She sighed. ‘All right, we’ll talk, but not here. Let’s go to the rec. Wait here while I tell Aunt Leonie.’
She set off for Beech Road at a brisk pace that failed to walk off her displeasure. In the rec, there were children playing and couples strolling and men heading for the bowling green. Over to one side was a bench with no one nearby. Nell sat on the very end.
Stan’s smile was almost a smirk. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t think we’ll be mistaken for a courting couple.’
‘What do you want?’
His sigh said she wasn’t helping but he would struggle on manfully. ‘I want to be a family again. The kids need stability.’
‘They had plenty of that before you turned up.’
‘I let Alf down and I want to try again. Rather like you letting him down and wanting to try again.’
Nell caught her breath. ‘How dare you compare the two?’ Was he right?
‘He’s a grand lad and our Cassie is a sweetheart.’
‘It’s our Cassie now, is it? Have you forgotten about accusing me of having her out of wedlock?’
‘Mr Norton said it was important to make an impression.’
‘It did that, all right.’
‘It were a shock to see in’t paper I had a child I knew nowt about, and I admit that when I saw her name, I thought she must be someone else’s. I thought if she was mine, you’d have called her Olive.’
‘Why in heaven’s name would I do that? Even if I’d still been married to you when Cassie was born—’
‘You never stopped being married to me, lass.’
‘If I’d still been living with you, I wouldn’t have called her Olive.’
‘Why not? You were happy enough to call Alf after my father. Alfred Stanley Hibbert, for his grandfather and his father.’
‘Only because I couldn’t use Dad’s name. He couldn’t be Alfred Frederick.’
He laughed as if it was a great joke. Didn’t he know the sorrow she had felt at not using Dad’s name? And she hadn’t felt able to use one of her brothers’ names, because how could she choose?
‘If you’re so keen for us to move to Annerby,’ said Nell, ‘shouldn’t you be there, making arrangements?’
‘I’ve written to the landlord, giving notice, and Mother is going to sell the furniture and what-have-you from Vicarage Lane, so don’t try telling Mr Aitcheson you can’t live surrounded by Alice’s things. We’ll move in with Mother for a spell while we find somewhere of us own.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘You should be flattered, having me down here getting to know the children while Mother sorts things out up there. It shows how keen we are. We had a good marriage, you and me.’
‘So good you went off and got another one.’
He took her hand, keeping it when she tried to pull away. ‘Let’s make a fresh start by taking the children to this sports thingummy. The sooner we’re on the same side, the sooner Alf will start behaving himself. Have you thought of that?’
He let go of her hand. She meant to yank it away, but his final words made her stop – literally – and think. Would it be better for Alf if she gave in? And yet, while there was even the smallest chance of remaining free, how could she walk back into the cage?
Her hand lay on top of Stan’s. She pulled it away and stood up.
‘That’s blackmail; and you know what blackmailers get told, don’t you? Take your blackmail and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.’
His mouth dropped open. She headed across the grass to the gate closest to Riley’s Farm. Using Leonie’s words had made her want to ask Jim to tackle Edmund Tanner about Leonie’s precious things. Would Jim be there at this time on a Saturday? It was worth a try. He didn’t think much of her any more and she didn’t blame him. Aside from the odd flash of kindness, he had been purely professional in his dealings with her since she told him about Stan. But he would help Leonie gladly. She knew he would.
Had he ever been fond of her? Irrelevant. He was lost to her now. Whatever happened, whether she was forced to follow the children to Annerby or grudgingly permitted to remain here, she was still a liar and a married woman. Jim would be glad to forget her.
Would she ever be able to forget him?
Mrs Jeffrey was out when Jim arrived home from work. Chucking his cap on the table, he helped himself to a glass of cordial from the jug on the marble slab in the pantry, glugging down a few mouthfuls. A knock at the door made him look round, expecting it to open as a neighbour walked in, but it stayed shut. He opened it but no one was there. It took him a moment to realise the knock must have been at the front door, which was never used.
