‘Are you going to tell him?’ Thank goodness this looked like being her last time here … but there was still the matter of the outstanding bill.
‘And have you dismissed? I’ve considered it, I must admit, but I decided not to. There’s no reason for Daddy to know and once you’ve served your purpose, you’ll be gone.’
Her purpose? Roberta Fairbrother was toying with her. But she was Nell’s employer’s daughter, so the utmost politeness was required.
‘Thank you,’ said Nell.
‘Don’t thank me.’ Miss Fairbrother waved her words away with a graceful sweep of her hand. ‘Thank Mr Franks. He thinks highly of you; too highly, if you ask me. Men can be so susceptible. Darling James, he’s going to be grateful to me when he hears that, in my own way, and even though it meant keeping a secret from my father, I was able to give you some support.’
Dazzle, dazzle. She turned to leave and a flowery scent wafted in Nell’s direction.
Had Roberta Fairbrother just warned her off Jim Franks? She caught her breath and the floral scent went down her throat.
Maybe Nanny would be called out of retirement after all.
Jim knocked on Nell’s door, worried about the news he had to impart. When she opened the door, the evening sun struck her hair, adding a bronze tinge to its autumn-leaf brown. Her smile of greeting couldn’t hide her anxiety or her tiredness. She couldn’t have had a good night’s sleep in a considerable time. A feeling of protectiveness stirred; he hid it beneath a brisk manner.
‘I’ve brought news. May I come in, if Mr Hibbert isn’t here?’
A flush stained her cheeks. ‘He’s never here by my invitation. Come in. It’s just me, Aunt Leonie and the children.’
‘Mr Franks!’
Alf came belting down the hall, followed by Cassie. Jim let Alf crash into him, then pretended to box with him, before sweeping Cassie into his arms.
‘Thank you for the warm welcome, young Master Hibbert,’ he said. ‘Go and hold the kitchen door open for us, there’s a good chap.’ As Alf scampered off, he murmured to Nell, ‘I don’t recall him being so boisterous before.’
The expression in Nell’s eyes flattened. ‘He hasn’t forgiven me for lying to him about his father.’
They joined Mrs Brent in the kitchen. Aware that Stan Hibbert could turn up at any time, and also not wanting to spend more time with Nell than he had to, Jim elected to forego the chit-chat.
‘Mrs Brent, I need to speak privately with Mrs Hibbert.’
She rose at once and clapped her hands. ‘Time for bed, miss. Alf, come and help me with Cassie.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘And I don’t want to give you a clip round the ear, but I will if I have to. Up the wooden hill – quietly, Alf, or you’ll scare Violet.’
She picked up the little girl. Alf ran upstairs, but at least he didn’t sound like he was wearing hobnailed boots.
Jim looked enquiringly at Nell.
‘I don’t get goodnight kisses any more from my son.’ She sat, waving him into a seat. ‘What did you want to tell me?’
‘I’ve had two letters. One was from the magistrates’ court. The date of your hearing has been brought forward. Instead of being held on the Friday of next week, it will be heard this Saturday. Mr Aitcheson has to go away unexpectedly next week, so he’s fitting in all his work this week.’
Her face had gone white, turning her hazel eyes brown. He wanted to take her hand, just to reassure her, nothing more. He removed his hands from the table.
‘If Stan hasn’t had time to move out of Vicarage Lane, will it make a difference? No, it won’t. He said we’re moving in with his mother.’
‘Mr Aitcheson is certain to wind up proceedings this week.’
She sagged. She was usually so upright, a slender figure with innate grace; but now, with her shoulders curving forwards in despair, her posture was clumsy. She looked …
It was the one thing she had never looked before.
Defeated.
‘Do you need time to think about this? I could leave the other news for now.’
She came to life. ‘No! I need to hear everything.’ She pulled her shoulders back.
‘The other letter is from the registrar in Annerby. There is no record that your husband entered into another marriage after the date of your marriage.’
‘I should have expected that after what Stan said in court, but …’ She sighed.
‘You may remember I also asked for a copy of your own marriage certificate. One has not been provided.’
