to complain, my duck.’

  Complaining might in fact do harm if the landlord decided the tenancies were more trouble than they were worth in rent. Without the funds for alternative accommodation, neither Grace nor Mattie wanted to bring demolition closer.

  ‘I’ll be in to see your gran soon,’ Mattie said, but something evasive in her expression made Grace frown.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Beside the fact that we’re living in a slum?’ Mattie joked, but the humour sounded forced. ‘Hadn’t you better get to work?’

  ‘Heavens, yes.’

  Grace patted Mattie’s arm, then ran to her bus. Troubles came in threes, according to the old saying. Johnnie’s accident… Lydia’s accident…. Grace hoped Mattie wasn’t going to make a third trouble.