Curious, he walked round the side of the cottage.
‘Roberta! What are you doing here?’
‘Paying a call.’ The offhand confidence in her voice was belied by the anxiety in her eyes. ‘If it’s convenient.’
He glanced down, indicating his casual attire. ‘You’ll have to take me as I am.’
Her gaze skimmed up and down him. This was the moment when she came to her senses and wondered why she had bothered being civil to him recently.
She smiled. ‘You’ll do.’
Cripes. She meant it.
‘Have you been out window cleaning this morning?’ she asked.
‘Normally I’m out all Saturday, but most of my Saturday people are going to a sports jamboree this afternoon.’
‘Lucky for me.’ She trailed her hand across the top of the lavender, releasing its fragrance into the air. ‘I’ve come to apologise for being unsympathetic when you came home from the war. I was so dreadfully hurt and disappointed. I know that seems like a feeble excuse.’
‘Not at all. I let you down.’
‘I was too upset to appreciate how deeply your experiences had affected you. I hope you’ll give me credit for trying to understand now.’
Her dress, which was of a colour Patsy had once scolded him for calling off-white when really it was ivory, made her look cool and lovely. She wore a straw hat with a gauzy scarf tied round it. He had always liked her in a straw hat.
‘It’s generous of you to say so,’ he told her. ‘It makes me feel worse for having let you down.’
Her hand reached out as if to touch him, but fell away, brushing her skirt and causing a silky ripple. ‘I didn’t intend to make you feel bad.’
‘As a matter of fact, I feel rather good.’
‘Then I’m glad I came. I mustn’t outstay my welcome. I’m sure you have things to do.’
Dash it! ‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ though he rather wished now that he didn’t. ‘It’s the court case. I’m going to call on my client’s landlord and ask him to have the repairs seen to. It’s a small detail but it could make Mrs Hibbert look better in court.’
‘Mrs Hibbert? Isn’t that the name on those postcards?’
‘Yes.’ Damn. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned her name.’
‘James, I understand all about discretion and confidentiality. I’m not a solicitor’s daughter for nothing.’
‘I know you wouldn’t say anything inappropriate.’
‘The only inappropriate thing is you handing out her postcards.’ But she laughed as she said it.
Was it inappropriate? He had wanted to help. But whereas he would gladly tell Mr Fairbrother he had asked about the repairs, he wouldn’t mention giving out Nell’s cards. Roberta was right.
‘Maybe,’ he said.
‘Just the teensiest bit.’
‘She deserves a chance. That’s all I can say.’
‘You’re a good judge of character, James. I wondered about her when you gave me the cards.’
It’s a woman from Chorlton who teaches the use of the sewing machine. I believe she’s rather good.
A woman from Chorlton who taught me to love again. I believe she’s rather …
Rather married.
‘My interest is purely professional. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get changed.’ He softened the words wi
th a smile.
‘You mean you’re not seeing Mr Landlord dressed like that?’
‘Absolutely not, you wretched girl. I’ll walk you to your motor. Is it parked on Beech Road?’ He offered his arm and she took it. He pressed her hand against his ribs. There were times when his skin yearned for another’s touch. ‘If we walk round the back of the cottage, there’s a proper path, which will be much kinder to your shoes than this track.’
They walked round to the path between the cottages and their gardens. She moved to stand in front of him, facing him.
‘I was nervous about coming today, but I’m glad I did.’
‘So am I.’
She lifted a coquettish eyebrow. ‘I could stay and straighten your tie after you get changed.’
Did she move nearer or had she always been that close? Her eyes were wide and trusting. Her lips parted. She touched the tip of her tongue to the centre of her top lip. His heart thumped. Did she have any idea how desirable she was?
He leant his face down to hers, moving slowly, giving her every chance to break the spell. His eyes fluttered, wanting to close, but he forced them to stay open in case the kiss didn’t happen. The side of his nose brushed the side of hers. Their lips touched, slipped away, touched again. Memories flooded him of old embraces as their mouths joined in tender little movements that deepened. The kiss was familiar but also exciting and new. His hands twitched by his sides, but he made no attempt to take her in his arms.