Her hand moved impatiently. ‘So what? It was only needed to prove my marriage came first.’
Jim took the letter from the inside pocket of his jacket, unfolded it and laid it on the table. ‘Here.’ He pointed. ‘That’s the important bit.’
She bent her head. ‘… the information provided does not match that on the certificate.’ She looked up. ‘Does not match? What does that mean? Are you telling me you made a mistake in the letter you sent the registrar?’
‘You don’t understand.’
She half-laughed. There was a glint in her eyes. ‘I’d have written the letter myself if I’d known. I placed my trust in you. I never thought you’d let me down.’ Her voice hardened. ‘Or maybe, after all my lies about being widowed, I don’t deserve your best attention.’ It was a challenge.
He bridled. He had fallen in love with this so-called widow and had stood by her when she turned out to be married. Was she calling his professional integrity into question? He had intended to share his suspicion as to the letter’s meaning; but if he did, and then he turned out to be mistaken, that would be worse. He rose to his feet. Perhaps if he made to leave, it would bring her to her senses and she would back down; but she let him go, without a word.
He returned home and started packing, ready for his journey tomorrow.
He slept badly. He felt vexed with Nell for flying off the handle. She had as good as accused him of being unprofessional. But then, she had every reason to be upset, after everything she had gone through and with her future being decided this weekend. Actually, it had in all probability already been decided, as she must realise. Moreover, it wasn’t as though she had any idea of what the registrar’s letter could mean. But that was the point, wasn’t it? She hadn’t asked. She hadn’t trusted him. She had immediately fought back.
Women weren’t supposed to do that. They were supposed to let you look after them. But who had Nell Hibbert had to look after her since she left her husband? Only herself. She had been responsible for everything.
It was too late now. There wasn’t time to see her in the morning. The little time he had would be spent with Mr Fairbrother, who was entitled to hear about the latest developments.
He knew Mr Fairbrother didn’t set off for his office until nine-thirty, so he took the liberty of calling at the Fairbrother residence shortly after nine, with profuse apologies for dragging Mr Fairbrother away from his devilled kidneys.
They talked over coffee in the study.
‘You’ll have to excuse me now, James,’ said Mr Fairbrother when the clock struck the half-hour. ‘I’ll leave you to finish your coffee. I hope things go well in Annerby.’
Jim rose to shake hands and his old colleague left. Jim stood at the window with his cup and saucer. Behind him, the door opened and he turned, expecting Mr Fairbrother had forgotten something.
Roberta stood there.
‘Daddy says you’re going away.’
‘A business matter.’
‘To do with Mrs Hibbert? Don’t worry. You haven’t been indiscreet. I’ve put two and two together. She’s working here, your Mrs Hibbert.’
‘She isn’t my Mrs Hibbert.’
Roberta smiled. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. Even so, you’ll be glad to know I’ve given her a helping hand. Daddy wouldn’t be pleased to have her here, what with the bigamy and all, so I’m keeping quiet. I know you have a good opinion of her.’
‘You’re a brick,
Roberta.’
‘Aren’t I just? How long will you be away?’
‘I need to get back here as soon as possible. The court case has been moved to this Saturday.’
She came closer to him and he inhaled her floral scent. ‘Hurry back, won’t you?’ Kissing her fingertip, she brushed it against his lips. ‘And not just for the court case.’
‘Don’t I get a proper kiss?’
‘Not while you taste of coffee.’ She walked to the door, twinkled her fingers at him and left.
Jim put down his coffee unfinished. No doubt about it. Roberta was behaving a lot better than Nell was.
The palm of Posy’s hand was red and stinging where she had been given the strap for not paying attention in class. She sat up straight, ignoring the sniggers that said some children were pleased to see her being punished. She had a reputation for being a hard worker and there was a contingent in the class that didn’t like that, but that was their hard luck.
If giving her the strap was meant to make her pay attention, it wasn’t working. It just reminded her of the clobbering she would get tomorrow from Dad when yet again there were five caramels in a quarter of a pound.