When the kiss ended, she gave a breathy little laugh and glanced away, as if shy. Maybe she was feeling shy. He was in too much of a whirl to analyse his own feelings.
Over her shoulder, down the path, something caught his attention. Nell Hibbert. She stood stock-still. Then she turned and hurried away.
Nell rushed home. She was breathless, but it had nothing to do with her speed. She had no business being upset. She was married. Even if she didn’t return to Annerby, she was still married. What mattered now was going to the jamboree with Leonie and the children … and Stan. She hated including him, but if he wanted to go, and Alf wanted him there, what choice was there?
‘I’m home,’ she called. Smile. Be cheerful. Do it for the children.
Stan was at the kitchen table. Why wouldn’t he push off and leave her alone? Even after what she had said in the rec, he was still here, still being marvellous with Alf, who was playing with Cassie and glancing at Stan to make sure he was watching.
‘You’re back,’ said Stan, as if he was part of the family and she had kept everyone waiting. ‘Time to go. You’ll come, won’t you?’ he asked Leonie.
‘Aunt Leonie was always coming with us,’ Nell said stiffly.
‘The children are ready,’ said Stan. ‘I just need to nip out the back.’
He vanished through the scullery. It was tempting to march off and leave him, but Alf would dig his heels in. Leonie ushered the children to the front door. Nell hovered in the kitchen, all kinds of dark feelings bubbling away inside her.
When Stan returned, she pounced. ‘You can walk with us to please Alf, but once we’re there, get lost.’
‘What will Alf say to that?’
‘He’ll be with his team and he’ll neither know nor care.’
‘I think he’ll care. I think the best bit for him will be being watched by his dad.’
Anguish speared through her. ‘I’m not having you telling Mr Aitcheson how we went together as a family.’
‘You never used to be this stubborn,’ said Stan. ‘After you.’
‘No, thanks. This is my house and it’s my responsibility to shut the doors.’
With a shrug and a maddening smile, he preceded her along the hall. Nell shut the kitchen door behind her. She felt like slamming it but had to make do with a brisk click.
‘Dad, can I hold your hand?’ said Alf.
How was she to bear it? Her son hated her. Her resentment against Stan crumpled into a petty heap. He said resuming their marriage was what Alf needed. Was he right?
What about what she needed?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Posy had been looking forward to the jamboree, but now she was bunking off to creep after Dad while he did whatever he was going to do. She sort of knew what it would be, but she didn’t want to think about it. Her stomach couldn’t stop thinking about it, though. Forget butterflies. She had a flock of pigeons in her tummy.
‘I’ll see you at the park, Ma,’ she said. ‘My team wants to be there early for a practice.’
She ran out, looking round to make sure no one was watching as she slipped into Mrs Watson’s backyard. Mrs Watson had gone over to her Annie’s earlier to shepherd some kids whose parents couldn’t go because they were working. Or blind drunk. Everybody knew the Bradburys were out cold every Saturday after drinking Mr Bradbury’s wages on Friday night.
She hid in the outside lav, which turned out to be a good place, because twice she needed a wee. Excited voices came and went in the entry. Then all was quiet. She opened the door and listened. Sure enough, there were footsteps in the yard next door. Dad! The gate opened without a creak, so he must have oiled it. The latch clicked as it shut. Posy opened Mrs Watson’s gate. Dad’s footsteps on the cinder path already sounded fainter, the crackle dying away. She peeped out to see him disappear. She started to scurry after him when—
‘Violet!’ It came out as a joyful whisper. ‘Oh, Violet, you’re so thin.’
Violet skittered away, but not far. She came back. She needed kindness. She needed food.
But Posy needed to follow Dad. It was a wrench but she made herself leave the cat. Violet trotted after her, mewing, and Posy accelerated. At the end of the entry, she peeped out. No sign of Dad. She ran to the next corner, catching up with him – well, catching sight of him, down the entry behind Wilton Lane. Gone was his usual stride. He moved purposefully but softly.