That wasn’t the only thing that would happen tomorrow. Alf’s mum and dad were seeing the magistrate. Alf had paraded round the playground, telling everyone he was going to live with his dad. How could he want to leave such a loving, capable, playful mum as Mrs Hibbbert? Daft little beggar. Mind you, he wouldn’t actually be leaving her behind, because she would be moving too, but Alf didn’t care about that.
Anyroad, tomorrow wasn’t just about what happened to the Hibberts. It was about Gran. She was going to live with Mrs Watson, which would be wonderful but wrong. You were meant to live with family, not the neighbours. It was all right for Gran to live with the Hibberts, because she was treated as family; but for her to live with Mrs Watson wasn’t right. It would be the biggest snub in the world. It would make Gran look unwanted. Posy couldn’t bear that to be inflicted on her lovely gran. She didn’t have Gramps to protect her any more. That was Dad and Ma’s job now, but they weren’t doing it, which left Posy.
It was her job to make things right for Gran.
‘What d’you mean, Mr Franks is unavoidably detained?’ Anger coursed through Nell – no, not anger: fear. She forced steadiness into her voice. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Robbins. I knew he’d gone away. I assumed he would be back for this.’
‘He intended to be,’ said Mr Robbins. ‘Mr Franks would never let down a client.’
Never let down a client? Pull the other one! ‘What else did his message say?’
‘Just “unavoidably detained”. It was a telegram, you see. Essential words only.’
Her heart doubled in weight as she walked into Mr Aitcheson’s room and took her place. Jim’s absence was the worst possible disappointment. Mr Aitcheson placed a husband’s rights above all else and she had little hope of a favourable resolution; but she had trusted Jim with her future, with her children’s futures. Even when Stan played his trump card of monogamy and her situation had instantly been redrawn into something far more dire, she had still trusted Jim to do his best, no matter how hopeless her case. Having him at her side had made her feel that, whatever the outcome, she had had the best possible chance.
But he had made a pig’s whisker of his letter to the registrar and now he couldn’t even organise himself to turn up.
Well, what of it? She was used to facing her troubles alone.
Rather than dwelling on Jim Franks’s shortcomings, she must prepare what to say to Mr Aitcheson. She took out her appointment diary. On a plain page at the back, she listed everything that provided security for the children.
Child-minding – A. L.
2 bedroom house
Decent neighbourhood
Work hours = with A & C for b’fast & in evenings
Was that all? It didn’t seem much, and yet in real life it was a huge amount that added up to a stable background for Alf and Cassie to grow up as happy, healthy, confident individuals. Would Mr Aitcheson be swayed?
The clerks appeared and took their places. Stan and Mr Norton took their seats. She glanced across, but Stan didn’t look her way.
The door opened at the top of the room.
‘All rise.’
In came Mr Aitcheson, carrying a file under his arm. There was an impatient air about him, as if he was fed up with the extra work he had had to plough through and couldn’t wait for it to be over. Nell sensed movement behind her. Onlookers? Didn’t they have anything better to do?
Mr Aitcheson opened the file and spread out the papers. Then, tilting his chin upwards a fraction, he scanned the room before looking at the clerks.
‘I had all the women removed last time. What makes you think I want any here today?’
A clerk hurried to his side. ‘There’s just one, sir.’ He bent his head and whispered.
‘I suppose so,’ said Mr Aitcheson. ‘But at the first sign of hysterics, out she goes.’
Who was this woman? Nell reminded herself not to look round.
‘Mr Norton, has your client found alternative accommodation for his family?’
Mr Norton rose. ‘If I may be so bold, I suggest he did better than that. In order to make the best provision for Mrs Hibbert, who, as we are all aware, is woefully reluctant to return to him, he made arrangements for his family to take up temporary residence with his mother, specifically so Mrs Hibbert could choose her new house at her leisure.’
‘And Mrs Hibbert senior is happy with this?’
‘Delighted, sir. She wanted nothing more than to forgive her errant daughter-in-law and welcome her home to the place of her birth, along with the grandchildren whom she longs to see.’
‘That seems satisfactory,’ said Mr Aitcheson. ‘In that case, I have no hesitation—’
‘Wait!’ Nell sprang up. ‘What about me? What about the stability I offer my children?’