He went through a gate. Posy ran that far, switching to tiptoe-running as she drew near. He had shut the gate. With her heartbeats swelling inside the back of her mouth, Posy pressed down the latch and opened the gate to look at the back of the Hibberts’ house. Their backyard was a lot smaller than the ones in Finney Lane, which made the house much closer, as if it might fall on top of her.
Next to the kitchen window was a sticky-out bit of building where the scullery was; and the scullery window was open. Had Dad climbed in? Should she follow? She hadn’t planned what to do when she got this far. She only knew that something bad was happening and she needed to see it for herself in case … in case what?
There was nowhere to hide in the yard unless she went in the lav, but that wasn’t a good idea. If Dad was as nervous as she was, he might need to use it on his way out. She returned to the entry. A few houses along, in the opposite direction to the way Dad would go, someone had left their gate open. Posy hopped onto the step and stood just inside, ears straining.
At last, the Hibberts’ gate opened. She gave Dad time to go on his way, then peeped out. He had something under his arm. Buggeration. Dad was a thief.
She followed him home. The thing under his arm was covered in a piece of cloth. Gran’s fireproof box? Posy hovered outside their back gate after he went in. She had to follow. She had to know what he did with the box. The back door was ajar; that meant he didn’t mean to be inside for long. She crept through the scullery and the kitchen. She couldn’t hear him. Her skin cooled and it took her a moment to realise it wasn’t from fear: the cellar door was open. She could hear sounds. Dad was down there. What now? She couldn’t go down without being seen. Was it enough to know the cellar was the hiding place? It would have to be. Oh, the relief of leaving the house. She made a dash for the gate and fell into the entry. She had to get to the park and behave as if nothing had happened.
A mew made her look up. Violet was on the wall.
‘Wait there, Violet,’ she called.
But Violet had other ideas. Facing Posy, she leant over the edge, touching her paws experimentally against the brickwork befor
e half-jumping, half-running to the ground.
‘No, Violet. Go and hide. Shoo.’ But she couldn’t say it in a cruel voice. ‘I have to go.’
She ran away. She must be gone before Dad emerged. She had to reach the jamboree and pretend she had been there all along. She ran all the way to Chorlton Park, then slithered through the crowd of grown-ups and headed for the children.
Her team dived towards her.
‘Where the heck have you been? It’s nearly our first race.’
‘Don’t make a fuss,’ hissed Posy, trying to be invisible.
There was loud applause from the parents for the egg-and-spoon race for the babies’ classes. A couple of kids had made it over the line. Most of the others were scattered about, picking up their eggs.
Posy spied Alf. ‘Come on, Alf!’ she yelled.
Lyddie nudged her. ‘You’re not meant to cheer for him. He’s not on our team.’
‘Back in a mo.’ Posy dashed round the side of the track to the far end, where Alf was hurrying to cross the line, trying to look as if his thumb wasn’t clamped on top of his egg.
As he finished, Posy grabbed his arm. ‘Alf, I’ve seen Violet down our entry. She might still be there when we go home.’
She ran back to her team, scanning the crowd for Ma. But instead, it was Dad she saw; and the look on his face said he was displeased with her for breaking ranks.
Gerald would have something to say about that.
When the jamboree ended, the older children were allowed to wander off, but the little ones were kept on the other side of the white-painted running lanes to be collected by their families. Spotting Alf, Nell was about to fetch him when Stan appeared and took his hand. Alf babbled at him in excitement and Stan bent down to listen, then he gave her a cheerful wave and walked away.
‘I’m fed up to the back teeth with Stan,’ she fumed. ‘How dare he waltz off with Alf like that?’
She picked up Cassie. She had already lost one child; she wasn’t losing this one. They made their way slowly with the crowd towards the gate. It wasn’t until they got out of the park that they could walk at a normal pace. Nell kept a sharp eye out for Stan and Alf, but there was no sign of them.
A Respectable Woman Page 33