‘Sit down, woman,’ said the magistrate. ‘If you have a case to put, your solicitor should put it. Where is Mr Franks?’
‘He’s not here.’
‘I can see that. I asked where he is.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Given up on you, I expect.’ He held up a finger to forestall her. ‘One more word from you and I’ll have you removed.’ He cast a glance at the ceiling. ‘Women! I am satisfied with the arrangements Mr Hibbert has made and therefore—’
‘If I may, sir,’ said Mr Norton.
Mr Aitcheson glared. ‘What now, man?’
‘If it is your intention, sir, to order Mrs Hibbert to return to her husband, Mr Hibbert wishes you to know he has had a change of heart.’
‘A what?’
Nell gasped and then seemed to freeze. Stan had changed his mind. She had won after all. She should be shaking with relief, crying out for the good news to be repeated; but she couldn’t move. Just when she ought to be rejuvenated, she was so overwhelmed that she turned to stone.
‘A change of heart,’ said Mr Norton, ‘and one that I think you will find understandable, Mr Aitcheson. Mr Stanley Hibbert’s greatest wish is to have his children, Alfred and Cassandra, restored to him; but he no longer wants his wife.’
Chapter Thirty-One
Outside the sweet shop, Posy unfolded the top of the white cone-shaped paper bag with infinite care and lifted it to her face to inhale. Even in their wrappings, the caramels smelt rich and sweet. She upended the bag into her cupped hand. Out tumbled the sweets. Five – naturally. There were only ever five, except for that one time.
Her heartbeat was calm. She popped one caramel back in the bag and looked at the other four. She had thought when she planned this, that she would eat the lot; but now it came to it, she didn’t want them. Perhaps she should give them to other children before she got home. That would be a generous thing to do, but somehow wrong. She had to concentrate and she couldn’t do that with children crowding round her, everyone suddenly her best friend.
&n
bsp; Better to drop the sweets down the drain. One … two … three … four. Goodbye, caramels.
She couldn’t change her mind now.
Carrying the bag carefully so as not to crease it, she went home. Dad was sitting in the parlour, reading the paper. Ma was knitting.
Ma stood up. ‘I must—’
Oh no, you don’t. ‘Hang on, Ma. Dad, here you are.’
She had never handed over the sweetie bag so boldly before. As soon as he felt it, Dad’s expression darkened and a furious heat took up residence in Posy’s chest. What had she let herself in for?
She knew what she had let herself in for. It was the only way.
Dad stood up. He opened the bag and shook the contents into his hand. One caramel. Dad’s mouth twisted. Posy felt sick, but there was only way to do this and that was with gusto.
‘You’re going to beat the living daylights out of me anyroad, so I thought I’d make it worth my while. Count yourself lucky you didn’t get an empty bag.’
There was a great roar and after that Posy couldn’t quite tell what was happening. It was like falling down a rocky mountainside, all bumps and bruises and the breath whooshing out of her. The first heavy slap had thrown her to the floor. Now he stood over her. He had the scruff of her neck in one hand and in amongst the power of the blows he dealt with his other fist was the sharp pain of having her hair pulled tight. The blows pounded into her. Her ribs creaked as they bowed inwards, but they didn’t snap.
Watch, Ma, watch what he’s doing …
Her arms curled round her bent head, but they couldn’t protect her from a hefty blow that sent pain jangling from her neck up into the back of her skull at the same time as out across her shoulders.
Watch, Ma, watch …
Her body throbbed inside and out. That wasn’t a fist on the end of his arm. It was a brick.
Watch—
Nell waited in Mr Robbins’ office. He had produced a ham sandwich, a slice of Dundee cake and a cup of tea, but Nell couldn’t face any of it. Damn Mr Aitcheson. As soon as Mr Norton had made his shocking announcement, he had declared, ‘I have two other matters to deal with today, which I know can actually be dealt with, unlike this one, which, every time it appears to draw to a conclusion, skids off in a new direction. I want everyone back here at two o’clock.’
A Respectable Woman Page 35